cat-got-your-tongue · 3 days ago
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Drunk texting
DP&W!Logan x Fem!reader: featuring Wade
Summary: logan goes out with Wade and won't stop calling and texting your phone
CW: fluff | mention of alcohol | dirty talk | failed attempt at sexting | mature language | mention of sex | drunk logan |
Word count: Over 1k
Authors note: Hi, please be kind. I'm still trying to get back into writing. Not proofread. Requests are open. Divider by @saradika-graphics
My work will always be 18+ Minors do not interact or read.
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It was 2:00 am on a fucking Wednesday night and your phone was blowing up. Wade had dragged Logan out to have some "bonding time with peanut." Which was code for which of them could get drunk the fastest. It always led to the bar being completely drained of alcohol — usually with one of them coming home with a bruised eye (Wade).
Logan could drink, and so could wade. But he has such a high tolerance that the amount of alcohol he consumed in order to get completely drunk would probably kill the average man. Not good. That meant longer days spent working so he could pay off the tab. You didn't mind most of the time. Since he needed a break and have some fun every once in a while.
Your phone lights up next to your bed. You tried to ignore it, but it kept happening over and over. The loud buzz vibrating on the night stand. You groan and throw your pillow over your head. No use. The sound just kept getting louder and louder.
You sit up in bed and grab it, the bright light making your eyes water a bit. You look down, and your eyebrows shoot up. There were about 46 text messages, and over 10 missed calls. All from logan and a few from wade.
You open your text message app to read what the hell was so important that he had to blow your phone up in the middle of the night.
Lo 💕: miss you.
Lo 💕: Wades tupee is crooked, not telling him tho
Lo 💕: luv u ba.yb
Lo 💕: gonna fkc u wen I get home
Lo 💕: gonna have u soking my dick
Lo 💕: stop ignore me
Lo 💕: [image]
Your eyes were still trying to adjust to the screen of your phone as you read through every text message logan has sent. You sighed, looking at the picture he sent you. You could tell he was absolutely trashed. He was in the run-down bars bathroom. The lighting in there was dim, and the mirror was dirty. He was holding his semi hard cock in one hand and had the bottom of shirt in between his teeth. The sight alone had you squeezing your thighs together. His abs were flexed and a little sweaty, making his happy trail stick to his skin. You had to take a deep breath and calm yourself.
You clicked back and went over to the texts Wade had sent you. You were trying to get your mind off of the selfie logan sent.
Wade: don't worry pookie is fine.
Wade: he's got his tits out like a slut.
Wade: okay now he's fighting
Wade: Okay now he's fighting ME
Wade: I'm not even drunk. I've been having the bartender give me water the whole night 😈
Wade: is he in heat ??? All he's been talking about is fucking
You rolled your eyes and let out a breathy laugh. You knew the second wade got logan through that front door it was over. Just as you had that thought, the door went bursting open, hitting the wall behind it with a loud bang.
"Speak of the devil." You mumbled under your breath. You walked out and saw Wade throwing logan back onto the couch.
He turned to you. "Sunshine here decided to start hmmm his fourth bar fight of the night, so we got kicked out."
You ran your hand down your face and looked down at where logan was slumped over. "Bad night?"
"Nah, luckily, he got whiskey dick of the claws, so no one was shanked." Wade shrugged as he readjusted his toupee. You fought the urge to laugh when you remembered logans text from earlier.
You let out a sigh of relief that no one was actually hurt tonight. You don't know what you'd do if you had to bail logan out of jail. Knowing Wade, he'd probably would just break him out.
"Well thank you for taking him out tonight. He's been......kinda down lately." You spoke as your eyes were still trained on your boyfriend.
There was pause before he spoke up again. He knew how much his friend could get into his own head and overthink.
"No problem. I'm gonna leave you two alone before he wakes up and tells me how much he wants to eat your ass again." Wade gave you a sympathetic pat to your shoulder and quickly hauled ass out of your apartment.
He wasn't gonna stick around incase logan decided to whip out his cock. You couldn't blame him.
Your face got hot, and you groaned again. Logan always had such a way with words. The thought of him telling Wade anything about your sex life was enough to make you want to go hide under your blanket. Now you were wondering what the hell those two talk about when you or Vanessa were not around.
A low grumble sounded from logan as he woke up. His eyes were dropping, and his speech was slurred. He looked around, confused as to where he was until he saw you. He gave you a weak smile and patted his lap for you to sit.
"C'mere" logan hiccups. "Been missin' ya all night." He tried reaching for you.
You immediately slapped his hand away.
"Nuh, uh, I'm gonna make you some water, and you're gonna sleep on this couch until you're sobered up." You shook your head and backed away.
"Then maybe just maaaybe you can have me in the morning. Deal?"
Logan pouted and sunk deeper into his spot. You couldn't help but chuckle a bit. You couldn't deny the sad pout on his face was cute. He looked so annoyed with you, but he didn't have it in his heart to be mean. Never to you. No matter how drunk logan got, it still didn't keep him from having that soft spot for you.
"Why don't you stand between my legs and lemme eat your pussy then." He slurred again.
"Jesus christ." You muttered and went into the kitchen to pour him some water.
You'd think you would be used to his dirty talk by now. Yet he still managed to surprise you with it. If he wasn't drunk off his ass right now, you would have peeled off all your clothes and let him have you right there on that couch— letting him stuff his cock so deep in your pussy it made your legs tremble before he even started moving. You shake your head of those thoughts and continue getting him his water.
By the time you came back, he had already passed out. You sat the water down and helped him into a more comfortable position. Throwing a blanket over him, you placed a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose. Quickly, you went back into your bed to get some sleep. You're sure by morning he would be back to normal. He didn't get hangovers much. Maybe you'd take him up on all of his all of those offers once he's sober.
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urmomschocolatemilk · 3 days ago
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you should totally write abt domestic dad! simon ♥♥♥ and how like having kids just made him love reader more ♥♥♥
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“Mama!” ��
The door to your shared bedroom bursts open, breaking the peaceful Saturday morning silence and abruptly waking you and Simon. His arm is thrown around you loosely, but your bodies have drifted to opposite sides of the bed overnight.  
You groan, still sleepy as the two toddlers come running in after one another, launching themselves onto the bed, and landing with a thud in between you and your husband. 
“Mommy! Daddy! Wake up!” They yell, scrambling to stand from where they landed on their bellies and knees and beginning to jump up and down on the mattress. You should scold them for jumping on the bed but you’re too tired.  
“We’re up, we’re up.” Simon reassures groggily, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Since the moment they were born there was always a fondness in his tone when he spoke to them, whether he was scolding them or listening to them babble about their day. Even now, when he’s half asleep, you can hear it laced into his words. It's subtle but prominent.  
He pushes himself to sit up, while you stay cuddled under the blanket, trying to savor the warmth of the pillows and blankets
Your daughter giggles, jumping onto Simon. He lets out an exaggerated groan, closing his eyes and sticking out his tongue as if dead. A moment later he pops open one eye. “You’re going to kill your old man if you're not careful sweetheart," He warns her. She grins lopsidedly at his words.  
“You’re not that old daddy," she assures him, and he shakes his head with a chuckle, turning to watch their much calmer son, who's shuffling his way under the covers. You open your little cocoon of blankets, lifting it and allowing him to slide in next to you. 
“Mama,” he starts once he’s comfortably situated, “can we make pancakes for breakfast?” His eyes are big and pleading as he asks. It makes you smile at him. How could you ever say no to such a look?  
“Yes, baby we can,” you lean over pressing a kiss on his forehead. He beams.  
“I want to stir!” He exclaims excitedly. Simon holds back a chuckle at the way you wince at such a loud statement so close to your ears. His eyes gleam with love.  
“No, I want to stir!” Your daughter protests with a pout.  
“You guys can take turns,” you decide for them. Your daughter grumbles a bit but quickly shrugs it off, sliding off Simon and jumping off the bed.  
"The last one in the kitchen is a rotten egg!” She calls, beginning to run out of the room. Hearing her words, her brother quickly clamors out of the bed next to you and runs out behind her.  
The little boy shouts behind her in protest, “Hey! That's not fair. You got a head start!”  
You sigh exasperatedly, watching them go, then glancing at your husband. His eyes are already on you, watching with adoration.  
“What?” you ask, catching his sweet gaze. You can't help the smile that etchs its way onto your face under his eyes. You feel like a school girl with a crush again.
He doesn't respond, reaching for you and gently pulling you towards him so he can cradle your face in his hands. For a moment he just looks at you, a small, soft smile forming on his face as he strokes his thumb on your cheek. He swears he can feel his heart grow tenfold every time he looks at you.
If you had told Simon fifteen years ago that in due time, he’d be married with two rascal toddlers running around his cozy home he would have laughed in your face and called you crazy. He had given up on the idea of a wife and kids for a long time but you changed that. You brought back those dreams and turned them into reality.  
Simon leans down to kiss you gently, a soft whisper leaving his lips.
“I love you.”
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cinnamorollcrybaby · 3 days ago
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i am living for some angst 👀
especially some satoru angst
Hold me. Console me.
Tags: Satoru x fem!Reader, angst, hurt/comfort, depictions of poor mental health, depiction of a panic attack, Satoru’s a little bit of an asshole here.
An: Same… same. Before you read this and blame me for how fucked this story is, know that one of my moots (cough. cough. @theuniversesnepobaby cough.) was sending me sad angsty edits last night. this is partially her fault too.
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Satoru was normally a very doting and attentive boyfriend. He’s the type to beg to be in your presence. He’d kill to feel your touch against his skin. “Casual” isn’t a word in his dictionary. When he loves, he loves loudly.
So when he got quiet with his love, your body started to fill with a sense of dread. Cold and bitter feelings crawled their way between you two. No longer did you two laugh until you were out of breath and red in the face. No longer did he surprise you with gifts or try to scare you when you’re unaware of his presence.
His strong arms hadn’t wrapped around you in so long. The ruthless chill of being utterly alone plagued you, while Satoru seemed fine. He was even taking on extra hours at his job. So many nights he didn’t come back until nearly midnight.
How could he not see what’s happening? How could he not notice how much you’re drowning?
“I’m going out.” His words are flat with no care put into them. He’s telling you because he feels as if it’s obligatory — not because he doesn’t want you to worry.
“Where are you going?” So many times have you tried to reach out. It was as if you two were passing back and forth a candle of your relationship. You had ignited the flame and passed it to him so many times, but each time, he snuffs it out without a second thought — leaving you in the dark. Maybe one more time, you metaphorically light the candle in hopes to kinder your relationship…
“Out.” Flame snuffed.
“Oh.” He’s done it so many times, but it hurts just as bad each and every time. Being single wouldn’t hurt this bad. At least you wouldn’t be getting rejected by your own boyfriend on a daily basis.
“See ya.” He doesn’t even give you a second glance as he grabs his coat and saunters out the door. Another night spent alone. Another night filled with a barely eaten tv dinner and a shitty reality tv show droning on in the back while you doomscroll on your phone.
You two use to watch these reality tv shows together and laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Satoru would hold you so close to his body, and he’d whine anytime you tried to adjust. When was the last time that happened? You never suspected the end of affectionate gestures would come while you two were still in a relationship.
You check Geto’s story on instagram. Sometimes, you’d catch small glimpses of Satoru in the back. Sometimes they were at a cafe or an arcade together. Tonight, it seemed as though Suguru was at very packed party scene.
You hold your breath in your lungs as you rewatch the story again and again — searching for a white head of hair. Your boyfriend makes it too easy for you to stalk him. Though, it feels like a fitting punishment for the turmoil he’s put you through.
No Satoru in sight. You sigh quietly before you check Shoko’s story. It was less likely that Satoru would be captured there, but he has made his appearances in the past. It seemed like tonight Shoko wasn’t present at whatever rager Suguru was at. She posted a picture of her beautifully written notes. She must be studying.
Nanami never posts on his story, so you don’t even bother going to check his barren profile. Haibara never features Satoru in his stories, so you skip his as well. This leaves you with one last option.
Your hand is a little shaky as you click on Utahime’s story. You don’t know when it started, but your cheeks and ears were wet with tears already. Your body had some sort of sick sixth sense for knowing when something was wrong, and something was terribly wrong.
You had always had your little insecurities about Utahime ever since Satoru indulged that he had a small crush on her back in high school. Of course, these were just fleeting thoughts. Up until recently, you knew with full confidence that you had Satoru’s heart. He wouldn’t stray from you. 
You didn’t have that same confidence anymore. Satoru had withdrawn, and it seemed as if he took his heart with him.
You hate being right. You wish you were wrong sometimes. On Utahime’s story, she’s seemingly at the same party that Suguru’s at. Her story is littered with pictures of her with other girls that you don’t recognize, videos of the loud music and people dancing in a crowd, and there’s just one last video on her story that makes your heart sink to your stomach.
Your boyfriend’s pretty blue eyes illuminated by the flash from her back camera. He smiled and laughed as Utahime filmed him. His face was littered with wine red lipstick kiss marks. Utahime had a grab on your boyfriend’s collar, obviously trying to hold his drunk self still while she filmed his crime.
It felt like a punch straight to your gut. You couldn’t even think straight, but you knew you needed to keep this evidence in case she deletes it. Your fingers shakily screenshot the story, logging the picture of Satoru covered in someone else’s affections.
He was out there feeling an overwhelming sense of happiness, receiving kisses from another, dancing to his heart’s content, and enjoying his life while you were sat at home weeping over the loss of your boyfriend.
The tv dinner, now cold and stale, was thrown into the garbage, and whatever little bit you had eaten came up soon after.
The picture was seared into your memory. You didn’t have to look at it to know every minor detail. The way his white hair was messy. His glasses were pulled down ever so slightly to reveal his devastatingly beautiful eyes. His coat hung on his shoulders while his muscular neck peaked out from his shirt.
Every time you closed your eyes, you thought about how many kiss marks he had on his face. How many times had he allowed himself to cheat on you? Was this the first time? Had it gone farther than this? Was it Utahime or some other girl?
You cried yourself to sleep, knowing that Satoru wouldn’t even come home to try to console you.
The next morning, you were disappointed as soon as you woke up. You wished sleep would’ve taken your body and whisked it away far, far from here. Instead, you’re still in your bed, sleeping on a pillow that was stained from your mascara.
If you could, you’d rot in bed all day and try to forget the godforsaken video you saw last night, but you had to make a trip to the restroom.
Forcing your weak body out of bed, you let out a small pained moan. You haven’t eaten a proper meal in so long, and you threw up whatever you did eat yesterday. Your appetite was completely diminished. Satoru use to say that food tasted better when it was shared. He always shared his meals with you, unbeknownst to him, helping you maintain a good schedule for eating.
Your apartment was too bright when you stepped out of the bathroom, and it smelled too much of food. The sizzling on the stove finally caught your drowsy attention.
The man of the hour, Satoru, was at your stove, shirtless and cooking something. Sleeping pants casually hung around his hips, and the dimples at the bottom of his back were so graciously being shown off. Did someone else know about those two little dimples? Even though back was facing you, you could already picture his face, littered with those stupid kiss marks.
Making a b-line for the bathroom, Satoru doesn’t even get the chance to greet you. Your hands were cold and clammy as your body uncontrollably heaved over the toilet. You had nothing left to give, but Satoru was taking everything from you.
Hot tears burned your cheeks as they slipped down your face. You didn’t want to do this. You wished you would’ve never saw that fucking video last night. You should’ve given yourself plausible deniability, but now, you had to face the music.
You slowly returned back to the kitchen after trying your best to clean yourself up. Your eyes focused on Satoru. He was finishing up cooking bacon when his eyes finally met yours and drove daggers through your heart.
“Good morning, sweetness. Something wrong?” He asks with so much care in his tone. You fantasize about hitting him — just once. How dare he suddenly care when you have to check out?
You don’t even know what to say to him. Like, yes, something is clearly fucking wrong, Satoru. I’m dating an unfaithful jerk.
“What are you doing here?” You ask bluntly, wiping your face of the remnants of tears and makeup that had stained your skin. He shouldn’t be allowed to see how badly he hurt you.
“I… live here?” He responds in a questioning tone, furrowing his white eyebrows as he studies your face. “Are you okay?” If only he had asked that question weeks ago, then maybe you two wouldn’t be in this mess today.
“No, and you don’t live here anymore.” You snap, causing him to slightly flinch back — not out of fear but out of surprise. He’s never seen you like this before.
“What do you mean, sweetness? I-“
“Cut the shit, Gojo. Don’t act stupid with me. It’s unbecoming.” You interrupt him completely, not wanting to hear him try to act innocent when you have all the proof you need on your phone.
“Woah. I don’t know what’s wrong, but I don’t really appreciate the insult and the use of my government name. I genuinely have no idea of what you’re talking about.” His voice is firm, laced with sternness, so you can see that he’s not playing around with you.
You take a deep breath until your lungs burn. You want to scream at him, chase him out of the house, and light his shit on fire. Instead, you silently go to retrieve your phone. Pulling up the picture of him with kiss marks all over his face, you shove the screen in his direction.
Gojo takes a few seconds to take in the photo, and he lets his shoulders drop. “This is what you’re mad over, sweetness?” He asks in a much more calm tone, looking up at you with almost puppy dog eyes.
“Don’t call me that.” You snap while swiping your phone back from his hands. “I didn’t think I’d have to spell it out for you, but we’re fucking done.”
“You seriously believe that I would cheat on you?” He asks in that stupid arrogant tone of his, completely ignoring your blunt rejection.
“Why else would your high school crush post a picture of you with kiss marks all over your face!? You look so fucking dumb and in love. I fucking-“ Your throat chokes up as if your body was trying to stop you from saying something you didn’t mean. The words “I fucking hate you” die right there on your lips. Tears fall down your cheeks, and you place your palms over your eyes to hide yourself from his impregnable gaze.
“This, again?” He asks in a frustrated tone before letting out an exasperated sigh, He turns the stove off - abandoning his food before walking over to you. He bends his knees a bit to get on your level. “Look at me.” He demands before his hands go to pull yours away from your eyes.
“Don’t fucking touch me.” You cry out, jerking back away from his presence. Your breath speeds up. The oxygen isn’t having enough time to enter your bloodstream. Your body is vibrating, forcing the air quickly from your lungs. Everything is moving so fast and why the fuck is he so close to you-? He’s suffocating. Fuck, catch your breath. Whyhim?Whyyou?Why?Why?Whatdidyoudotodeservethis???
A gush of air is blown harshly onto your face, and you can feel the bitter cold feeling of something touching your skin. Your eyes see Satoru’s hand holding an ice cube, guiding it along your warm skin on your arm. Your body is so hot that it’s melting faster than he’s moving it.
“Breathe. Match my movements.” Satoru guides in a calm yet steady tone. Your eyes find the way his chest is slowly rising and falling with each breath. You want to tell him to go play in traffic. You don’t need him to ground you. You don’t need him to do anything for you. You don’t need him.
Still, your body matches his slowly. Your breath becomes more stable, and you can feel your heart starting to settle into a more natural rhythm. Your bleary eyes meet his empathetic ones. It’s been so long since your last panic attack, but he remembers just how to calm you down.
It only makes it all hurt so much worse.
“It’s almost over. You’re doing a good job.” He takes his chances at encouraging you. It feels so sickening, more tears flee your eyes. Where had your boyfriend been, and why is he only just now back after he did the unthinkable?
“Sing with me.” It’s an odd request, but it’s something he found that grounds you better than most grounding techniques. Saying repeatable phrases in melodic tone is comforting for your mind.
“No.”
“Come on… Just one time. Your favorite.” He tries again. Metaphorically, lighting the candle and passing it back to you.
You shake your head in response. Flame snuffed. How can you sing with him after what he did to you?
“Come on, don't leave me it can't be that easy, babe” He starts with such a soft angelic voice. You fold in on yourself unable to keep the sob from escaping your throat. What method of torture is this??
“If you believe me I guess I'll get on a plane. Fly to your city excited to see your face.” He continues, lighting that same candle. It’s so small, barely there anymore from how many times you two have tried to relight it.
“Hold me, console me and then I leave without a trace.” The ice cube has completely melted, and his hand is resting on your arm. He slowly guides you to his chest, and you indulge in his warm embrace for just one last time.
“Come on, don't leave me it can't be that easy, babe.” His chin rests on top of your head. You’ve always fit so well in his arms. He’d always tell you that whatever higher power is out there made you specifically with him in mind.
“If you believe me I guess I'll get on a plane. Fly to your city excited to see your face.” His skin is so warm against yours, and your tears are sticking to your chest.
“Hold me, console me and then I leave without a trace.” You finally indulge him, softly joining in on his singing. His body slowly starts to guide you two into a soft subtle sway.
“Come on, don't leave me it can't be that easy, babe.” It’s not that easy. This fucking hurts so bad. Why would your soulmate do this to you?
“If you believe me I guess I'll get on a plane. Fly to your city excited to see your face.” You feel so pathetic — seeking out comfort from the one who hurt you this bad. If your friend could see you right now, she’d slap some sense into you.
“Hold me, console me and then I leave without a trace.”
You’re sniffling softly into his chest, and his hand carefully pets your hair. “Those kiss marks weren’t from Utahime.” He explains in a soft tone. “We were filming a TikTok. The punchline of the joke was that Suguru and Haibara were the ones who kissed all over my face.”
You look up at him with an unsure look on your face, not understanding what he meant. Satoru carefully picks your phone up, and he clicks on Haibara’s Instagram story from last night.
Sure enough, Haibara posted a TikTok of him, Suguru, Satoru, and Utahime. The camera points at Satoru, showing the kiss marks on his face, and the sound plays. “Bro, what happened to your face? Did you do that?” The camera then pans to Utahime to which she mouths the words, “I did not do that.” The camera then pans to Haibara with smeared wine red lipstick on his lips who says, “Then, who did?” The camera is then panned towards Suguru. He also had wine red lipstick smeared on his lips. “Yeah, who?” The two boys start laughing along with Satoru, and the video cuts.
It only comforts your weary heart slightly.
“It was just a stupid TikTok… I should’ve consulted you or warned you… done anything to respect you.”
“This doesn’t take back how awfully cold you’ve been over the last few weeks…” You sniffle out quietly, and Satoru nods his head knowingly.
“I know, sweetness.. I know. I’ve been terrible.” His arms squeeze you a bit tighter — frightened that he was so close to loosing you, still scared of losing you.
“That’s not an apology… or even a reason.” You try to squirm from his grip, but Satoru holds you tighter.
“I’m so fucking sorry, sweetness.” He breathes out a shaky breath, and you realize the shakiness in his voice. Glancing up at him, you feel yourself clam up with the sight of tears in his eyes. Christ, his eyes are somehow even more blue when he cries. “Shit got crazy at work then-“
“You still had time to party it up with your friends. You left me without even telling me you love me.” You finally break away from his grasp. The cheating accusation was only the surface of the main problem.
“You know I love you…” His voice is small, and he wipes his eyes of the tears that are threatening to spill.
“Do I know that?”
“Don’t… don’t say that.. I love you more than life itself.” His shaky hands go to reach for you again, but you move back away from him.
“You’re only doing this because I’m leaving you. If I hadn’t mentioned it, you’d probably still be half assed ignoring me.” You stare at him, and your eyes start to water for the nth time today.
“That’s not…” Satoru bites his tongue, and he runs a hand through his messy white hair. “I came home this morning… saw the uneaten tv dinner in the trash… Your reality tv show was still playing in the background, and I saw how you fell asleep with your makeup messed up… I realized then how much I neglected you… I planned a full day for us to enjoy each other’s presence… Please, don’t leave me for this. I can fix this.”
“How did it feel to look at me everyday when I tried so fucking hard to reach you?”
“It killed me.” He breathes out, and he tries to reach for you again. “Please, I missed you so much. Work was just so fucking much, and I don’t know why I took that out on you.”
You stare at him, and you shake your head silently. “You should go, Gojo..” Your voice cracked as it physically pained you to tell him to leave. Your body craves him more than anything else in the world right now.
“No, please, princess. Don’t do this… I can fix this. I’ll do whatever it takes… just don’t leave me…” Satoru’s on his knees, literally begging you not to leave him. Tears are falling down his cheeks as he bows his head to you.
It’s humiliating, but he’s so humiliatingly in love with you. He’s so dead serious. He’d do anything for you to stay with him.
“Toru..”
“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I-I don’t know why I did it. I just pulled away from you, and I don’t know how it happened. You’re the best damn thing that’s ever happened t-to me. Please. I can’t function without you.”
You stare at your boyfriend with concern as his head literally touches the floor beneath him. You don’t even know what to say to him. The thought of leaving him hurts so fucking bad. It steals the breath from your lungs.
“Please don’t leave me… puh…. please stay with me.” He’s groveling at your feet, unable to stop the tears that escape his eyes. The thought of living in a world where you aren’t his girlfriend… he wouldn’t. He’d be a shell of who he once was. He’s nothing without you.
You slowly sit on the floor in front of him, and your hands stroke his soft hair gently. Satoru’s breath slows as he finally gets a grip on his emotions. He realizes just how pathetic he looks. He slowly leans up, and he looks at you. Both of you looked like complete messes, and it was all his fault.
“I don’t deserve you,” He murmurs quietly. “but please, I can make this better… I love you so much, sweetness… I wouldn’t dream of ever cheating on you.”
“I don’t forgive you.” Your voice is barely a whisper. The metaphorical flame is so small and shaky, but if you two both shield it from the wind, it’ll be able to grow once more. “You have a lot to prove me, Toru.”
“I’ll spend every waking minute of my life fixing this. I promise you, sweets.”
and he did. Satoru went back to loving you loudly. He didn’t merely shield the flame from being blown out, he fanned it himself so it grew in intensity. He was back to doting on you constantly, and he did frequent check-ins to make sure you weren’t feeling neglected. He took frequent vacations from work with you. He usually took you two out on holidays to wherever your heart desired, but sometimes you two would use his vacation time to just lounge around the house and enjoy each other’s presence.
Your confidence slowly returned to you over time. It wasn’t easy by any means. It took many nights of Satoru’s consistent reassurance and overwhelming love and support for you to slowly start feeling comfortable in your relationship with him.
He put in the work, nourished your flame, and he never made you feel guilty for having a second thought because when he loves, he loves deeply. Casual is not his strong suit.
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legally-allowed-to-slime · 3 days ago
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guess who just spent 15 minutes of their lifetime transcribing a 4 minute clip of pearl rambling about life series on stream (29/10/2024)
anyway i can’t upload the video (too long) here’s the transcript anyway (also long)
Pearl: Um, alrighty. By the way, I wanna— I’m, I’m curious, I wanna know, okay, it— when it came to… Secret Life, why did people think I— I betrayed Gem completely? Wouldn’t me teaming with Gem have betrayed Scar? I wanna know where all this, like, super [word that i can’t place for the life of me. solar???] “Pearl betrayed Gem” came from. (laughs) 
I understand, I killed her at the end. And we teamed up for a moment. But Scar was on our side and not trying to kill my allies. That was my team from the beginning. Gem, was always trying to kill ‘em. So how… how is that not a betrayal in any… like it kinda has to be quote unquote betrayal, but technically Scar was allied with me more? (laughs)
“Scar was distinctly not on anyone’s side” Did anyone watch my finale? ‘Cause, he was teamed up with us. Gem was trying to kill us in that last episode. So, logically, I would fight with the person who’s not trying to kill my team. [Freudian slip]
So I just wanna know, how did I do the betraying in that instance? (laughs) “From her POV it was a betrayal” Ahh, it’s a belief system, huh? (laughs) But it’s funny. I like it. I was just curious what, uh, put the nail in the coffin for that belief. ‘Cause I’ve seen it come up a little bit lately, and apparently I’m the one that betrayed. 
(laughs) I dunno about that one. Curious. Curious, curious, curious. (laughs) Technically, whichever way I’ve gone, I would’ve went— it would’ve been betraying somebody, right? If I’d turned around and killed Scar, I would’ve betrayed him, because he was allied with us at the end. And then killing Gem obviously, same. But, when it came to that, I actually let Scar— I think I hit her once. Otherwise it was Scar. I did one whack, and then I stood back and let him kind of rock and roll. And uh, make it— make it between those two. So it was an interesting finale, that one.
But, something that people have mentioned actually, is that, uhh, another thing was, with, uh, Cleo and Scott in Real Life.
All this talk of Pearlo betraying people, are we not gonna realise that people have betrayed me in the life series? With a split decision? I’m just sayin’. They ain’t innocent. (laughs) Just sayin’, I think— I think 5am Pearl had every right to do what I did. Throw in um, what is it, the fuel on the fire for this one?
Character arcs. It’s cool to see how people analyse them, so I’ve been seeing a little bit of that. Especially with the new, uh, “I don’t love you” line that I got last session. Love you Gem. Always will. Even when you say no. (laughs) Even if you don’t, I’ll still be there. It’s fine. (laughs)
“Do it for the plot, Pearl” Basically.
(clip ends)
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For the yandere! Justice League x assistant reader, how would they react if they had Deadpool as a friend? Like he randomly shows up. They would try to keep the reader as far away from him as possible, but it's Deadpool. Lol. How would Yandere Justice League feel if the reader liked Deadpool because he's funny and makes the reader laugh even if in a tense situation, randomly just talking about nonsense and/or making funny jabs at some of Justice League members? Not only that, but he would just annoy them for his and the reader's amusement. I can also imagine Wonder Woman or Superman trying to kill/critically injure him but finding out he has a super healing ability. LOL. I can imagine the scene where Deadpool punches Colossus, but his hand breaks, then he tries again while saying, "Cock shot!" but his other hand breaks. Instead, he does it to Superman and says, "Oh, your poor Lois Lane!" I feel like that would make the reader laugh out loud.
I finally saw the Deadpool & Wolverine movie, and I loved it! So now I want to see more content about Deadpool. I forget how funny he can be. I would like you to add a Deadpool & Wolverine, but I don't know if you have seen the movie yet. But I recommend you go and watch the movie.
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A Day in Life: Best Friends Forever
Synopsis: A day in your life where a visit from your friend ends up in Deadpool losing his thumbs and re-attaching them back.
Pairing: Yandere!Justice League X Gn!Assistant!Reader; Platonic!Deadpool
Tw: 18+; No spoilers from the movie; Some violence; Light gore descriptions (not really); Some sexual comments (it's Deadpool); English is my 2nd language.
Word count: 830
Requested? Yes.
Extra notes: I loved this request, saw the movie on like the same week it came out, sorry this took so long</3
General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist
— So that's what happens when I’m not around, huh?! — Hal Jordan snarked, faking amusement by the sight in front of him, but being very much not amused.
How? Was the question going through everyone's minds, as they watched their dear assistant (Y/N), in the middle of Hall of Justice, chatting away with a very infamous criminal known all around the hero-villain underground, who every single soul despised, and yet, there you were, choking your laughter and in tears with Deadpool, acting as if you've been friends all your life.
Diana was the first one to approach, followed by the rest of the Justice League.
— (Y/N), is this man bothering you? — She squared up and stared directly on Deadpool’s blank white lenses. That grounded you and helped you come back from the stories your friend was telling you.
— B-Bothering me? — Your laughter slowly died down, and you wiped your tears. — No, we’re just talking. — You shrugged and sniffled, so happy that a genuine smiled was fixed on your face, hypnotizing all the heroes for a moment.
— Wonder Woman! — Deadpool gave little fangirl jumps. Diana swallowed a groan. — It’s amazing to see you again! I’m even wearing my fanciest anal plug and thinking about you, all in your honor. — Diana couldn't control the disgusted and astounded expression on her face, while Wade saluted her. You bite your lips to not giggle.
— Don't be silly, Pool. Not everyone understands your humor. — You lightly slapped his shoulder and he sighed.
— I know! That's why I'm so introverted and depressed! — He shook his head. — That's why Disney sold me to DC, they couldn't handle my deep and complex character. Let's hope James Gunn knows what he's doing now. — Everyone, including you, furrowed their eyebrows, but no one decided to question what the hell he was talking about, since the mercenary was known for being insane. — And just after my third movie with Wolvie came out! Unbelievable. — He threw his hands in the air and shook his head while looking at an empty space as if there was someone there. He did that sometimes.
— You seem… Close. W-When did that happen, (N/N)? — Flash looked between you and Deadpool, biting his lower lip, slightly anxious. You blinked.
— Oh, well. Like, a few months ago? He sent his curriculum because he wanted to be part of the Justice League. There were no records of him in the system so I Interviewed him. Obviously he didn't pass, but we became good friends! — You shrugged with an easy smile.
— That's… Great, (N/N). — You narrowed your eyes on Hal Jordan.
— Hey… — Deadpool's mask gave the slightest hint that he was furrowing his eyebrows, and he pointed at Green Lantern. — (Y/N) told me about you. I don't like you. — He took his guns out of the holsters and pointed at the brunette. You gasped and stepped back, slightly regretting having told Wade about that. — STEP BACK WORST RYAN REYNOLDS SUPERHERO MOVIE OR I’M GONNA BLOW YOUR BRAINS OUT IN 4K R-RATED! — Hal raised his arms. He was already on thin ice with you, and beating your bestie would probably be a bad idea to start over.
Batman grunted for someone to cover your eyes and threw two batarangs that disarmed Deadpool before he could react. Deadpool gasped and looked at the ground wide eyed. His thumbs had been chumped off in the ordeal (Batman was jealous and also knew he would just regenerate).
— WHAT? WHAT’S HAPPENING? — You blindly yelled, since Superman had zoomed to just behind you and was covering your eyes.
— HE CASTRATED ME! — Deadpool cried, reaching back for his swords, but since he didn't have thumbs anymore, he couldn't even hold them, making him just cry more from frustration. — THE DADDY ISSUES JUST GET WORSE! AND JUST BECAUSE I WAS READY TO BE ADOPTED BY YOU! — Batman furrowed his eyebrows at the mention of him having more than just one kid.
— Guys, we should all just calm down. — Flash tried to play the pacifist, standing in the middle of the chaos with his hands up, but Wade’s cries were covering his voice.
— WHAT'S HAPPENING? — You tried to tug Superman’s hands off, but he didn't let up, and started trying to sooth you.
Deadpool got to his knees and pathetically tried to push one of his thumbs into place, trying to accelerate his healing process, and after 30 seconds of chaos, he perked up when the thumb got attached again. He did the same to the other one.
— The sight is gross, (Y/N). You do not want to see it… — Wonder Woman mumbled, eyes fixed on the scene, feeling a mix of grossed out and impressed.
— Gross? This is natural. Like the birth of a little naked newborn baby. You wanna know what's real gross? My roommate Blind Al’s stink! She might as well be dead at this point… Uh, oh… — Wade slowly got up. — (Y/N)... Call me an Uber. I need to check on someone.
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moonlit-imagines · 2 days ago
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Preferences: Being an Avenger and an ex-Widow
Avengers x reader
warnings:
a/n:
prompt: anon 🥀: “hcs for how avengers would react to reader being an ex widow like natasha”
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when you defected from the red room, you rejected SHIELD
“why trade one corrupt organization for another?” -you (not aware shield was ACTUALLY corrupted by hydra)
you freelanced for a bit, avoiding recruitment at all turns and trying to keep control of your life
but nick fury wouldn’t let you drop from his radar
“y/n, meet natasha romanoff” -fury
“i know you…” -you
“red room, yes” -nat
“what are you two doing here?” -you
“trying to recruit you, actually” -nat
“like i told your boss a dozen times, i want no part in working for SHIELD, the notion bores me” -you
“well, what if i told you a new position opened up?” -fury, watching your brow raise “im assembling a team, one with the most skilled players in the game”
“spies?” -you
“not quite” -nat, smirking
thus started your induction into the avengers
and nat became probably your best friend
“i’ve never met another widow defector, it’s…nice” -you
“we killed him, you know…” -nat, hesitating “dreykov. barton and i got him”
it was the best news you’d gotten in a while
the rest of the avengers were a bit ragtag compared to the soldiers they recruited
the billionaire in a suit, scientist with anger issues, the asgardian god
then 3 assassins and a soldier from world war ii
but you all made nice eventually, especially after fighting side by side
being with the avengers instead of a lonely assassin gave you back some of that humanity you lost over the years
“y/n, want to go on a run?” -steve
“with you? what’s the point?” -you
“i’ll slow down for you” -steve
routine runs became a stress reliever for you
you traded war stories with nat and clint on late nights when you couldn’t sleep
and tony made you his “guinea pig” when it came to testing new technologies
“i didn’t mean it in a derogatory way! i know where you come from, bad choice of words. would you though? it’s a pretty cool gun…wouldn’t want it to go to waste…” -tony
and bruce, sweet bruce, bruce recluse….
i just wanted to say that actually
bruce and you didn’t have all that much in common but sometimes he’d sit with you and keep you company, maybe offer you some food
you’d have really meaningful conversations with the avengers, too
“so, what deterred you from joining SHIELD?” -steve
“a lifetime of being controlled by people with their own agendas and no regard for their soldiers’ lives” -you “sound familiar?”
“all too familiar” -steve
“then you understand that i was not going to work for the united states government, it was hard enough joining the avengers” -you
okay, okay. you might be wondering “wheres all the action scenes?” fine here they are
you and nat knew some pretty outdated moves pretty well. after all, you were taught the same
it was easy to fight with her, it was almost like you were telepathically communicating your next moves
“are we sure the red room didn’t give them some kind of mind reading chip?” -tony “hey, that should be my next project”
“absolutely not” -steve
clint got jealous of you and nat because the bond they had was similar to yours, but you suggested a group effort with him
so you and nat taught him some red room lessons (minus the horrendous abuse)
thor enjoyed your ruthlessness
“y/n, you never cease to amuse me!” -thor
“they just knocked a man out, thor” -clint
“yes! hilarious” -thor
“you don’t laugh when stark does it” -steve
“stark? well, he’s not too funny” -thor
“hey! im funny…” -tony
honestly getting really close with the team
and eventually welcoming wanda and vision
assuring wanda that coming from a less-than-friendly background didn’t make her any less than the avengers
“you know, i was pretty bad before i joined up. you’ll fit right in!” -you
the avengers went through a lot of ups and downs
and by the time they’d split, you already left
“i’m sorry, guys. i’m just not cut out for this line of work.” -you
“what do you mean?” -tony
“you know what i mean. i cant be an avenger anymore. i cant be idolized and i cant be associated with whatever mess is brewing here” -you
you wanted to go solo again, working for the group was never what you really wanted
it was nice for a while
and you watched as the drama between steve and tony unfolded, feeling grateful you didn’t have to pick a side
*pressing ignore on your phone for the fiftieth time*
freelance life just suited you better
until you found the red room was still operating
and for once you picked up the phone
“hey nat. are we freeing these widows or what?”
taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @summersimmerus // @prettysbliss // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @beth-gallagher22 // @mymelodymia // @deanzboyfriend // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //
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gale-gentlepenguin · 4 hours ago
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Imagine being Posiedon.
You are sitting for 10 years, waiting to finish a fight with a punk sailor that you decimated most of the crew of because they blinded your son.
And you go for that extra level petty where you are waiting for him to be right by his home. Just so you can snatch that hope away from him.
Now ten years is nothing to you because you are a deity. And your entire domain is the ocean.
So imagine, you get word the punk is back on the seas. In a little raft made of twigs and leaves. You make a show of it. You tell him that there is no mercy and that you are here to run that fade one last time. And if he doesn’t… you will kill everyone. He’s begging for mercy. Trying to appeal.
But he ain’t getting it. This is
And just as you hit him with your named finisher.
This motherf***er not only survives, but utilizes the power of YOUR Storm to fly and hit you with a f***ing Limit break.
You got your ass beat in your domain. Now you decide to be petty. Cause f*** this guy in particular. Sure, he won. But you will heal, you can’t die, and that storm he used to fight back is now stopping him from getting home.
He tells you to call off the storm.
You tell him no. And he picks up your triton. You laugh cause that won’t kill you.
But when you look up and see his face… you realize. He was counting on that.
And it was for the first time in a long time you lament being immortal.
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citruslullabies · 1 day ago
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OMG. I SAW UR CURLY HEADCANONS AND I TOUGHT THEY WERE AMAZING!! COULD U MAYBE DO THE SAME THING BUT WITH DAISUKE?? :O
Coming right up hon!
Daisuke Mouthwashing headcannons
Romantic
Pre-crash Daisuke:
He's a silly guy
Constantly cracking jokes, trying to make you laugh
People wouldn't know if you two were dating or just best friends if it weren't for the fact he's a puppy dog with you
Following you around whenever he can, looking at you for praise whenever he can
It's kind of like the meme "no, I'm not calling you good boy. That mission was shit."
..other than he is a good boy so call him such
And boy does he love PDA
Well, not really
He just loves affection, public or private
I like to think he's just a bit more silly in public
Kisses your cheek and makes an over exaggerated pop whenever he pulls away
Daisuke was hanging out with Swansea, goofing off as usual. But he saw you in the corner of his eye and without a second thought, ran to you and practically pounced. Before you could get anything but a giggle in, he pressed his lips to your cheek and kissed you with a loud pop!
He's not really a petname sort of person either
It's mostly funny nicknames for him
He will call you his grumpasaur when you're grumpy first thing in the morning. I don't make the rules.
Post-crash Daisuke:
For awhile, he still acts the same. But his personality is a little watered down, y'know?
He's stressed and scared after what happened
But he tries not to let that get him down!
Although he is more clingy, more scared of letting go of you. One accident already happened and almost wiped their captain out, what if you were next?
He didn't want to think about that
It made him nauseated to think about
And eventually well.. he crawled through that vent to get to Anya
And he got severely injured. You couldn't bear to see him like that
You most likely died soon before, trying to keep Swansea from killing Daisuke
Begging and pleading that there had to be some other way
But it didn't work out in anyone's favor
Platonic
Pre-crash Daisuke:
You guys are super duper close!!
Lots of jokes and pranks on the other crew members
Constantly goofing off whenever you can
Not too affectionate.. the occasional hug here and there. But besides that it's all fun and games
He has definitely drawn on your face before while you slept
I'm sorry. I don't make the rules. He would definitely make an attempt at drawing a flower on your cheek and it look like a penis
He'd still giggle about it though.. maybe it wasn't an accident
He has definitely (jokingly and lovingly) made fun of Swansea
Just standing up and trying to mimic his mannerisms while you're laughing
..yeah, too bad Swansea was in at that very moment
"look at me, I'm Swansea! I'm a big smelly engineer!" Daisuke said in a forcefully deeper voice, making you laugh as he held his arms out in front of him as if to mimic toting a stomach around. Swansea in question could only look unamused as he cleared his throat, making you both stop in your tracks. Oh if looks could kill.
But yeah you guys have a purely goofy relationship
Post-crash Daisuke:
It's the exact same as the romantic, but the difference is, he tries to convince you to go into the vent with him. He wants to get Anya and doesn't want to be alone
But you of course refused, stating it wasn't safe but did he listen?
No
In fact he continued on to the vent and got himself injured
You gave him the 'i told you so' look but.. you felt really bad when looking at your friend. He was in bad shape.
And so you died a similar way
The only big difference is, you died after discovering him
Thanks for requesting!
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cheynovak · 1 day ago
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Bound by Fear - Teaser
Characters: Soldier boy x Y/N Female character     
Summary:Y/N’s life with The Boys has been one of constant fear, especially when Soldier Boy joins their ranks. She knows his dark history, and just being in the same room with him makes her blood run cold. But when a final showdown spirals out of control, and her friends are moments from death, Y/N steps forward, putting herself between Soldier Boy and The Boys. Terrified but determined, she offers him an escape—an out that might save everyone, even if it means sacrificing herself to the supe she fears most.
Warnings: Enemies to lovers, Some spice scene further in the series.
English is not my first language 
*Please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 
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I can still feel my heart hammering, louder than the chaos that unfolds around me. The Boys are ganging up on Soldier Boy, Ben, and it's not looking good. Every blow, every clash between them reverberates like thunder, and I know… he's not going to back down. He never does. They’re going to get themselves killed. Or maybe he’ll kill them, because he can.
The fear I’ve always had around him swells, but so does a sharper instinct—to stop this. My voice is shaking as I step forward, yelling, “Ben, wait!” The others barely register my words, but he does. His head snaps toward me, confusion narrowing his gaze.
“Run away with me,” I say, not knowing where the words come from. “You don’t have to do this. We can go somewhere else. Start over.”
He laughs softly, almost a scoff, and I know he doesn’t believe it, and I can’t blame him. How many times has he seen me freeze or flinch in his presence? How many times have I buried my horror at his past under a facade of polite distance? Yet here I am, forcing myself to stand still as he steps closer, his gaze locked on mine.
He’s silent for a long moment, his hand reaching out to cup my cheek. His touch is gentle, though there’s a hard look in his eyes, as if he's trying to see through me. “You’re scared of me," he murmurs, the words cold but oddly intimate. “You don’t want this.”
I swallow, trying to steady my breathing. “Yes, I do,” I whisper. “Please, Ben. Come with me.”
His grip moves ever so slightly, his fingers lingering near my neck, his thumb following the beat of my heart under my skin, as he studies me, like he’s weighing the honesty in my words. For a moment, I almost feel the warmth flickering in him, a hesitation.
But then Ben’s hand moves up, his fingers wrapping around my neck, pulling me closer to him, just firm enough to hold me in place, to remind me exactly who he is. I try to steady myself, but the fear is thick in my throat, and despite everything, a tear slips free, tracing down my cheek. I see his gaze drop to it, his jaw clenching as if he’s fighting something within himself.
"You're terrified of me," he murmurs, his voice low, a mixture of frustration and something deeper I can’t quite place.
I try to speak, to hold steady against the intensity in his eyes, but my voice is a whisper. “I’m not—I’m not afraid. I want this, Ben. I want you to come with me. Please, let’s just go.” I say holding my hands around his wrist.
For a moment, he doesn’t move, his grip still firm, his gaze unwavering as if trying to understand what on earth I’m doing, why I’m standing here in the way I am. Then, after what feels like an eternity, his hand drops from my neck, and I exhale, feeling the lingering touch even as he lets go.
I turn just as MM steps closer, the sedative ready in his hands, his eyes hard, determined. I know what he’s about to do, what they’re all about to do. Without thinking, I step forward, my arms outstretched, blocking him from Ben. “Don’t!” I say, my voice breaking. My back is to Ben, shielding him, and I can feel the weight of everyone’s stares—the disbelief, the confusion.
MM’s voice is tense, frustrated. “Y/N, move. He’s not worth it, he’ll kill you the second he gets the chance.”
But I shake my head. “No. This isn’t the way, MM. He’s…let us go, please."
I can feel Ben’s gaze on me, that hard intensity still lingering, but it’s different now, softened somehow, like he’s caught off guard. Annie grabs my arm, her voice a soft, urgent plea, “Y/N, you don’t have to do this. Think about it. You don’t have to protect him.”
But I pull my arm free, looking straight at Ben. “Yes, I do.”
For a moment, it’s as if the whole world pauses, like this decision is hanging in the air, impossible to ignore.
Then Ben steps back, his shoulders relaxing, a flicker of something like understanding in his eyes. And without another word, he turns to leave, and I follow, feeling the weight of every gaze behind me.
There’s no going back now.
--
Taglist:
@jackles010378 @libby99hb @winchesterwild78 @suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @deans-baby-momma
@ancles @tulipsvanilla @thesilmarillionblog @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @kr804573 @kamisobsessed @hobby27
@globetrotter28 @kindollss @muhahaha303 @shadysoulangel @lyarr24 @spxideyver @impala67rollingthroughtown @panickedbitch @deansimpalababy @livya99
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ghxstwrites · 19 hours ago
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You're Mine
Pairing: Ghostface!Hongjoong x Female Reader, Brief Seonghwa x Reader, Brief San x Reader.
Summary: Hongjoong was in love with you and he’d kill to have a chance with you. 
WC: 2.4K
AU: Non-Idol! Hongjoong, brief College! AU
Genre: Horror, Smut
Warning(s): Smut! MDNI; use of Knives/knife kink, Mask Kink, Degradation and Praise, Yandere!Hongjoong, name calling, unprotected sex (yes, just as scary, wrap it!), pet names (baby, doll), name calling, swearing, talks of crime scenes/bodies - no graphic descriptions
A/N: Happy Halloween, Loves! I couldn't think of a better way to finish the season than with captain himself. Thank you to my beta readers @bunnliix and @potatomountain for helping me out here!
Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society
Tag List: @bethelighthalazia @a---shura @kpop---scenarios @autieofthevalley @rems-writing @skzdust (send me an ask if you'd like to be added!)
Kinktober & Flufftober Masterlist
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The wind picked up as you walked through the neighborhood, Halloween was only a few days away and you could definitely tell. 
The carved pumpkins on everyone's doorsteps, the goofy inflatables and plastic props sticking out of lawns, and the multicolored leaves on the ground that crunch under your feet as you walk down the street. You were on the way to your friend's house as you were bringing supplies for a party that was meant to happen at his apartment over the weekend. 
Knocking on his door, you didn’t get a response, you opted to shoot him a text.
“Hey loser, you said you were home, where are you?” you sent the message to him not long after the door swings open and he’s drying off his hair.
 “Sorry, I had to take a shower - I just got back from the gym and I was uh.. pretty gross,” he admits to you. You roll your eyes and brush past him sitting the bags on his kitchen island. 
“Of everyone,” you paused looking up at your friend, “Why did you opt to host the party Joong?” You chuckle as he approaches you. “You don't really seem like the type to go to parties, plus we need some decorations, Man!” 
He laughs as he tosses the towel to the side “I don’t go to parties, plus this is just a few people - i’ll manage,” he smirks as he leans against the counter. 
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It was Friday night, all of your friends pile into Hongjoong’s apartment, some of the guys had started to to drink and make unholy liquor concoctions as you try to set up the snacks for the night and  just as the last attendee comes in Hongjoong walks out of his room pulling a shirt over his head.
“Wait, Where’s Seonghwa?” one of the others perked up. 
“He’s usually never late,” you add, looking defeated, you had been hoping to catch him here because in the days leading up to the party the two of you had been exchanging flirtatious glances and witty comments. Maybe you’d even get lucky when no one was looking. 
“Maybe he got caught up at work or something,” Hongjoong shrugs, not paying too much mind to the situation as he flops down on the couch setting up the movies for the night. “Scream marathon anyone?” He looks over at the group of his friends. 
“I don’t really do scary movies, Joong…,” you say softly, before he has the chance to respond, San smiles at you. 
“You can cling on to me as you need to, I’ll protect you,” he says confidently with a smirk. 
Hongjoong could feel his blood boil, who did these guys think they were? You were his and he wasn't going to fight anyone for you, but on the outside he remained expressionless, huffing out a response he turned back to the TV pressing play on the movie.  
After a few drinks, you settled back into San’s touch, his broad shoulders providing a comfortable back board to rest against. Across the room, Hongjoong settles into his spot on the sofa as he steals glances at you and San, his blood presure rising with each passing moment he sighs to himself, “Who gives a fuck about these movies,” he mutters under his breath as he gets up to go pour himself yet another drink. 
He’d had an alternative to his party, getting you all to himself. He’d spent months pinning over you, doing anything he could to get you close to him, so when your sights got set on Seonghwa he felt betrayed, crushed, and even used. Hongjoong knew there was only one solution, after all - Seonghwa was the campus nerd, who would really miss him if that meant Hongjoong had what he wanted, no, needed. You. 
San excuses himself so he can get some fresh air and attempt to sober up, he makes his way outside. Just as San slips out of the back door Hongjoong follows him. 
“Oh hey man, i did-,” San doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence Hongjoong swings, punching San in his face. “What the fuck man?!” he yells out covering his nose 
“Listen here bastard,” Hongjoong grits out “Anyone who flirts with Y/N… they go missing” Hongjoong locks eyes with the younger man. “Why do you think Seonghwa isn’t here?” He smiles wickedly, “She’s mine.”
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It’d been about 45 minutes, San nowhere in sight, and now that you think about it - Where did Hongjoong go? Your eyelids were growing heavy so you tried to pay no mind to it until you heard Wooyoung gasp as he reached to pause the movie. 
“Fucking, Seonghwa’s dead?!” He screeches out  looking at his phone. You immediately shot up off the couch as silence fell over the friend group as they all focused their attention on him, he tapped on the news article.
“The victim was found this afternoon near his college dorm, police later identifying him as Park Seong-Hwa, a 26 year old college student, the police have not pinpointed a suspect at this time, all that was left behind at the crime scene was a note saying ‘Don’t blame the movies.’ Investigators believe the suspect could be a ‘copycat’ killer of the popular character ‘Ghostface’  from the Scream franchise, More updates as they are released.”
“I… I’m gonna step outside,” you whisper, you needed a mental breather, this was a lot to take in so you picked up your drink, making your way out to the back yard. Just as you step off to the side of the house you hear rustling, Looking up you first see San’s white t shirt, now stained your eyes naturally following the figure leaned over him which caused you to freeze, it was the man you’d just read about - a man dressed as ghostface, holding a knife and you couldn’t bring yourself to scream. 
“What's the matter y/n?.. You look like you’ve seen a Ghost.” the masked figure lulls back at you. 
“H-Hongjoong?.. Is that.. No, no no no,” you stammer out backing up from him but before you have the option to run he reaches out, grabbing you by shirt, pulling you to him, you stare back at him - rather the mesh covering his eyes - as your breathing picks up. 
“Don’t you dare scream, understand me?” he tuts at you. All you can seem to do is nod at him. 
Behind his mask all he can do is smirk “This is your fault baby, If you hadn’t been such a shameless slut, your friends would still be alive wouldn’t they?” He laughs spinning you around so your back now faces him as he brings the blood covered kitchen knife up to your throat, causing you to swallow thickly. “Y/n.. You’re gonna get your ass back in that house and pretend like you saw nothing, and maybe if for a change you’re a good girl..,” he coos, “You’ll get to live, yeah?” you nod softly.
You walk back into the house, by this point you realize everyone left, after getting the unsettling news regarding Seonghwa it puts a damper on the evening's festivities. You look around the living room noticing the absence of your friends, you breathe out a sigh of relief, slumping over the back of the couch as tears fall down your face, you are terrified and upset. You couldn’t help it, through your sobs you fail to notice the door opening behind you.
“What's the matter baby?” He coos at you, causing you to jump. 
“Joong please…This isn’t you.. Is it the stupid fucking movies?” you hiss at him. 
He smiles wickedly at you, “Baby..,” he walks up to you, holding onto your hips firmly, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. “Those movies didn’t create me, they only gave me more creative ideas,” he smirks. 
You stare back at him, San’s blood now dried on his face, now serving as a lingering memory of him. Hongjoong sees this, taking the tip of the knife, gently bringing your attention back to him, careful not to break skin. 
“Eyes on me, baby,” he smirks, “He doesnt matter anymore, you’re mine - understood?” He can smell the fear as your tear-filled eyes stare back, the words caught in your throat. 
“O-okay..,” you squeak out. 
A sadistic smile spreads across his face as he lets you go, causing you to fall back onto the couch. “You know baby, you look so pretty like this…,” His knife runs down your clothed body, stopping at the top of your pants. 
“You look terrified but you’re probably so fucking wet..,“ he chuckles out, and you couldn’t lie to yourself, this was a new side of him and you weren’t sure what it was but everytime his knife ghosted your skin, you felt yourself clench around nothing. 
“Hongjoong… Why.. what did they do..,” you choke out, maintaining eye contact with his masked face. 
“They got too close to what was rightfully mine,” He says sternly “and I can’t share you baby,” he smirks as one hand grips your waist as the other finds the button to your jeans 
“Won't you be mine, Doll?” his face leans closer to yours, “you’ll never have to worry again,” he coos in your ear as you feel the button pop on your pants. “Because anyone who gets near you.. I’ll make them disappear.” he spits as his hand finds the wet spot on your underwear. “Seems I'm right… shameless fucking whore…” he snarls. 
Your body seemingly betrays you as you moan out, arching into his touch, “H-Hongjoong, What are you doing?” You look up at the masked man. You get no response and he hurriedly removes your jeans, tossing them to the side. 
“This entire time you’ve been sitting here, putting on a show for me, when in reality you like this..,” His knife grazes your clothed pussy causing a shiver to run down your spine. 
“Joongie… please,” you squirm under his gaze. 
“A pussy so pretty I should mark my initials on it.. Let everyone know you belong only to me,” He punctuated as he used his blade to cut through the thin material of your underwear, eliciting a gasp from you as your underwear fell to the side leaving you exposed, his words only fueling your desire more. 
Hongjoong drops to his knees in front of you removing the now useless fabric as he presses soft kisses to the inside of your thighs, making you squirm. He gives no warning before he latches onto your sensitive nub, causing you to arch into him immediately. He works his tongue expertly as you writhe beneath him, his arms coming up to wrap around your thighs in an attempt to make you stay still.
“J-Joong - ah fuck - feels so good,” you breathe out as your hand tangles in his hair. He smirks against your dripping cunt. 
“That’s it Doll, lose yourself in me…,” he lulls out as he slips two fingers into you as he scissors you open with his fingers, you feel a heat building in your stomach, and he can tell by the way you flutter around his fingers. His tongue and fingers working in tandem to bring you closer and closer and just as that band in your stomach is about to snap you feel him pull his fingers out and release your cunt with a soft pop.
“Fu-Fuck, Joong! No!” you whine out at him. 
“Shh… I’d never leave my baby unsatisfied…,” he chuckles at you, standing back up he pulls you up to eye level with him. “There you are…,” he coos, resting a hand on your cheek before it moves to find purchase in your hair, his grip tightening to an almost painful level as he uses his grip to pull you with him as he sits down on the couch, dragging you down to straddle his lap. 
“This is better, hmm?” His voice sounds almost condescending as he rolls his hips against yours as you whimper. “Hongjoong…pl-please.” 
“Oh doll… I know you can do better than that.” you can hear the way his voice is coated in pleasure. 
“Please, I need you so bad.. I don’t know how much longer I can take this,” you plead with the man, as he grabs the mask he left on the table behind you, slipping it on.
He smirks, making quick work of his pants as he pulls out his aching cock, shuddering at the friction. ”F-fuck doll, you don’t know what you’ve done to me.” he huffs out as he thrust into you causing you both to moan out, you sit there allowing both of you to gather yourselves. You start to rock your hips back and forth as small whimpers leave your mouth, driving him insane. He reached back around, grabbing at your hair and yanking it forcing your head back as a low moan escaped you.  He looked up at you with hungry eyes, watching the faces you made. “That's my doll, look at you, making such pretty noises for me - ah-  not gonna last like this,” he cries out, his hand sneaks between your bodies, finding your clit, rubbing it in small circles causing you to cry out. 
“That’s it doll… I’ve got you,” He coos as his thrust picks up speed to match his fingers as that band in your belly starts to form again. “Show me how much you love what I do to you, how much I have done for you…,” he growls at you, causing that band to snap, you cry out his name as you clench around him. At the same time his release coats your velvet walls as he throws his head back, he holds you in place as you both ride out your highs together. 
As the fog in your brain clears, you look back at the masked man, you reach up, slowly taking it off him. He’s already staring back at you which causes you to flinch slightly, causing him to smile. He reaches up, moving strands of hair out of your face. 
“No one else makes me feel this way,” he says softly, “you could rip my heart out of my chest and I’d still adore you,” you stare back at him, the Hongjoong you knew slipping back into your grasp. You reached up to caress his face, smiling softly.
“I wanna hear you say it,” he asks, barely above a whisper.
“I’m yours..,” you respond softly
“You’re mine.”
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burningcheese-merchant · 23 hours ago
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burningcheese evidence part 2 because yes
I'm kind of foaming at the mouth right now, I'm not really going to be 100% coherent in this post, episode 6 has melted my brain and I need to cool off (also I have actual work to finish irl lololol)
Spoilers under the cut, don't want to be That Asshole
Also for the 1,000th time, it is perfectly okay and understandable if you do not like this ship, I'm not holding a fucking gun to anyone's head, I know it's not really canon or anything, just let me have my dark hero/villain relationship in peace
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"Hey where's Golden Cheese? Is Golden Cheese awake yet? Can she wake up now? No? Why isn't she awake? I want her to wake up already, why won't she wake up already? It's implied that I've asked this question multiple times, when will someone give me the answer I want? I want her here, I want her attention, I want her to wake up already-"
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He thinks so highly of her in his Joker-esque way. She's so strongggg. He knows she's strong. Why wasn't she strong before? This isn't like her, he knows that. He knows her. He knows she's strong. He wanted to see her be strong. What happened?
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Wanting to straight up get high with her. Wanting to watch her let loose. Calling her a combination of "little thief" and "little bird", two pet names the BurningCheese community (spearheaded by yours truly) has had Burning Spice assign to Golden Cheese
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"I KNEW SHE WOULDN'T DISAPPOINT ME" bro thinks the whole damn world of her and had faith she wouldn't let him down, look how fucking happy he is she broke out of prison. She's just like him right now fr fr
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She's giving him precisely what he desired, which is a struggle. Which is a chase. Which is a hunt. Which is a FIGHT. Which is HER. HE WANTS TO HAVE FUN WITH HER.
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Bro is literally SMELLING her everywhere dude. He's attuned to her. To her presence.
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"Hey bring her back to me, I miss her. But I swear to God, if y'all hurt her, if y'all ruffle a single one of her feathers, I will KILL YOU, YOU GOT THAT? SHE'S MINE! ALL MINE! BRING HER TO ME ALIVE AND THAT'S IT! YOU GOT IT?!?!?!"
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God the cute sing-song voice I can't right now. Jesus Christ, my guy. Calling to her like that, really??
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Sniffing her out again because he's fucking deranged and obsessed with her. He's got her whole essence on lock. Tracking her down like a fucking bloodhound. He's hungry for her, he's STARVING, he's BARKING MAD THAT ANYONE IS TRYING TO GET IN HIS WAY
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Little bird? Little bird?? Little bird??? LITTLE BIRD??????????
THE NAME I HAD HIM GIVE HER IN MY FIRST BURNINGCHEESE FIC, WHICH I WROTE DAYS BEFORE THIS FUCKER EVEN RELEASED? THE NAME ALL THE OTHER SHIPPERS HAVE HAD HIM CALL HER TOO? YOU CANONIZED THAT? YOU MADE IT REAL? YOU MADE THE PET NAME HE HAS FOR HER REAL??? I CAN READ THIS IN A DIALOGUE BUBBLE FOR REAL? THIS IS IN THE GAME FOR REAL? ARE YOU FUCKING WITH ME RIGHT NOW???
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"How good it is to see you in one piece" SMILING AND LAUGHING BECAUSE HE'S GLAD SHE'S OK? TELLING HER SO TO HER FACE? MY GUY
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Every step she takes that is wrong to others is right to him. Bust out of jail? Yes good I like that, I want it, I knew she wouldn't disappoint me. Lead him on, make him chase her, have them play hide-and-seek? Yes good, this is fun, I love the thrill of a chase, I KNOW WHERE YOU ARE I CAN FUCKING SMELL YOU I CAN FEEL YOUR FUCKING SOUL YOU CAN'T HIDE FROM ME LITTLE BIRD. Not taking his own goddamn power back? What kind of fool would make such a stupid, regrettable decisi- JK HE'S GLAD HE MADE THIS DECISION, THAT MEANS SHE CAN BE HERSELF AND KICK HIS ASS STILL, THIS IS WHAT HE WANTED, THIS IS EVERYTHING HE WANTED, SHE IS EVERYTHING HE WANTED! YES! (Also, one Freudian slip of several where he says it's HER Soul Jam and not HIS. He's already handing it over to her in his mind. Why? Why tho? Didn't he want it back? Guess not, huh? Guess having the pretty cheese lady beat his ass was too much of a turn-on, huh???)
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ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW? ARE YOU FOR FUCKING REAL? HE SAYS THIS TO HER? WITH THAT FACE? WITH THAT TONE OF VOICE? SAYING SHE'S LOVELY? THAT WHAT SHE'S DOING IS LOVELY? CALLING WHAT THEY'RE DOING A "DANCE"? TELLING HER TO KEEP IT UP? TELLING HER HE'S THOROUGHLY ENJOYING THIS?
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HE KEEPS TRYING TO REASON WITH HER. HE KEEPS TRYING TO TALK TO HER, TO GET THROUGH TO HER, TO GET IT INTO HER PRETTY LITTLE BIRD SKULL THAT HE'S RIGHT. THAT DESTRUCTION IS THE ONLY WAY. Why go to that trouble? Why does he give a single, solitary fuck what she thinks or feels? Why even bother speaking on the matter at all, if it's a fundamental truth in his eyes already? WHY KEEP TELLING HER TO FIGHT, TO KEEP PUSHING, UNTIL SHE UNDERSTANDS HIM? WHY DOES HE WANT HER TO UNDERSTAND HIM? WHO GIVES A FLYING FUCK? And what's this about "and see the day"? Didn't you want to kill her, Burning Spice? Didn't you want to crush her, break her to pieces? Was that another Freudian slip there? Did your mask fall off for a second? DO YOU NOT ACTUALLY WANT HER TO DIE? DO YOU WANT HER TO LIVE, TO STAND UP AND FIGHT, JUST SO SHE'S FORCED TO RECKON WITH THE TRUTH OF YOUR PHILOSOPHY? WHY DO YOU CARE, MOTHERFUCKER? HUH? WHY???
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"Stop teasing me" my brother in the Witches we ALL know you don't mean that. You've been BEGGING her to tease you the past two fucking chapters. Stop lying you dumb fuck, your face is giving it all away anyway
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He's still clamoring for them to get fucking high together, honestly wtf is wrong with him? Drug-fueled combat, is that his kink? Also boy he sure has a vested interest in her enjoying their battle, doesn't he
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She wants more? She wants more of him? She wants more of what he's got? She wants more fun? She wants him to strike a pose that clearly shows off his arms and chest more? YOU GOT IT BABYGIRL-
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"You would destroy everything you have, just to get to me?"
"FUCK YES!!!"
My guy. My man. My cookie. My bro. My dude. Your mask fell off. Your mask fell off, my guy. You just told her point-blank that you'll kill people to get her. You'll blow up your own house to get her. You'll trash everything you ever owned to get her. You even have excuses ready to go to justify it. "Oh, it's all garbage, if you want it go ahead. This place ugly as fuck, I hate it, I wanted it gone anyway." Burning Spice. Burning Spice Cookie. You just admitted out loud that you are so obsessed with her that you will tear down your entire life for her. You just told her that to her fucking face, with a big, dumb grin. You've got the "happy" sprite equipped, buddy. You're HAPPY to tell her in no uncertain terms that all that matters to you is going after her. Fighting her. Getting to her. HER. ALL THAT MATTERS TO YOU IS HER!!!!!!!!! YOU JUST FUCKING SAID THAT SHIT OUT LOUD!!!! CAUGHT IN 4K AND YOU'RE NOT EVEN MAD!!!!! YOU'RE NOT EVEN DENYING THE ALLEGATIONS!!!! THIS CAN BE USED AGAINST YOU IN COURT, BURNING SIMP COOKIE!!!!!!
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If he doesn't compliment her in some way, even indirectly, at least once per conversation, he will spontaneously combust. Pointing out how different and interesting she is, how she breaks the mold, how she defies the cycle of change and history even after it's already chewed her up and spat her out. Just say you want to put your dick inside of her, dude, please this is fucking embarrassing-
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Ok nvm bro is straight up having the biggest, hottest orgasm of his entire fucking life right now, he's straight up speechless, he says like 3 coherent words to her after she awakens and then he's just looking like THIS and smiling so hard his damn is about to be split open by that ecstatic grin. Laughing his stupid, horny, obsessed, creepy ass off. Bro looks like he's CHEERING FOR HER in this shot, are you fucking kidding me? He's HAPPY she got back up, he's HAPPY she got a power boost, he's HAPPY she's kicking his ass, JUST LOOK AT THAT BEAUTIFUL SMILE, HE'S SO IN LOVE IT HURTS
And last, but not least:
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Was this really necessary lol
BurningCheese is canon, Burning Simp Cookie is down terminal, we can all fuck off home and die now, I will now be ascending to Heaven (for 5 seconds before God smacks me back down to Hell, because no way I deserve paradise for all of my bullshit lol), thank you goodbye
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theartofclowns · 2 days ago
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Distraction.
OKAY SO LIKE I REALLY HOPE THIS IS GOOD BECAUSE THE IDEA IS SO FREAKING AMAZING. AHAHJDJSHDF
a/n: first time writing smut so.. be nice! anyways hope you enjoy! NOT PROOF READ BTW!!
cw: AFAB reader!, oral! (reader receiving), slapping, slight choking, cum eating (idk if it counts correct me), slowburn kinda? TELL ME IF I FORGOT ONE PLEASE!!
wc: 4650
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Art was in yalls shared bedroom, whiles you were in the kitchen on your laptop studying for you classes. You had a big exam coming up so you havent been giving him much attention as he wanted. You would oush him away when he tried hugging you, and when he would try to give you kisses. You were very focused and you couldnt have any distractions, not even to give your boyfriend a kiss or a quick hug. He felt unloved during this time and today he wanted it more. His day was shit. Full of his victims escaping and only getting about two kills in. He wanted your attention. He wanted you. And he was going to get what he wanted.
He walked towards the kitchen, where you were obviously, and he wrapped hims arms around your neck loosely. "art im busy. go away.", you say harshly. He stays there with his arms moving down to your shoulders. "art! im busy i said." you say with a slightly harsher and louder tone, clearly stressed. He shakes his head and pulls the chair from under the table. You finally look up from your computer screen and looked at him. His shirt off, and only his pants covering the rest. You smile slightly before shaking your head "babe im very busy.." you say in a softer tone. He mockingly pouts and sighs silently, his arms dropping, putting up a act. You feel guilty and finally get up from the chair youve been glued to for the past 2 days. You look up at him and sigh "what is it?" you ask. He then unexpectingly picks you up and places you on the table. he starts kissing up and down your neck, leaving marks here and there. You moan softly feeling his lips all over you. He then pulls away from your neck and starts rubbing your pussy through your shorts. You feel your cunt get more and more wet as he continues. He keeps eye contact and you look down at his hands. You feel his hand smack against your face and you feel a rough grasp around your neck forcing you to look up at him. He wasnt grabbing to much to where you couldnt breathe but enough to where you can breathe a little. You let out a small moan as he pulls your shorts down, revealing you soaking wet panties. He then rips them effortlessly off of you. He lets go of your neck and bends down to face your dripping cunt. You look down at him with needy eyes. He smirks slightly spitting on your pussy, making it wetter. He starts eating at your pussy like a madman, suckling on your clit and pushing two fingers into your pussy. You let out a low moan as you feel his fingers curling and pushing in and out. He then pulls away from your clit and pulls his fingers out as well. You whine and pout at him. He then mockingly pout and puts his hands up to his face in a crying motion. Humiliating you, he then silently laughs at you. You feel embarrassed and start to tear up. He slaps you once again before ripping a hole through his pants, freeing his huge cock, no matter how much youve seen it you still think it wont fit. Its a good 6.5 inches and has a little girth. You look down with a smile as he puts it up to your hole, he then pulls away and then does it once more. Over and over you get teased, you look at him and whine again "please just "fuck me.". He then puts a finger to his chin, ina thinking motion, before shaking his head. I guess is your karma for ignoring him for so long. He then takes you out of thought by pushing balls deep into your pussy. you moan loudly at this, clawing at his arms, making him look like a zebra. His strokes are fast and short. He then switches to slow, long, hard, strokes. You continue to claw at his arms, moaning softly now. He then quickens his pace once again, his speed is inhumane, you start moaning loudly again as you feel the knot in your stomach tightining. "i..im gonna cum art.." you whisper as your high crashes down onto you. Shaking your entire body. But hes not done, he keeps going, faster now, you dont know how its possible but its art. What do you expect? His strokes become slower and a bit sloppy as hes coming close to his finish. He then leans his head back as he cums inside of you.
He then stays inside of you for a few more seconds before pulling out and kneeling down to face your pussy again, cum spilling out of you. He pushes two fingers inside of you pushing his cum deeper inside of you. He stands back up and comes closer to your face, bringing his fingers to your lips. Cum on them, he presses against your lips, you open your mouth willingly as he pushes his fingers inside, making you taste yourself and himself. He pulls his fingers out after feeling they were clean. He then leaves you there. All fucked out and full of his cum. He goes to the couch and lays down on it.
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well thats it! i honestly dont think he'd do after care so i didnt put any. IM SORRY! but anyways i hope yall enjoy this!
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spider-stark · 19 hours ago
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EVERYTHING
Kaz Brekker x Reader
Summary - Kaz Brekker doesn't make any sense—and trying to understand him is getting to be exhausting.
Warnings - fem!reader, reader worked at a brothel, subtle hints at past abuse, some major dog / master symbolism idfk, mentions of blood/weapons, close proximity, could deviate some from canon, based more on book!kaz than show, NOT EDITED SO IF THERE'S A TYPO IDK
Word Count - 3.8k
!MINORS DNI!
// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //
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“Touch me.” 
You’ve only just slipped inside Kaz Brekker’s room at the Slat, and you’re convinced you’ve misheard him. The door’s still cracked, after all—and the mindless clamor of those playing cards down in the foyer is loud enough to play tricks on anyone’s ears. 
You push the door shut, habit making you click the lock into place before spinning around to face him. “Pardon?” 
The lanterns burn low, dim light chasing shadows across the spacious attic. Kaz stands over by his desk, leaning his weight against the edge in lieu of his cane. He’s dragging a gloved hand through his hair, looking uncharacteristically flustered. 
“Don’t act like you didn’t hear me,” he snaps. 
Your laugh comes out breathy and awkward. “We both know I’m a shit actor, Brekker.” 
It’s why you’re never picked when the Dreg’s need a decoy—some girl to saddle up next to a sleazy merchant or another hapless mark, distracting them with batted lashes and a well-timed hand on their thigh. In Jesper’s words, you’re so socially inept that you’d probably blow the operation before it even got started.
To your dismay, Kaz doesn’t repeat himself. With his gaze carefully pinned to the tops of his black boots, he demands, “Why are you here?” 
Your brow quirks. “At the Slat?” 
“In my room.” 
The answer eludes you. Why did you come up here? It’s not like tonight was the first time Dirtyhands has ever skipped out on playing Blackjack with the rest of the group, and yet he’d caught your attention when he slipped from the foyer and went limping up the stairs. 
Then again, that’s not so surprising. Kaz always catches your eye, doesn’t he? 
In the year since you joined the Dregs, you’d earned an unfortunate nickname for yourself around the Barrel: The Bastard’s Pet. Wherever Kaz Brekker goes, you’re sure to be hot on his heels, following after him like a dog, loyal and clingy. 
You tell yourself it’s because that’s your job—to keep Kaz safe, to watch his six. But the devil’s got eyes in the back of his head, and you know Kaz Brekker doesn’t really need protection. 
So, it begs the question: Why are you here? In his room, at the Slat, as a member of the Dregs? Why does he keep you around? 
Unsure of the answer, you simply avoid giving one. 
“You should play games with them sometimes,” you tell him, giving a subtle nod over your shoulder. Their voices are muffled now, but you can still hear everyone downstairs exchanging jeers as they shuffle another round. “It makes you look like a recluse, always sneaking off to be by yourself.” 
Kaz drums one finger against the desk. It’s an erratic beat, following no set rhythm. “I am a recluse,” he grinds out. 
You almost snort. Clearly. 
It’s not like anyone joins a gang with the hopes of making friends—and none of the Dregs are dumb enough to think they’ll find a buddy in the infamous Dirtyhands, anyway. Still, you don’t think it’d kill him to try being a little more sociable. 
The others would like having him around. 
You like having him around. 
“I’ll ask one more time.” Dark eyes flick up, heavy as stones when they land on yours. Suddenly, the large attic feels awfully claustrophobic. “Why are you here?” 
A lie comes easily enough, slipping right through your teeth. 
“I got bored playing,” you tell him. “And Jesper’s cheating, anyway.” 
“They’re all cheating,” Kaz points out. 
“But Jesper’s bad at it,” you argue. Lifting a shoulder, you add, “It ruins the fun.” 
His finger falls still against the desk, ceasing its rhythmless beat. Warm light flickers all around him, dark shadows dancing over the harsh angles of his face. You watch his jaw tick, note the subtle curl of his upper lip. You’re overcome with the distinct feeling that you’re staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. 
Probably because you are. 
You’ve seen this face before. Been the one to clean the bloody mess left behind by whoever was unfortunate enough to find themselves on the receiving end of it. Now, as the one standing in the line of fire, you feel your stomach start to twist. 
You tell yourself it’s dread. Anxiety for what’s to come. 
“From where I was standing,” Kaz grinds out, his stare unflinching, “you looked to be having plenty of…” A sharp breath, his tongue gliding over pearly teeth. “Fun.” 
There’s something hidden in the word. A meaning that goes well beyond its dictionary definition. Is it a challenge? A dare, maybe? Or—perhaps the most unlikely of the options—some sort of plea? 
“And what is that supposed to mean?” you ask, finally daring a step closer, slowly drifting from the closed door. 
Kaz shakes his head. “It means what it means.” 
As you draw closer, he moves around the desk and takes a seat. He stretches his bad leg out in front of him, mindlessly rubbing a hand down toward his knee. It’s always bothering him by this point in the night. 
“Go back downstairs.” An order—not a suggestion. 
Across from him now, you place both palms on his desk. The smooth wood is cool against your skin, though the rest of you feels impossibly warm. It’s a side effect of standing too close to him, you think. The flushed cheeks and the vice around your lungs, always leaving your mind fuzzy and your pulse erratic. 
You hate him for it, sometimes. For the effect he has on you. 
“Why?”  you ask, riding out your little bold streak. “So you have a reason to gripe some more about me having fun?” 
“I’m not griping,” Kaz shoots back, very evidently griping. 
“Griping, carping, quibbling, or complaining—doesn’t matter how you word it, all of 'em fit you to a T right now, Brekker.” 
He’s not looking at you anymore, focused instead on the swirling patterns of the wood grain or the neat stack of papers or anything else that gives him an excuse to keep his head low. A month or so after you joined the Dregs, Kaz told you that you had a talent for getting under his skin. Maybe that’s why you don’t need to be able to see his face to know just how annoyed he looks. 
“Go downstairs.” 
“I will,” you vow. “After you explain what you meant.” 
Frustrated, he insists, “There’s nothing to explain.” 
“What did you say when I came in?” 
“Go downstairs.” 
You throw your hands up. “If you won’t tell me what you said, then at least explain why ‘fun’ is such a problem!” 
“Go. Down. Stairs.” 
“Make me.” 
Wood screeches, the chair flying back as he shoots to his feet. The stiffness in his leg makes the movement a little clumsy, and you don’t miss the subtlest flash of a wince before he leans against the desk. 
“Do you know why I brought you in?” 
For a moment, it’s all you can do to blink at him. Because, no—you don’t know why Kaz offered you a place with the Dregs. 
You’re not a sharpshooter like Jesper or a trained Grisha like Nina, not as smart as Wylan or as silent as Inej. You’re decent when it comes to sleight-of-hand and slightly above average with a blade, but even those skills are ones you’ve only learned since joining the gang. 
Back when you first met Kaz, you were nothing and no one. An unlucky girl roped into an indenture with Pekka Rollins, forced to work out of the Sweet Shop—the nastiest, most dangerous brothel in all of Ketterdam. 
“Because you’re secretly a big softie with a heart of gold?” You hope your sarcasm is enough to mask the twinge of shame brought on by your past. 
But Kaz is too good for that. Nothing gets past him—evident by the tiny wrinkle of concern that forms between his dark brows, instantly picking up on the faint dip in your tone. 
Fortunately for you, being observant doesn’t equate to being consoling, and so he doesn’t mention it. 
“Because you didn’t make me sick,” he answers, low and even. You’re not so sure if it’s an insult or compliment, and before you get a chance to ask, Kaz continues, “It was late. And raining. I’d just finished teaching a Razorgull lackey what happens when you breach parley. He was a real bleeder—made a mess of my suit. I ended up leaving him for Jesper to deal with. Thought I’d avoid eyes by sticking to the shadows, walking in the alleys behind the brothels.” Your eyes must be betraying you, because you almost think that’s a smile twitching at the corner of his lips. “Imagine my surprise when a runaway harlot nearly knocked a helpless cripple like me off his feet.” 
You bite your cheek, still deciding if you want to slap him for calling you a harlot or laugh in his face. In spite of his limp and cane, Kaz Brekker is far from what you’d consider helpless. 
“So, what? You had me join the Dregs because I nearly bulldozed you in an alley?” That whole night was spotty for you, the panic you’d felt having rendered your memory foggy and incomplete. 
“Inej had told me about you,” Kaz says. “That Pekka Rollins got a new girl—an escape artist, always trying her luck at running away.” 
You didn’t know that, but maybe you should have. Inej isn’t the best spider in the Barrel without reason. She knows everything—and all she knows is reported directly to Kaz. Even so, you’re not sure you’re catching his point with all this. 
As if he can see you trying to mentally connect the dots, Kaz says, “Maybe I had another purpose in walking behind those brothels. Maybe I wanted to see just how quick on her feet Pekka Rollins’ escape artist was.” His head tilts slightly. “Or maybe I just didn’t want anyone to see me when I wasn’t looking my best. Either way, I left that alley knowing you’d be a part of my crew.” 
Your memory of that night may be spotty, but the one after is still crystal clear. A Suli spider had crawled through your window at the Sweet Shop, told you that Per Haskell was willing to pay a very hefty sum to buyout your indenture if you agreed to work for the Dregs. To this day, you’re still unsure of how Kaz managed to convince him you were worth it—or why he bothered. 
“You’re not making any sense, Brekker,” you admit, rubbing at your temple. A headache burrows there, seeming to grow worse with every minute. “Is that why you wanted me for the Dregs, then? Cause I’m… fast?” 
It sounds stupid. It is stupid. 
You’re no faster than anyone else—and you certainly hadn’t been fast enough to outrun Pekka Rollins’ goons. Everytime you made a run from the Sweet Shop, they dragged you right back, kicking and screaming the whole way. 
“No.” Kaz sighs. Drags a hand through his hair, tugging at the dark locks. “I wanted you-”
Kaz doesn’t finish that thought. 
A violent CRASH! steals your attention. Both of your heads snap toward the closed door, listening intently for any sign of danger.
Instead, you hear Jesper’s boisterous cackle chime. Wylan starts shouting about something indiscernible—vase, shattered, and moron among the words you catch.
A smile sneaks up on you. 
But, when you turn back to Kaz, it’s promptly wiped away. 
He looks like he’s had a lemon rind forced into his mouth, scowling at the door. “What’s going on with you and Van Eck?” 
You blink. “What?” 
“You heard me.” 
You did—but hearing him is a far stretch from understanding him, and it’s seemed like Kaz has been talking in circles since you came in. What’s Wylan have to do with any of this? 
“I don’t get what you’re asking.” 
“Stop making me repeat myself.” 
“Then stop being so confusing, Brekker!” you huff, crossing your arms. “I don’t understand-”
Kaz cuts you off with a look. Cold as death, he grinds out, “Are you fucking him?” 
Shock. Confusion. 
They course through you in equal measure, coupled with slight amusement. The latter must show on your face, because Kaz’s scowl deepens before he looks down at his desk, pretending to fiddle with something. 
“I have work to do,” he says stiffly. “Go downstairs.” 
Your feet stay firmly planted, the desk’s width all that separates the two of you. “Why would you think that?” 
Of all the assholes and degenerates in the Dregs, Wylan’s probably the closest you have to a real friend. It came with the territory—both of you having become newbies around the same time, trying to learn the ropes and fit in. 
You’re not fucking him, though. 
Kaz sinks back into his chair. His usually-squared shoulders curve slightly, as if some weight is pressing down on them. “Go downstairs.” 
“I thought you didn’t like repeating yourself?” you ask, almost taunting. 
“Go.” The word strains between his teeth. “Now.” 
For no good reason, you make a stand. Stare down the barrel of the gun, unafraid and unrelenting. How strange, you think. The tightness in your chest has never once been apprehension. 
It was excitement. Anticipation. 
You’ve always liked getting under his skin. Finding out what makes him tick, figuring out which words earn the sharpest glares. You want him to pull the trigger, if only because it means you have his attention—and like a dog waiting at its master’s feet, you could care less if it comes with an open hand or a closed fist. 
So long as it comes. So long as he notices you. 
“What did you say when I came in?” You uncross your arms, make yourself stand up tall. “Tell me.” 
Dark eyes shoot up. Kaz almost looks shocked, the dull echo of emotion creasing the lines of his face, parting his lips. You wait, but no sound comes out. 
Dirtyhands is used to giving orders. Not taking them. 
“You’ve heard what they say about me.” You wave a dismissive hand toward the shoddy window overlooking the Barrel. “Brekker’s Pet. Always with you, always following you around! Ask any sod in Ketterdam and they’ll say the same—the only way I’d have time to fuck someone is if you were in the room!” And even then, it wouldn’t be Wylan. 
A steel rod takes the place of Kaz’s spine, turning your words over in his head. “Fine. Maybe you haven’t,” he relents. “But you want to.” 
It’s a gamble. An unusually shitty one, at that. 
You blow out an exasperated breath. This whole thing is getting old. “Saints, Kaz. What’s your deal?” 
He opens his mouth. Shuts it. Then opens it again. 
“I saw you downstairs,” he says. “Touching Van Eck.” 
Your brows lift, fists clenching. You don’t know what you expected from him, but it certainly hadn’t been a bold-faced lie! 
But then you start thinking of the moments before you saw Kaz head upstairs, laughing and playing Blackjack before you folded your hand to follow after him. You’d been sitting cross-legged on the threadbare rug, wedged between Wylan and Raske, when you noticed—Shit. 
Kaz is right, and that makes you want to scream. Why is Kaz always right? 
It was after you noticed Jesper was cheating, that he’d poorly marked the deck with daub; a sticky, ash-colored substance. You’d leaned in close to point it out to Wylan—your hand against his forearm, your lips dangerously close to the Merchling’s ear. After he noticed the marks, you both exchanged quiet giggles over just how bad Jesper was at swindling. 
Still, there had been nothing sexual about it. Nothing between you and Wylan. 
But, even if there was, why would Kaz care? 
I saw you—touching Van Eck. His words race through your mind, pulsing in time with the dull ache in your temple. Touch me, touch me, touch me. 
All of a sudden, the fog begins to clear. Something in your memory clicks. 
That night behind the brothels—when you were running from the Sweet Shop, when Kaz had been drenched in the blood of some Razorgull. Barefoot and frantic, you really had almost knocked him off his feet. Gloved hands had held your arms tight, keeping you still. His hair had been messy and your mind a blur—and when you’d seen the crimson smeared across his cheek, you hadn’t thought twice before wiping it away. 
You’d done what so few have. You had touched Kaz Brekker, skin-on-skin. 
Because you didn’t make me sick. 
When you don’t speak, Kaz shifts in his chair. Straightens an already-neat stacks of papers. “You won’t try and deny it?” he asks. 
Maybe you imagine the quaver in his voice. Or maybe you don’t. 
Either way, you start around his desk. Your every step is slow—cautious. 
You stop beside him, and Kaz shifts again. You’re standing closer than you’d usually dare to get, so close that you can hear it when he swallows. 
“You should go downstairs,” he tells you, lower than before. 
Your head tilts, hair shifting over one shoulder. “Is that what you want?” 
His answer hides in silence so thick it’s a tangible presence. It curls around you, makes gooseflesh prickle along your skin. Your mouth feels dry, your stomach like it’s tied in knots. 
Suddenly, you don’t need him to repeat what he’d said. 
As always, Kaz was right—you'd heard him the first time. 
“Ask me again.” The words drip from your tongue, an order and a plea. “Ask me and I’ll do it.” 
Kaz gives you a look, one you’ve never seen before. Dark eyes rove over you, brimming with worry and stress and—and Saints, a sense of desire so strong it makes your toes curl in your boots, a feeling like lightning coursing up your spine. 
In a voice like stone on stone, raspy and urgent, Kaz breathes out, “Touch me.” 
So you do. 
You cup his face, graze your thumb over his cheekbone. Kaz stiffens, swallowing once more—but he doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t try to pull away. 
“You know, to be such a bastard,” you start, a note of teasing in your voice, “you’re awfully pretty, Brekker.” 
Heat blooms against your palm, a deep blush crawling over his pale cheeks. 
“Shut up,” Kaz grumbles. 
You grin. “Want me to go downstairs?” 
A gasp rips from your throat as a gloved hand clamps around your wrist, Kaz pulling you down toward him. Anxiety still tightens his features, but beneath it he looks all too pleased with himself when you stumble clumsily into his lap. 
For the sake of comfort, you adjust your legs—careful for his bad one—and settle your arms over his shoulders. Then, when it fully settles that you’re straddling Kaz-fucking-Brekker, it gets a lot harder to breathe. 
“Should I take that as a no?” It sounds like a pant, your lungs constricting. 
He lifts the hem of your shirt, the feel of leather cool against your skin as Kaz jabs a finger into your side. “Do I always have to repeat myself around you?” he asks. Dark eyes dip past your jaw, his tongue gliding over his lips. You don’t think he actually cares to hear your answer, which is good—because you’re pretty sure you just forgot how to speak. 
Kaz drags his finger up the curve of your waist, his touch tentative and featherlight. It feels a lot like being studied—the way his dark brows knit together, staring at you as if you’re a magic trick he’s yet to master, a puzzle he hasn’t quite figured out. 
“It’s not because you’re fast,” he says, somewhat distracted. It takes a minute for you to realize that he’s referring to your earlier question—Is that why you wanted me for the Dregs, then? 
“Good,” you manage. “Because I’m not.” 
The slightest twitch of a smile. “No.” He takes his time tracing over every divet in your ribs, slowly trailing up, up, up. “You’re not.” 
“But I didn’t make you sick.” You’re not prepared for the wave of sickness that comes with the reminder, stomach roiling. 
The Bastard’s Pet. Is that truly all you are? All you’re worth to the Dregs? Useless at saddling up next to sleazy merchants, but good enough to curl up at Kaz Brekker’s feet. 
As if he can read your mind, Kaz’s hand goes still against your side. “Wipe that sour look off your face, would you? If I only wanted you to touch me, I would’ve just come to the Sweet Shop instead of getting my ass chewed by Haskell.”
You wiggle just enough to knock one knee into his hip, glaring at him. Both of you pretend not to notice the catch in his breath—or the growing hardness straining against his trousers, pressed against your core. 
Gruff, Kaz continues, “You were in an alley and saw a man dripping with blood, and your first thought was to reach out and clean his cheek.” His head shakes, a strand of coal-black hair swaying near his temple. “It was ignorant,” he tells you. “And… decent. Innocent.” 
You almost laugh. Innocent. That’s hardly a word you’d use to describe yourself. Especially right now, your every muscle straining in an attempt to keep your hips perfectly still, hands folded at the base of his neck. 
“I didn’t know innocence like that could survive in the Barrel.” His hand starts again, tracing little shapes against your side. “Even if you never touched me again, I wasn’t gonna let Pekka Rollin’s crush someone like you between his grimy little fingers.” 
“So that’s the answer?” you ask, nibbling on your lip. “I’m in the Dregs cause I’m innocent?” What a reason to have someone join a gang. Hey, you seem pure! Wanna get corrupted? 
“You’re in the Dregs because you know how to persevere,” Kaz answers, holding your gaze. “How to get up and try again, no matter how many times you’re knocked down.” The sensation of smooth leather drifts higher. “Because you’re a survivor.” Your eyelids flutter, sucking in a breath as he palms the plump curve of your breast. “Because you’re loyal,” he starts, and it’s almost reverent the way he almost whispers, “my perfect little pet.” 
The world grinds to a halt. 
Outside of this room—this moment—nothing exists. 
Too quiet, you ask, “What do you want from me, Kaz?” 
You want him to feel in control, to be the one that decides how this is gonna go. But your self-restraint is a fraying cord, mere seconds from snapping in half. 
If it were up to you, how far would you go? How much of Kaz Brekker would you explore? As far as I could, you think, desperate. As much as he’d let me. 
That’s the trouble with dogs. They’re loyal and clingy, forgiving and insistent. They want for everything and take whatever they’re given. They’ll spend hours begging at your feet. Lick scraps from the floor until their tongues begin to bleed. 
When it comes to Kaz Brekker, you’ll take whatever he has to give. 
And you’ll never stop begging for more, more, more. 
“Everything.” His breath is warm against your lips, the leather cool on your breast. “I want everything.”
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a/n - just in case anyone couldn't tell, i obviously just finished reading six of crows (yeah ik i'm very late to the party). i randomly started writing this while i was stuck in traffic and it just sort of spiraled over the past 24 hours and now here we are! this was born! idk if i'll get anymore kaz ideas, but it was fun writing something more dialogue heavy (dialogue has my heart<3)
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newkatzkafe2023 · 1 day ago
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Ya know
Iva always wondered what the Sun Wukong's would be into
Like what traits do they find attractive (I can already tell with BMW because he "loves serial killer woman" lol)
What would they want in a partner huh???🤔 I never thought about it but let me see🙃
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(Lmk Wukong) He would look for someone who is cheerful, kind and know how to have fun. Someone who silly but still way more responsible then he'll ever be, Wukong loves how you always make sure he has everything he needs along with Mk. He also likes how much you get emotional when he's injured, and even though he's immortal you still worry over him like you were hurt as well. Wukong loves how you care so much despite him being strong, it tells him that you will always be there and will always support him forever. 🥰
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(MKR Wukong) Somebody It is the same as a rose beautiful with thorns meaning, a woman with a sweet face but sharp claws. You would also would have only some expectations for him but you would also know that he tries his hardest every day for you. Therefore you would reward him with kisses and the affection he deserves from you, you also can get a tad bit violent especially to anyone who's a threat to your husband and Fruity And it puts a blush on his face everytime.😩
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(NR Wukong) Somebody who can always keep him grounded, but can keep up with the wild side of Sun Wukong gets into every day. You keep him from making a mess of things, but you still laugh along his antics and mishaps. You're a good sport, about it too. He also loves how you have some wisdom yourself as you would give Li and Su your input and advice to him them in the long run. Wukong also loves how you would tease him lovingly and be mischievous too, over all its always a trip with you😉
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(HIB Wukong) Supportive and kind, along with motherly and protective of your love ones. That's what he looks for in a wife although you can tease him about his grumpy face and surprise it with kisses and snuggles. Wukong appreciates how scary you can get when he and the kids were to ever be put in danger and gets protective. You also someone who understands his frustrations and be a good listening ear, and would hug him for support. Wukong is just glad to have you here, along with The kids and pigsy.👨‍👩‍👧‍👧
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(Netflix Wukong) He absolutely needs the motherly type of wife. You are firm but also loving. You would scold him whenever he does something he's not supposed to, but unlike most people, you would at least explain to him why he did what he did was wrong. You never judge him on anything he does, but you make sure to get how you feel across, especially with your disappointment on him. Though you always tell him that he's a good man and to never listen to the nasty people who insult and belittle him. Your love for him, is what he should focus on.🤱
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(BMW Wukong) You Hit the nail on the head😂, he would love to marry a woman who could possibly kill him immortality be damned🤣🤣🤣. You were at first cheerful and charismatic to him and even a tad bit mischievous, teasing him ever so slightly. But the your true colors came to be as wild, ferocious, not afraid to get your claws dirty and never let anyone especially the heavens tell you what to do. Wukong wanted to put a ring on your figure the second you ripped that one celestial's eyes out with your thumbs. Wukong still purrs whenever you Threaten his life to this day🤤
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(Destined one) He would love someone adventurous and a sweet travel buddy to explore with. You also understand his body language and pay close attention to his likes and dislikes, he also like someone who can cause a little mischief to him as well and it would be both cute and funny. You share every discovery you make together strengthening your bond, your quite the whisperer as well trying not to disturb him. The Destined one's greatest treasure though is the marriage he gets to have with you.🥹
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FEEL FREE TO REBLOG🫶
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postmoe · 2 days ago
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MORE OBEY ME FICS!! PLS I BEG!! PERERABLY ONE WITH DIAVOLO IN IT PLEASEEE MY LIFE IS YOURS!!!
I LOVE THEM SO MUCH Let's do a little world building
sex for favour, contracts, apocolypse au, religious references, yandere
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You really, really, really hate using your contracts. Not only does it take a toll on your body, a part of your soul being syphoned out each time but, the aftermath is also unpleasant.
Your story is typical, home demolished by Angelic monsters, rejects cast down from Heaven that didn't quite make it to Hell. Family and friends gone, only some survivors remained that were either not in your village or left with less body parts. The killing blow to your ideals was learning that the Capital had denied help from Exterminators, their best exorcist too far away and no one else willing to fight against a Throne of all creatures. No one even came to look for survivors since it was a waste of resources on a gamble not worth betting on.
Angels trudged all along the Earth, the lowest orders scattered around like pests. Middle orders tend to be the 'boss' of these groups. The highest order, Thrones, were much like natural disasters; sudden, with little warning.
It wasn't easy, and though many still prayed to the Heavens for help and despised any anti-religious behaviour, you had separated long ago from that group. An outcast of an exorcist, making deals with demons to gain enough power to kill angels. Years have gone by and no one knows how you manage to keep Avatars of Sin on your side.
No one knows you've had to sell yourself to young King of the Devildom, either.
You can harness their powers into your weapons, your soul used as fuel for very powerful attacks. To bring of them to aid you in battle, however, costs a little bit more.
.
Your arm is torn at the shoulder, fingers on your right hand bent backwards, broken. Your right eye was swollen shut, and your left leg had a flag pole through the thigh.
Ribs broken, blood coughing from your mouth, this Throne was more powerful than any other you've faced. You wonder if Lucifer could handle it, already knowing he requires your help with Thrones alone. Or maybe that was just him being a nuisance to you? You're not sure, and you're not really in a position to risk it now.
The angel before you rises, a dark mass covered in mouths, constantly laughing as you had sliced and cut through its body. When you thought you were doing well, it had suddenly stopped its incessant cackle, the hundreds of mouths on the castle-like mass opening wider than any creature you know, red veined eyes appearing and staring at you unblinkingly. Pure horror had struck you, though you were still able to force yourself to fight. Lucifer's power had damaged it enough, you really did think you won.
... Until it shed it's crust. Wet, tar-covered wings rose from the inside, two, four, eight, sixteen in all sorts of directions. You were lucky to not be hit, the tar latching to any living thing it flicked to and devouring it, turning it to a walking corpse. You were blinded by a golden light, more cracking of the crust, dust shredding once it finally propelled out. Your jaw slacked, it was somehow even bigger, the carnage of a mansion, houses, farmlands, all nothing but a playmat below it. Four of its wings dragged on the ground, the feathery limbs surrounding wheels of golden wings, mouths laughing at you, eyes unblinking and twitching in every direction. The very middle was a pair of black lips, human teeth like eyelashes over the outside of a giant, weeping eye.
You wonder if you can even pull this off?
Exhaling all your nerves, trying your best to focus as you sit slumped in the mud against a cracked boulder, you close your good eyes murmur under your breath, the words bubbling through blood, "In the name of the Exterminator, (Y/n), I call upon the aid of the demon monarch. Come forth, please, Diavolo."
Silence follows, as though a rushing river is hit with a sudden calm. When you finally open your good eye, you see Diavolo in all his glory, a low whistle reaching your hearing as he places his hand on his hips and admired the creature before you, "Just what have you gotten yourself into this time, Miss (Y/n)?"
You open your mouth to speak, only for your lungs to concave and more blood pushing up your oesophagus. The spell was apparently too much.
Diavolo smiles kindly at you, holding one of his hands up, a soft light from his palm sending all the aches and pains away, "Rest now, Miss (Y/n). You've done well to get this far."
If it weren't for the serene spell he used, you would have felt scared to become so vulnerable before a demon and an angel, contrarily you were all but eager to rest your head against the boulder and sleep.
.
When you next awoke, you were tucked into bed. Your fingers were back in place, you had bandages around your legs, arms, torso and neck. What was broken and out of place had been promptly fixed and the terrible, hellish pain you endured was now dull compared before.
You also didn't miss the way the demon lord was lapping his wet tongue between your legs, giving kisses to your clit before making out with your pussy.
His eyes met yours as his tongue delved deeper, an appreciative moan eliciting from him as you clenched around his tongue. Another kiss before he pulls away enough to talk, "Apologies, you weren't waking up and it's almost been 24 hours."
As much as you want to bark at him to get off, you recognise the pact. You needed to provide some sexual favour for the demons within 24 hours of summoning. It was embarrassing, demeaning, you felt horrible about it. They seemed to thrive off of all these feelings.
If you didn't do it, the energy depleted from the experience would double each hour, putting you out of commission for a longer time.
"I'm surprised you didn't wait," you croak, jerking when he goes back to tonguing your insides like a creature in love, "You would have gained more... food. Or, whatever it is you get out of this."
He chuckles and moves up, your thighs going over his own so he could take out his thick, throbbing cock and smack the fat of it against your stomach, "Believe it or not, I don't want to make you suffer just yet, I'll wait until I have you in my castle for that. Besides, I'm quite busy as the King." Your lips part when he nudges the head between your lips, rubbing up and down to gather your slick so he can push in nicer. The smile on his lips was too nice for a demon, "I'm quite surprised you lasted that long before summoning help, though."
Your stomach bulges from the length of his cock, humping into you upwards to really feel your body around him. His large hands graze over your hips, squeezing the flesh of your stomach before coming to cup your cheeks in a gentle embrace. Your tits rub against his pecs, and though it feels really good, you keep talking about what just happened, "It wasn't like any other Throne I've fought, hah... I think they're getting stronger."
"Throne?" He laughs, kissing you deeply, tongue tasting before his lips retreat with a wet smack, "That was no mere Ophanim, dearest. You were up against a creature on par with the Cherubim."
Of course, you knew the rankings of angels in the Celestial realm, everyone who has been forced into this situation does. It was just easier to name the monsters after those rankings. A lot of people didn't like it, though it didn't stop anyone. "Ngnn~" You move your hands to his shoulders, looking for purchase as his cock rubs deliciously inside you. You can feel your energy draining, the way Lord Diavolo holding you was like he was trying to cage you to him. "I thought only Throne rankings had made it to earth?"
"Cum for me, dearest. Only think about the pleasure you're feeling right now," he orders, biting into your neck and sucking on your skin. His lips move to below your ear, tickling you with a light flick of his tongue. One of his hands had trailed over your ribs, past your belly button and began circling and pinching your clit. Your toes curl before stretching out in pleasure, panting while you clench down around his cock, feeling the weight of his balls push into you as he empties his cum as deep as he can. You feel the trickle of your own fluid down your thighs from your orgasm.
His lips are panting over your own, though you know he isn't anywhere near as out of breath as you are. "Should I be worried?" You questioned, wishing he would avert his loving gaze from your own tired eyes.
Lord Diavolo gives you one more kiss, his cock slipping out and letting his cum overflow onto the sheets, "I have it on good intel that something big is coming. If you come across another Ophanim you must call one of us, if not multiple. And be careful..." he ominously states, standing to fix his regale, tucking away his satisfied dick, "I think a Seraphim might be visiting soon."
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deliciousangelfestival · 1 day ago
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The Heart Still Beating - 2 | Lloyd
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Character: Lloyd Hansen x Female!Reader
Summary: After the heart transplant, Lloyd, the heartless killer, started to feel something—something unexpected and powerful that was tied to the fiancé of the heart’s donor.
Words Count : 2916
Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , -
Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi
Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 
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Lloyd’s heart suddenly thundered, then clenched painfully. “Urgh!” He pressed a hand to his chest, trying to catch his breath, but as he reached for the wall to steady himself, he slipped. Just before he fell, you caught him, one hand resting firmly against his chest. The pain subsided instantly, like his new heart had quieted under your touch.
He cursed under his breath. Why did the pain vanish when she touched his chest? Was it because of the memories of the heart's previous owner?
It reminded him of a colleague who could only fall asleep after hearing bedtime stories from a woman.
“Damn it,” he muttered, glancing away. “This heart’s making me weak. I can’t even kill anymore.” His voice was bitter, almost disgusted.
This is the first time you hear this kind of problem. Your eyebrows rose, taken aback by his words. "Are you actually saying the heart is stopping you from… killing people?”
Lloyd gave a short, dry laugh, his gaze darkening as he glared at you. “What, you think I asked for this? Your precious fiancé’s heart is in my chest, and it’s ruining me.” He sneered, “Must feel great for you, knowing he’s stuck here, with someone like me.”
Your jaw clenched, pain flashing in your eyes. “How dare you? You don’t deserve his heart. He was—”
Another sharp, pulsing pain hit him, cutting you off as Lloyd’s hand shot to his chest, wincing. “Urgh…” His expression shifted, as if he’d only just realized something. “Fine… fine,” he murmured, almost to himself, forcing his breath steady. “I’ll keep my mouth shut, alright? No more nasty words to her.”
Your eyes narrowed, bewildered. “Are you… talking to yourself?”
Lloyd’s gaze snapped back to you, rolling his eyes. “Think what you want.” Without warning, he took your hand and pressed it over his heart, his gaze unyielding. “Feel that? It’s your fiancé’s heart, beating. For you.”
You froze, your breath catching as you felt the steady thud against your palm. “Justin?” you whispered, tears threatening to spill.
Lloyd’s bitter expression softened as he watched you, something strange and unrecognizable creeping into his eyes. This unwanted melancholy clawed at him, a feeling he’d tried to bury.
You withdrew your hand, blinking back tears as you cleared your throat. “Come in.”
As he walked into your apartment, his eyes fell on the stacks of boxes lining the walls. Fragments of another man’s life, packed away, waiting for their final rest. He picked up a framed photograph: you and a man, both smiling against a backdrop of starlit skies. Justin.
Suddenly, an image flashed in his mind, clear and insistent. He whispered, “Luna.”
Your gaze snapped to him, voice tense. “Why did you say that name?”
He set down the photo, his face unreadable. “I… heard it. In a dream.” His brow furrowed, piecing it together. “It’s what you wanted to name… your baby, isn’t it?”
You glanced down, your hand moving instinctively to your belly as you whispered, “It is. He chose it when we found out she’d be a girl.” Your voice shook as you continued, “If it weren’t for that accident… he’d still be here.”
The mention of the accident sent a dull ache through Lloyd’s chest, something raw yet strangely familiar, though not as sharp as before.
“How did you even find out I was the… patient?” he asked, keeping his tone steady. As a covert agent, he wasn’t easy to track. His life, his work—it all existed in the shadows, far from public records.
Your expression hardened. “I bribed someone at the hospital for the information.” You held his gaze, unflinching.
Lloyd’s eyes widened, a flicker of surprise breaking through his hardened demeanor. Maybe you weren’t as innocent as you appeared after all.
After bribing for information, you found yourself following Carmichael, though he didn’t notice right away. When you finally confronted him, the sight of you—especially with your pregnant belly—caught him completely off guard.
Flustered and visibly unsettled, he tried to shake you off, but you raised your voice, not backing down, drawing the attention of several tall, intimidating figures nearby. They were built like Lloyd, all sharp eyes and stone expressions, now watching you with interest.
Finally, one of them approached. “Madam, please come inside.”
He escorted you into the building, leading you through grand halls lined with marble columns and ancient statues, giving the place a regal, castle-like feel. You were taken to a dimly lit room where an elderly man sat, his eyes scanning you from head to toe before shifting to Carmichael with a steely gaze. “Take her to him.”
When you recounted the encounter to Lloyd, he seemed genuinely shocked. “You met the boss?”
You shrugged, a faint smirk at his surprise. “Guess he got sentimental. Something about seeing a single mother… reminded him of his own upbringing.”
Lloyd scoffed, shaking his head. “Old man’s gone soft, I swear.”
Your gaze hardened as you looked at him, “You… you’ve got a second chance here. Don’t waste his heart—it’s not just some toy.”
Lloyd scoffed, shrugging. “What, so I’m supposed to be grateful now?”
Without responding, he turned toward the door, only to pause. His hand froze in mid-reach. You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”
“Shh. It's to quiet.” He raised a finger, then his eyes widened. “Get down!” In one swift move, he yanked you to the floor, shielding you behind a couch, one arm protectively covering your stomach.
A faint breeze brushed past your neck, and with horror, you realized it wasn’t the wind but a bullet—whizzing inches from where you’d been standing.
Lloyd glanced at you, voice urgent. “You’ve got three minutes to hide. Can you get to your room?”
“Y-yeah?” you stammered, caught off guard.
“Good. Move,” he instructed, drawing his gun. You scrambled to your feet, clutching your belly, and darted towards your room.
“Stay put until I say so. Here.” He tossed a phone to you. “Hit number one—they’ll know what it means.”
Heart racing, you fled into the closet, squeezing yourself inside as you dialed the number, hands shaking.
From outside, muffled sounds of movement and sharp, metallic clicks told you the danger was still near. You held your breath as you listened, praying for silence to mean safety.
Meanwhile, Lloyd braced himself, greeting his would-be attackers with a cold, calculating stare. Five men stood before him, poised and armed. “Who sent you?” he demanded.
One of them smirked. “Not your concern.”
They moved in, circling him. Lloyd flexed his grip on his gun, his gaze hard and unyielding. As they lunged, he met them with ruthless efficiency, each blow calculated and relentless. Outnumbered five to one, they clearly underestimated him. He was brutal, merciless, and unrelenting, disarming them one by one.
Yet as they fought, he noticed something strange. They avoided striking his chest, almost like they were purposefully steering clear of it. And none of them seemed eager to land a fatal blow. Why would they hold back?
Lloyd’s frustration ignited into something more—a bloodlust sharper than he’d felt in years. The thought nagged at him: was this intense desire to protect you coming from his own heart? Or Justin’s?
Under his breath, he murmured, “You really did love her, didn’t you?”
In your bedroom, you flinched at every thud and crash, fear twisting your stomach. Silence fell, the air thick with suspense. Had he survived?
Then, the door creaked open, and Lloyd appeared, smirking. “Your savior is here.”
Relief washed over you, and you rolled your eyes. “You’re impossible.”
He extended a hand, helping you to your feet as you steadied yourself, still catching your breath. “Who were they?”
He glanced back at the empty room. The inturders has gone, his gaze dark. “I don’t know. But I know someone who does.”
💘💘💘💘
You and Lloyd now stood face-to-face with Carmichael, the man’s typically composed expression slightly fractured as he glanced between the two of you.
“Are you alright?” Carmichael directed his question to you, his eyes narrowing as if scrutinizing for signs of distress.
You exhaled, steadying yourself. “I’m fine.”
Lloyd scoffed. “Why are you asking her? I’m the one they came after.” He stepped closer, his voice darkening. “Who the hell are they? Some new group making waves?”
Adjusting his glasses, Carmichael replied, “You wouldn’t know them because they operate in an entirely different league.”
“The upper world?” Lloyd’s voice held a dangerous edge.
Carmichael nodded.
“What does that mean?” you asked, casting a nervous glance at Lloyd.
Lloyd didn’t want to tell you, but because of this damn heart he had, he felt compelled to share everything. “To make it simple, my job is in the underworld. I handle deeper, darker things than you could ever imagine. Meanwhile, the upper world is like kindergarten—mafia, gangsters, that kind of people.”
You swallowed, a chill creeping up your spine. “But mafias are still dangerous for people like me.”
Carmichael nodded in agreement. “She’s right. It’s a very real danger for her.” He turned to Lloyd, a strange resignation in his eyes. “They’re Mafia.”
Lloyd’s brow furrowed, a glint of anger flashing across his face. “I’ve got nothing to do with them.”
Carmichael held his silence a beat longer than usual, then said, “What they want is your heart.”
The words hit both you and Lloyd like a bullet. Your eyes widened as you exchanged looks, Lloyd’s jaw going rigid. He scoffed, disbelief giving way to anger. “What makes this heart so special?”
“Their leader needs it,” Carmichael explained, retrieving a file. He opened it, laying down a profile with a photo labeled Mr. Cicadas.
“This group,” he continued, “is an alliance between the Italian and Japanese mafias. And this man—Mr. Cicadas—is the head. The only donor who’s a 100% match is…” He paused, glancing at you with a rare hint of sympathy.
“Justin…” you murmured, your face going pale as the truth clawed its way to the surface. Lloyd saw the shock draining the color from your face and wrapped a steadying arm around you.
Lloyd’s tone was grim. “Let me guess. This heart was meant for him. But you gave it to me. Why?”
Carmichael met his gaze. “Our motto is clear: ‘Kill one person to save millions.’”
Lloyd raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms with a half-smirk. “So, you wanted this insect guy dead—that’s why I got the heart instead?”
You never imagined your fiancé’s heart could hold such value. “Was that man really so evil?”
Carmichael nodded. “He doesn’t deserve to live. It’s a long story, but let’s just say that your fiancé was too good a man to lose his life to someone like Mr. Cicadas.”
On that day, three people were dying: Mr. Cicadas, who would do anything to stay alive; Justin, who was succumbing to his injuries from the accident; and Lloyd, who had been shot through the heart, unexpectedly accepting his fate. Three dying individuals connected by the same match of a heart.
But for Justin, there was no hope. In his final moments, he wished to donate his organs to help another, embodying a selfless desire to save a life.
Yet there was only one heart for two desperate souls. A heart is incredibly precious to anyone fighting for survival, and Mr. Cicadas didn’t deserve it. The choice became clear: it had to be Lloyd.
You felt your anger rise, bitter words forming before you could stop yourself. “And yet, how is he,” you gestured at Lloyd, “any better?”
“At least he wasn’t the reason your fiancé died.” Carmichael’s words hung in the air, like an accusation you could barely process.
“What?” Your voice cracked. “What did you just say?”
Carmichael’s jaw tensed. “Mr. Cicadas needed a transplant urgently, and your fiancé was the best match—healthy, young, and alive.” He trailed off as he saw the shock turn your expression hollow. “The car accident was planned.”
The weight of his words settled over you like a dark shroud. Your hands instinctively wrapped around your belly as the realization hit: Justin hadn’t died because of some unavoidable tragedy—he’d been hunted, killed, because of someone greeds. You felt the hot sting of tears, your voice quivering with grief. “He didn’t deserve any of this…”
Lloyd, sensing the pain radiating from you, placed a steady hand on your back, his own gaze shadowed by a strange sorrow that he’d not felt in a long time.
“They want it back now,” Lloyd muttered, a dangerous calm settling in his tone.
Carmichael’s mask slipped, revealing a flicker of rage. “That monster should have died when he failed to receive it. But the bastard’s still alive.”
Lloyd looked over in surprise; he’d never heard Carmichael curse, not with this level of disgust. It was clear Mr. Cicadas was worse than he’d imagined, a man who even the darkest operatives wanted dead.
His voice hardened, a quiet resolve in his words. “I have to stay alive, then.”
Carmichael stepped forward, voice low but firm, eyes blazing with determination. “Our boss left one message for you: ‘Do whatever is necessary to stay alive.’”
You gripped your stomach, thinking of Justin. Memories flashed—his warmth, his laugh. His life had been ripped from him, all to satisfy the greed of a man who, by all rights, should have been six feet under. Tears slipped down your cheeks as the truth sunk in, the ache of his loss twisting your heart in ways that words couldn’t convey.
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Author's note: I put an Easter egg in this. Do you know which paragraph? 🤭
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