#but that still comes down to how casting is done responsibly. if youre going out of your way to cast someone who 'fits' a certain image

[peachsukii]

You carry Bakugo back to his dorm room. 『 ♡ - k.bakugo x fem!reader 』 -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist 

A quiet night at the dorms of UA, you're sitting in Midoriya's dorm room with Bakugo. The three of you are studying for an upcoming exam while sprawled out with notebooks and text books haphazardly all over the floor.

The time is slowly creeping up to 10:00pm - way past Bakugo's "normal" bedtime. He's leaning on his elbow while annotating a paragraph in his textbook, eyes slowly drooping shut. The pen in his hand grows looser as his arm rocks back and forth, about to collapse at any moment and let his head rest on the pages.

Midoriya shoots a glance your way, silently acknowledging how exhausted Bakugo looks. You both had attempted, multiple times, to get him to go to bed. He refused.

"I can fuckin' finish this. It's only a few more pages."

Bakugo was determined, and stubborn, to get his work done - just like anything else in his life. You peer out of the corner of your eye as he shifts, crossing his arms over the textbook and laying his head down on his forearms.

"Kat, you can go to bed if you're wiped out," you say, patting him on the shoulder. "Studying on top of sparring is enough to kick anyone's ass."

Bakugo grunts, sighing into the papers beneath him. " 'm fine."

You look at Midoriya and mouth, 'he'll be out in five minutes or less.'

And like clockwork, Bakugo passes the hell out, snoring atop the open textbook.

You gently stroke his back to get his attention. "Kat, come on. Let's get you to bed."

He doesn't stir at your voice or touch but rolls over on his side. You shake your head, chuckling to yourself as you cast a smile in Midoriya's direction. It's a good thing you're a hero in training or you wouldn't have the strength to do what you're about to.

In one fluid motion, you bend over and scoop Bakugo into your arms and lift him from the floor. He's much lighter than you expected him to be - you always assumed he'd be dense from the sheer amount of muscle mass that adorned his figure. He still doesn't wake and lulls his head against your arm, mouth hanging open and snoring peacefully.

'Wow, he must be exhausted if this isn't enough to wake him.'

Midoriya opens the door for you and follows you upstairs. He opens the door to Bakugo's room for you as well, considering you - quite literally - have your hands full. He waves and mouths 'good night!' as he shuts the door to leave.

Making your way over to Bakugo's bed, you carefully lower him onto the cool sheets and maneuver your arms out from underneath him. As you're pulling away, he sleepily grasps at your shoulders and pulls, causing you to come crashing down on top of him.

'Damn, even in his sleep he's strong,' you think to yourself, flustered and afraid you'll wake him up.

He swiftly turns over, snaking his arms around your waist, intertwining his legs with your own and nestling his head above yours.

"K-Katsuki...?" you mumble, confused as your cheeks flare with heat by the sudden close body contact. You hope that your face isn't as scorching hot as it feels when it squishes up against his chest.

"Mm...don't go," Bakugo slurs, still halfway in dreamland. "Stay."

"...did you let me carry you to bed just so you could cuddle with me?" you ask, perplexed. He grunts in response and squeezes you tighter.

"You son of a bitch," you curse playfully. "If you wanna be carried like a princess to bed, just ask."

" 'm not a princess," he murmurs as he's nuzzling into your hair like a cat begging for attention.

"You just didn't wanna ask to go to bed in front of Izuku, didn't you?"

"...Nuh uh."

You snort as you shimmy in his hold to get comfortable. By the time you settle on a position, he's fallen back into a deep slumber, chest rhythmically rising and falling with hushed breath. He looks so angelic when he's dreaming.

It's too bad he turns into a devil the second he's awake.

i just wanna hold him tight and squish his cheeks - ya know??

[k3n-dyll]

how about when things start to get spicy with sevika and she finds out it's readers first time

This got longer than I thought it would lol, but I wound up making her kinda soft in this one. The world needs more soft Sev content.

☆Men, minors and ageless DNI

Warnings... 18+, wlw, not proofread, established new relationship, fingering (r!receiving), oral (r!receiving), domtop!Sevika, virgin!reader, fem!reader, AFAB reader, praise, no specific physical descriptions but reader is implied to have plush hips for like a second Word Count: 1.5k | Masterlist. | Divider Creds | Links 4 Palestine

Notes ☆ This one's been in my drafts for months I'm so sorry. I kinda rushed the ending (it's past my bedtime) and I've been hating my writing recently so a reminder that (constructive) feedback is much appreciated

"Baby...you okay?"

Sevika's voice echoes through your mind, drawing you out of your thoughts, her hands now lightly trailing from where they'd once been underneath your shirt to rest on your hips. She looks a bit concerned, her head cocked to the side as she looks up at you from where you're perched on her lap. The rigidity of your spine hadn't gone unnoticed by her, her plump lips retracting from your neck, sharp, silver eyes narrowing at the sudden show of unease in your body.

You had kissed before, briefly. It wasn't like the contact was something new, it was simply elevated. A nice, home-cooked dinner and a few glasses of expensive red wine she'd smuggled from Piltover had wound up with you in her lap, straddling her thighs as your lips crashed together in an almost desperate make-out session, her hands gripping and fondling your body in a way you'd never felt before. You'd convinced yourself that you were fine, confident even. But as her kisses turned into licks and bites along your neck, her hands traveling upward into the thin cloth of your blouse something in you snapped. It's entirely irrational, and yet you can't control it asyour mind suddenly rushes with thoughts of every single way you could fuck up in the moment and do something that would make her want to stop. Something that would make her not want to be with you anymore.

"Baby" she repeats herself, her flesh hand giving a gentle squeeze to the plush of your hip, wanting you to speak to her.

Your eyes cast down in slight embarrassment at being detected so easily in your nervousness, giving her a small smile and dismissively waving your hand in an attempt to downplay your tension, you speak.

"Sorry, babe. I'm okay" You murmur, leaning in to kiss her again, which, for a moment, she allows, but if there's one thing about Sevika it's that she isn't going to let it go. Not when you're still so stiff in her arms.

"What is it?" she demands, once again breaking the kiss and moving her head back a bit in order to look you in the eye. You let out a sigh, not having expected this to make you as anxious as it did.

"I just...I haven't really...done this before" You admit after a bit of quiet.

That admission gives her pause, a flicker of surprise crossing her features before she lets out a soft hum in acknowledgment. Despite her urges, and the sticky pool of arousal that's already formed in her panties, the last thing she wants to do is have you uncomfortable.

"D'you want me to stop?" she questions, her hands already loosening their grip on you. Before she can fully move them away though, you wrap your hands around her forearms, still craving for her touch regardless of your internal conflict. You shake your head quickly in response.

"No, no, I don't want...I don't want you to stop, I'm just nervous is all"

"Nervous?" she asks, now admittedly more worried.

"I just don't wanna fuck up" The words come out quickly as you see Sevika's eyebrows knit together, not wanting her to think your reservations are her fault. To your shock, she just chuckles at your response, shaking her head before pressing a soft peck to your lips. "You aren't going to fuck up, baby." Her voice coming out as more of a calming purr rather than the concerned tone she'd had a moment ago, using her mech hand to pull you further up onto her lap. "Just let me take care of you, yeah?"

You nod, and without warning she stands up, arms hooked under your thighs.

"What're you doing?"

"Well, I don't want your first time to be on that banged-up old couch" she mutters, continuing to pepper kisses along your neck as she walks you to her bedroom.

Sevika's never really been one for tenderness. And the idea of taking things slow with a sexual partner, at least most of the time, wasn't really her thing but you would never know it from the way she handles your body in this moment. Gingerly lying you down on her bed, pressing soft butterfly kisses on your cheeks and mouth. Using her mech arm to hold herself in a hover above your body, her flesh hand rides up your shirt again, slowly caressing and massaging the soft skin underneath before slipping it off of your torso entirely.

"You sure you want more?" Sevika hums against your skin, nuzzling the tip of her nose against your throat, needing to confirm that you're absolutely sure before she lets loose. You nod, but of course, your girl's not having it.

"Speak. Tell me you want more."

The soft, commanding tone of her voice sends a shiver down your spine.

"Please Sev...I want more, I'm sure. I promise I'm sure." your cheeks hot as you stumble awkwardly with your words.

That's all the affirmation she needs, her hands now working around your back to unhook and discard your bra. You feel the calloused palm of her large hand grazing against your skin, groping at the fat of your breast as her lips latch around your nipple on the other, gently sucking and nipping at it with her teeth.

Her normal impatient attitude when it comes to most things has seemingly disappeared as she makes her way down your body. It takes every ounce of self-control to make it so, Sevika denying her urge to rip your clothes off to slowly strip you down instead, then herself, hungry eyes flickering up to you with each article of cloth shed to make sure you're still okay.

It's when you feel her hand beginning to slip underneath your panties that you tense again. The stiffness earns you a softly uttered "Relax baby" from Sevika before you feel the pads of her fingers begin tracing your puffy clit, the contact almost soothing now that there's some relief to the growing ache between your thighs.

Sevika is quick to replace her fingers with her mouth, eager to position herself snugly between your thighs, hoisting your legs over her broad shoulders and pressing her tongue flush against your cunt. The feeling sends a jolt of electricity through you, the expected but new feeling of her soft lips pressing kisses against your swollen pearl, her tongue dragging along your slit rendering your brain useless.

"Oh my god..." Your hands instinctively weave into her short, dark strands as you unconsciously press yourself into her closer.

Sevika can feel her own need growing by the second but she refuses to rush you, her own cunt gushing with every little move you make. The way you whimper when she finally pushes two of her thick fingers into you is driving her absolutely wild, moaning with you against your pussy as she finds herself humping mindlessly at the scrunched blanket between her own legs.

"There you go, pretty girl...so fuckin' tight" "Taste so fuckin' good, baby.."

Every word she speaks is caught between her own stifled grunts and heavy breathing, her impatience becoming clear in the way she begins pumping her fingers ruthlessly in and out of you, audible sloshing and sucking sounds only drowned out only by your increasingly loud, untamable moaning.

Every muscle in your body seems to tense as you near your peak, back arching up off of the bed as you try to warn her you're close

"Sev, Sev....I'm g'na - fuck, I'm so close"

Sevika just groans in response, her fingers curling upward inside of you with each pump, triggering a wave of all consuming pleasure to course through your body. You've touched yourself before, but not a single one of your solo sessions could compare to the blinding euphoric feeling that rips its way through your body. Your fingers curl harder into her hair, accidentally tugging off the elastic that usually keeps Sevika's hair in place as you grind yourself agsint her tongue.

Her hands keep a firm grip on your thighs as you ride out your orgasm, only detatching her lips from your body when you begin attempting to pull back from overstimulation. A dopey grin is spread across her wet lips when she looks up at you - a rare sight to most, the small gap in her front teeth on full display.

"You did so good...so fuckin' good for me" Sevika murmurs, not bothering to wipe her mouth when she leans down and crashes her lips into your own parted ones, your breathing still short and heavy.

With how she's repositioned herself on top of you, her core hovering just above you thigh, you can feel just how wet she's gotten without even having been touched yet, the dark hair of her bush grazing against your skin and leaving a cool, dewy trail on your leg.

"What....what about you?" You ask, to which Sevika snorts, this time, purposefully lowering herself a bit more to let you feel just how drenched she truly is, as if wanting you to know that it's your fault her body is reacting this way.

"I never said I was done with you, did I?"

Reblogs are appreciated <3 || Taglist: @archangeldyke-all, @delinthecut, @half-of-a-gay, @porcelainmystery, @glass-apothecary, @cobraisveryhorny

[tgms]

sucker punch — kaji ren

you’ve never been the type to pick random fights with your boyfriend. unfortunately for him, this wasn’t just a random fight. (wc: 0.9k)

“i can’t do it anymore,” your voice broke the silence in the room. kaji, on the verge of sleep, stirs awake from his sprawled out position on his bed.

“…huh?” he asked after a minute of trying to process what you were saying.

“i can’t do it anymore, ren,” you repeated, pulling away from him and sitting up. he followed suit, slowly sitting up and pulling his sleep shirt back down to cover his exposed abdomen. “you always tell me to come over and end up doing this shit.”

“what shit? fuck you talkin’ about?” he grumbled back, traces of sleep slowly leaving his system.

“you know damn well what i’m talking about. we talked about it yesterday. i’m tired, too!” you whined, head lolling back and resting against the wall.

still confused as to what you were going on about, kaji remained silent as he racked his brain on what he could’ve done to illicit this reaction from you.

was it when he ate the last of your favorite flavor chupa chup? or maybe last week when he was twenty minutes late in picking you up? but if he were to think really, really hard on what he could’ve done to make you upset to the point of waking him up, he draws a blank.

“wait, can you-” he paused, lifting a hand up to squeeze his temples. “at least explain why you’re mad. can’t read your damn mind.”

“and i’m saying you should already know! don’t play with me, kaji ren,” you huffed out, arms crossed in front of your chest. “i can’t believe you. you never listen.”

“you serious right now?” he shot back, anger steadily rising. he took a breath, trying to find his composure before he snapped and made whatever he did worse. “don’t call me like that, either. y’know i don’t like that shit.”

“oh, i’m so sorry, baby. that better for you?” you snarled sarcastically, your own hostility rising in response. you scooted back farther away from him, legs uncrossing and feet now touching the floor. “i think i’m just gonna go home.”

kaji groaned, head falling back against the wall. “‘m not telling you to leave. can you just tell me what the problem is so i can fix it ‘nd we can go back to sleep?”

you shot another scalding glare in his direction, mumbling something under your breath that he couldn’t quite hear, but he’s pretty sure he caught something along the lines of asshole and i’ll show him. you stopped moving away and even brought your legs back up to the bed. but kaji’s eyes almost bugged out of his head when he noticed you pulling your (his) shirt up over your head.

“the fuck are you doing? ‘m not fucking you right now,” despite seeing all of that and more before, he respectfully slapped a hand over his eyes at the unexpected show of skin. he peaked through his fingers at your silence, hand falling when he noticed the light purple marks blooming on your torso.

you crawled closer to him, kneeling between his spread legs and pointing at the bruises littering your skin. “see this? i told you—”

“who did it?” kaji cut you off, voice low and eyes ready to kill. a rough hand came up to slowly trace the marks on your side. “tell me who did this and i’ll fuckin’ kill ‘em.”

“go die then!” you hollered back at him. “been trying to tell you for the past week! i can’t sleep with you anymore, shit hurts!”

kaji stayed focused on the purple blotches, calloused fingers lightly running over them. “what’s that s’posed to mean? fuck does sleeping gotta do with this?”

“god, how many times have i said this already?” you rolled your eyes, arms crossing over your chest again. he couldn’t help the way his eyes zeroed in on your chest at the movement. “you keep kicking and punching in your sleep, stop having me come over if you can’t lay still!”

his hands stopped tracing over the bruises, retracting until they rested on his thighs. he wouldn’t look up at you, bangs casting a shadow over his eyes. “…i did that?”

“yeah,” you scoffed. “either get a bigger bed or come over to mine instead. it’s always come over and never on my way. and my room’s cuter than yours! i wanna sleep, too,” you whined, anger dissipating in waves at his lack of a response.

kaji started mumbling quietly, and no matter how close you brought your face to his you couldn’t understand the words coming out of his mouth.

you didn’t press though, opting to lean back on your heels and stare at him expectedly.

“‘m sorry,” he let out after a few more minutes of silence, head dropping forward until his forehead rested on your shoulder. “never meant to hurt you.”

his arms came up to wrap themselves around you, pulling you closer until your body was flush against his. promises of won’t do it again and pleads of don’t go murmured into your bare skin.

you brought your own arms around his body, fingers running up and down his back, heart softening at his genuineness. you felt him shift and jostle you around in his lap, but his grip on you never loosened up, even when you heard tapping from behind your back.

“what’re you doing?”

“…buying a new bed.”

notes: is my characterization ass omfg. lmk your thoughts!

[mystellenia]

romantic tension with abby

summary: in the warm glow of abby's bedroom, after a day of shared hobbies, you contemplate your deepening feelings for her and hope that perhaps she feels the same

content: friends (to lovers???), sfw, literally nothing else

notes: wrote a part two :p i need to write more fluff bc there is such a shortage AND especially with abby. this is like so domestic like in the way that there's no extra interactions. like this is literally how me and a friend would act after a day of painting!! just sleepy and tired zzzzz

(wc 0.7k)

the setting sun cast an orange glow on abby's bedroom where the two of you lay on her floor, bathing in the heat radiating from her large window. you'd just finished painting birdhouses for the married pair of sparrows that frequented the birdseed abby had set out. they would dance around each other and sing their chirpy harmonies and then take turns pecking at the various seeds from the feeder, so abby thought it necessary to handmake them houses in her shop. 

this was one of your many duet activities of abby's "grandma hobbies," as you called them. you two had fed the ducks down at the lake, gone through an entire coloring book, built lego sets, and done nearly a dozen puzzles—one of which was glued and framed in abby's kitchen. 

you guys spent every free moment of time together, and counted down the time until you could when one was busy. you were the closest of friends, but lately you found yourself wanting more—or at least thinking about how it would be if you were more. coming home to each other instead of making the fifteen-minute drive any time you wanted to see her. being able to actually tell her when she looked so pretty it made you hold your breath instead of chewing on your lip. 

she shifted next to you, bending her legs at the knees and pulling you out of your thoughts. "i should probably wash the brushes before the paint dries on them, right?" 

you almost tell her she shouldn't so that you could lay with her a little while longer, but you give in. "yeah, you should." 

she sits up to stand, grunting as she lifts her body weight and moving to the crafting cloth where your birdhouses currently sat drying. you sat up and leaned against the foot of her bed, watching as she so delicately readjusts the cloth so that it doesn't smudge your paint job. 

scrubbing your hands down your face, you push up off the bed and move to grab a sweatshirt of hers to change into, taking your paint-covered tank off and slipping the sweatshirt over your head. it sat baggy on your body with her being bigger than you are just about everywhere, and you threw the hood over your head and dropped onto the right side of her bed. 

she returns with her hands patting on her sweats to dry them off. seeing you in the bed, she comes to sit next to you, with you on your back and her laying on her side to face you. 

"you wanna just stay the night?" she says, her voice lifting at the end as if it were a question and not a declaration. "it's too late to go home alone." 

"yeah, i think i will," you respond. you remember the origami book she bought at the farmer's market last saturday. "only if we make paper cranes until our fingers bleed from paper cuts tomorrow," you grin, turning to look at her and see she's already looking back at you. 

"okay. i have lots of band-aids," she jokes. 

you chuckle, and the two of you fall into a comfortable silence, sheepishly smiling at the other while holding eye contact. 

"can we also get those berry pastries from the cafe? and make those butterflies we saw on pinterest?" you ask, your cheeks still kissing your eyes. 

"yeah, i'll wake up early to get them for breakfast," she nods. "and i only got that book so we can make things together—we can make whatever you want." 

in place of a response, you slip your fingers between hers and tightly squeeze her hand, ignoring your frustration with the uncertainty of her feelings for you. 

the tip of her nose pinks a bit before she opens her mouth. "good night. we need brain power for making cranes." 

you turn onto your side as well to face her, your noses nearly touching. "good night, abby," you grin, high on the feel of her skin on yours and the way she's looking at you.  

you fall asleep with a smile on your face because your close friend, abby, may just like you, too. 

@picklesarenice69 @abbyandersonsrightbuttcheek

yayyy i’m back :3

click here!! oh and here too!! ˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶

[sunvmars]

bitter sweet | s.r.

pairing: steve rogers x fem/afab reader

next ↠

word count: 2.8k

warnings: obv swearing, pregnancy/pregnant reader, some angst that's mainly reader trying to cover up hidden emotions

summary: you've grown to resent steve after a breakup and give him the cold shoulder for weeks. you soon discover you're pregnant and show back up on his doorstep to tell him the news.

a/n: definitely turning this into a series if it gains enough traction!

It was a warm summer evening like any other when Steve had asked you to come straight home after work, insisting he had something important to talk about. You had entered your shared apartment with expectations of a nice dinner or a movie night. Considering Steve was always one for suspension, surprise plans and at-home date nights weren't unusual.

You set your purse down on the table by the front door before sinking into your favorite recliner. The setting sun cast a glow amongst the living room that you greatly appreciated, although it was a glow that was far too beautiful to be wasted on that night.

"Steve! I'm home!"

Only a few seconds after you'd called out had he come, practically, running. He came to sit on the couch, only a few feet away, his expression conflicted.

"I missed you today," you said.

You beamed at your fiancé, simply happy to see him after another shitty work day. While you were an Avenger, you stuck to mainly office work when you had no missions.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, "Y/n, honey, I think we need to talk."

Your heart sank, and a lump formed in your throat. You knew Steve like the back of your hand, and every time he has said the words "we need to talk," it's never been good.

"Is Buck sneaking over to eat all of our sweets again? I thought you talked to him about that," you joked in an attempt to lighten the tension.

"Funnily enough, no, he hasn't done that in a few days."

"Well, don't jinx it."

He chuckled briefly. His hands ran over his face as he sighed, and his broad shoulders relaxed.

"I've been thinking- a lot," he began, avoiding your gaze. "Baby, you know I love you, right?"

You hummed, giving him a nod that allowed him to continue.

"I love you, but..."

As soon as you had heard the "but," you tuned out. Whether it was by choice, or whether your mind and heart already knew what he was going to say and were just saving you the extra heartbreak, you weren't sure. You did, however, catch the last part of it. And luckily, the last part was all you needed to hear from him.

"I can't allow this to continue. I'm no good for you, y/n. I can't be the man you need or deserve right now. It's not fair to keep you waiting while I'm still trying to figure out what I want."

Your brows furrowed as your body started becoming tense. "What...?" you muttered.

It was less of a question and more of you thinking aloud, vocalizing your confusion. Unless you were a completely oblivious idiot, things between the two of you were fine yesterday, and every day before that for the last two years. He sighed, finally meeting your gaze. His eyes were filled with regret that you somehow missed.

"I... I can't take the risk anymore. I need to focus on my responsibilities and protecting the world. It's just... I can't let my personal life get in the way of my promise to the world."

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you quickly wiped them away before they could fall. You had the same job, so how could the man who had proposed only a few months ago just now, after two years, decide he couldn't make this work because of his job? Either way, that man didn't deserve your tears, so you wouldn't waste them on him. You stood quickly, not bothering to look back at him as you made your way towards the door.

"Y/n? Where are you going? Please say something, baby-"

"Don't! You don't get to call me that anymore," you snapped, finally allowing yourself to show some sort of emotion. "Just...stop. There's nothing else to say."

His eyes widened a little at your sudden outburst. You picked up your purse and keys hastily. Your fingers fidgeted with the keys for a moment, then you started sliding your house key off your keychain. It was then that you decided to speak again before he got the chance to, not caring to hear another word from him.

"I'll have someone come get my stuff tomorrow; do whatever you want with the apartment, as long as you don't have to contact me to do it."

"Y/n," he spoke with softened, glossy eyes, "please, just stay until you find somewhere else to go. This is your home too, I-"

"There's too much of you, well, what used to be us, here," you stated plainly as you placed your key on the table. "Where I go isn't your problem anymore anyway."

A sigh escaped your lips as you slung your purse over your shoulder. You turned to face him one last time as you stood in the doorway.

"Oh, and one more thing," you say, "You are a fucking coward, Steven Grant Rogers."

The door slammed behind you. And what you'd left behind was a deeply regretful, and utterly stupid, Steve sitting alone on the couch in the apartment you once shared.

That was almost two months ago, and your heart had not allowed you to heal at all. As if seeing Steve in passing at work wasn't painful enough, now you had an important mission coming up tomorrow, and being chosen to go with him was inevitable. Or at least you thought it was inevitable. It had all started earlier in the morning with a rotten egg- an actual rotten egg, that is.

You were baking cookies for Bucky, fully aware of how much he'd miss your baked goods for the next week or two you would be gone. Over the time that you and Steve had dated and been engaged, you'd gotten pretty close with the brunette. He was equally supportive of both of you during the breakup. Though he did lay into Steve for leaving you. Bucky knew there was more to it than his job; both of you had the same job for Christ's sake, but he didn't push his friend for answers—at least not yet.

With one gentle motion, you cracked the egg on the side of your metal bowl. However, this egg had a smell to it. You brought it closer to your face to observe and smell it. What a horrible mistake, though, because as soon as you inhaled the sickening, sulfur-like scent, it made your stomach turn. But instead of going back to normal, you gagged. The scent was lingering longer than any other scent you'd ever smelled, almost as if you were permanently damned to having the smell stuck in your nostrils.

Then the hot stomach acid started coming up, and it was coming fast, signaling you needed a trashcan now. You bolted towards the nearest bathroom, preferring to take a chance on making a mess in a hallway rather than the kitchen. You passed Steve and Bucky on your way there, both men stopping dead in their tracks to watch as you ran into the bathroom only a few feet behind them.

"Huh," Steve mumbled, his heart throbbing at the sight of you.

"Sometimes I get sick when I look at you too, punk."

Bucky chuckled at his own joke, earning a glare from Steve.

"Go check on her for me, please."

"Always. But I won't keep giving you updates on her, y'know? It's not fair to her, Steve," Bucky sighed.

Steve only nodded in understanding, a smile only staying on his lips for a few seconds. He patted Bucky's back before turning on his heels and continuing on his path.

Your stomach clenched harder, and the vomit raced up your throat faster than ever. You barely got to the toilet before retching and gagging again, feeling instant relief when the bile finally came up. But then came a sudden second wave of nausea that seemed to be worse than the first. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the torture finally ended.

You stood up slowly and made your way to the sink. After tearing off a piece of paper towel, you dampened it under warm water. You wiped your mouth off with the damp napkin and threw it away before opening the door to leave.

"You okay?"

You jumped back slightly, looking over to meet piercing blue eyes. There was Bucky leaning up against the wall next to the bathroom door with his arms crossed.

"Jesus, Buck. You stalking me?"

"Stalking you? Definitely not. If I wanted to stalk someone, I'd find someone more interesting who doesn't eat half pints of vanilla bean ice cream and watch Pride and Prejudice or The Notebook every night," he jokes.

"Hey! It's how I cope and get over things; it's soothing."

"Yet you still pine over him, so how's that working out for ya?"

"...not great. Maybe I do need a new method, huh?"

The two of you exchange a laugh, and you start making your way back to the kitchen with Bucky right on your heels.

"So, are you okay?" he questions again.

"Just felt a little sick, that's all. And, hey, here's a tip: don't ever smell a rotten egg, it's not a pleasant experience," you say with a soft sigh.

He chuckles at your joke and replies, "Thank you for that. I'll remember that."

When you make it to the kitchen, he plants himself on a bar stool only a few feet away from you. You decide to continue making your cookies, holding your breath as you clean up the old egg.

"Wow, I can smell that from here. You weren't lying. That is bad."

His nose turns up and his face scrunches, earning a giggle from you. You two chat as you make the dough, and soon enough, you're finished baking. As you put the last cookies on the tray, Bucky stands up to get a closer look.

"God. Per usual, those smell amazing," he groans, reaching for one of the hot sweets.

You swat his hand away with a laugh. "Not until they're cooled down!"

He fakes a frown that makes you laugh again. You shake your head, making a 'tsk' noise at him.

"You're a menace, Buck," you joke.

He only shrugs his shoulders with a lopsided grin, then he pulls you into a hug. "Somebody has to get on your nerves. It keeps you distracted and on your feet," he teases.

"Thank you for being here for me."

Your body relaxes in his arms. You wrap your arms around his upper waist to return the sentiment. You take a deep breath and then pull away from the hug.

"How are you feeling, by the way?"

"It's almost like it never happened," you smirk.

"That's a lie, and you know it."

You're about to speak again, but close your mouth as soon as it opens. The nausea pools in your stomach again, forcing a huff out of you.

"I think I'm gonna be sick again."

"You're still feeling that bad over it?"

"No, I genuinely think I'm gonna throw up again, Buck," you say hurriedly, pushing by him to get back to the bathroom. "Put those cookies in a bag, Barnes! They're all yours!"

He chuckles and holds his thumb up in the air, even though you can't see it. "And you get yourself to the doctor, l/n."

And going to the doctor is exactly what you chose to do.

Well, almost.

You instead chose to go to the lab with Tony and Bruce, and you only decided to go after about the fourth wave of nausea that came around five hours after the first. Which is how you ended up in the lab with grippy socks on and a cold Sprite in hand as you await blood and urine test results.

"So, how are you holding up, kid?" Tony asks, his eyes glued to his computer.

"Been better, had better days."

He looks away from his computer for a moment, making eye contact with you. "I could just kill him for hurting you, and I hope you know that," he states, his voice carrying nothing but genuine honesty.

"Aw, Tony, you're just like the dad I never dreamed of having—violently overprotective and overdramatic."

Bruce chuckles, but Tony just rolls his eyes, focusing back on his computer.

"That's what I get for trying to be nice to you," Tony scoffs, trying his best to hide the smile that wants to creep onto his face.

"I'm going to take a walk, Tony. I'll be back in a few minutes," Bruce announces as he rises from his chair. "If the computer beeps, it's her results coming back."

"Got it," Tony responds plainly, entirely too distracted by something on his screen.

The computer beeps only a few minutes after Bruce walks out, indicating an update to your information. Tony swivels his chair over to the big screen and pulls up your test results. He studies them carefully, not saying a word.

"So...what's wrong with me?"

He's still silent when he turns to face you. At first, he looks shocked, but then his brows furrow and his eyes narrow ever so slightly. If you hadn't known him for as long as you have, you'd think he was judging you based on his facial expression, but you knew he wasn't. He looked conflicted and confused, almost hesitant.

"What is it, Tone? You're freaking me out here. Is it the flu? A stomach bug? Food poisoning?"

"How about a baby?"

Your jaw drops, literally. The words pool in your mind, and your brain starts feeling like it's going to explode from all the different emotions and thoughts. You start to feel sick to your stomach again but manage to push the feeling down.

"I..." you start, unable to find the words to finish.

"I'm sorry, y/n. I won't tell anyone, okay? Not even Bruce. We need to set you up with a doctor. I have an amazing one I can call to come here and-"

"I appreciate that, Tony, but I need time to think first. We'll, uhm, talk tomorrow if that's okay."

"Of course," he empathizes, a sympathetic smile tugging at his lips. "Come here, kid."

You shuffle your way into his open arms, not having the energy to return the hug. He pulls away after a few seconds and allows you to step back.

"I think I'm gonna go...or something... I don't know," you mumble, making your way towards the door.

"Hey, y/n?"

"Yeah?"

"If this is something you want, don't let him ruin it for you."

As soon as you leave the lab, it's like you're on autopilot.

Your feet took you to the downstairs office, then outside, and then to your car. When you get into your car, you tell yourself you're going to the store to grab some more ice cream. But your heart has other ideas; ideas such as Steve.

So, you drive yourself all the way to Steve's apartment, just wanting to be comforted by the familiarity for a moment. Then, somehow, you end up outside the front door of what used to be your shared space.

Your soft knock pulls Steve from the closest to sleep he's been in weeks. He curses under his breath, loathing whoever is at the door for ruining his chance at a few minutes to hours of peace.

However, that hate replaces itself with regret and adoration as soon as he opens the door to reveal your slouched-over form. Steve recognizes that look on your face, along with your body language, and it's evident that something is wrong.

As if you showing up at his door isn't surprising enough, you look up at him before letting yourself fall into his arms. He stands in shock as you lay your head on his warm and familiarly sculpted chest. Then sobs wrack through you, shaking your whole body, and that's all it takes for him to give into instinct and wrap his arms around you. The heat of his body and the feeling of his embrace provide a warming comfort as you cry into his shirt, only coaxing you further to let it all go.

One of his hands rubs your back gently while he holds you. "Y/n? What's wrong, honey? Talk to me," he coos.

You feel a tightness in your chest, a feeling that you can't put into words right now even if you tried your hardest to. In fact, all you can do is cry more as you hold tightly onto the sides of his shirt. You practically crumble into his chest, melting in his arms, and Steve understands. That's what made you fall for him in the first place, honestly - he always understands.

So, with no more words spoken, he holds you in the same doorway you walked out of only a couple of weeks ago. He holds you in that doorway until your tears slow and your breathing returns to normal. At some point, his thick fingers begin combing through your hair soothingly, the same way they used to every night at bedtime.

"I don't know what your stance on kids before marriage and after a breakup is, but you should figure it out soon," you mutter into his chest.

His body freezes, and his mind scrambles to catch up with your words. He looks down at your head, his eyebrows furrowing as he tries to make sense of the situation.

Are you truly saying what he thinks you are? You couldn't be...

"I'm pregnant, Steve."

[candy69gurl]

POV: You are Sukuna's Vessel 3

Warnings- mentions of violence

wc- 2k

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

The next morning, you awake with a start, your heart racing and your sheets tangled around you.

For a moment, you can't remember where you are, the fog of sleep still heavy in your mind.

"Why am I feeling so tired?" you wonder, your mind racing as memories slowly come back to you.

You sit up, your body aching in ways it shouldn't, and you realize something, you are wet. "How is that possible? Wet dreams?", you feel odd about the whole situation.

Steeling yourself, you push aside the lingering discomfort and join your friends for training.

Gojo stands at the front of the group, his eyes scanning each of you.

"Today, we will practice controlling our Cursed Energy," he announces, his voice carrying authority. "Remember, the key is to focus your energy and direct it."

You nod, trying to concentrate as Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi join you, their presence a comforting reminder of the life you've built here.

"Alright, let's get started," Yuji says, his voice confident and encouraging.

"Focus on your breath, let it guide your energy," Nobara adds, her voice steady and calming.

Megumi nods, his eyes focused on the task at hand.

"Remember, control is key," Gojo reminds you all.

As you begin to train, Sukuna's voice starts ringing in your ears "Oi brat."

"What?" you snap, your voice sharp and defensive.

"Nothing. Just enjoying the show," Sukuna's voice says, his tone smug.

"Let me focus on my training," you hiss back, your voice shaking with anger.

"Whatever," he replies, his voice dismissive.

You turn your attention back to the task at hand, but Sukuna is still lurking in the back of your mind, "Has he done something with my body last night?", you ask yourself.

"I can't wait to do more," he adds, his voice taunting.

You grit your teeth, your anger growing with each passing moment.

"What are you talking about?" you demand, your voice shaking with emotion.

Sukuna's laughter fills your mind, his response coming without hesitation.

"Nothing", he says, his voice filled with mischief.

"That's a lie," you snap, your frustration boiling over. "What did you do last night?"

Sukuna doesn't respond, his silence as telling as his words.

"Oi Y/N you talking to yourself again?," Megumi says, his voice calm and soothing. "Focus on your breathing."

Gojo claps his hands together, his voice ringing out across the room.

"Today, we will have a friendly competition between Kyoto and Tokyo branches," he announces, his eyes scanning the group. "The person who kills most curses, that person's team going to win" he continues, his voice filled with excitement,

You exchange glances with your friends, a mix of excitement and trepidation in your eyes.

"Alright, let's get this started," Yuji says, his voice determined.

The sun dips below the horizon, the forest casting long shadows that dance across the ground.

You stand beside your friends, the scent of the woods heavy in the air, an eerie quiet settling over the area.

"Ready?" Yuji asks, his voice a mix of anticipation and nervousness.

"Let's do this," Nobara says, her voice filled with determination.

Megumi nods, his eyes scanning the area, searching for any signs of danger.

"Remember, work as a team, and don't hesitate to call for backup," Gojo advises, his voice calm

"Got it," you say, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach.

"On three, we start," Yuji counts down, his voice confident.

"One..." he begins, clenching his fist, "Two..." his eyes scanning the area.

"Three!" he shouts, and you burst into action, your Cursed Energy flaring to life.

"Fucking brat, don't stress yourself so much", a deep voice rumbles in your mind, "let them do the hardwork".

You immediately stop in your tracks, "Shut up I don't give a damn about your opinion."

Suddenly you notice, you have lost track with your friends, "S-shit they got ahead of me. It's all your fault", you grit your teeth getting mad at Sukuna.

You push aside the nagging worry and focus on the task at hand, your Cursed Energy flaring to life as you search for curses nearby.

A low growl echoes through the trees, and a massive curse steps from the shadows.

"Well, well, well," Sukuna says, his voice dripping with amusement "Looks like you found yourself a big one."

You take a deep breath, focusing on the monster curse in front of you, ignoring Sukuna's comments.

"I'll handle this," you say, your voice firm.

"Of course you will, brat," he replies, his voice filled with skepticism.

You charge forward, your feet hitting the ground with a satisfying thud, your cursed energy gathering in your hand.

"Get ready to die," you say, your voice determined.

The curse roars, its body shifting and twisting as it prepares to attack.

"Just like that, brat?" Sukuna sneers, his voice filled with disbelief.

"Shut up!" you shout, your voice shaking with anger.

You swing your fist, your Cursed Energy crackling around your hand like lightning.

The curse takes a step back, its eyes widening in surprise as you strike.

"Not bad," Sukuna says, his voice surprisingly impressed

You ignore him, focusing on the creature in front of you, its body twisting and contorting as it tries to evade your attack.

"Come on, you can do better than that," he taunts, his voice filled with amusement.

"Shut up! Will you?" you snarl, your frustration mounting.

You dodge its attacks, your body moving with fluid grace, your Cursed Energy flaring to life with every strike.

"Keep going, brat," Sukuna urges, his voice filled with excitement.

"I know what I'm doing," you snap, your voice sharp.

With a final cry, you launch yourself forward, your cursed energy swirling around your hand.

The curse crumbles to the ground, defeated, its energy fading into nothingness.

"Nice job," Sukuna says, his voice grudgingly respectful.

You ignore him, your chest heaving as you catch your breath, your heart pounding in your ears.

As if on cue, more curses appear from the shadows, their hunger and malice clear in their eyes.

You take a deep breath, your focus shifting to the new threats.

Sukuna's voice fills your mind, his tone excited and eager. "Alright, let's see what you've got, brat," he says, his voice filled with anticipation.

You draw on your Cursed Energy, your power surging through your veins as you face the new threats.

Each curse falls swiftly, their bodies breaking apart beneath your onslaught, your power growing with each victory.

"Not bad," Sukuna says, his voice filled with approval,"keep it up," he urges, his voice excited

"Stop commenting", you yell at him.

"You are lucky that the king of curses, is complimenting you", he laughs.

"King of curses my ass", you laugh back.

"Oh is that so brat?"

A sudden surge of pain courses through your limb, your vision swimming for a moment.

"Damn it," you gasp, stumbling back as the curse looms over you.

"That's a Special Grade," Sukuna says, his voice grim.

You clench your jaw, fighting to regain your footing.

"I can see," you say, your voice tinged with panic.

With a snarl, you launch yourself forward, your cursed energy crackling around your hand.

The special grade curse takes a step back, its eyes narrowing as it realizes the threat you pose.

"You're not as weak as I thought," it says, its voice filled with amusement, its body twisting and contorting as it prepares for battle.

"Oh you can speak?," you snarl.

The curse towers over you, its body twisted and grotesque, its eyes filled with malice and hunger.

It resembles a humanoid figure, but it's far from human. Its skin is grey and pockmarked, its muscles bulging with unnatural strength.

Its eyes are a deep, burning red, like the fires of hell, and its mouth is filled with sharp, jagged teeth.

Despite its horrifying appearance, there's a sense of power and menace that radiates from it, threatening to overwhelm you.

"Yes, but don't need to speak to kill you," the curse replies, your voice shaking with determination

"I will not lose," you grit out, energy crackling around your hand, you charge forward, your body moving with surprising speed and agility.

The curse meets your attack, its strength overwhelming, its power a force to be reckoned with.

"This is not going well, brat," Sukuna says, his voice filled with concern

You ignore him, your focus solely on the battle at hand.

Your attacks falter, the curse's power overwhelming, its body twisting and evading your every move, its attacks growing stronger with each passing moment.

The curse lands a crushing blow, sending you flying into a tree, the impact knocking the wind from your lungs, making your rib bones shatter.

"No," you whisper, your vision swimming as darkness creeps in, "I-I have to call for backup."

The curse looms over you, its eyes gleaming with victory. You struggle to breathe, the darkness closing in.

"You're time is up, brat," Sukuna says, his voice cold and final.

As you slip away, you feel a shift, a presence taking over your body.

Your vision fades to black, the last thing you see is the Special Grade curse towering over you, its victory imminent.

Sukuna's consciousness slips into your body, his presence filling your with an odd sense of calm.

"Ah," he says, his voice filled with curiosity, "Now, its time to have some fun."

Sukuna steps forward, his body moving with an almost casual grace, his lips curling into a smirk.

"So, this is the great Special Grade curse who took down my vessel," he says, his voice dripping with condescension

The curse snarls, its body shifting and twisting, ready to attack.

"I thought we were on the same team.. But if you don't want it get ready to die," Sukuna fixes your disheveled hair.

With a flick of his wrist, Sukuna sends a blast of cursed energy towards the curse.

The curse stumbles back, its body shuddering under the force of the attack, its rage building.

Sukuna laughs, his voice filled with amusement,"Try harder (Ganbare Ganbare)" he taunts, his voice filled with malicious delight

Another blast of cursed energy erupts from his hand, the curse crumbling to the ground.

"What a disappointment," Sukuna says, his voice filled with contempt

He looks down at the fallen curse, his eyes gleaming with malice.

"You dare to attack the king of curses?" he says, his voice filled with venom

He steps forward, his foot coming down hard on the curse's neck, its body crumbling to dust.

Sukuna runs his hand through your hair, his fingers tangling in your hair "What a mess," he says, his voice filled with disgust "Gotta do something about it," he mutters, his fingers tightening in your hair.

Sukuna's cursed energy pulses through your body, the wounds from the battle healing in an instant.

"Hmph enjoyed my show huh?", Sukuna chukles, his eyes up in the night sky, spotting Momo Nishimiya, on her broom.

He watches as Momo disappears into the night, her broom a blur of movement as she rushes away,"...Sukuna inside Y/N's body? I need to tell everyone about it", her heart racing as she hurries to the seniors.

"Not so fast, little witch", Sukuna's voice flickers with amusement.

With a flick of his wrist, Sukuna's cursed energy surges forward, slashing through Momo's broom, and her body.

Momo screams, her body plummeting to the ground, her life force fading rapidly.

Sukuna's eyes squint, gleaming with malicious delight.

"I know vessel, you are going to be mad but we didn't want her to tell tales, did we?" he asks, his voice filled with mischief, "Time to switch now I guess."

As Sukuna retreats, your body collapses, you lay on the ground, unconscious, your body devoid of any wound.

TAGLIST: @moonlightazriel @cocoaxbunny @lotus-n-l0ve @rabbidbunwy @sweetchildcloud

Dividers from @cafekitsune

[nightdivinity]

Drink Responsibly: Chapter 1

ABO!Vampire!Batfam x reader

Minors! Do! Not! Engage! +18 only!

Platonic!Alfred, Bruce x reader, Possessive! Batboys x reader

Warnings: Bad life choices, possessive behavior, a/b/o, they're vampires, loooong age gaps, no proofreading, reverse harem.

Writer's Note: I am so tired. I exist only because of caffeine and spite. So here you go, Chapter 2 is done as well. It will come out Friday hopefully.

Grey eyes stare into yours as you try your hardest to not squirm under the intensity. How did you get to be where you are? You have no clue. Honestly, there shouldn’t have been a callback. You should not have landed this opportunity for the second interview. The initial screening process should have weened you out in the first place.

From what you had gathered from the chatty chauffeur in the town car, (the town car! They knew you had no car to get to Wayne Manor, let alone to your job. Yet they still sent you someone to go pick you up from your ratty apartment.) This was all ordained by someone much higher than Mr. Pennyworth in front of you. The talk with the chauffeur had almost put you at ease until you looked out the window and saw the heavy iron gate open to Wayne Manor’s winding driveway. There’s no doubt in your mind. You shouldn’t be here. In more ways than one.

It made your bandages itch the more you thought about it. You couldn't scratch them like the feral animal you were deep down inside. At least, not when you're being as heavily scrutinized as you are now.

“I’m not sure you know what you’re getting yourself into my dear.”, the butler says.

“I want this job.”

He sighs then and reaches for the cup of tea sitting on the table next to him. When you got to the Manor, Mr. Pennyworth had met you at the front step. He still ushered you through a side entrance and a winding set of narrow hallways until you reached the sitting room you were now in. Not that you were complaining about being treated like a servant when you were trying to like hell to land the job.

If ever there was an excellent place to kill someone, this was it. You find yourself thinking as you look away from him and study the art on the walls. The manor itself was far removed from society and the small windowless study with the ornate crackling fireplace was oppressive as much as it was impressive. No one would ever hear you scream.

“The issue is not a matter of want. The issue is a matter of need.”, he says.

You watch him take a sip as a bead of sweat collects at the back of your neck. It was getting too hot in here, and the bandage around your wrist was itching.

“I need it. No one wants to hire me”, You reply.

You’re not sure what you expect after you say that. Half of you were expecting him to start grilling you like he did during your interview two days ago. That one had taken place in daylight, in an ostentatious conference room at Wayne Enterprise's.

You were still waiting for him to pick you to the bone and say, “Why is that?”. The other half feels like the admittance makes you guilty. Guilty of going out that night. Guilty of getting caught in a crowd surge while blackout drunk. Guilty of the infected thralls that were unleashed by the Scarecrow goons. Guilty of killing the infected that had started ripping you to pieces. Not that you remember any of it, frustratingly enough. No one, not even the news, gave enough information on that night. Why was I there?

“How are you doing dear?” Pennyworth asks.

You blink. No one has asked that yet. Not by anyone that you feel genuinely wants to know the answer.

“Good. Sore, and I believe honesty is the best policy. I can’t dance like I used to.”, you joke.

It falls flat in the cramped space as you give him a tight grin. His grey eyes dart momentarily to the crutch that was resting next to the chair, and to the cast going slightly above your knee.

“Yes, honesty is such an important quality nowadays. Might I say, it is fortunate that you survived.”

“No one else thinks that. I’m just thankful that Duke was there. I was told he was the one that got me to the hospital. Now he’s gone and got me this interview.”

It’s funny. Time from that night seems disjointed. While you were black-out drunk, you do feel as though you were only in the club for five minutes. The attack happened at 12:45 am. You remember waking up in the hospital and finding your chart on your way to the bathroom. It said you were admitted at 2 am. The next time you managed to grab it, it had said 12:59 am. Not to mention your wounds were healing at a faster rate than most Omegas. Something was picking deep inside your skull.  

 “Luckily this job is not strenuous if you are up to the task.”

You nod at him. You need this.

“Well, there are rather strict rules. Breaking them is a breach of contract that will be handled severely. This isn’t like a regular job out there. Any problems that arise will not result in a simple firing.”, he pauses before continuing, “For example, personal electronic devices are prohibited in the Manor. Your bags will be thoroughly checked by me upon arrival. You will be allowed devices that are monitored by security.”

“I can’t just be cut off from my family”, you protest.

“We don’t want you to. You may make phone calls during your allotted time off. They will happen here, or in Master Bruce’s office with either him or me in the room. Your predecessor was fond of skirting her duties and we have found the need for such restrictions.”

“While excursions are discouraged, they are not prohibited. We will go over those security measures at a later time. You are to be readily available when called upon at any time they require something. While day workers are employed here, at no point are you allowed to interact with them.”

You can’t help the way your brows furrow. This was going to be a long year if you were to take this opportunity. With each rule, you wondered if this was why the position was empty for so long.

“I tend to the bedrooms, and at no point should you enter them unless invited by the occupant. You will be given a room as well, and I would appreciate cleanliness. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner are all served at the same time, tardiness is prohibited.”

“Will I be helping in the kitchen?”, you ask.

“No. Not unless you want to, if you are going to cook, please notify me accordingly.”

“So, wait. I’m confused. Just what is my job here?”

Alfred sighs and for the first time since you’ve met the prim and proper gentleman, he seems a bit haggard. Which did not make you feel good.

“It gets awful lonely here in the manor. As I’m sure you are aware, Alphas live for a long time. Particularly ones infected such as those in Wayne Manor. Now and then it is refreshing to have something that brings more life into such a place. The children have taken an interest in you, and that is enough for Master Bruce.”

“I’m not a toy.”

“No. You’re fortunately not. What you are being offered is room and board, all you have to do is adhere to the rules. In exchange, you have to be a friend. Surely you know how to do that”?

If he had asked your friend, he’d have been met with a resounding no. After that night you had found yourself crippled in the hospital with no friends to speak of. Your friend had been peeved, rightfully so, that you had just packed their wasted butt into a car with a stranger. You had been miffed because hello?? They weren’t the ones chomped on by a deranged rabid Beta. They had made it home in one piece, even getting past the front door and into their bed. Both of you had been wasted, so why act like it was all your fault? You were getting tired of the world treating you like you were the root cause of life’s issues.

“I won’t be doing any of that”, you ask.

Now he just looked downright uncomfortable. You were almost embarrassed, but the question needed to be asked. Being hired to be a friend to Alphas that were at least a century old likely resulted in you waking up in a bed that’s not yours.

“Only if you consent to it. You won’t be reprimanded for not doing it, or if you do find yourself in that position.”, he clears his throat, “Healthcare and dental is provided. Due to your circumstances as an Omega, blockers will be provided along with your daily vitamins. Your health and safety is paramount to us.”

You had nothing more to say. Silently you sat there, running through any alternative options, and yet you kept hitting a wall. There was no denying it, this was the best option you could be given. All you had to do was smile and nod and make it a year. By then you should be able to get your feet back underneath you and be able to reassess your situation. Who knows? You might just like it.

“I’m going to say, you have a deal”, you smile at him.

“Then please, call me Alfred.”

He gets up then and holds a hand out to you to help you out of your chair. His smile back is warm, creases folding up from his eyes, a drastic change from the cold persona that you had started becoming accustomed to.

“Shall I call for the town car Ms. (L/N)?”

This was the start of a beautiful friendship, you decided. You nod your head as he pulls you up and gives you a brisk but friendly pat on the shoulder.

“Duke, you don’t have to do this”, you protest.

It was the thirteen-hundredth time you’ve said it. When Alfred closed the interview, he had taken the time to walk you to the front door, pointing out so many rooms that it all went over your head. You almost made it to the front. Then Duke saw you and took over from there.

“No, no, and for the last time, stop. I want to do it”, Duke grins up at you.

He was on the floor, taping up the last of your boxes. You hate to admit it, but you’re not sorry in the slightest as he does all the heavy lifting. The best part about it was getting to see all the muscles in his back when he turned around. Yum. Hey, you were a red-blooded Omega. There were just some things you couldn’t fight.

“Be careful not to break that”, you warn.

“Right, because what will the world do without these little tchotchkes?”, Duke laughs.

Somehow, not surprisingly, he dodges the stray crutch that you toss half-heartedly in his direction. At this point, he was used to you trying to weaponize your “mobility aide”.

It all started when he helped you get back to your apartment, in a wheelchair that he bought. Then he abandoned said wheelchair and carried you bridal style up several flights of stairs. Citing that the elevator was too dangerous because it hadn’t been inspected in the past decade. Even ignoring you when you told him that it would be far more likely for both of you to fall to your death in the stairwell. This was all two weeks ago, and he still refuses to use the elevator.

He was on the floor now, humming and throwing your shit in boxes. You weren’t sure how he did it. When you agreed to the move, you had been internally wincing and panicking. Thinking it was just going to be you, hopping pitifully around the room. Probably taking breaks and reminiscing over the stray artifacts of your life. You would’ve needed at least three days max to get packed. Duke cut it down to two hours.

“Sooooooooo”, you draw out, “Tell me about the others.”

 “There’s not much to say, not a lot that I can either way. What do you want to know?”

Your eyes narrow as he turns weirdly evasive. He always got a little cagey when you brought up his adoptive family. Never quite answering the question.

“What are they like? Are they nice?”, you ask.

He pauses and stands, turning his back to you so he can put a box on the trolley. We’re going to take the elevator. You thought with a smug sort of glee at the realization. That means you’ll be in your wheelchair. See, you’re slowly reclaiming your independence. Sort of.

“Um. Cass is really nice, but you won’t see her often. Same with Steph. They both kind of do their own thing and no one lives at home besides Alfred, Bruce, and me. Though that might change.”

He pauses again. You stick your tongue out at his back only for him to whirl around to face you. Quickly you snap it back in and try to appear innocent as you stare up. Ew. Popcorn ceiling. You wonder for a second if you could have asbestos in your lungs from that.

“Dick, I mean Grayson, he oversees the training of the Alpha taskforce in Bludhaven. Jason avoids Bruce like the plague while doing the most to get his attention, and I can't really get into what he does for a living. You don't want to know. Tim lives and breathes at Wayne Enterprise’s various global sectors, some of the time, he’s the hardest to track. Damian has been somewhere in Pakistan. Where? I don’t know. I would avoid him and Jason if at all possible. Not that you'll likely see them."

You had to smother your cry of relief. This was going to be a lot easier than you thought. There were only going to be three people that you had to worry about. Maybe you were going to finally complete a New Year’s resolution now that you had time. The world was looking up for you.

“I think that’s it, are you ready?”

His question breaks off your train of thought. You can’t help but groan when he gets near you, arms outstretched, ready for a hug and humiliating you. To make matters worse, he says the worst thing possible.

“Up you go!”, Duke crows.

“No! To the chair! Put me down you overgrown bat!”, you say.

Thankfully he does, gently plopping you down in the cushy seat and stooping to ruffle your hair. You were hissing mad. Not that he cared. Just to goad you further, he reached over to the handles behind your back and rang the obnoxious little bike bell he attached to it.

“Run”, you warn him.

He laughs while sprinting with the dolly all the way to the elevator as you try like hell to mow him down. Both of you completely missed the way his phone kept blowing up with notifications, the small dings being mistaken for a bike bell.

[wovenintosilk]

Stubborn

Received a request through a reblog for something related to Miguel's fangs. It's not exactly focused on them but they're definitely part of it!

No Content Warnings

GN!Reader

Word Count: 1100

━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━

“Get your fingers away from my mouth. Are you a child?”

You pouted and withdrew your hand, thwarted in your attempts to sneakily lift the corner of your boyfriend’s lip. “I want to see them,” you defended. “They’re so nice to look.”

“If you’re that bored, I will find you something more productive to do,” he reminded you and twisted his face further from your reach. “I’m not in the habit of allowing people to lounge around my workspace for the fun of it.”

“Can my something productive be getting you to smile?”

“Absolutely not.”

You sighed and sank further into your chair, head tilted back to the ceiling you stared at far too much. “You said you would be finished with this by now.”

“It was a possibility but it required far more attention than I expected. It won’t be much longer.”

Miguel’s desire to be busy never surprised you. From the day you’d met him to the day you kissed him for the first time, you always understood why he obsessed in the way he did. It didn’t hurt you but you worried – more about his own health than anything else.

When was the last time he’d even eaten?

“You know, I actually do have a job to get done,” you said. “I’ll be back soon. Try not to get too big of a headache by scowling at that screen.”

“I know.”

The grumbled words didn’t help your concerns. You cast a glance over your shoulder in his direction. The harsh artificial lighting of his office highlighted how he hunched over his work, shone off his suit in a piercing way.

It really couldn’t be good for him to stand like that.

Your first stop took you over an hour to reach and you still didn’t doubt for one second that Miguel would still be working on your return. Though he cared little about food quality lately, you insisted on getting him something healthy and what you knew he would enjoy.

If it took you ages to find, you didn’t mind too much. You knew it wouldn’t impact on your plans going forward.

Around the side of Miguel’s office, a few wires connected just behind a broken section of the wall. You had to hold your breath to squeeze half into it in order to reach them.

“This is a very bad idea.”

You jumped, hit your head against the wall in your startle, and groaned in the unexpected pain. Lyla watched with a humoured smirk from where she’d appeared, projected out of your personal watch.

“It’ll be fine,” you said. “He won’t even know it was me.”

“He will,” she corrected. “But that’s not what I’m worried about. I know you can handle Miguel yourself but I think you shouldn’t play with electricity.”

“When you asked me to get him to take a break, you should have known I’d need to resort to some extreme measures.”

She sighed and waved a hand for you to continue. You squeezed your way further in so you could reach the wire that fed his office and a few of the surrounding halls. Hobie showed you it wouldn’t turn off the rest of the complex when he did it last time as a joke.

“I’ve already backed up everything he’s working on. If he throws you out, I take no responsibility for it.”

You grinned cut the wire. Everything plummeted into darkness around you, computers shut off loudly and the ever-present hum stopped. You grinned proudly and dropped your cutter back into its space before you headed to the office.

You realised one of the main problems when you walked through the doors and spotted him on his platform. The one that wouldn’t move now without electricity.

“Wow,” you said loudly. “Can you believe the timing of this?”

He turned slowly. The silence stretched thickly between you, your smile a match for his glare. Lyla was right, he knew exactly what had happened.

“Either you have to come down here or find a way to get me up there,” you called. “Because I can’t reach you otherwise.”

You held up the food right as a bright web attached to your chest. It pulled you forward and lifted you into the air as though you weighed nothing. It might not be the first time it had happened to you but you’d never really get used to the sensation of being dragged around.

He steadied you when you landed, his hand rested on your arm until you gained your balance back. His lip curled up ever so slightly as he waited.

“I brought food,” you said and sat down in your chair.

“What did you do?”

“Went a ridiculous distance to get this for you,” you noted. “Do you know how far this place is? And then I got back and the power disappeared. Had to walk here in the dark.”

“Do you know how busy I was? How much you may have gotten lost?”

“I’m sure Lyla managed to get it saved. You can take a break while she finds the fault.”

He loomed above you, leaned down and opened his mouth ever so slightly. Finally, you had an opportunity to see those massive fangs you loved so much. You loved his habit of using them to intimidate. He didn’t even do it purposefully.

“You can’t really be blaming me for the electricity,” you said.

“I’m not stupid.”

You finally placed the packet of food aside, reached up and grabbed the front of his suit so you could pull him closer. You used your free hand to cup his jaw, ran your thumb over his bottom lip. Those fangs really were beautiful. What you’d give to have them showing more often…

“I need you to take a break,” you said. “It might take a while to fix. You may as well give your body a small rest, okay?”

Before you let him go, you pressed a small kiss to the underside of his jaw. He leaned into the touch just enough to let you know you’d been somewhat forgiven for your meddling.

He took the food from you, muttered something about stubbornness, and listened as you spoke about everything you’d been waiting to tell him.

[silent-stories]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐒

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader

Summary: Some nightmares still haunt Astarion.

TW: nightmares, feeling sick after them, scars

When Astarion suddenly woke up, his head ached as if someone was trying to escape from the inside of it, crashing into its walls, and a wave of nausea washed over him.

The night was quiet and still, with only the occasional rustling of leaves and the distant hooting of an owl breaking the silence. The moon was full and bright, casting a pale silver light over the camp.

He took a long, deep breath and let the air out slowly, as if that was enough to calm him down.

The scars on his back stung and burned even though he knew it was just an illusion created by the nightmare he had: he knew they had stopped hurting years prior.

Astarion sat up, the sheet covering his chest slipped away, revealing his pale skin kissed by the moon's rays streaming into the tent, and rubbed his temples, trying to shake off the remnants of the nightmare.

He could swear he smelled blood in his tent.

And not the blood that he liked, the one he fed on, which could have a sweet and intense flavor and that made him feel at the height of his strength, but the one that tasted rotten, the one from an abandoned carcass in the woods, the one that dripped from the back of a little boy crying in a dark, cold room. A boy who didn't deserve all the pain he had to go through.

His face twisted into a grimace as his mind drifted back to memories he wished he could forget but revisited every night.

The screams, the crying, the hunger, the anger, the helplessness, his blood and that of other poor victims, the desire to have died on the day he had been transformed into something he had never asked to be. He relived it all every night.

He heard you move in his bed, next to him, and hoped he hadn't woken you up but when your whispered words reached his ears, he knew things hadn't gone the way he wanted.

"Are you okay?"

It was a question no one had asked him in years, he almost no longer remembered how to answer.

When you didn't get any response from him, you settled down next to him, looking into his dispair-filled red eyes to figure out what to do. You wondered how many people had seen him like this in his life, how many had gone beyond the wall of sarcastic comments and air of superiority he had built around himself for protection.

You raised a hand, slowly, giving him all the time he needed if he wanted to move away from your touch but he didn't.

You ran your fingertips across his pale cheek and he leaned into your touch.

Before he closed his eyes and brought his hand to your back, gently pushing you against him, you wondered if what looked like tears were just a trick of the moonlight.

He buried his head in the crook of your neck, as he had done when he first bit you, but with a much different intent. He didn't need blood, he needed someone to care about him.

He just stayed there, with his head resting on your shoulder and his arms holding you as if he was afraid you would run away from him, but not so tightly that it hurt.

Hurting you was the thing he would never forgive himself in his entire immortal life.

"Star?"

It was little more than a whisper, but Astarion heard it well and understood your silent question: it was because he hadn't answered your question yet but also because you didn't know what to do to ease his pain at that moment.

You were always there, trying to help him. He couldn't explain himself how.

If it had been one of your moments together during the day he would have taken the time to appreciate how that nickname sounded coming from you.

"Just stay."

Your hand found his hair, your fingers went through his messier than usual silver locks. The hand on your back would have pushed you even closer if it was physically possible.

"Please." His voice cracked, every trace of his usual charming tone was gone.

"I'm not going anywhere."

You pressed a gentle kiss to his hairline, lips lingering against the skin as you moved a curl away from his forehead.

You held him until he was the one to move first. He slowly raised his head without saying a word and looked up, his eyebrows were slightly furrowed and you couldn't help but leave a soft kiss in the space between them; that was enough to make him relax.

"Do you want to try to sleep again? It's too early to get up."

He just nodded.

You snuggled close to him when he lay down, against his chest, he kept his arms around your body and you slid yours around his side, your hand finding his back.

You expected a sudden reaction when your fingers involuntarily grazed the scars Cazador had left on his back, but instead the pale elf just closed his eyes and intertwined his legs with yours.

"Is this okay?" You asked before resting your hand on his back again, to be sure.

"Believe me when I tell you that you made me feel more 'okay' than I have ever felt in the last two hundred years of my life, darling." He murmured, his lips pressed against your forehead.

You both fell asleep after a few minutes, your fingers still tracing the scars on his back, in his dreams only the possibilities of a better future and not the memories of a past from which he could not escape.

An "I love you" was whispered that night. Only the moon knows by which of the two.

[cherrychilli]

18+ Modern! Eddie Munson x F! reader, sexually explicit texts, lots of sexually charged pining, featuring a very done, very exasperated Ronnie Ecker ❤️

A/N: So, this was originally part of a much longer WIP that I'm no longer feeling but I'm still fond of this very silly little scene because it's heavily inspired by an exchange I once had with a friend over a guy she was really into. So, I decided to tweak the scene a bit and turn it into its own blurb instead. All you need to know is that our dear reader is down bad for Eddie and he has no clue until one day you forget to take your phone with you after sitting in on a Hellfire meeting😊 Enjoy!

He had only wanted to return your phone when he saw that it'd been left behind but after another day of noticing you and Ronnie fervently texting each other from across the room, curiosity took a hold of Eddie and made him rethink his next move.

It'd been three weeks now and he was yet to figure out what your deal was. You always came by after work to pick Ronnie up so the two of you could go hang out once Hellfire was done for the day, sometimes sitting patiently in the corner whenever the campaign ran late like today.

You seemed unassuming enough to Eddie – never interrupting the flow of the game, even quietly following along to fill in the gaps on your own as best you could which surprised him because no one outside the club ever cared enough to know the first thing about D&D.

Before you'd become acquainted with him and the other members of the club, there was some pushback when Ronnie had first asked to let you, a non member, come sit in – pushback that quickly ceased once Eddie got a look at you. But as much as he liked the way you smiled at him in your pretty skirts and dresses that didn't seem suited for the weather outside or the way your sweet, powdery perfume hung in the air, lingering like the smell of fireworks the day after the Fourth of July, his suspicions remained.

Too many times he'd caught you watching him while the rest of the group were busy deliberating their next move, your eyes all big and radiant and your knees nudging against each other restlessly.

Even if he wasn't entirely sure about you yet, he couldn't deny how cute you looked when you cast those eyes down quickly whenever he caught you looking, clearly embarrassed as you picked at your fingers in your lap like a kid who'd just been sent to the principal's office.

He almost felt guilty when he saw you withdraw like that, feeling weirdly responsible even though it was you who had been staring at him.

None of it made sense to Eddie but the thing that got to him the most was whenever you'd pull out your phone and type out something for Ronnie to look at later. Though he had no proof, his instincts told him that those texts had everything to do with him.

With every tap of your manicured fingers on your screen he grew more curious. So even if it meant a quick invasion of privacy, he couldn't pass up the opportunity to put his rampant wondering to rest, pulling up your most recent messages to Ronnie, his eyes widening at the very first one.

Head spinning and jeans feeling noticeably tighter around his crotch, it makes sense to Eddie now that this was why Ronnie had abruptly yanked you out of the room by your wrist the first chance she'd got.

Carefully placing your phone back where he'd found it, Eddie plants himself back on his throne while he tries to blink himself out of his daze. Two thoughts come to mind when the reeling starts to cease.

How was he going to keep a straight face the next time he saw you?

And more importantly, how soon could he offer you a ride home and and make good on that dream?

[everydayyoulovemeless]

Hi! I really like your writing!

Can I request a MacCready x reader where he's patching you up? If possible, can he be denying/ ignoring being in love with you, too?

Wounds ↠ MacCready x Reader

➼ Word Count » 0.7k ➼ Warnings » None ➼ Genre » Romantic, Pinning ➼ A/N » Sorry for the wait, love! I couldn't figure out how I should write him for the longest time, and I still don't feel like I did him much justice, but it's done!

You never imagined that your relationship with the sniper would evolve into anything more than business partners. He made it clear from the start that he didn't have any intention to be your friend. You paid him, he did his job, and that's all the two of you would ever be - until you ran out of currency, that is.

You can remember the exact moment you walked into the Third Rail. A pile of newly attained caps in your pocket that jingled together whenever you jostled your leg too quickly. It was a wonder how you managed to make it that far into town without being mugged, but you supposed the vibrant welcoming from the Mayor himself had more to do with it than you actually appearing as a threat to anyone.

You only wandered into the VIP section out of curiosity. You'd always been a sucker for bar fights, so when you heard an argument brewing up in the back, you couldn't help but be a bit nosy about it.

"You have to tell me when something like this happens." He chided, inspecting the gash on your leg with evident concern. "It's too dangerous out here for you to be ignoring something like this."

"Don't get soft on me." You teased, jerking your leg back at the sting that came when he began pouring water on top of the wound.

You knew you probably shouldn't be joking around at a time like this, but what else could you do? You hated the thought of burdening your companion like this, and after you were so close to arriving at Sanctuary too.

His eyes flickered up to meet your own for a minute before casting them back down at the blood he was washing off your body, "I'm not." He hissed, "I'm making sure my only source of caps stays alive."

You hummed in response, "It's only a scratch. It's not like I'll die. Once we make it back to Sanctuary, I'll have Curie take a look at it, and we'll be back on the road."

"Yeah, well, until then, I'm going to make sure you don't get an infection."

You winced again from the feeling of cold water roughly scrubbing at your wound before gazing apologetically at him.

"I'm fine Mac, really," You said, "It's been healing fine on its own for the past couple of days now"

He takes his hat off of his head and runs a stressed hand through his hair.

He did that same motion in the bar where you'd found him, right after Winlock and Barnes were done confronting him. It made you frown slightly when you saw it.

"Are you.. ok?" You asked slowly, resting a hesitant hand on his shoulder, worried that you might've upset him.

"Are you ok?" He retorted, gesturing vaugely toward your injury.

"I feel fine. Really. I'll be able to make it to the settlement without any support." You assured him - or at least tried to, he didn't seem to be feeling any less concerned, though.

"I just - why didn't you tell me?"

"I knew you'd stress about it." You sighed, "It's nothing, ok? I'll be ok for the time being. Once we're there I'll go straight to the Medic house, alright?"

"Whatever." He muttered, "Come on, I'll carry you on my back until we can get you too a real doctor."

You scoffed playfully, "You're too scrawny to-"

"Get on." He spoke, cutting you off. "I want to get there before it gets dark."

You stared at him for a moment before letting out a sigh and grasping onto his shoulders.

He slotted his arms under your knees carefully, and it was clear by the way he moved over debris that he was trying his hardest not to jostle you too much.

His actions only brought you back to the day you had met. You smiled to yourself as you remembered him counting the caps you'd handed to him before he explained he wouldn't be caring for you in any capacity. He was a bodyguard, not a member of the Minutemen. If you couldn't patch yourself up, then there'd be no reason for him to stay.

You supposed something must've changed between then and now, as he did the one thing he told you he wouldn't.

"What are you breathing in my ear for?" He asked defensively. You could feel his face heating up ever so slightly as you rested your head on his shoulder.

You smiled a little wider, "No reason."

[atinycafe]

part 1 | part 2

"Let's go pretty girl, I found some canned peaches, we're gonna eat good tonight"

The sound of footsteps echoed through the ruined streets of the city, broken by the occasional shriek and howl of the undead as they roamed aimlessly. The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting an eerie orange glow on everything it touched, highlighting the dust that had collected.

You nod silently, allowing Wooyoung to lead you back into the zombie-infested city, your heart still pounding in your chest from the encounter. His words offer a small distraction, and you cling to them as you follow him, taking comfort in his presence.

As you walk, Wooyoung keeps a watchful eye around him, glock in hand, ready to defend at a moment's notice. You manage a small tired smile, grateful.

The journey to the apartment feels like an eternity, as if time itself has slowed down to a crawl in the face of the horror surrounding you. But finally, after what feels like hours, you reach the building, and Wooyoung leads you to a ground-floor apartment.

As you approach the portal, you feel a familiar sense of relief wash over you. You know you're safe for now, at least for as long as Wooyoung is by your side. You enter the apartment, and he locks the door vigilantly, knowing it is the only thing between you and what lurks outside.

Inside, the apartment is dark and dusty, everything covered in a thin layer of grime. Wooyoung sets down his bag and begins rummaging through it, pulling out cans of peaches and a few other items he's gathered.

You take a seat on the worn couch, a soft sigh leaving your mouth. Wooyoung turns on a small, battery-powered lamp, casting a muted light on the room. He begins to fix a simple meal of canned peaches and other rations, placing the food on a certainly-not-sanitary plate.

He hands you a can opener, and you can't help but notice his hands shaking slightly. Despite your situation, you feel a pang of worry for him; he's fighting his own battle even as he tries to keep you safe. You reach out to grab his hand instead of the can opener and drop a small kiss on his knuckle, a silent way to thank him.

With Wooyoung's help, you manage to open the can of peaches, and he scoops the contents onto a plate. He serves you first, offering the food with a gentleness that belies the harsh circumstances.

“Come sit next to me,” you mumble, a shy look on your face. You don't like how he's sitting on the floor, feeling bad for his tired body.

As you take your second bite, he joins you, sitting next to you, silent for the most part, but his eyes never leave you. Once he's done with his part of the meal, he manages to pull you on his lap, nuzzling his face in your neck. You can sense the weight of his responsibility, and it makes your heart ache for him.

"Wooyoung," you whisper, your voice barely audible against the backdrop of the isolation.

He hums in response, his breath warm against your neck. His fingers interwoven with yours, grounding you in the grim reality that lies beyond the dimly lit room. You feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath you; a comforting rhythm that soothes your anxiety.

"I...," Your sentence trails off unfinished, but he seems to understand, pressing a reassuring kiss to your hairline. You feel like a burden.

"Sshh," he murmurs, his voice no louder than a whisper. "You don't need to say anything." Feeling the vibrations of his voice against your ear, you let out a soft sigh of contentment. For a moment, there is silence. The only sounds are of your synchronized breathing and the faint rustle of cloth as Wooyoung tightens his hold on you.

"I'm grateful," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "Grateful I found you." You turn slightly to look at him, your eyes locking onto his. You can see a glint of something in his deep brown eyes. Vulnerability? No, it was more than that. It was love.

His confession hangs in the air like a well-spun web, delicate and intricate. A few moments pass before you respond, bringing up a hand to gently brush away a loose strand from his face.

"I'm grateful too..." you murmur back, meeting his intense gaze with a sincere one of your own, "more than you know."

Wooyoung's full lips, slightly parted and glistening, gently press against yours. His eyes are closed, his face relaxed and full of tenderness. His lips are warm and slightly salty, the taste of the peaches lingering on your tongue. The soft sound of his breath as he kisses you, the slight smack of his lips, all combine to the quiet hum of contentment coming from deep in his throat.

The taste of him overwhelms your senses, locking your attention solely on him, and you find yourself lost in the affection. You offer no resistance as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, pulling you closer into his embrace.

As you lean back, his grip tightens and he lets out a low moan of protest. Unable to let you go, he pulls you towards him, his lips moving against yours with a near aggressive drive.

Half-lidded eyes meet yours and in them, you see your own feelings mirrored back at you — raw, profound, and endless,

“I love you.”

masterlist | taglist in comments | feedback is appreciated :)

[writingforatwistedworld]

just thought of something random — shower thoughts. So, you know how even if you score 0 on twistunes it still counts as “clearing it”? Imagine you doing that with a self aware au. to make it funny, how about riddle, Vil, and Sebek

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, self-destructive behavior, violence, abusive behavior, unhealthy lifestyle, murder, religion, obsessive themes

Riddle Rosehearts/Vil Schoenheit/Sebek Zigvolt-Scoring 0 whilst playing Twistunes

Here you are, our (perhaps) determined twistunes player, usually (or maybe not) trying your best

And that is fine and dandy and lalala happy happy

The TWST cast, however, doesn't see the twistunes as rhythm mini games though

For them, you are guiding them in some sort of task, not hearing the huge orchestra that appeared out of nowhere

There is always your guiding hand, reassuring that things go right even when a certain feline (*cough* not looking at you Grim*cough*) decides to act all high and mighty

Until, one day, there you are not helping anymore

Another splendid day to do your most splendid bidding... in the form of baking a cake

Yeah, I know, what daunting task you have layed upon him!

But he know he doesn't need to worry. After all, you are there to help him (not like his magic could do that for him in one second I mean come on there has to be a spell to crack some eggs and spill some milk ISN'T SLEEPING BEAUTY CANON OVER THERE??!)

He picks up the whisk... and nothing

Ok... maybe you just weren't looking! So he puts it down and then picks it up again

Nothing… Aren't you funny! Messing with him like that… (No pls help he is dying on the inside has he broken a rule? He followed rule 199 perfectly, wear blue if you need to whisk eggs)

One second later and he is panicking

This is a test, right?

If you could look through the coding on the other side you would see a panicking riddle who is this close to setting the kitchen on fire

At least that is the case until Trey finally steps in and decides to help his childhood friend out

After everything is finally over, Riddle is panicking

He has lost your favor, you didn't help him with this mighty task: shoving dough into an oven

Riddle will without any question learn how to bake cakes

Heartslabyul will eat salty snacks after dinner for a while but ok, unlike other things Riddle has done in your name this is rather tame

That does not mean he is kind to himself though

He will deprive himself of anything that makes him happy. Whether that is cake or his precious time with his friends

Sooner than later he is once more the red tyrant on his throne, “chopping” heads off all the time once more.

But everything but imperfection for you

Vil was just practicing dancing for that competition again

He took great pride in being guided by you

After all, who could say they were being taught dancing by the personification of perfection itself? (Although he was surprised that you knew modern dances, most of the time you were pictured in more traditional and old-fashioned settings)

Until suddenly you didn't guide him anymore

And thus, the floor and Vils face became very good acquaintances (You could hear Rook screaming from somewhere "Pas le visage!")

On that day Vil learned that your guidance had one up and downside

The up was, he always danced perfectly. The down, he forgot how to do it on his own

Now, we are talking about mister I-have-at-least-500-Thaumarks-on-my-face-in-makeup

So of course he is going overboard immediately

"Oh how nice, Vil Schoenheit is practicing"- No. This guy has gotten a warning from his doctor that he needs to stop because otherwise his legs could sustain damage from so much training

Epel? Well Epel is living in hell right now. Poor little apple gets the full brunt of his frustration

Overall, Vil gets toxic, and I don't mean just toxic but toxic toxic, but what about his more private life?

Well, he is just miserable, and horrible to himself, but most of all miserable

He turns back to his self before his overblot, being unnervingly perfect, having absolutely no chill when it's about being his best self

But there has to be a reason why you have abandoned him. You are his muse, the reason why he forced Epel into a routine that can only be described with "uh... help?"

But enough excuses! He had his salad and now he needs to train. His doctor? Well his doctor doesn't want to achieve being close to you so what does he know

(He got send into the hospital with a broken leg later that day. Talk about self-destructive behavior)

(ouch, my ears)

Let's assume that Sebek gets a twistune in which he practices his skills with the sword

He thought you were proud of him, you helping him to become stronger so he could fulfill your bidding (well-seasoned yandere readers what I mean)

Then, he felt your guidance slipping like the sword now sticking dangerously close to his foot in the ground

Many screams, one description: panic

When Lilia heard the not so crocodile-y crocodile scream bloody murder on the outside he thought that someone just didn't speak fondly enough for Sebek about Malleus

So wannabe Batman was more than surprised when he learned that you just “abandoned” his student

This leads to now, Sebek sitting in front of the small altar he has in his room (a trademark of Valley of Roses students)

Seek isn't Malleus (I know, shockers) so there isn't gold

But what if there is something different he can offer you? You left him when he was using his sword so could you want… (No Sebek, no, stop it)

Suddenly disappearances happen all over the school

Weirdly, they seem mostly from Sunset Savanna or the Shaftlands… the two places where you are least seen as an alrighty ruler/God and more as an inspiration

Such a shame that the officer hired to look into this was also from the Shaftlands. Guess that adds to the pile of disappearances

All whilst this is happening Sebek is busy cleaning his clothing and sword. Can't be dirty when he prays to you

With hope in his voice he tells you about his deeds but why aren't you coming back? Is it not enough? It's not.. enough…

This world is filthy, he says. This world needs to be cleaned of the pests that don't show you the loyalty and respect, he says.

But what do you say? Exactly. Nothing.

[emmyrosee]

let’s get angsty bc my cycle is late again and nO IM NOT PREGNANT SHADDUP-

-

Kuroo is known for being ridiculously focused.

When he’s in it, he’s fully into the thick of it, throwing himself into the responsibility of making his work the best it can be, the words and statistics being all he knows for those many hours he sits, tapping his fingers on the laptop on his desk.

Nothing else can weasel its way into his focus when he’s working on something. 9 times out of 10, he’s immune to the interruptions of the outside world.

But nothing snaps him out of a focus more than your pretty voice. Especially if it’s in distress.

But he’s not perfect.

“Tetsuro?”

“What’s up, princess?” He hums, barely looking up from his laptop. He merely pushes the glasses on his nose up and continues to type. He hears you sigh softly and shift on your feet.

“Todays just… been rough,” you explain, and finally Tetsuro pauses to look at you. “Do you… do you think you could come and cuddle? I know you’re busy but… but I really need you.”

Tetsuro smiles and nods understanding, “yeah baby. Just let me wrap up this paragraph or two and I’ll come right down. Make sure you eat something okay? Don’t wait for me.”

You smile hopefully and nod, slipping out of his study to your room, letting Tetsuro right back to his work. He makes a mental note of the time before cracking his neck and diving right back in.

One sentence turns to a paragraph. Then, one paragraph turns to two. Two to three. Three eventually becomes two pages and Tetsuro is on a writing high that he can’t stop; he’s smiling at his own work, eagerly gnawing his lip and beyond excited to finally wrap this shit up, and-

He’s interrupted by a buzzing on his desk.

Annoyed, he tries to pause it to stop, but when he can’t, he groans in frustration before picking up his phone.

22:30 : Medicine.

Fuck.

It isn’t until his medicine alarm goes off that he realizes how late it’s gotten. It’s been four hours since you came in.

When he snoozes his alarm, there’s a text from you that shatters his heart: gn i guess

Immediately, Tetsuro feels sick to his stomach. He doesn’t even bother shutting off the lights and saving the documents on his computer before he flies down the stairs and into the room, chest heaving and breath caught in his throat when he sees the heatable bear encased in your arms, light from the tv casting a shadow on your features. He tries so hard to keep his breathing quiet, he knows he let you go to bed alone, cold and in your own head waiting for his stupid ass to come down and be with you.

He swallows thickly before he shuffles over to you, plopping on the edge of the bed and trying to keep you comfortable. He doesn’t want to wake you, not when he’s done so much already.

“I’m sorry, angel,” he whispers, thumb gently smoothing over your temple. You whimper and angle your head into the warmth of his hand. “Fuck, I’m so sorry…”

Sometimes, when Tetsuro talks to you in your sleep, you give him a smile, a little quirk of the lips at the tone, and he takes it as a sign that you’re there with him and you can feel his love even if you’re not conscious to witness it.

Tonight, though, your brows furrow. Your throat releases a meager noise of distress and he sinks his teeth into his lip; even as you welcome his touch, it’s as if his words still distress you, and you’re hurt. Your nose lets out small, huffy breaths, and you crush the bear tighter to your chest.

He lets his head down in defeat before kissing your head one more time before standing up; he shuffles like a zombie up back into the small study and shutting everything down: slamming his laptop shut, snatching the cold cup of tea and aggressively flicking off the lights to go back and join you in bed.

He plants the tea on his nightstand before curling up next to you under the covers, careful to keep his cold feet away from you. He tugs you softly to his chest wordlessly and buries his head against your neck, arms heavy and caging to keep you against him.

He wishes you could feel the way he’s blinking back his frustrated, remorseful tears. He wishes you could’ve had your last awoken moments be filled with cuddles and giggles and stolen kisses and playful bites.

But no. Instead, you needed him, you came and asked for him, and he couldn’t stop himself for one damn hour to be with you.

“I’m so sorry, babydoll.”

[sanjoongie]

Wet for a Villain

ღPairing: Song Mingi x Reader (f) ღGenre/ Au/ Trope: smut, villain au, enemies with benefits ღWord Count: 730 ღRating: +18 MDNI ღSummary: you're a detective in a city where a villain creates havoc for heroes and police alike... but you're fucking him?! ღWarnings: penetrative sex without a barrier, big dick! mingi, breeding kink, corruption kink (?), creampie, overstimulation, dat dick so good you'd ignore your responsibilities to get it from mingi ღDedication: @downtoamagicalland, @mingsolo & @starlitmark my mingi stans that deserve to be fed more! Here’s some instant inspo, I hope you enjoy! @mejuii lowkey for you because you helped urge it on, and i know you like a confident mingi ENJOY @smallfrye honorary suffer with me braincell tag

The world is on fire outside and you bury further into your blankets. The sirens’ wail and you flinch as an explosion lights up the night sky. You knew exactly what that means; Mingi is out causing havoc and soon he’ll show up on your balcony.

You were a detective for the local police force but tonight was your night off. Mingi always made a strike when you weren’t on shift. You hated the mayhem he created, and the people he hurt. You hated that he made you cast aside every moral bone in your body out the window. But you simply could not tell him no when he came to you, covered in blood and soot and ready to fuck. 

The hard rattle of your balcony door brings you back to reality. You look out to your balcony and there’s Mingi. When your eyes meet, he pushes through the glass. There is nothing that stops him from getting where he wants to be, and by the flash of lust in his eyes, he wants to be in between your legs right now.

“Did you see the explosion?” Mingi mentions while he slowly pulls down the covers that you had dug yourself into. You nod as Mingi’s fingers find the waistband of your underwear and nimbly pull them down your legs. 

“The heroes went to go save the ‘innocent’ people caught up in the explosion while I got away. They’re so predictable.” Mingi pokes his tongue into his cheek, staring at your pussy, completely visible for him now that your legs are spread.

“They’ll never find me here, will they, angel?” Mingi smirks.

You shake your head, shame covering every inch of your skin. Mingi simply takes the goosebumps as a compliment. It always seems like the more chaos Mingi creates, the harder his cock is when he comes to you. 

The villain barely pulls his pants down enough to release his very well-endowed cock, gripping it tightly and running it through your folds. You had been wet the moment the explosion went off. Mingi hums, content that you are ready for him.

“So perfect, just for me, aren’t you, angel?” Mingi murmurs under his breath. 

He pushes into your waiting hole and you groan as he pushes until he is all the way in, no stops, no check ins, it is all about him now; his chance to fuck and brag about how he got away once again.

At first, Mingi is more than happy to watch his dick move in and out of your wet pussy, smirking at how well you take him, despite your conflict of interest. He pokes and prods at your pride, speaking on how you should be the one handcuffing him and manhandling him. But he’s the one who’s got your wrists pinned above your head, fucking you so good, you push your legs even wider to receive the pleasure he’s giving you.

The second round involves Mingi bending you in two, attaining an even deeper angle that he loves to torture you with. He speaks on how he’s inside of you so deep, that he’s going to give you little villain babies, to add to your shame. He fucks your cunt so well that your cunt is still experiencing aftershocks and pushes his cum out from the first and second round.

The final round, the one you always despise, involves spooning your body. By now Mingi is done crowing about his accomplishments tonight, done speaking on how stupid the police and the heroes are. Now, he whispers into your ear, while he plays with your nipple, about his next plan of attack. He loves the thrill of telling you everything, hoping that one day you will have the courage to take him down.

You don’t--you’re not sure you ever will. Because then that means these sessions will end. Then your shameful past will come to light. You might even lose your job. You continue to put your needs and wants before the good of the world.

So when Mingi finishes the third time inside of you, lazily rubbing your clit to overstimulate you even more, he always whispers one final jab as you fade to sleep.

“You’re just as bad as me,” He says, the smirk in his voice apparent, also with a dash of admiration, “Perhaps that’s why you’re perfect for me.”

Taglist: @hijirikaww @flurrys-creativity @stardragongalaxy @k-pop-ology

[thesunisatangerine]

playing for keeps – preview

alexia putellas x childhoodfriend!barçaplayer!reader

warning: light angst

status: work in progress

(a/n in the tags) [parts: preview]

The car ride was deafening in its silence.

In Alexia’s defense, she’d done everything she could to fill it: she’d tried asking you about your flight and when that didn’t work, she started talking football. She asked you about your last season, about how you won your league and wondered about how that must’ve felt; inquired about your negotiations with the club and how you felt about returning back to Barça–solicited for the reason that made you inclined to come back. Heck, she even tried to get you talking by mentioning things you used to do or like–things she didn’t know you didn’t do nor like now. 

For every question, you’d given her the same kind of nothing. A yes, a no, or a hum. There was a weight in your chest that exhausted you past the point of exchanging pleasantries and niceness, a seemingly impossible task for the tiredness in your bones, your soul. So you excused yourself, told her it was the jet lag, and you saw the way the light in her eyes dimmed with disappointment, training them on the road with deliberate focus, her lips tightening to a line of silence.

You still knew the language of her face and body–how could you not when they’d carve themselves into the tissues of your mind?–to perceive that she wasn’t entirely convinced with what you just said because maybe, just maybe, you were to her as she was to you: familiar. The thought provided little comfort, made your chest heavier with guilt even, another stone dropped into the pitcher. 

The feeling gave way to another thought, unpleasant in the way it told you what you already knew, ‘Way to treat the person who took time out of their precious night to drive you to your apartment when she could be using that time to rest for tomorrow’s practice. How nice.’

And then, another.

‘Just like how you treated Olivia, right?’

The reminder made you close your eyes from the sting that followed, a stitch torn from its place in a wound newly closed, and you tried to prevent the tears’ impending arrival but the darkness that followed served to rub salt to the cut as it made the fleeting images clearer, the words ever louder.

“I’m so stupid! So stupid…” 

“Go. Please, just go. You won’t find happiness here.”

A touch on your arm startled you back to the present, the jostle from the gasp you let out just enough to make a tear fall, and you found Alexia with her eyes on you, concern and a question reflected in their light.

The car had stopped, parked outside of your apartment complex. 

“What’s wrong?” Soft was the way she spoke the words but the look she laid upon you was even more gentle. Your heart lurched–away or towards her, you weren’t sure–and you ached, and for what exactly, you didn’t know but the question made you reminisce about the old times, back to when you used to tell each other everything.

But how could you tell her about this? About what led to this? When the fire from that night remained in your chest, glowing and waiting patiently as an ember in the night, waiting for the wind to call her name–to set her aflame again?

You casted your eyes aside and turned your head away so you could wipe the tear that fell, before you met her eyes again. You said with a small smile, apologetic. 

“Nothing. I’m just–I’m sorry for being a bitch.”

Alexia regarded you for another moment, eyes tracing some invisible path along your face, long enough that you considered she’d ask you more about why you cried just then. Instead, she said with a half-smile, teasing, “Don’t worry about it. What else is new?” 

Your shoulders eased down a bit.

“Still a smart-mouth, I see. Indeed, what else is new?”

At your response, the both of you chuckled but the pressing silence returned. 

“How long has it been since we’ve played together?” 

Alexia whispered with a wistful tone, brows knitting together at her question as she leaned back against her seat, putting her arms behind her head which pulled the sleeves of her shirt to reveal the tattoo under her arm.

You turned your gaze away, to the unlit window of your apartment.

“Too long.”

“Two years too long.” Alexia corrected you and then she shook her head, “I know you already explained it but I still don’t understand why you went to the States out of all places. Out of all your options, you had to choose the furthest one.”

You shrugged, hunching forward so you could rest your elbows on your knees, fingers clasping together as you twiddled your thumbs.

“You knew I’ve always wanted to see what the league is like there.”

“Right,” Alexia drawled in a tone that told you she was, in fact, aware that she didn’t know–that what you said was a load of bullshit. “So, what’s the verdict?”

‘It wasn’t like home.’

“I can hear your judgment all over your tone.” You replied drily then added, “It was great, thank you very much.”

Alexia laughed and strands of her hair fell to her face which she brushed back with a finger before she sank further into her seat.

“Well, you should tell me more about how you enjoyed yourself, then. Surely, you must have a lot of stories to tell.” You heard the unspoken words, ‘Stories you never bothered to tell me through the phone or during the instances we’d met during the time you were away.’

Still you answered her in your mind, ‘I would’ve enjoyed it better if you were there.’

“Where do you want me to begin?” If Alexia heard the weary sigh in your tone, she made no indication she did. 

“I don’t know. Where do you want to start?”

‘I went away because of you.’

“At this point, we’ll be here all night.” You laughed.

Alexia laughed along. “Just tell me anything then.”

‘Distance didn’t work. You still have my heart.’

You hummed, thinking of a story, easing back in your seat finally and then you began. 

“Well…”