#but yay- different POV!

[bbcphile]

WIP Wednesday

I've finally worked up the courage to post the opening of one of the Mysterious Lotus Casebook fics I'm writing (Li Lianhua/Di Feisheng/Fang Duobing), specifically, from my post-canon fic where LLH's shiniang tried to sacrifice herself to cure him.

Tw/cw: suicide attempt, mention of off-page non-consensual medical procedure, internalized ableism

***

Li Lianhua crashed to his hands and knees on the ground as the last trickle of his borrowed qi abandoned him, the densely-packed sand doing nothing to cushion the blow. The impact rattled through his spine and ribs, shaking loose a bout of coughing that forced him to swallow down the burning flare of copper trying to escape from his mouth. He couldn’t cough up blood now, not here, too many steps away from the water’s reach. It would leave evidence of his route, a trail that his shiniang would undoubtedly follow once she had broken free from the immobilization. He couldn’t let her find him until the job was done. 

He pushed himself to standing, his arms and legs shaking hard enough to nearly drop him back to his knees, and he blinked to will the dancing black spots from his eyes. The waves awaited him, and he refused to crawl to meet them. He took a staggering step toward the sound of crashing water ahead of him, far fainter now than it had any right to be, and squinted against the sunlight to get his bearings. 

A large gray lump on his left snagged his attention, disrupting the blur of gold and blue that filled up the rest of his view. Why did that look familiar? He took an unsteady step closer, pressing his palm against his chest to convince his lungs to hold back a cough one more time, and the gray lump resolved into a rock. 

A rock that had once served as a pillow that was soft only in comparison to how hard the rest of the day had been.

Of course. He’d landed at Donghai beach. He swallowed back tears with a bitter laugh. Never let it be said that the universe didn’t have a sense of humor.  

He’d returned after all: three months late for the duel and over a decade late for bringing his decrepit body back to the waves that had so decisively spat him out. But surely this time, with all the mysteries solved and no business left unfinished, the sea would accept the offering of his broken frame. Li Xiangyi was long dead and it was past time for Li Lianhua to follow his example. He was already a ghost in every way that mattered. And this was the only way to guarantee his shiniang would live.

She would be furious, of course, but wasn’t furious better than dead? How could it be unfilial to make sure she lived on? Too many people had died for him; he refused to let her join those ranks. Dying to save her was already a far better death than he deserved. 

As for the others, Xiaobao would have his teachings and would be too busy climbing the heights of the jianghu to miss the weak physician he once protected. 

And a-Fei—

—well, how could he still fixate on defeating a ghost with Xiaobao shining more brightly than Li Xiangyi ever had?

No, this end was far better for everyone, and best of all, no one would sacrifice their life or be forced to play caretaker to an empty husk of a man.

A familiar chill seared through his veins and meridians, despite the warmth of the fur of his outer layer, stealing away his breath and the amorphous blue blur before him. He took another stumbling step toward where it had been, his heart stuttering painfully in his chest. 

Not much longer now. It seemed his frenzied dash here and self-shattered heart meridian were more efficient for what he had in mind than the weight his waterlogged fur coat would have offered.

Perhaps he didn’t need the coat for this at all. His body would certainly float further without it. And not even his shiniang could save him now, so what harm could it do to leave some evidence behind? Xiaobao might not believe the beggar’s words, but surely this fur cloak at the water’s edge would put to rest any lingering futile hopes. And then Xiaobao would tell a-Fei.

And if it brought them peace, if it let them say goodbye, then how could he not leave it behind?

It was decided, then. 

He lifted his hands to the coat’s laces, then paused. Were those voices? For a moment, he could have sworn he heard—

—Ah, no, the hallucinations must have started again. 

He smiled. At least he had heard a-Fei and Xiabao one last time, if only in his mind.

He untied his laces with fumbling, stiff fingers, and let the coat fall behind him. 

His heart and lungs clenched with another spasm, and a wave of dizziness broke over him, threatening to drop him to his knees once more. 

He fought against it, muscles shaking as they never had during battles. He couldn’t surrender now; not until he reached the water. He could manage three more steps. He had to.

He tried to lift his foot again.

The world swam before him, and darkness dragged him under.

[pharawee]

—I've dreamt of a man spending time with me. We seemed to be so intimate that I feel strange myself, as if we'd been intimate for so long.

Bright Rapheepong as YAI I FEEL YOU LINGER IN THE AIR 💮 Episode 2

[serasfanfiction]

CW for Alastor being Alastor, but that's to be expected. This chapter is all from his POV.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3| Part 4 | Part 5| Part 6 | Part 7 - Interlude

Alastor was having what he might call an exceptionally good day, if he did say so himself.

His mobility was almost back to normal, that pesky little parting gift Adam had left him having practically healed itself overnight. Why, he'd even been able to remove the stitches!

He had seen some improvement over the last month, agonizingly slow as it had been. Consuming the flesh and souls of other sinners had certainly sped things up a bit, but only finitely. He had resigned himself to the fact that healing would be a slow process, especially after the first time he pushed too hard and undid all the work he'd done up until that point. It had grated on him, but he could be patient.

If there was anything he was good at, it was being patient and bidding his time.

Getting a taste of angel's blood, though? Not just a taste, but a real go at it? Oh, now that had changed everything.

He hadn't had a chance at the holy feast following the last Extermination. He'd been too busy licking his wounds and trying not to bleed out. By the time he'd been able to pull himself together, figuratively and literally, the bodies were long gone. There had been claims about the rejuvenating effects some had experienced following eating of the flesh and drinking of the blood, but as it hadn't been a process they could readily replicate, it had done him little good.

Then none other than Lucifer Morningstar had offered himself up, willingly placing himself on the menu.

When the little king had done that little trick, the thought had crossed Alastor's mind. He was only human (deceased though he may be) and this was the father of temptation himself. Granted, it was likely Lucifer was used to being sexually desired, but hunger of a carnal nature had never been one of Alastor's sins. His hunger for the flesh had stopped at the actual eating of the flesh.

And Alastor craved nothing more than he craved the flesh of others like him.

He appreciated the irony of the whole deer situation. Karma being a bitch, and all that. His death in a hunting accident, of all things. Him, a predator in life, being reduced to a prey animal in the next. The Wendigo that lay beneath the surface, a very real manifestation of his hunger now a permanent part of his being. In life, he had hungered for the flesh of humans. In death, while he could still enjoy the odd sinner here and there, it was akin to 'empty calories,' he believed they were called. They curbed his hunger, for a little while, but it never quite seemed to hit the spot.

No, nothing quite filled him up the way venison did.

Before the creation of his bayou, he'd had to rely on the odd deer demon that appeared on the rare occasion. He was hardly the only one, but there never seemed to be enough of them. Butcher shops occasionally helped, but it never seemed enough. He'd been near ravenous towards the end there.

It had played a part in him making his deal. He'd wanted power, make no mistake, but he'd also wanted some control back over this gnawing pit in his very being. The ability to bend reality in small patches, to create the bayou (to reclaim a hint of home), had been such a welcome turn of events he'd almost felt what he gave up in exchange was worth it.

So he couldn't help but wonder, while Lucifer flashed those ears at him and called the very features that had nearly undone him 'cute,' how deep did the transformation go? Could a mimic sate his hunger as good as the real thing? The possibility that the seraphim blood might have rejuvenate powers didn't hurt, either

It would have been everything he needed, served to him in a little red and white package.

It had been pipe dream, he'd thought at the time. Nothing to seriously entertain. Despite appearances to the contrary, he did know he had limits. Adam had just been an oversight. His growth in power had never truly been tested and well.

Lesson learned. He wasn't keen to try his luck just yet, especially not injured and his microphone broken, limiting his power.

But then Lucifer had done something so left field, Alastor still wasn't entirely certain he hadn't imagined it: a trade of his blood for some good behavior. In deer form, no less! The opportunity had been so good he'd had to hold onto his eagerness by the skin of his teeth.

Everything about the experience had not been a disappointment. Not only had he'd gotten quite a bit of entertainment out of the exchange, but it turned out the stories had been true. Within a few short hours of consuming Lucifer's blood, the wound indeed showed marked improvement.

The real treat, however, was that the hunger had indeed fallen silent. Oh, it had returned in due time, but how long it had stayed away! His appetite had only just been seriously returning when the first attack on the hotel happened, providing him with quite the meal and even a handful of angel's blood. He'd felt positively spoiled.

Getting to see the little seraphim in his full demonic glory had been interesting, as well. He'd known Lucifer had wiped the floor with Adam, despite Niffty being the one to kill him, but it was always different seeing it.

This was Hell's King. This was the entity the stories had talked about. All that power, right there on display, and all Alastor had wanted in that moment was to have this being underneath him again. Wanted to see how far he could push. To see how much Lucifer would let him take.

(Alastor wasn't certain what had possessed him to reach for Lucifer in that moment. Wasn't certain what he would have done had the little king decided to take him up on his offer. Had he simply wanted to hold that power in his hands? To burn himself on it?)

And oh, how his patience had paid off.

Such a huge gain and all it had cost Alastor was a night of his company and some information. Information Lucifer really should have already known, at that.

Now, Alastor was full and so very near hale and hearty again. Why, he was close to being able to tackling fixing his microphone soon!

Perhaps if he could have another feeding in the future...

Ah, but it wouldn't do to get used to this. Three times was already far more than he could have ever imagined, plus it never paid to put his wellbeing in the hands of others. They were so often unreliable. There were only two people in Heaven or Hell that he trusted, and neither of them resided in the hotel.

So, Alastor put the idea aside and went about his day as normal. If he had an extra skip to his walk, and his smile a touch more sanguine that normal, to the point he was receiving some nervous side glances, well, all the more entertainment for him.

He was feeling so well, in fact, he felt up to taking a little jaunt to visit one of his favorite people.

Cannibal Town was as lively as ever, despite their numbers had seen some reduction during Heaven's assault on the hotel. Rosie's Emporium, always the main attraction, was not lacking for people lined up to see their Overlord. The line was already starting to snake out the door.

Alastor strolled in, not minding the line in the slightest. Rosie always made time for him.

Sure enough, the woman in question looked up at the sound of the door opening, her ever-present smile widening in delight on seeing him. She never paused in whatever affair she was discussing with her current client, but she did make an effort to finish it up a touch bit faster.

He stood off to the side politely, waiting to see if now was a bad time or not. He wasn't bringing her anything other than his company and this was an impromptu visit.

"Alastor!" She greeted, loud and affectionate. "A visit twice in one month! You certainly know how to spoil a girl."

Alastor felt that little black thing that served as his heart warm with the genuine sincerity being shown his way. He matched her smile with an honest one himself. "Only those who deserve it, my dear, and you always do."

Rosie placed a hand to her cheek, bemused. "Oh, you." She waved over to one of the tables. "Now tell little ol' me what brings you here. You haven't gotten yourself into any more trouble, have you?"

He could hear a hint of concern in her voice and resolved to bring her a gift the next time he came over. "Oh, you know me. I'm always up for something exciting." He let her maneuver him into a chair set up at a table for two. "In this case, I was up for a walk and thought I'd indulge in your company, if you'll have me."

The Victorian Overlord's body language eased ever so slightly, adding to the suspicion she might have been worried. "Always, dear." She pressed a seemingly delicate finger to her lips. "Give me 30 minutes to clear this lot out and I'm all yours!"

He nodded, and she gave him a light pat on the shoulder as she went back to her work, pausing only briefly to have one of her workers send over a pot of tea. He spent the next half hour sipping on the latest delightful blend she was offering, watching the cannibals coming and going. Most were asking for the same thing they always did: someone wanting someone else to disappear, usually in a body bag they would of course hand over to Rosie.

After what he was sure was thirty minutes and no more (not that he would have honestly timed her, why, that would have been discourteous), his fellow Overlord was escorting the last of her clients out the door. Business completed, she turned on her guest. "Now that all of that work stuff is out of the way," Rosie said as she came to sit in the chair across from the redhead, "Come now, tell me all the gossip! Surely something juicy happened with how lively you're looking today."

Alastor supposed he shouldn't be surprised that she had seen through his mask the last time he'd been here. He'd needed to get away from hotel, just for a bit, as the strain of hiding his wound was wearing on him. None of his usual acquaintances had suspected a thing, and he had wanted to keep it that way.

But Rosie was hardly an 'acquaintance.'

He supposed since she knew already, it wouldn't hurt to assure her the worst was past. He also supposed he had a gift for her after all. Lowering the cup to the saucer on the table, he assured, "You could say I recently benefited from a rather unexpected deal recently."

Rosie raised an eyebrow expectantly, "Well, don't keep a girl waiting! Details!"

Because he was a little bit of a drama queen, he waiting until she had raised her own cup to her lips before he stated, "It turns out that all the rumors about angel blood is true, even more so for seraphim blood."

It was only because she had perfect control that she did not, if fact, choke on her drink. Rosie started at him for a long moment, trying to see if he was serious. When it became clear he was, she stated, "Well, shit, you certainly don't go small, do you?" She leaned forward, placing her free hand over one of his. "This deal didn't put you in a tough spot, now did it?"

Alastor's smile softened. "None of that, my dear." He didn't like to touch people, anymore than he liked being touched in return, but Rosie had always been kind to him, so he placed his other hand on top of hers and gave it a squeeze. "All that was asked for was a who's who on Pentagram City's current political landscape."

Rosie tilted her head to the side, the feather in her hat swaying with the motion. When she withdrew her hand, Alastor released it. "Our King is showing interest in his kingdom?" She blinked, more than a little surprised. He didn't blame her. "My, what could have brought this little development about?"

Alastor pulled both hands from the table, a subtle cue he had had enough tactile contact for the day, although he wasn't completely closing himself off from it. "Someone has been sending mercenaries to attack the hotel. Drivel, mostly. Little more than snacks on the whole." He hummed in memory of all the free morsels that had been sent his way, lately. "The attacks haven't done anything, really, other than rile his Majesty up." He gave her a look of amusement. "He's begun an investigation into who might be behind the attacks and asked after us Overlords. I gave you a good word, of course."

It was a testament to how quick-witted she was that Rosie barely blinked over the idea that their sovereign had apparently not only crawled out of the wood work, but was also finally taking an interest in his kingdom again. "Oh, of course you did." She flapped a hand at Alastor. "Do tell him if he ever want to visit, he's more than welcome!"

Alastor made a noise of acknowledgement. "He's quite the character, our king. I'm sure you'd find him... amusing." Amongst other things, he thought to himself as he sipped on the last of his tea.

Ever the host, Rosie noticed. "Oh, dear me, let me refill that." She raised the pot of tea to do so, offering, "You know, I just remembered: we got in a fresh body just this morning. Would you like an arm?"

The redhead considered the request, but found himself much too full. Whatever room he'd had available had already been taken up by his drink. "I thank you kindly for the offer, but sadly must pass this time." He placed his now empty cup on its saucer. "Why, I dare say I might have to wait on another cup of this delicious tea."

Rosie didn't have pupils that Alastor had ever been able to track, yet he had the distinct impression he was being looked up and down. "That blood must have been quite the thing to curb an appetite like yours." She shrugged before pulling over a box of ring fingers. Some even still had the rings on them. "Hm, knowing you, a certain someone might have to worry about her seat - if she ever intends to come back."

Alastor paused. Rosie did that sometimes: said things that threw him for a loop. "What now?"

She waved a finger in a circle to indicate the entirety of her guest, her smile all teeth and knowing. "Come now, Alastor, I don't think I've ever seen you in such a state before. I almost think you have intentions towards the king!"

The redhead tilted his head to the side, considering. Did he have intentions towards Lucifer? He certainly wouldn't mind having another go at his blood. Riling him up had yet to get old.

The urge to hunt, sated though it was at the moment, thrummed through his veins. Here was the ultimate prey, just waiting for the perfect opportunity to turn the tides.

The memory of the smell of apples and something he'd come to associate with Lucifer rose to mind. Of warm, pale alabaster skin beneath his lips. The feel of hands that could so easily crush him carding gently, absentmindedly, through his hair.

For the first time since their little games had started, though, Alastor realized that sitting beside the urge to devour was the urge to keep.

He examined the thought. He meant it when he said he delt primarily in favors. There were so few souls that interested him enough to keep long term. They were usually individuals who ranked as powerhouses themselves. Investments first, entertainment second.

This urge resembled that desire, but not quite. He certainly wanted access to the power contained within that tiny little package that called himself the King, but beyond that, he was beginning to think he might want to own Lucifer in every sense of the word.

Well. That was certainly quite the turn.

He turned his attention back to the world outside his own head, finding his fellow Overlord watching him and patiently waiting for him to sort out his thoughts. "I'm afraid, my dear, I don't have an answer to that, but you have given me quite the food for thought."

Rosie, bless her, didn't press. Knowing how perceptive she was on matters of the song and dance that was interpersonal relationships, it was likely she knew more than he did.

He really was thankful he made an ally of her rather than an enemy.

The rest of their chat was turned to less deep conversation. Soon enough, she sent him on his way, but not before warning, "Now be careful, Alastor. Kitten our King may be, I saw how fierce he can be when pressed."

If it didn't mean acquiring one of those silly picture boxes, Alastor might have been inclined break down and watch whatever that voyeur Vox had filmed of the fight on Extermination Day. Incidentally, his pride point blank period refused to allow him to let such a thing anywhere near his person if he didn't have to. "Don't worry, dear. It's all merely a thought. I won't do anything lest I know there's a chance at success."

That seemed to mull her over. They said their goodbyes, and he was off back to the hotel.

The conundrum that was his entanglement with Lucifer followed him all the way back to the hotel, dogging his steps as he went through the rest of his day. He didn't see the blonde at any point before he retired for bed, which was likely for the best, as Alastor was distracted and unlikely to be at the top of his game.

He didn't see him throughout any point of the following day either, not that he was looking for him. He didn't give it a second thought, not until he came upon Hell's princess halfway into a tizzy in the main gathering room.

"But Vaggie! He hasn't come down in almost two days!" Charlie wrang her hands together, glancing at the ceiling in the general direction of her father's room. "What if something's wrong?"

Vaggie had a hand on her girlfriend's shoulder, as much a comfort as it was a restraint. "What did he say when you knocked on the door?"

The hotel's owner bit her lip. "Just that he wanted to stay in for a bit. But that was yesterday. He didn't even respond at all when I knocked this morning."

"And you're sure he's still here? That he didn't leave?"

Charlie nodded. "His door is locked. He doesn't bother to lock it if he's not in."

Well, that's a silly thing to do, Alastor thought to himself. He filed it away for later. Deciding he was curious enough to join the conversation, especially since it seemed he might have been the last to see Lucifer. It would be bothersome if anyone thought he'd done anything to him when he really hadn't yet.

Alastor allowed his corporeal form to dissipate, only to reform right behind Vaggie. "What's this I hear about our esteemed leader disappearing?"

"Shit!" The fallen angel jumped, just as he hoped. Predictably, she spun around, bringing the point of her spear right up to his nose. "Cut it out, asshole. We don't have time for your games right now."

Alastor smiled down at her, as calm as a undisturbed pond, taking hold of the end of the spear and redirecting it away from his face. "And who's playing around? I heard our dear Charlie in distress and just had to see if I could help in anyway."

Vaggie narrowed her eye at him. One day, he was going to drive her to actually attempt to stab him. It would be such an entertaining day when it happened.

Charlie sniffed. She didn't necessarily look relieved to see him becoming involved, which, fair, but he could see something easing in her stance.

It was such a delight to see how much she'd grown to rely on him.

Stepping around the most hostile entity in the room like she wasn't holding a certified deadly weapon, Alastor came up to stand beside Charlie. "Tell me, do you have any reason to believe something might be wrong?"

She searched his face for any hint of falsehood. Any hint that he might use this against them.

She wasn't going to find any. She was learning to be more cautious of him, but she still had a long way to go before she'd see through his carefully constructed persona.

"Well... maybe?" She offered at last. He could see it in her eyes, her drooped shoulders: a certain helplessness. It was different from the kind that had driven her to make a deal with him. This kind was old, the sort that came from a time before the autonomy of adulthood. Likely this issue had roots in her childhood. "Mom used to say that Dad just kind of shut down sometimes. Worse than normal." She glanced at her girlfriend, likely for moral support, and then back at him. "Mom said it wasn't good to leave him alone during those times."

Alastor pushed down the eager swell that might have given up the game. Was it really going to be this easy? "And you think this might be one of those times?"

She mulled over this. Nodded, and then shrugged. "It's possible, but without getting past the lock..."

"I tried to pick the lock," Angel put out from where he was lounging on the couch, feet across Husk's lap. Husk, curiously, didn't appear to mind.

Charlie winced. "Yes, which is really not good! We shouldn't pick people's doors."

Angel shrugged, unbothered by the reprimand. "Didn't matter, either way. Turns out the door's magically locked." He made a handsy gesture with his top set of hands to emphasis his point.

Alastor looked between the two. "Is it warded?"

Everyone turned to look at him in confusion. Charlie blinked. "Warded?"

Oh, how quaint this lot was. "Magically locking the door means no one can unlock the door without breaking the spell. Unless the door is warded, there's nothing to stop someone from going, say, under the door."

Vaggie crossed her arms, posture irritated. "We can't go under the door, Alastor."

If he had his mic, he might have bopped her on the head just to mess with her. As it was, Alastor settled for smiling ever so sweetly at her as he pointed out, "Ah, maybe you can't, but it just so happens, I can."

Charlie shifted, uncertain. "You promise you won't make things worse...?"

She was so close that he could practically taste it.

Alastor placed a hand on her shoulder, softening his expression. "Now now, dear, we both know your father is hardly helpless. If he doesn't want me in there, he's more than capable of kicking me out."

Vaggie snorted, glaring viciously at him. "Yeah, not that that's ever stopped you."

Charlie glanced at her, warningly, before looking back at Alastor. She sighed and placed her hand over his. Feeling generous, he let her. "Alastor, please check on him, just... don't push, okay?"

Nothing but a formal deal was going to guarantee that, but he didn't have to advertise it. "I promise to be on my best behavior."

Her smile really was like sunlight breaking on the horizon when it wasn't being forced. She jerked forward as if she'd wanted to go for a hug but had aborted it at the last minute. Instead, she squeezed his hand. "Thank you, Alastor."

He disappeared into his shadow, partially to avoid her changing her mind and going for that hug, but also to avoid any further stipulations on his task. Between the quality of his last meal and the leaps and bounds in the healing of his wound, traveling by shadow was almost as easy as it had been before his injury. Seraphim blood was a marvel. It was such a pity that there was so little of it in Hell.

Alastor had studied the entirety of the hallway that made up his and Lucifer's floor along with the rest of the hotel the first opportunity he got upon his return. His inspection had stopped at white doors, whose handles were adorned with the same apple accents that littered the rest of the hotel. As he slipped under them, he could smell the magic on the handles. True to his suspicion, the spell was only on the lock itself, with nothing to guard again something like a shadow slipping right under the door.

It seemed Alastor's self-restraint in light of his injury had paid off, because nothing hindered him in anyway as he made his way into the room of the most powerful being Hell.

Alastor stuck to the outskirts of the room, where the darkest shadows gathered. It wasn't difficult, as most of the room was in shadow, the curtains drawn with very little natural light peaking in underneath them. The room was silent in a way that, at first, suggested that no one was in.

Perhaps Lucifer had gone out and failed to tell anyone, after all?

Tentatively, Alastor returned to his corporeal form, keeping to the darkest shadow the room he could find. When nothing and no one came flying at him, he turned his attention to the room at large.

Overall, the room appeared sparsely furnished. There was a rug laid out in front of the door. Chairs surrounding a table big enough for two over on one side of the room. The fireplace didn't appear to have ever been used, but it was there. A couple of bookshelves and a desk were the most lived in, but that was only because they were covered in small, yellow shapes he couldn't quite make out in the dark. A bed took up most of the final wall. It was perhaps the grandest thing about the room, looking every bit fit for the king who slept in it. Two side tables sat on either side of it, both with a lamp of their own.

As for the king himself, now that he was looking for it, Alastor could see the faintest outline of a shape near the left side of the bed. Creeping closer, he could see a pair of familiar boots and coat laying on the floor. A little closer, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room, he could see a pair of mimicked deer ears poking out the top of the nest of blankets.

For a long moment, Alastor simply stood there, looking down at the lump. His ears were strained for the first sign that his presence had been noticed, but so far there had been none. He could feel his grin widening with each beat of his heart that passed. There were so many things he could do in that moment and there was nothing anyone could do to stop him.

There was a part of him, the part that was still human and remembered what it was like to be human, that wanted to finish the job he'd started two days ago. When he'd been alive, allowing a victim to live would have been tantamount to a death sentence. A living victim could become a witness who could identify him to the authorities and then the game would be up.

Lucifer wasn't just a potential victim. He was the authorities. He was the highest authority.

After his death, Alastor hadn't had to hide who he was or what he was like. It was simply a kill or be killed world, where one's continued existence depended on brains and reputation.

And oh what a reputation the Radio Demon would gain, if he took out the King of Hell himself?

The chain - noose - around his neck sat heavy and loud, ever grating against his sanity. The memory of Husk's deal held so easily in a dark grey hand brought him back down to himself. Reminded him why he wanted to keep the little king around.

There was no other reason. There could be no other reason.

He admitted to himself that it might be interesting to just stand there, looming as he waited for Lucifer to awaken. The subconscious was a funny thing and people on the whole didn't appreciate being stared at when they slept. The general consensus was that it was creepy. It was half the reason he enjoyed doing it and it always left the victim feeling off balance. When his majesty continued to not respond, Alastor also admitted to himself that while he did normally enjoy such a plan, he wasn't that patient.

Ready to spring away, if necessary, Alastor reached out until those tantalizing ears were just under his hand. Unrepentantly, he flicked one of them.

The ear twitched violently, the lump beneath the blanket shuddered, ear going flat. Grey hands appeared along the edge of the blanket, pulling it down for Lucifer peer up at him.

The sinner waved his fingers by way of greeting at his king, who stared back at him with a pair of tired, dead eyes.

Lucifer blinked at him, once, twice... and then pulled the covers back over his head??

Alastor felt the glitch to his system, spitting static. Did Lucifer think he could just ignore Alastor and he'd go away?

Oh, no. Oh no, that wouldn't do at all.

Time to throw away the preverbal Nice Guy gloves. He clapped his hands once, sharply, one shadow going for the lamp on the side desk while another went for the end of the covers. With vindictive amusement, the covers were ripped clean off the bed, while the flick of a switch bathed the room in light. A third shadow went for the curtains, yanking them aside to let the afternoon light in. Over the low groans of the bed's occupant, Alastor proclaimed at just high enough a volume to be annoying, "Rise and shine, your Majesty! You've nearly slept the day away, but there's still some time left to enjoy it."

The blonde still didn't look like he gave any sort of fuck that someone was standing over his bed harassing him. Alastor took in the rumpled state of his king's clothing - he was still dressed in his suit, sans the pieces on the floor - as Lucifer threw an arm over his eyes in a futile attempt to block out the light. Without a word, he merely rolled over, presenting his back to Alastor, as if he wasn't a concern in the slightest. His tail didn't even so much a flick once.

Alastor narrowed his eyes, gritting his teeth. It ground his gears more than a bit to be so blatantly treated as so little a threat, but the more he took in the situation, the more it drove home what Charlie had meant by 'just kind of shut down.' With the absence of the quilt and sheets, the reek of melancholy wafted off Lucifer in waves, nearly overpowering his usual scent. Little things observed over time - the most damning being what was glimpsed during their last encounter - and Alastor recognized what he was looking at.

Lucifer Morningstar, the Devil and King of Hell was depressed. Deeply, truly, very depressed.

This was the potential opportunity he was looking for. Alastor would have to be blind not to see it. Getting close to Charlie had given him influence over Hell's future ruler as well as a possible solution to his ...other problem. It was a long game he'd been more than willing to play for the potential future rewards.

This here was the king, himself, though. As he'd just thought to himself: the highest authority in Hell. Lucifer didn't have much by way of political influence beyond the people's fear of his power. He clearly wasn't willing to use his authority to rule over his kingdom, first advocating it to his much more interested wife, before abandoning it altogether when she left.

On the other hand, who didn't know who he was? The other side of the coin to God himself, Lucifer was one of the most well known beings in all of creation, the originator and father of sin himself. The being who'd given humanity their free will and so neatly interrupted his holy father's plans.

Lucifer's interest in politics may have been nonexistent, but his reputation more than made up for it.

Could he do it, Alastor wondered to himself. Could he force himself into something companion shaped enough to meet the needs another just for power? He'd already debased himself so much already - it was how he landed in his current situation, in every sense of the word - could he do it a little more?

Static emitted from his throat, his desire - his desperation - to be free at war with his pride, tattered though it's remains were. Companionship usually came with other expectations. Expectations that included touching, amongst other things. The mere thought made him want to claw his own skin off and nothing had even happened yet.

He hadn't realized he'd moved until he heard a squeak from the direction of the floor. Attention diverted, Alastor craned his head around, hearing his own neck cracking in the process, as he tried to get a better look at whatever it was he had stepped on. He blinked when he saw the object, unable to resist reaching down to pick up the item to better exam it.

It was... a rubber duckie?

Lips parting in his bafflement, he twisted around to look towards the desk and shelves he remembered seeing earlier. The light of the lamp and the outside world illuminated the yellow objects, revealing them to be a mass pile of what were indeed rubber duckies. Every single one of them was some degree of different from the others, but they were all unmistakably the same thing. There had to be over a hundred of them. Some of them were new, but some of them were old, likely brought over from the palace.

Disgust curled up in his chest like a living thing. Disgust at himself. Disgust at Lucifer for being living proof that power doesn't mean a damn thing in the end. His anger made him reckless, blind to the potential consequences, as Alastor asked, "Is this why they left?"

For the first time since entering the room, he finally gained Lucifer's attention. "What?"

The single word sounded like a warning, but Alastor had already picked up too much momentum. He knew he liked to poke where he shouldn't, that it could be the death of him one day. Perhaps today was going be that day. In that moment, weighted down by everything, he almost didn't care. "While your people were getting slaughtered and your wife's kingdom was being burned to the ground, were you making children's toys?"

Lazily, damningly, like the final nail in his own coffin, he spun around back to the lump that would be his king. He sneered.

"How pathetic."

The only warning he had was the flicking of that silly, ridiculous tail.

Suddenly, the room was spinning. No, he was falling - being pulled? - onto the bed. His back made contact with the mattress and he got a brief glimpse of the ceiling before it was replaced by Lucifer.

Who was livid. Hands like stone pinned Alastor down at the wrists. The rest of Lucifer's body weight rested on the sinner's hips, one leg resting on either side of his body. Every single one of his fangs were visible as he bared his teeth in a snarl mere inches from Alastor's nose. "Who are you to judge me? You dare to speak of things you know nothing about?!"

Eyes void of pupils glared down at him, staring down into his very soul. Feeling exposed, feeling vulnerable, Alastor's flight or fight response kicked in, sending his heart rate through the roof. He tried to dissolve into his shadow, only to find himself unable to do so.

In response to his distress, he shadows rose up, diving in to take out his attacker. Lucifer didn't even acknowledge them. His wings appeared behind him, flooding the room with a bright light that drove away any and all shadows.

Sensing he was caught, the part of Alastor's brain that was every bit the prey animal he worked so hard not to let himself be forced him to go still under a dangerous predator.

"You are nothing more than a rapid dog nipping at my heels." Lucifer growled, the smell of smoke heavy on his breathe. "I should put you out of your misery, once and for all."

Alastor swallowed, forced himself to think through the molasses of his fear. He may be pinned and powerless, but he wasn't completely without weapons. He was never more glad that his smile was fixed in place as he stated, "Ah, there you are, your Majesty. You had Charlie worried about you."

He was almost able to keep the grimace out of his voice. Almost.

Alastor wondered if that had been perhaps the wrong thing to say, as Lucifer tightened his grip until bones began to grind together. Red tipped fingers curled inwards, the only sign of his pain.

Golden pupils appeared between one blink to the next, tracking the movement. As if he actually cared about the pain he could be causing, Lucifer's grip loosened, just enough that they were simply pinning instead of inflicting harm. His voice, on the other hand, held no mercy, as he asked, "What does my daughter have to do with this?"

Growing more confident the longer the king didn't kill him, Alastor explained, "Well, when she didn't hear from you today, Charlie asked me to come check on you, of course!" It wasn't entirely the truth, but it was close enough to hold up under any immediate scrutiny.

Lucifer narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously, all to happy to bring on the scrutiny. "Why would she send you?"

Alastor shrugged like he wasn't pinned under someone who was just trying to kill him mere moments ago. "Because I was the only one that could get into the room. Perks of being the Hotel Manager!" As his panic began to settle with each passing moment Lucifer was slowly returning to his normal form, the feeling of his skin crawling from every point of contact between them was beginning to rise. He needed to get Lucifer off him and soon. "In fact, she's waiting for word back right at this moment!"

Lucifer's eyes, pupils red and sclera yellow again, searched him, likely to see if he was telling the truth. Upon seeing that he was, he proceeded to finally make a mistake.

He took his eyes off of his captive to glance at the door, hands loosing just that tiny, crucial bit more.

Alastor caught his heels on the edge of the bed, using the leverage to raise his hips up into a bridge. The new position forced Lucifer to either release his wrists to catch himself or face plant as he was thrown forward. Luckily for the redhead, Lucifer went for catching himself, releasing Alastor, who immediately sprung up, catching the blond around the waist. Twisting, the two toppled over.

Within mere seconds, their positions were reversed: Alastor on top and Lucifer pinned to the mattress on his back.

The little king blinked up at him. He almost looked impressed with the move. He glanced at the hands pinning his wrists, flexing them as he tested the strength of the grip. Squirmed a little as the new position was likely putting an uncomfortable weight on his wings.

Good, Alastor thought. At any other time and situation, Alastor might have been fascinated by them. At the moment, his grip on those deceptively dainty wrists and any signs of discomfort were the only thing allowing him to hold onto his sanity.

For a long moment, they simply remained still, both parties regaining control over their frayed nerves. As his heart rate settled, his breathing normalizing, Alastor became aware of something he hadn't noticed over the stench of melancholy: his own scent.

It was becoming stale, but he could still was still there, separate from what he was currently leaving behind. It clung to Lucifer's person like a neon sign to tell anyone with the nose for it that he had let the Radio Demon close enough to him to make a claim.

He hadn't gotten rid of it.

The knowledge awoke a beast of a different kind, possessive and wanting, the scales tipping from Alastor wanting to devour this prize to wanting to keep him, if only he could figure out how. It left him nearly dizzy with whiplash.

Movement pulled him out of the thought. The redhead focused back on the outside world in time to see Lucifer directing his attention down the length of his own body. Alastor, without thinking, did the same.

Something hot and mortified clawed at his throat as he realized that while the blonde had been sitting on his hips in the original hold, the change in position had Alastor pinning Lucifer to a bed while sitting between his legs.

Alastor threw himself off of Lucifer and the bed, feeling like every point of contact had burned him. Lucifer raised himself up on his elbows, raising an eyebrow at him. The redhead didn't know what he saw in his expression before it was all locked away behind his mask, but it resulted in the blonde's own expression growing tired.

Lucifer let himself fall back onto the bed, seemingly heedless of his wings, running a hand down his face. "Message received." He waved a hand at the door. The spell on the door fell away with a light shower of sparks. Task down, the limb fell limp down onto the mattress. "Please tell Charlie I'll be down shortly."

It was a clear dismissal. Usually Alastor would have bristled at such a thing, but considering he did not want to be in that room anymore, he let it go. Forcing everything back into place, despite the ways his edges were feeling frayed, he said faux pleasantly, "As you wish, sire."

He paid little attention to the half assed wave of goodbye he received in response. When he disappeared into his shadow, he refused to look too deeply into how much it felt like he was running.

Again.

tbc

Part 8

[twicethetrouble]

Writing Family Web Daily: Day 9

DONATELLO

Donnie woke slowly, like he was dragging his mind back to a consciousness it would rather not be in. It wasn't out of the ordinary for these last few days, but it did feel like more of a struggle than it had been.

When he finally managed to crack his eyes open, it was dark, the plastic stars Leo had on his ceiling glowing faintly.

Leo's room then. Donnie must still be sick.

He took inventory as his eyes slowly followed the glowing star's constellations he had helped map out years ago. He felt exhausted and fuzzy brained, which certainly helped support his 'still sick' assessment. His sides still hurt, but differently than before. Instead of a sharp, piercing pain, it was a dull ache. Like a scrap or cut that has already been treated but still wants you to know it's there. In short, it still hurt, but it felt better. Especially compared to the last-

...

Oh. Right.

Memories of the last time he woke started to resurface. April and Leo's worried voices, getting an x-ray, the argument; all broken up by intense bouts of pain that felt like someone was drilling into his side. Though, in retrospect, it seemed to be more accurate to say something had been drilling out. It had all stopped by a prick of a needle in his arm and then blissful unconsciousness.

Donnie looked for Leo in his customary spot on the spare mattress.

He wasn't there. Instead, April was curled up there, her glasses still on and her phone in hand, like she had fallen asleep unintentionally.

It took him longer than he thought it should to find Leo.

He was on the complete other side of the room, sitting with his back against the wall and his knees pulled against his chest. Awake and clearly aware that Donnie was as well, though he made no move to come check on him.

But Leo always checked on them when they were sick. Especially if he was making them stay in his room. That was the very reason he did it to begin with, so he could pester and check on them the second they opened their eyes. So why wasn't he?

Was Leo mad at him?

They had an argument; he knew that much. He thought it was about the surgery. Leo hadn't wanted to do it, but Donnie had been desperate enough to take any option that would make the pain stop fastest.

Was Leo mad at him for that?

Should he apologize?

He didn't know.

Donnie brushed the question aside, instead trying to get back onto familiar ground that wasn't riddled with possible emotional landmines by reaching towards his twin. His sides protested the movement as he made a gimme motion they were both familiar with.

Leo shook his head, not moving otherwise.

Oh. He must be mad then.

[coffeeworldsasaki]

Seems like it takes me a third of the book to get used to the writing style and start understanding when a line is spoken by the characters when reading in korean

[bad268]

can I request a clingy Kimi Antonelli

where he’s obsessed with kissing reader and overall being affectionate to the point he does not want to let go of her before the race and Toto is like “leave the poor girl alone Kimi” while Susie is like “you were like that before”.

HELP IDK HOW TO END THIS BUT YA ALSO LOVE YOUR WORKS 💗💗💗

Clingy Antonelli (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Formula 2/3

Requested: Clearly (I loved this too much lol I'd be down to do a Clingy Antonelli series and we need some fluff after this race lol)

Warnings: none.

POV: Second POV (You/your, but it does say 'poor girl' once)

W.C. 1025

Summary: Sweet reunions bring Clingy Antonelli to the surface.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

It was a common occurrence that you were in the paddock with Kimi. Ever since you decided to attend school entirely online, you were by his side, and it may (or may not) have been because of the begging you received from Kimi.

It started when he was in karting, and he just wanted someone familiar to talk to. Then, when he moved to championships, he was always one of the youngest ones competing, and it was weird being the odd one out. Around the same time, you were given the option to switch to online school. He begged you to do it, so you could travel with him. How could you say no?

Not to mention, you loved taking pictures, especially of your favorite person, and PR from both Prema and Mercedes would pay you for some of the pictures. It was just easier to pay you since you always took pictures of Kimi. 

But that’s beside the point. You were doing what you normally did whenever Kimi was a guest on the F1 paddock: sit beside him silently as he listened in on a meeting. Sure, it was not your favorite thing to do, but it was a standard. And most of the time, the meetings did not even concern Kimi; he just had to sit in them because he was their junior driver.

You were sitting in the back of the room, holding his hand and not paying attention at all. That is until Kimi started pulling at your hand to get your attention. You turned your head and met his eyes. The look he gave you was one you recognized immediately, a silent plea for you to sit on his lap. With a joking sigh, you moved onto his lap as he smiled laid his head on your shoulder after giving you a kiss on your cheek.

“You’re more clingy today,” you whispered to him, “What’s up?”

“You’re going to leave for two weeks,” he complained as his arms tightened around your waist. “I know you miss your family and friends, but I won't see you again until right before the race.”

“Don’t worry, amor (love),” you consoled as you rubbed his arms, leaning further back into his hold. “I’ll be back before you know it, and we’ll be back traveling in no time.”

“Yay,” he chuckled before cutting himself short, “And I’m not clingy.”

“Oh come on,” you replied in disbelief, turning your head to meet his eyes. “Clingy Antonelli is my favorite.”

~~

Despite being with your family for once, Kimi would call you at any chance he could. He just needed to hear your voice and see you before doing anything racing-related. It was one of his superstitions, and you did not plan on standing in the way of it. 

Flash forward to when you finally came back. Due to the time difference, it was only 12 hours from the last time you talked to Kimi, but for him, it was nearing 20 hours. He knew that he had to give you space at some points, but this? Nope. He was sure that your plane should have landed ages ago, yet you still were not on the track. You had yet to answer his calls or texts, and he was starting to get anxious. 

He was pacing around the garage, half listening to his strategy team go over the plan for the race. He half-registered some Mercedes personnel walk into the garage but did not think anything of it since he remembers them saying they wanted to see him in action this weekend. Little did he know it was Toto and Susie Wolff in the flesh. They talked a little bit with the team before they turned their attention to Kimi.

“Is he always this nervous before a race?” Susie asked Toto, knowing that he had seen Kimi racing in FRECA before, but she did not remember him saying that Kimi got nervous.

“Not that I remember,” Toto responded just as confused before he turned to Kimi’s race engineer with a questioning look, gesturing in Kimi’s area.

“He’s missing his lucky charm,” Anthoine laughed, shaking his head. It’s said when you talk about someone, they appear, and that’s exactly what happened. Like clockwork, Kimi’s head snapped toward the garage door as he heard your unmistakable laugh. Kimi immediately took off, trying to find you. It did not take long because you were right around the corner, about to walk in with Ollie. Kimi wasted no time, picking you up in a tight embrace as he peppered kisses all over your face. Anthoine chuckled again as he pointed at the two, “Oh, look. They’re back.”

They all let you have your moment in peace. Kimi needed it. His nerves were through the roof, everyone could tell, so despite knowing that he needed to get in the car as soon as possible, they stepped back. The last thing they needed was an anxious driver on the track.

You could not even hear what Kimi was saying, just a bunch of anxious thoughts coming to light. You let him rant as much as he needed before he finally set you down and placed a long kiss against your lips. He pulled away all too quickly for your liking before leaning against your forehead, whispering, “you’re never leaving me again.”

“My flight got delayed, and my phone died,” you whispered back as he went back to placing butterfly kisses all over your face. “I wanted to call you.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” he sighed, hiding his face in your neck and breathing you in “You’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

“Leave the poor girl alone, Kimi,” You heard a voice behind Kimi chuckle, causing you to look over his shoulder. It was Toto and Susie Wolff, which caused your eyes to widen and your face grew red in embarrassment. Immediately, Susie’s arm came up to smack Toto in the shoulder.

“Oh, leave them alone,” She countered, “You were just like that before we were married.”

“Oh, he’s just being Clingy Antonelli,” you laughed, nervously. “I’ll get him into the car, don’t worry.”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch. 4 a day in the life of a hot soccer player

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader (f)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 4/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 3.4k

a/n. yay for gojo pov chapter! i originally tried writing this from reader's pov but it wasn't really working for some reason so i switched it up.

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 :: ch6 :: ch7 :: ch8 :: ch9 :: ch10 (pending)

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

Gojo Satoru was never really the type of guy to be serious to just one woman. He had a sort of rotation of women that he'd go through every couple of weeks. Now wait, before you think he's an asshole, he once tried to have a serious girlfriend in college. But he quickly realized that it's really difficult to coordinate down time. When he's taking an exam, she's calling to ask if he's free. When he's off practice, she's got work. Once a week ended up being all he could really see her. And for a guy with a sex drive as high as his, that just wasn't enough. But having multiple women meant more chances of at least one of their schedules lining up with when he’s free, and bam, he was getting laid on a consistent basis. Okay, now you can think he's an asshole. 

He knew he was a bit of a slut, a manwhore, a player, whatever the girls in his Instagram comments liked to tease him about. But it felt good to be those things because for some weird reason it gave him confidence. It was just a stupid, primal, egotistic, caveman feeling that's probably carved into the DNA of every man out there. He can't help it.

Turns out he just really likes it when people rely on him. He likes it when his teammates entrust him with the winning goal during the final moments of a match, he likes it when women put their pleasure at his mercy during sex, and something within his stupid, primal, egotistic, caveman mind really liked it when you had that intent spark in your eye asking him to help you achieve something for your dreams. 

Gojo lay in his bed, ankles crossed and rested up on a pile of folded laundry at the end of the bed. One of his hands was tucked behind his head that was resting on a couple of pillows, and his other hand was scrolling through his phone.

This weekend’s party was a bit more exclusive with each member of the frat only getting two invites for the list. There were restricted parties like this in the past, and Gojo very rarely used his plus-ones/twos. Most of his friends were already from the frat, and most of the hot sorority girls would be invited by other dudes anyways. But this time, he was considering inviting you.

His mind wanders to that first night he met you at that party. You looked slightly different in person compared to your photos, a bit edgier than the soft persona captured by the candids on your social media that your friends took of you. Gojo scoffs at himself when he remembers how worked up he got over the belief that this random girl he Instagram DM’d was insinuating she would be down to fuck that night, some arrangement where he shows her a damn good time as a reward for bringing her roommate to his friend. It was a pretty sexy scenario in his head. Despite the hindsight he has now, for Gojo that kind of thing wasn’t an insane thing to assume. Excuse him for sounding a bit arrogant, but women tended to blatantly throw themselves at him pretty much everywhere he went. And besides, you were cute, so maybe a part of it was just his wishful thinking, too. 

You were like a deer in headlights at that party. He watched as you looked around the room at one point in the night, searching for something before you disappeared into a hallway. When he finally had you alone to himself in the kitchen, and he realized all you wanted to drink all night was water, the prospect of a casual hookup seemed to be slipping further and further away from his grasp. 

But his chest filled with a different, unfamiliar feeling when you mentioned what you really wanted from him, and he’s been chasing that feeling ever since. 

Right now, he just wanted to see you again. He hated how you seemed to just abruptly leave any time the two of you were together, which has only been twice so far, but still. He wanted to see you in something that wasn’t just a plain t-shirt and jeans (although that was definitely his favorite clothing on a woman most of the time). He wanted to know what you were like when you were a little bit tipsy, maybe even a little bit drunk. Were you talkative? Emotional? Touchy? Flirty? 

Gojo’s thumb hovers over the Instagram chat that had your name on it. He should really just ask you for your number at this point. 

When Gojo clicked on the chat and used it to go to your profile, he noticed you posted some more photos. Just a slideshow of your life recently. Some pictures of flowers you spotted on what looked like a bike ride judging from the shadow, a cake you baked recently for a friend’s birthday, a snapshot of a cat running away in an alleyway. The last picture was a black and white photo looking through a soccer goal net towards a tree in the distance, and Gojo quickly recognized it as the one on UTokyo’s practice field. 

His thumb double taps the post and then he’s back to the page with your messages. He had reached out to you again after Monday's practice saying that the team was doing another practice match on Thursday, which was yesterday, but you mentioned you were busy working on something for a club you’re in.

An iMessage notification pops up at the top of his phone from one of his frat brothers. 

|| 3:12pm ryota the GOATa: gotta finish sending out qr codes. you got the names/insta handles for your invites tonight? or you just not gonna invite anyone like usual? 

He sighs, wondering what to do, when he ultimately decides against inviting you. You were probably busy with something anyways, and he didn't want to experience the disappointment of you saying you can't come if he does ask, fearing that there might be a reason that didn’t have anything to do with an accumulating pile of class assignments. It’s a bit of a cop out, he knows that, but whatever. You very clearly told him that the two of you weren’t friends.

He types out a message that reads yea my homie @ThePope, pls. Also, your mom to which Ryota replies fuck off.

Even though there was no practice today, Gojo felt like he just needed to get out of the house for a bit. There were too many thoughts in his head, most of them about you, and he didn’t like it. He wants to be smooth-brained Gojo that just thinks about soccer and partying. He slides his legs over to the edge of his bed and sits up, inhaling and exhaling harshly, before standing up in resolution and heading to his closet. He pulls his soft cotton t-shirt over his head in favor of an athletic long sleeve and pulls on a pair of sweatpants over his SpongeBob boxer briefs (don’t make fun of him, please). 

When Gojo opens his door, he’s hit with the smell of food cooking and with the noise of two of his roommates, probably Sota and Hide, yelling profanities with video game sound effects in the background. He walks downstairs, pushing his left arm through the sleeve of his shirt.

“Hey, where are you going? We don’t have practice today,” Geto asks from the kitchen as he flips his quesadilla on the pan, spilling a bunch of its contents everywhere. “Shit.” 

“I know we don’t,” Gojo says, tilting his neck from side to side to loosen it up. “Just going for a run.” He extends his right arm across his chest, holding it in a stretch, and grunts a little. 

“Ah, yes, our star player,” Geto muses as he wipes the counter down.

Gojo twists his torso to stretch out his back and releases a slow exhale from how good it felt. “Gotta keep that stamina up,” he says, “for more reasons than one.”

Geto lets out an annoyed sigh from where he’s washing his hands at the sink. They both watch Hide almost chuck his controller at the TV before Sota stops him. By the entryway, Gojo slips on his running shoes and puts his airpods in his ears, then he’s out the door. 

The weather is nice. It’s pretty sunny, a bit hotter than Gojo was expecting, but he wanted to work up a sweat anyways. He taps at his smartwatch and realizes his running app isn’t working, so he shrugs and just decides to guess what running six miles feels like.

As he’s running, his mind wanders to you again. The last time he saw you out on the field, you had a strange expression on your face. It seemed like you were in a rush to leave, which is fine, but it was like you refused to make eye contact with him. Was it something he said? Or something he did? It probably was, he had a habit of fucking things up with people sometimes, but he doesn’t really know what he could’ve done for you to avoid him. Your messages back to him have been pretty curt and weirdly polite, too. 

Somewhere lost in his thoughts, six miles turns into twelve and he’s drenched in sweat by the time he makes it back to the house at around 6PM. Taking two steps at a time up the stairs, he gets into the shower and gets himself fresh, then throws on a black t-shirt, some black joggers, and non-cartoon-related underwear.

He finally checks his phone for the first time after coming home from his run and sees a bunch of new DMs and messages but none were from you. And the fact that he was still thinking about you after running nearly half a marathon had him annoyed. Which is why he’s grateful for the party tonight. Alcohol and sex typically made most things better. 

When Gojo runs into Geto in the loft and asks him about his plans tonight, Geto says he’s got an essay to write so he’ll leave for the house party probably closer to midnight. Gojo calls Nanami, who says he’s not going until Geto gets there because until then there would be no one to buffer Gojo’s fucking idiocracy throughout the night (his exact words). Apparently, Chosou’s still sick with food poisoning. When he checks with Hide and Sota, they say they’re going to go but only after pregaming at a sorority party, which Gojo has no patience for. Todo says he’ll be there from dusk ‘til dawn, of course. He sees a bunch of texts in the fraternity group chat that he has muted, as well as a lot of DMs from girls, asking when he’s going to show up but he doesn’t respond to anyone and decides to just go whenever he feels like it. 

He ends up leaving home by himself at around 11pm, the walk to the host house taking eight minutes. He walks by some other houses that were having incredibly crowded parties, probably for the people that weren’t invited out to this one, and the smell of weed in the air causes him to scrunch his nose. When he walks up the driveway of the house, he sees Ryota at the door, scanning people’s phones and ushering them inside.

“Hey, man,” Gojo greets Ryota with a solid grab of his hand and slap on the back. 

“What’s up, dude.” He returns the greeting.

“Did your mom make it?” Gojo asks. 

“Just get the fuck inside,” Ryota says, pointing to the entrance behind him with his thumb.

When Gojo enters the house, the flashing lights temporarily blind him until his eyes quickly readjust. The DJ had the bass-boosted all the way up to where Gojo could feel the music in his bones and his lips curl up into a smile at the excitement running through his veins. It was mostly dark inside, except for the sporadic lighting from the couple of light fixtures near the DJ’s console, and people seemed to move in slow motion as they were briefly illuminated every other second. 

Gojo hears some people call his name, but he makes it straight towards the back where he knows the drinks are and downs a couple of shots of tequila before he even considers talking to a single person. 

“Yo, dude, you’re here,” he hears Sota say from behind him and he turns around. Sota and Hide are both barely standing up straight with their arms around two sorority girls each. It seems somewhere along the night the two of them had lost their shirts. “Did Geto come with you?”

Gojo shakes his head, making eye contact with one of the girls that was tucked to Hide’s side. “Nah, he’s still working on his essay.” Sota mutters something like lame and Gojo notices the girl miming an obvious blowjob gesture while looking him straight in the eyes. He ignores it and turns around to face the drinks table again, working on mixing himself a drink. He was clearly not shit-faced enough to deal with anything right now.

There’s people yelling in the backyard and Gojo spots Yuuji through the window doing a keg stand outside. He’s about to make his way over there to bear witness too until someone’s grabbing at the back of his shirt.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Gojo fucking Satoru,” he hears a voice call and he sighs, turning around.

Shoko’s standing in front of him, wearing an extremely cropped shirt and a denim skirt, with a couple of her friends by her side. They have their sorority’s symbols drawn across their cheeks in sparkly paint that matches their equally as sparkly makeup. 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Shoko fucking Ieiri,” he mimics her with a smirk on his face, “oh, and, uh, friends? Never met you two before.”

One of the girls beside her rolls her eyes. “We’ve fucked like twice,” she scowls, crossing her arms, and then she looks up at the ceiling to ponder something before looking back down at him again, “actually, I’m pretty sure three times.” 

“You’re not the only one with a busted memory, sweetheart,” he says and he’s about to continue towards the backyard when Shoko walks in front of him, putting a hand on his chest and pushing him backwards a bit, the movement causing some of the drink in his hand to spill. She’s standing up on her tiptoes and then clenching the fabric of his shirt in her hand, pulling him down towards her. 

“You in the mood to make out tonight?” she asks him, biting down on her lip, and Gojo’s eyes are quick to watch the action.

“Sure, but later,” he says casually. Again, not quite shit-faced enough to deal with any of this yet. He grabs her wrist and pulls her hand from his shirt then makes it to the backyard, exchanging greetings with some of his frat brothers on the way there, and makes work of the absolutely horrendous cocktail he’s mixed up for himself as he watches Yuuji entertain the masses. 

The night goes on, Gojo getting progressively more alcohol into his system until he’s worked up a steady buzz and finds himself about ready to do a backflip off the patio roof in front of a bunch of cheering people when Geto has to convince him to get down.

“Dude, I’ve literally been here for two minutes,” Geto grumbles. 

Gojo slings his arm around his best friend, half in camaraderie and half for support. “I missed you, man, where have you been?” Gojo drawls in Geto’s ears, clearly a bit drunk, and Geto doesn’t even bother answering him as he’s walking him back inside.

When the two of them spot Sota and Hide by a beer pong table, they make their way over. Gojo sobers up a bit when he realizes Todo isn’t there.

“Yo, where’s the king of beer pong at?” Gojo asks, his speech slightly slurred.

Nanami, who had his arms crossed and was leaning back against the wall, shrugs slightly. “He said he’d come later.”

“But he said he’d be here from dusk ‘til dawn!” Gojo’s whining loudly near Geto’s ear and the dark-haired man winces at the volume. 

“Alright, let’s sit down,” Geto says and the two of them make their way to the set of couches in the center of the living room where some people were chatting, some were (hopefully) sleeping, and others were getting handsy. 

Gojo slumps down on one of the couches, relishing in the comfort, and when he spots Chosou next to him he’s convinced he’s hallucinating. “What the fuck, aren’t you supposed to be sick?”

Chosou shrugs and glances up at Gojo from the screen of his phone, leg bouncing up and down impatiently. “Nah, I was never sick. Just had an exam to study for and had to get out of practice somehow.” 

Gojo’s about to get angry at him but instead he just sinks further into the couch and throws his head back to look up at the ceiling, a sudden wave of melancholy washing over him. He was at this party, alcohol running through his veins, yet there was this feeling inside of him that he just couldn’t shake. It was some type of disappointment, an emptiness, like despite everything going on around him he was still missing something. 

“This seat taken?”

He tips his head back down and sees Shoko in front of him. His line of sight follows the direction of her pointed finger until he sees that she’s gesturing to his lap where he was very obnoxiously man-spreading. 

“Nah, but I was saving it for you,” he says with a grin and she’s rolling her eyes as she takes a seat on his thigh. She seems a bit tipsy herself, giggling at the pinch he gives her at her hip. Ah, yes, Gojo realizes the emptiness he was feeling was probably from the fact that he has yet to get laid tonight.

“Satoruuuu, take me upstairs,” she’s purring in his ear and he shakes his head.

“Jesus, Shoko, relax,” he hisses, already feeling arousal building up inside him. But he himself had no interest in putting any of this on pause. 

The details are irrelevant, but she’s gotten him up on his feet, her hand wrapped around his wrist, and dragging him along with her upstairs. Somewhere in Gojo’s hazed and horny mind, he swears he hears a familiar voice downstairs, one that makes his heart skip a beat in his chest, but Shoko’s busy pulling him into the dark hallway upstairs and eventually into the bathroom. 

Gojo closes the door behind him, watching as Shoko quickly hops up onto the counter, and it’s not long before she spreads her thighs for him to take his place in front of her and start kissing her. Her hands grab onto his shirt, impatient with the fabric, and he starts trailing kisses down her neck as she wraps her legs around his waist.

“Hey…” she sighs when his mouth reaches her collarbone, “d-did you lock the door?”

“Huh? Yeah, think so,” he mumbles against her skin, hand playing with the hem of her top.

Those were Gojo’s famous last words when the two of them suddenly heard the door open, hinges creaking, and in his periphery he sees that it’s opened almost half-way when the movement stops.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” a voice squeaks out and Gojo’s blood runs cold. He turns his head to face the entrance of the bathroom, and then he sees you. 

You, in your plain t-shirt and jeans, standing in the hallway with your hand wrapped around the doorknob, blinking as the recognition of his face registers in your mind. 

Gojo Satoru was never really the type of guy to be serious to just one woman. Yet for some reason, when he sees you staring at him with wide eyes, and with the faintest hint of hurt in your expression, what he was doing suddenly felt so wrong.

a/n. thanks soooo much for reading!

➸ take me to chapter five!

[luveline]

𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐚 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary you call your boyfriend eddie from a party in need of saving. or, you lose your t-shirt under mysterious circumstances and eddie has to get you dressed and take you home [3k]

warnings drunk!reader who is a little bit handsy and a lot in love, fem!reader, eddie pov, pure fluff, idiots in love, newly established relationship, some pet names (baby, teddy, handsome), implied of-age drinking, implied weed use

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Face to the ceiling, heart not racing but close to it, Eddie's half adrift in a memory of you from a few days ago. 

You'd been sitting on the floor by his dresser with your hair all pretty in your soft clothes, asking him questions nobody else has ever bothered to ask and listening to the answers like this: face tilted, eyes at attention but creased with a contentedness (or so he'd like to think) and your hands under your chin. 

An honest to god angel.

He's snapped out of his thoughts by the shrill, near piercing ring of the phone. Panic spikes like a knife in his chest at the sound. He scrambles to pick up the receiver where it rests on the amp beside his bed, legs caught in the sheets and hand holding his weight on the bedroom floor. 

He slams the phone against his face and winces at the undue force. "Yeah?" 

His legs inch forward. The palm of his hand aches and he's eager to get off the phone before he falls off of the bed, so when nobody speaks he gets a smidge irritated. 

"Hello? Henderson, if this is-" 

"Hi," someone says.

"Who is this?" 

A laugh that's most certainly yours echoes down the line. "It's me." 

Eddie presses the phone closer to his ear, as if that'll somehow summon you. 

Despite missing you, messing with you is his main prerogative at all times. "I don't know any me's, sorry. If that's-" 

"Eddie," – more giggling — "it's me, Y/N." 

"And why are you calling me at home?" 

"You're incorr- incorrgi- incorribigle." 

You hiccup. 

Eddie's eyes blow wide and a smile made of what can only be called pure delight stretches over his face. 

"Baby, are you drunk?" he asks. 

"A little! Okay, a lottle." 

"I thought you were only going for iced tea?" After all, it's a Sunday. 

"A Long Island iced tea." 

He can feel the blood rushing to his head. "What's the difference?" 

"Vodka, rum, tequila, gin… Oh, and about three quarters of an ounce of triple sec!" 

"That sounds like a party." 

It sounds like you're close to, if not totally, wasted. 

"Such a party! I have a slight problem, though?" 

"What's that?"

"I can't find my jacket." 

"What?" 

"Or my t-shirt." 

Eddie's arm finally buckles and he topples to the floor, cheek crushed to the rug and leg still twisted in blankets. He winces at the clatter and thump of his knees as he climbs into a sitting position, head tilted to one side, breath bated. When it's clear he hasn't disrupted Wayne's backwards sleeping schedule he brings the phone to his ear again. 

You're midway through an explanation. Maybe. "–So I said who puts hot sauce there? That's maso-twisted!"

"Did somebody put hot sauce on you?" he asks worriedly. 

"What? Eddie, are you even listening to me?"

He rubs his stinging cheek. "Bad connection."

"Anyhow, I'm too embarrassed to go back downstairs." 

"Yeah? Listen, I can come and bring you something to wear. Are you still at Amanda's?" 

"Would you? She doesn't have anything that fits me." 

"Sure will," he says. 

Really, he's dreading the idea. If there's one thing Eddie doesn't do it's parties. Preppy parties. But if you're walking around shirtless, isn't that, like, his boyfriend duty or something, to come and bring you clothes? 

"You're the best! Do you still have my hoodie with the white flowers?" 

He looks at said hoodie where it's balled suspiciously close to his pillow. "I'll find it." 

"Yay." 

"Hang tight, alright?" 

"Okay. Hey, you'll never guess-" 

"Babe, I have to hang up." 

"Why?" 

"'Why?'" His bemusement is obvious. "I'll explain when I get there." 

He goes to put the phone down when you say his name with a startling amount of urgency. 

"What?" he asks.

"I miss you."

He imagines you, half naked and in your giggling disarray at a random house. The want to take care of you grows and grows. "I miss you too. Now I really have to go." 

"Okay bye," you say, and hang up. 

–

Eddie parks the van, daunted. He hadn't realised what kind of party you meant when you'd asked him to come originally, and he's doubly glad he said no when he realises the sheer magnitude of it all. There's people everywhere and Eddie doesn't recognise a soul besides the stoners on the front lawn. He closes the van door behind himself and feels like he's just stepped onto another planet. 

Eddie had tried to mitigate his own unpopularity growing up by spending as little time around his peers as possible. Something about his general existence seems to irritate and antagonise them, and Eddie's not one for the fuss of it. Or, he hadn't been. It's hard to play doormat forever, and by his third and final senior year he'd learned to take the offense instead. 

It might not always work in his favour, but sticking up for himself has done a lot for his self-worth. 

Almost as much as meeting you. 

Eddie knows you're not gonna be standing around out front in the nude. He weaves through partygoers of all shapes and sizes with your hoodie thrown over his arm, the smell of beer like a cloud. He tries not to make eye contact with anyone as he slinks up the stairs, the pounding thump of music – not by his definition, but music – fading with each step. 

There's a small line for the bathroom and two of three bedroom doors are open wide, likely pilfered. Eddie squints at the 'Stay Out' sign on the third and closed door, a skull and crossbones crudely drawn beside it, and grins. He's always been a rule breaker. 

Pushing open the door, Eddie finds you crushed between a bookshelf and a twin-sized bed with a phone shaped like a racecar in your lap. You look like you're sleeping.

Your eyelashes flutter as he sits carefully in front of you. 

He works his hand under your chin and lifts your head. He's gentle, worried you've summoned a crick in your neck from sleeping the way you have. 

"Baby," he says softly, "you really shouldn't be by yourself like this." 

He pushes his fingertips up to the highest point of your cheek and rubs the corner of your mouth with his thumb. You rouse slowly, as if suspended in jelly. He helps you lift your head. 

"Hi," he says as your eyes open clearly. 

"Hey," you say. Your eyes close again. 

"Why are you on the floor?" 

You tug against the phone. The line makes a snapping sound as it resists. "Can't reach from the bed. Wanted to…" you drift off. Eddie pats your cheek until you finish, "Stay in case you called me back." 

"I don't know this number." 

You drop the phone unceremoniously. "Oh." 

Eddie feels bad for the phone's owner but doesn't pick it up. He's too busy stroking your cheek, trying to work you out of your shell so he can get you dressed and sleeping soundly in your bed, rather than on someone's younger brother's floor. 

His affection has the opposite effect to what he'd wanted; you start to doze in his hand, pretty face scrunched up and chin slowly creeping toward your chest. 

"I brought your hoodie," he says, pulling his hand away reluctantly. 

"'M tired, Eds." 

He softens like butter in the sun. "I know," he says, glad for the small privacy you've both been allowed. "Do you wanna go home?" 

"With you?" 

"Whatever you want." 

You sit up with the most suffering groan Eddie has ever heard you make, arms lifting above your head. Your back arches a touch and you moan as your neck clicks. 

Eddie looks at his lap with wide eyes, a blush rising thick and fast to his cheeks and the tips of his ears – he can feel the skin blooming with heat. 

You're still very much shirtless. 

"Where did your clothes go?" he asks. 

You've more clarity about you as you settle. "I don't know."

"Did someone take them off of you?" 

You must clock his fear. You sit up on your knees and take his ring-heavy hands into yours, fingers clumsy but well-meaning as they curl around his. "Nobody touched me. Teddy…" You smile and your eyes squint just so. "You worry too much." 

"I actually worry the right amount. Where did your friends go?" 

You drag his hands to your hips and place them with a high focus. He gives into your whims with his cheeks now fully pinked, hands cool over the warmth of your doughy flesh. Your stomach has rolled into a pouch from the way you're sitting and he resists the urge to lean down and kiss it, hit by a momentary lapse in judgement due to the pure, unadulterated adoration coursing through him.

You're cute.

Sitting here as you are, pupils blown and hair a lovable mess, all smiley and pretty and expectant, what else is there for him to do but take you in? He lets his eyes travel up the length of your navel, over the valley of your chest rising with each breath, and the curve of your smile until he's eye to eye with you. 

You let his hands go and spread your arms. "Hug?" 

Giving him no time to respond (though he would've said yes without question) you slide your arms over his shoulders and fall into his embrace. He supports you with a hand behind your back but otherwise remains where he is, happy to let you get comfortable, let you nuzzle your face against his and murmur to yourself too quietly for him to hear. 

You smell nothing like iced tea, that's for sure. There's a distinct stick of alcohol lingering. He inhales the smell of you, that sharpness, and finds the softer, familiar scents of you underneath.

"This is nice." 

He couldn't agree more. He drags the flat of his palm up your back and grins. 

"I would've said yes if I knew parties were like this," he says.

You giggle, the sound overloud in his ear but never any less sweet. "Stick with me, babe, and every party is like this," you promise, an air of salaciousness to each word. 

"Is that so?" he asks. He squeezes your hip until you're laughing again. 

"Totally!"

"Do I have to get naked too, or is that just for the girls?" 

"You definitely have to. I'm a feminist, you know? I'm about equality. Please." 

"Take me out to dinner first," he mumbles. 

You burst into laughter, a rush of abrupt sound. You cling to him as you do, your chest pressed hard into his and your face sliding into his frizzy curls. 

"Dinner," you start when you've calmed, "that could be fun." 

"You're hungry?" 

"I wasn't until you mentioned it." 

He pulls away from you reluctantly. You look as half-cut as you did when the hug began but your tiredness seems to have abated for now. Your adorableness remains as all encompassing as before, and he has to stroke down the length of your face with his hand to stop from aching. 

You're lax at the affection. He traces the half circle under your eye with the side of a knuckle, the skin so soft it feels like silk. 

"I'll get you whatever you want," Eddie says, and means it.

"Really?" 

"If you get dressed." 

"My arms don't work, handsome. You'll have to dress me." 

"That so?" 

You nod gravely. 

He bites the inside of his lip to contain a smile and grabs your hoodie from under his thigh. He shakes it out and opens it up. You bend to push your head through first, cheering victoriously when your disorientated face appears.

What follows is a process in which he thinks maybe your arms have been replaced by spaghetti. 

"No. No. Sweetheart, no, oh my god. What are you doing right now? You're not even trying," he says, giggling. 

"Your laugh is the nicest sound in the world."

"I'll try and take you seriously when you can get your hands through your sleeves. How old are you, two?" 

"And a half." 

"Stay still. I'm gonna bunch 'em up." 

He bunches your sleeves as he'd said and finds your hands to pull them through. He feels like this is what it must be like to dress a toddler, only the toddler is tall and too drunk to keep her head up for long amounts of time. 

"And… There." He neatens your sleeves and collar. "Done. Good job, baby." 

You beam wide enough to apple your cheeks and throw yourself into his lap all over again. He's surprised and bends from your weight, receiving you with a mixture of apprehension and glee. 

"If you throw up on me we're gonna have to break up," he says, smoothing his hand over the back of your neck. 

"Really?" 

"No." 

You can't stop laughing tonight. You giggle breathlessly and pull back enough to cup his cheek. Your hands are heavy but what you've lost in your inebriation you make up for in love; while your motor spatial skills have taken a heavy blow, your kisses are as syrupy as always. You kiss his cheek in an inelegant triangle and make these tiny, lovely sounds that give him butterflies.

Lips pressed to his face, you say, "You're my boy." 

He feels shy in a way he hadn't realised he could as he brings his hands up your back to hold you. 

"I'm your boy," he agrees. 

There's a short silence where he breathes you in and rubs your shoulder. He'd missed you more than he realised.

"Want KFC? I'm paying." 

He rolls his eyes and pushes you away from him gently. "Whatever you want." 

You stand on unsteady feet. Eddie offers his arm and you stand hip to hip with him and let him hold you up. You're not so wobbly as to need as much help as he's giving but he doesn't mind and you like the connection, head dropped to his shoulder. He gets you past the bathroom queue and down the stairs, pausing at the coat rack where he spies your purse. You sway at the sudden stop. 

The contents, to your unbelievable, infallible good luck, have been left alone. Even your loose cash. Eddie can't comprehend it. 

"I told you before, I'm paying," you brag.

He chucks your chin, enamoured with your cocky smile. "You're soooo confident that I'm gonna let that happen." 

Its always like this. Surrounded by people and somehow you might as well be the only two people in the room for how it feels.

Your answering laugh is loud and sympathetic. "Duh. I get away with everything all the time 'cos you have a crush on me." 

You stride out of the open front door and onto the stone pathway bisecting the lawn. He catches your hand before you can get too far away and you spin to look at him. 

You're walking backwards. Staggering, really, Eddie's hand the only thing keeping you upright as you croon, "You like me." 

"Who told you that?" 

"Nobody needed to tell me, I already knew. It's obvious." 

He yanks you toward him and you huff into his chest. You're more giggle than girl tonight, gasping breathlessly as you threaten him. "Watch it!" 

"You watch it. Who do you think you're talking to?" he jokes, staring down at you with a pretend scorn. 

You pout and brush a loose curl behind his shoulder.

"Nothing to say?" 

"Nothing to say to you." 

"Really?"

"Nuh-uh." 

"What's obvious about it?" he asks, leaning down until your noses touch. He blows a hot breath out of the corner of his mouth. 

You squeeze his hand. "I'm tipsy–" 

"Tipsy!" 

"But I'm not stupid, Munson." 

"You're going down the list tonight." You've called him everything. Eds, handsome, baby, Teddy, now Munson. He'd much prefer the second, third and fourth, but any name at all sounds like a pet name when you say it. 

"Move, loser," someone says, shouldering him suddenly and roughly out of the way. 

Eddie doesn't have time to think about it, he takes an unwilling step forward and you go back, too drunk to shriek. Your breath catches as your ankle twists and you trip and fall onto the small of your back. Unfortunately for Eddie, your hands are still twined together, and he falls into you like a domino, knees hitting damp grass and face smashed into the space above your shoulder. 

He doesn't have the cushion of alcohol. 

"Ow," he says, peeved. Not at you, but peeved all the same. He screws his eyes shut and sulks. 

"Thought I had to buy you dinner first." 

"Shit." Eddie springs up off of you. "Shit, I'm sorry. Are you okay?" 

You stay lying in the grass. The party lights splash across your bare skin, pink and green and orange-yellow painting your lips and your nose and the curve of your neck. 

"Why'd you do that?" you ask curiously. 

"Some asshole pushed me." He looks over his shoulder for a culprit and finds no one. 

"Like I believe that!" 

"Stop laughing! This isn't funny. I think I might've winded you." 

You grab him and dig your fingers into his hips. "With this skinny waist? Unlikely." 

"Hey," he chides through a laugh, "what?"

"So trim." 

"You're totally gone." 

"Gone on you." You sit up and slide your hands under the fabric of his t-shirt.

"We're in public, perv." 

"And?" 

"Stop feeling me up." 

"But this is the best part." 

Eddie shivers at your cold fingers gracing the lines of his sides and then inward. You massage his abdomen with a feather-light touch. 

"Nice," you murmur. 

Eddie pushes you down into the grass and kisses you chastely. Then a little less than chaste. Nothing serious, he's not a sicko, but he just can't hold it in. To be liked in the way that you like him feels like a privilege he can't begin to deserve. 

"Thanks for coming to pick me up," you say as your break apart, smiling at him fondly. 

He rubs your foreheads together. "You definitely pulled me down with you. This is your fault." 

"My bad," you say. Your flippancy drives him mad. 

He kisses the corner of your mouth and then leaps off of you to half-carry you to the van. 

Half an hour later in the bright fluorescents of KFC when you're covered in fried chicken grease and grass stains, you make a heart with your hands and hold it upto your face. "Smile, handsome. I'm taking a mental picture." 

He smiles. 

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thanks so much for reading!

if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging! i promise it makes a big difference!

[itsmealaiah]

i keep losing my goddamn requests by not saving drafts 😐

Can't get enough

anyways, here's the request for this fic: facesitting w/ 2015 tom! yay 😏 😈

tags/ warnings: head (f receiving), begging, cursing, slight fingering, dacryphilia, slut-shaming

MDNI ⚠️

pairing: 2015 tom x fem

Your POV:

My hands were tightening around the headboard every second, and I was nearly ready to black out. I had been trying to process the extreme pleasure, my body trembling as tom continued to slip his tongue in and out, my face contorting to match the sensation each time. He had been holding my thighs down for a good forty-five minutes, not letting me even think about moving from his rough grip. Marks from his large, veiny hands consumed my legs, all around my upper thighs to my core. I was almost positive I couldn't take anymore, and began to squirm from his hold on me.

He stopped sucking for a second, and pulled his head up to gaze into my eyes. "be a good little slut, and stay still" He growled, lips diving to my soft flesh once again. "Ngh, please..please stop" I sobbed, trying to tear his head away from me, but with no avail, he slapped my shaking hands away. I had already came twice, and I was very much overstimulated. His tongue was getting any and all juices he could, licking me dry, each lap sending vibrations through me, vibrations that seemed to echo throughout my whole body. My hands landed on his hair, trying to pull him back again, to make this stop.

"Tom" I cried, almost slamming down onto the headboard as my head felt severely woozy, not being able to fully take what he was giving me, my body ready to collapse at any given moment. It was truly too much, he was way more experienced than I was, most likely doing this with so many girls he was a pro. Well, the way he was making me feel didn't make me need to think, just from his actions I knew. I tried to make him stop, to pull back, to let my sore, aching body finally rest, by whimpering out a weak plea. "I.. I can't take it any- anymore" I whined, hoping my soft cries would be enough to convince him to quit.

"C'mon schatzi, just one more" He replied, murmuring the words into me, and tears continued streaming down my puffy cheeks, the heavy imbalance of pleasure and pain was not doing me any good. I felt my stomach tighten, meaning tom was going to get what he wanted. "Gonna co-come" I whined again, and released on his tongue, crying out his name in such a loud screech the neighbors were sure to hear and complain tomorrow, but that was another problem for another time. "Good girl" He pulled his hands off of me, laying my trembling frame down onto his heaving chest. I didn't stop crying yet, my body still in a state of ecstasy. "You did so well baby" He complimented, stroking my bare back to try and ease the tension.

I nuzzled my wet face into his neck, huffing lowly, while his hand traced small circles on the small of my upper back, soothing me. I sighed, moving my head up to kiss him gently, to tell him I was okay. I met his lips in a soft kiss, I cringed at the taste of myself on his tongue, but I didn't quite mind, as it faded quickly. I held my hands on either side of his head, capturing every angle of him, every sight of this wonderful man in front of me. "I love you" I whispered against his lips, even though we had said it many times before, this time felt different. "I love you too schon madchen" He smiled, caressing my head until I drifted off to sleep.

Even as I dreamt, I knew I would always love him. He was my whole, the one who made me fully complete.

[julsvu]

heyy u take reqs for mha, right? if so, can i request for a monoma x gen neutral reader? reader's in class 1A and is close with all their classmates, but is secretly dating monoma. it's basically the trope 'enemies in public, but lovers in private' but class 1A and class 1B end up finding out about their relationship and lose their minds LMAO

gn! reader

💬: tysm for requesting!! this was so fun to write HSSIDI hope you enjoy !! <33

📒: crack fic kind of??, swearing, written in 2nd pov, monoma is the leader of the sassy man apocalypse, headcanons + a oneshot under the cut :>

being neito monoma's secret lover hcs

during the school festival, neito literally suggested for his class to do a plot where two people would play as secret lovers from different kingdoms that hated each other (he was projecting TEWW MUCH)

one time class 1B was playing truth or dare and he got asked if he was single or not, and this mf said: "my partner goes to a different school! 🙄🙄🙄" bc he couldn't think of any other lie

obviously, everyone poked fun at him

"monoma, y'know being single isn't embarrassing, right..?"

"you can tell us the truth, y'know.."

i feel like kendo probably suspected it at one point

since she saw the way monoma kept investigating your classmates about the villain attacks (as a way of finding out if you're okay or not)

and because his insults towards you was like..so much more detailed compared to your other classmates?? like bro knew EVERY little detail about you, even the details that no one in class 1A knew

she brushed it off though, cause you and neito always argued — there was no way, right? (yes, there was a way)

he claims that class 1A "shines" too much because of you (as a way of hiding the fact that you're the one who he actually pays attention to)

when he approaches class 1A to make fun of them, he actually does it so he can see you (when he sees that you aren't with them, he just scoffs after insulting them, and walks away) (born from the sassy man apocalypse)

your classmates.. i think some of them def knew that you were dating someone, but NOBODY could predict the fact that you'd be dating neito, class 1A's biggest hater, some of your classmates were like "🤨 is this a betrayal or.." 😭😭 goes the same for class 1B, because as said earlier, his insults toward you were so much more..detailed, they thought he hated you more than the others ☠️☠️

they found out when they caught you both dancing together during a U.A high school party

"MY JAW.. WHERE'S MY JAW?" - denki when he found out (one second away from going into his "yay mode")

and u have mina in the corner saying that it's like one of those dramatic secret relationship fanfics (which in this case, it is)

for as long as neito monoma remembered, his heart was full of you. almost like the honey of a beehive, slowly overflowing and dropping to the floor. although, he swears that you're sweeter than honey itself. or, at least, that's how it felt. it started with small, short glances, secret hangouts at a small cafe, texting every day, training with each other, bittersweet confessions, and secret good-luck kisses.

but, for as long as class 1B and class 1A (excluding you) knew, neito and you were enemies, rivals, foes, maybe even nemeses. there was only so much your schoolmates could know, though. U.A's rigid course aided you and your boyfriend in keeping your relationship under warp, people failed to notice the longing stare the blond boy would hold whenever he saw you training with what he described to be "tetsutetsu's twin" from class 1A, the slight tone of pride whenever you'd counter an insult of his with your own words, acting like it wasn't your love language reserved for only each other; sneaking away from your respective dorms to meet each other in the ungodly hours of the night, exchanging sweetened words.

you waited on the bus with your classmates, the vehicle bustling with excited conversations; mina and the girls fangirling over each other's outfits, kaminari asking the "are we there yet?" question every five minutes, iida struggling to keep your classmates quiet, and so on. as you fixed your appearance slightly, you checked the time on your watch, reading that it was now 8:00 PM. however, a certain blond texted you, interrupting your moment of silence.

"darling, we have arrived at the venue. where are you?" monoma texts, with a stunning picture of the venue sent under his text. the dim fairy lights hung around the place, the food table with a chocolate fountain and appetizers, and the chandelier that would highlight the bodies of the people dancing.

just as you finished reading his message, you heard your homeroom teacher state that you guys had arrived. almost immediately, everyone cheered, giggling, and rushed out of the bus, exploring the venue after a few reminders from Mr. Aizawa to not get lost, and to behave. you dusted off your clothing, as you looked around for your boyfriend, neito, before you finally messaged him back.

"i'm at the entrance, neito," and not even five minutes later, you heard the only voice that could make your chest feel warm. neito's.

"hey, pretty," you greet, sending him an awkward wink.

he scoffs, greeting you with a kiss on the cheek. "hello yourself, sweetheart."

"shall we dance?" he asks, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. you give him a nod, as well as a chuckle. he had the tendency to make things as "theatrical" as possible. you were reminded of the time when you guys reenacted an old classical dance on a random rooftop, with no one else around.

a few moments later, the U.A high school party was in full swing, the pulsating beat of the music reverberating through the crowded gymnasium. amidst the sea of bodies, you and your blond boyfriend were drowning in the rhythm, dancing together in the dim atmosphere.

however, the dim atmosphere wasn't enough to hide you and your boyfriend, as well as your secret relationship.

kaminari spat out his drink from a few meters away. he, and mina were hanging out in the food table. "is that (name) and monoma?! the guy that hates us all?!" his jaw drops right after his statement, as he nudged the pink-haired girl beside him. the girl's eyes widen, before she squeals happily, "it's like a forbidden romance! eek!"

in the other side, there was tetsutetsu and kirishima. "yo, that's monoma/(name), your classmate!" they said to each other at the same time, and same speed.

you and neito exchanged a knowing glance, overhearing your classmates' reactions.

"monoma, did you force (name) to dance with you?!" kendo exclaimed, looking at her classmate with furrowed brows, and holding empathy for you. your laugh started off as small snickers, and then to a full-blown laugh, as you fell to your knees, giggling and holding your stomach. in the background was your boyfriend explaining, waving his hands as if to defend himself.

"you and monoma?" mina asks with a grin, behind her, were your classmates, who stopped to hear your answer. flies were about to fly into their mouths, at this rate.

"me and monoma," you replied, chuckling at the whole ordeal.

the situation made the night more entertaining than ever.

© 2024 JULSVU. all rights reserved. please don't plagiarize, translate, put in other websites or copy my work without permission. ty!

[finnsbubblegum]

Yes, Maybe, No (Joel Miller X Reader)

Pairing: no-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: 18+, fluff, sweet joel, domestic joel, rom-com, smut

Summary (Series): reader as Joel’s neighbor. Joel’s wife left him so Joel asked his neighbor for help in babysitting Sarah. 

Summary: 2.3k

Words count: Pov: Sarah asked you and Joel for a sibling.

A/N: I’m trying to make this as a rom-com, hope you like my new series! This is part 13 of Where It All Starts. But it can also be read as a standalone. I'm so grateful for all of you! Thank you for your comments, reblogs, and likes ❤️ There are still more chapters for this series so stay tuned! Love you!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

There were not many changes to your life since you got married to Joel because you had lived with him before the two of you got married anyway. The differences were probably that you were now Mrs. Miller, Sarah’s legally your daughter, she called you mommy now, your house was sold, and the walls were full of your wedding and family pictures. You asked for a big frame for the picture of you with your wedding dress, Joel with his tux, and Sarah in the middle with a flower crown. She was your flower girl for your wedding. You hang the picture in the living room.

“Let’s go babygirl, you’re gonna be late for school.” Joel waited for you and Sarah at the door.

It was Sarah’s first day of preschool and she was so excited and asked you to help her dress up like a princess. On the other hand, you were nervous. She had never made any friends before so you were worried she might have some problems in school. You loved her so much that you didn’t want anyone to hurt her. 

“Pretty.” You finished tying her hair and kissed her forehead.

“You look beautiful, princess.” Joel held his daughter’s hand and walked her to the car.

You followed them from behind and sat in the passenger seat. 

“You excited, babygirl?” Joel looked at the rear view mirror to see his daughter.

“Yes! Yes!” She bounced on her seat excitedly.

You turned your head to look at her and smiled when you were actually trying to hide your worries. Joel recognized you being anxious but he didn’t want to talk about it in front of his daughter. So he just looked at you, held your hand and kept driving.

“We’re here.” Joel parked his car.

“Yay! Yay!” Sarah was so excited for her first day of school.

You got out of the car and helped Sarah out of the car. Joel grabbed her purple backpack and helped her carry it. You and Joel walked Sarah to her class and met her homeroom teacher.

“Good morning, I’m Ms. Andrews.” She shook Joel’s and your hand.

“Good morning, I’m Joel Miller and this is my wife. This is our daughter Sarah.” Joel rested both of his hands on Sarah’s shoulder.

“It’s her first day, please take good care of our daughter.” You smiled at her. 

“I will. Don’t worry.” She assured you.

“Come one Sarah, class is starting.” She invited Sarah inside the class.

After you and Joel waved Sarah goodbye, both of you walked back to the car. You sighed as you closed the car door.

“You okay, darlin’?” Joel asked you as he put on his seatbelt.

“She’ll be okay, right?” You looked at Joel.

“Hey, she’ll be fine. I’m sure she’s gonna make a lot of friends.” Joel put his hand on top of yours that was resting on your lap.

“Okay.” You nodded. 

“She’ll be fine. Don’t worry.” Joel reassured you and rubbed your hand with his thumb.

Joel drove you to the cafe then he went to work. Joel promised to pick you up earlier to pick up Sarah from school together. The day felt long as you were worried about how Sarah was doing at school. Your mind was full of thoughts thinking what you should do to comfort Sarah if she went home from school sad. You tried to distract yourself by helping to bake and decorating the cakes. It was finally time to pick Sarah up from school. Joel’s car was in front of your cafe so you took your purse and said bye to your employees. 

“Where is she?” You tip-toed to get a clearer view behind all of the other parents. 

“There she is.” Joel pointed at Sarah who just got out of her class. 

“She looks happy. You have nothing to be worried about.” Joel rubbed your back in circles as he assured you.

You couldn’t see Sarah because you were too short and Joel was tall enough to see what was in front of him. 

“Daddy! Mommy!” You heard Sarah’s voice.

She ran through the adults and jumped to hug your legs. 

“How was your day?” You crouched and stroked her hair.

“I made lots of lots of friends. I met Emma, Lily, Katie, ..” She went on and on.

You nodded and smiled at her. You were relieved she had a good day and made some new friends. Joel chuckled as he saw his daughter so happy. He was proud that her daughter made it through her first day of school.

“You wanna get some ice cream, babygirl?” Joel lifted his daughter and kissed her cheek.

“I get ice cream?” She squealed.

“Yeah, baby. You did well on your first day of school.” Joel chuckled.

“Yay!” Sarah raised her hand to the air.

You chuckled and followed them to the car. Joel drove you and Sarah to the regular ice cream place that the three of you always went to. 

“Stwabewwy!!” Sarah loved strawberry ice cream.

“I’ll get chocolate as usual.” You ordered.

“Coffee, please.” Joel ordered coffee flavored ice cream. 

You loved chocolate, he loved coffee, Sarah loved strawberry. Each of you had your own favorite and the three of you always shared a spoon for a taste with each other.  Any family that saw the three of you were definitely jealous of how harmonized your family was. 

"Can I have a little sister or little brother?" Sarah suddenly asked. 

"Hmm?" You raised your eyebrows with the ice cream spoon still in your mouth.

Joel didn't expect his daughter to ask for a sibling so he was shocked too.

"Emma has a baby sister, Katie has a baby brother. I want to have one too." Sarah ate her ice cream and bounced on her seat. 

"Well, that's uh.." Joel didn't know what to say because he needed your consent because you would be the one carrying a baby inside you for 9 whole months.

You just stared at Joel because you also didn't know what to say. You hadn't had the time to talk about having another baby with Joel since you got married because you were too focused on putting Sarah to school, expanding your cafe, and Joel also got another big project. So the two of you were super busy. 

"What do you think mama?" Joel passed the question to you.

You widened your eyes.

"Hmm." You just hummed and chuckled. 

Sarah pouted and finished her ice cream. The three of you went home after.

"I'm happy she had an amazing first day, Joel." You sighed as you sat on the couch after putting Sarah to bed.

"Me too, baby." Joel sat across from you on the armchair.

You and Joel enjoyed your night in the living room with a glass of wine. Talking about his day, your day, Sarah and what she asked you and Joel earlier. Suddenly, Joel stared at you. 

"Can we have one more?" Joel suddenly asked.

"What do you mean?" You sipped on your wine. 

"You'll look so beautiful pregnant, baby. And it would be nice to see our little one with a mix of you and me running around, playing with Sarah." Joel chuckled.

"All of sudden?" You raised your eyebrows.

"Can we have one more? Pretty please." Joel begged you with his brown puppy eyes.

You just gave him a smirk and shrugged.

"Is that a yes, maybe or a no?" Joel didn't understand your reaction.

You smirked and shrugged again.

"Just so you know, I'm ovulating today which means.." Joel cut you.

"Oohh I'm sooo gonna make you pregnant." Joel put his wine glass on the table and crawled his way to you and started kissing you.

You chuckled as you put your wine glass on the table then leaned back to get a comfortable position. You knew you and Joel were gonna make babies tonight. And yes, on your couch.

"We can't let Sarah see us." You whispered. 

"She's sleeping, don't worry. We just have to be quiet." Joel whispered to your ear. 

"Okay. We gotta stay quiet." You giggled.

Joel pressed his lips to yours as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, caressing his back. He put his hands on your waist and snaked his way to the back of your thigh. Pulling and lifting you suddenly to sit on him. Your legs were now locking his waist. You started feeling aroused and you grinded on his hard cock under his pants. He groaned at your movements and his hands moved its way to your breast under your tank top squeezing it gently. You moaned in his mouth. 

You couldn’t wait to feel him so you slipped your fingers to his pants trying to pull his pants off. He understood what you wanted and took off his pants and shirt. You pulled your shorts then he helped you take off your tank top. The two of you went back to position on the couch kissing, touching, and moaning. Joel’s hand cupped your cunt and he felt you so wet.

“So wet for me darlin’.” He mumbled while kissing you.

“Uhm-hmm.” You were so aroused and you couldn’t speak any words.

Joel smirked as he brushed his tip to your clit making you moan loud.

“Shh..” Joel covered your mouth.

You squeezed your eyes shut trying not to make any sound as much as possible. Then Joel brushed his tip again on your clit, teasing it before he slid himself inside you. Both of you moaned softly. You clenched your hand on Joel’s shoulder and he buried his face to your chest. Taking your breast to his mouth, sucking your nipple, biting it gently, arousing you. He started to move his hips and thrusted inside you. You wanted to scream his name but you couldn’t wake Sarah so you clenched your jaw and buried your face to his shoulder. Joel too was trying so hard not to make any loud noise because he didn’t want his daughter to see their parents doing it. 

Joel kissed the inside of your breast before he raised his head needing to kiss your lips. His hand cupped your jaw and kissed you, licking your lips and tongue. Swallowing each other moans. Your hand caressing his back and he did the same to you. 

His moves suddenly got faster and the sound of his skin bumping on your skin were louder. You bounced on him and lost your balance. So you flew your hand to the couch instinctively for balance. Joel’s arm wrapped around you and kept his pace. You whimpered as you felt close. 

“Fuck.” Joel groaned.

“J-joel..” You called his name feeling so close to your climax.

Joel knew you were coming so he quickened his pace and he was close to coming too. You suddenly felt vibrations throughout your body and you shook. You clenched your hand that was resting on the couch and squeezed your eyes shut panting. You came. Joel groaned as he came inside you, releasing his seed to grow a baby inside you. He buried his face to your chest as he caught his breath. You rested your chin on top of his head and chuckled. Joel put his hand behind your head, laid you on your back, and rested your head on the couch's arm. He kissed your lips, then your cheek to your right jaw, and your chin. 

“Hope that works.” Joel chuckled and kissed your lips again.

“I can’t wait to be pregnant.” You chuckled and caressed his bearded jaw.

“Another round?” Joel bumped his forehead to yours and you nodded.

*door creaking*

"What was that?" You gasped.

Joel froze and looked towards the stairs. 

"I think that's our cue." You whispered and giggled softly. 

“Wait, let me finish.” Joel kept thrusting inside you.

"Mommy! Daddy!" You heard Sarah scream and cry.

"Shit! Joel!" You pushed Joel and he groaned softly as he pulled out from you.

You grabbed your clothes and hurriedly dressed up ignoring the dripping cum on your thigh then ran upstairs to check on Sarah. Joel followed you behind.

 "Hey, sweetie. Why are you awake?" You crouched to her and stroked her head.

"What's wrong babygirl?" Joel panted. 

"I had a nightmare." She buried her face in your chest.

"Oh baby, come on, mommy and daddy’s here. You’re okay." You lifted her and brought her to your bedroom.

Joel looked at you and made a cross with both of his arms. He was giving you a sign to put Sarah back to her bedroom because both of you weren’t done with your night. You chuckled softly and shook your head. Joel pressed his palms together and mouthed “Please”. He begged you. You mouthed back at him, “Tomorrow, I promise.” He put his hand on his waist and the other rubbed his face in frustration.

“You’re sleeping with mommy and daddy tonight.” You laid her on the bed.

Joel climbed to his side of the bed. And Sarah was now lying between you and Joel. 

“Daddy’s here.” Joel patted his daughter’s tummy gently to help her sleep. 

After a few pats, Sarah was already back in her dreams. She was probably having a sweet dream now because you could see a smile on her face.

“I think she’s asleep.” You whispered and giggled.

“But I’m not.” Joel smirked and snaked his hand to cup your breast.

“Joel!” You yelled but in a whisper. 

You slapped his hand and he pulled back his hand rubbing it. 

“Ouch!” He whispered.

“So Sarah’s your number one?” He asked you with a  soft voice so he didn’t wake Sarah.

You smirked and shrugged. Just like he did to you last time.

“I guess I’m number two then.” Joel chuckled, moved closer, and extended his arms wrapping you and Sarah. 

To be continued…

Taglist:

@lovelyygirl8 @skysmiller @moonlightdivine @crocodiile @angie2274 @pulchritudinousrogers @peqchsoup @msecho19 @happinessinthebeing @nyotamalfoy @nakedmoondiaries @dzaga890 @pa1g3-t0mm0 @prettysbliss @wanniiieeee @one-sweet-gubler @x-ap0llo-x @feministfanboi @ordinarylokix @afterglowsb-tch13 @padgraysonssram8re @tomorrowseverything @hummusxx @iranispunk @mrsyixingunicorn10 @likeanimagepassingby2 @mediocrewallflow3r @pedr0swh0r3 @mxtokko @dorck26 @cascactus28 @cheyxfu @stupidthoughtsinwriting @undermoonlightwalk @bigmoodyjoody @humanbug @sarahhxx03 @krisviciousx @quixscentsposts @dgct2 @dgraysonss @heybabyshae @fluffyspaceprincess @toottmblr @avengersfan25 @xixxala @dianaffddz @onzayhe @violetwitchmcu @welcometomyworldwithoutrules @kelh27

[mikiuu6]

OH MY GOD IM IN LOVE WITH YOUR YANDERE TOMAS WRITING if you're taking in reqs can we get a yandere JOHNNY TOO KYFHKDHDKYD

Sure! and tranks for being the first person to make a req <3

If you don't like it, let me know so I can modify it and make it more to your liking.

♥︎‹ 𖤩 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 .

TW: dark concept, yandere themes, violence, unhealthy jealousy, little carefulness, non-gender specific (yay) and song lyrics (not at all).

johnny cage x reader. (yandere version)

✦ tomas vrbada version here!

a/n: If you read my previous post you could notice that the theme will be the same, so I don't think I have anything to add other than enjoy this update and thank you for supporting.

> used song: always forever by cults.

＞﹏＜"You and Johnny met in an unfavorable situation, but that did not prevent you from forming a bond of friendship between you, nor did it prevent him from developing an obsession and unhealthy love you time went by."

📷 ▋୨★« ་. 01.- At first I wouldn't believe that he would feel something for you, because usually in the this circumstances in which he met someone his relationship didn't last long, but with you it was different. He would make sure it was and it would last.

📷 ▋୨★« ་. 02.- ¿Intense? Nah, publicly at least not... But when no one was looking he was someone intense and jeaously. He need was to do things discreetly (although it may not seem like it) since position greatly risks he's plans and he relationship with you. He could give up all his fame for you, dedicate time to you… and dedicate himself to taming you so that you would be obedient every time he ordered you what to do.

📷 ▋୨★« ་. 03.- "SFW" Speaking of needs, he needed to mark you as his at any cost ¿you liked that? ¿you not liked that? It doesn't matter, the important thing for him was that you felt the same feeling that he has towards you, in bed he would dominate you and tell you many names pet. He liked to think that the two of you could even participate in an adult movie. Just to show that you are his and how he could make love to you like no one else.

📷 ▋୨★« ་. 04.- now is moment to.. ¿what if...? (This takes place before the last headcanon)

¿YOU AGREE TO HAVE A DATE WITH JOHNNY?

pov: Johnny proposes that you have a date in which you can become more intimate in their friendship and be able to declare his love for you.

YOU ACCEPTED.

He is very happy. It is perfect for both of us! Finally, you and him will be together forever. Nothing in the world will ever be able to separate them, whoever dares to try will never again see the lights reflected in himself, except in his poor beaten and disfigured body. I would make you someone who depends on him, that without him you feel like you would die and that only he is capable of healing that feeling. He liked to see you be someone submissive, that is sure because you are hi's own now.

─ "You and me, always forever" He exclaimed in a serene tone while his gaze was fixed and dark, he looked at you as if you were the greatest prize he could ever win.

now he would always keep you in his pocket.

[dulcewrites]

Fool Me Once (part 7)

Summary: Time at Dragonstone leads to tense encounters. (Wc: 5k)

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x reader (y’all know the drill tho)

A/N: we are finally in dragonstone! Yay??? Lmao it’s about to get a little bumpy for reader now that she’s in the dragon’s den if you will. But I’m excited to explore team black’s dynamic. Or at least I think the dynamic would be since we really did not get that in the show. Also as our fab five (the nickname I have for fmo reader, Aemond, Aegon, Helaena, and quinton) are separated, I will be going back and forth between dragonstone and king’s landing. So we are gonna get lots of different povs which is fun

Fmo masterlist

But at last, the year of 129 AC would be one of great change for the House of the Dragon. Marked with death, triumph, and long simmering tensions boiling to the surface.

Many say the first turning of the tide was the departure of Prince Aemond Targaryen’s lady wife to Dragonstone… without him at her side. Speculation stirred around why she left; tongues ever wagging in court. Some say that it was an innocent as the young, and sprite Daella Targaryen insisting to see her ancestral home. Others had a more salacious take.

Gossip about a rift in the family swirled. One of the more of the inappropriate rumors was that youngest child of Prince Aemond was not actually his, but instead the illegitimate child of his lady wife and his brother Prince Aegon. Mushroom tells a story of the kind Queen Alicent sending away her good daughter in a fit of rage after finding out the truth. Many disputed this, nonetheless. Some claim the departure to Dragonstone was of Prince Daemon‘s demand. Court alight with the drivel of the Rogue Prince’s sexual proclivities. Talk of him and the Princess taking a special liking to Aemond’s lady wife. In more ways than one.

A more likely explanation came from Setpton Eustace. He emphasizes the smart and cunning nature of the family Aemond’s lady wife came from. Recounting that getting close to Princess Rhaenyra was just one step in a plan to landing marriage prospects for the little princess and princeling. It was said by Eustace that this angered Prince Aemond. His ire towards his sister and her family well documented.

Regardless of why she left, it was clear that family dynamics were bound to change. Whispers of a weakened house beginning to mount across the small folk. One prophet pushed the notion of the House of the Dragon being in grave trouble.

What would come in the follow years could only be explained by the Targaryen house words - Fire and Blood.

Eventually you get used to the smell of Dragonstone. In a way, it is no worse than the one that inhabits the Red Keep; just different. If you think about the smell too much, it makes you long for home. Your real one. The one that is clean, and warm. Nothing like the places you find yourself in now. At least at the Red Keep, you could facilitate a sense of domesticity with redecorating. At the Dragonstone, you are forced to stare at grey walls, and squint through dim lighting no matter how many candles are lit.

The stories you heard of Dragonstone were overflowing with fondness and reverence. Viserys was open about his love for place. You don’t know if it is the lack of Targaryen blood or if it really is just an ugly old castle.

Despite your feelings towards it, Daella had made her peace with everything. She is adaptable in the way most children are, wholly excited to be doing something different while somewhere different. Her interest in dragons only growing stronger. The high Valyrian lessons continuing. It was hard to complain if she was happy. Though her fascination with Daemon makes you pause.

You try not to think too much into it. She is at the age where everyone is interesting, including the new dragon riders around her. He must pick up on your skepticism. The head tilt and wry grin he gives you when you insist on sitting in on anything that involves her.

Quinton sticks to your side with heavy proclivity. The only time you can get away from everyone at Dragonstone was walks on the beach. It was your favorite part of the Island. The salty water of the Blackwater Bay cleared your head.

A close second of places your frequent being the Sept. There was something haunting about it. While the one in the Red Keep and in King’s Landing were grand and open. The one on Dragonstone was closed in. Just you and the statues of the Faith. Many say it is bad luck to stare at the statues of the Stranger for too long. Looking at the face of death apparently bringing bad luck. But all you can do is stare. The masts sculpture looks more animal than man.

You have accepted your fate by now. Those who go against the grain must be prepared for every option. You try to make the Stranger a familiar friend rather than foe. You memorize his face and pray for the day it does not scare you.

Helaena’s ears may be just as good as her eyes. Listening is a special trait, her mother would say.

It was supposed to be helpful. A teasing remark to help Helaena feel more comfortable about her dreams; the ones that her mother will never understand. It only made Helaena feel more isolated. Aegon would roll his eyes at the remark, and Aemond would just look curiously. Like the way she looks at her bugs. Trying to inspect and take in everything while knowing she will never truly know what it means to be them.

But Helaena does see and hear all. With the other personalities that inhabit the Red Keep, her family, it is easy to slip into the background. Easy to observe and wait till she knows what she wants to say. Your introduction into Helaena’s life had forced her to be seen. You weren’t there for anyone else, at least not in the beginning; just for Helaena. She soaked up that attention in a way that makes her crazy sometimes. The spiraling feeling, she got when she first met you reentering while you are away. She is back to being silent… invisible. A little mad.

She wonders if you would ever forgive her if you found out she was the one that brought up the prospect of you marrying Aemond. It was good thought in theory. Helaena saw how anxious you became over your parents’ insistence to start taking marriage offers seriously. At least if you were at the Red Keep, the two of you would be together. You would a part of the most powerful family in the Seven Kingdoms, and mother to dragon riders. It seemed like a no brainer to hint at it to her grandsire, who later convinced her mother.

She could delude herself into thinking it would work.

Daughters always secretly fear becoming their mothers. Following in cycles that feel like they will never be broken. She never felt more like Alicent when she watched you get married. She woke up that morning with the same floaty feeling she gets before a dream, except the dream did not come that day. But feeling lingered the whole day, and into the feast that night.

The dream finally comes years later. Dark hair, green eyes, red lips pulled into an attractive smile. She never told you; she never told anyone about that initial vision. Finding the words for what she sees has always been difficult. Even after moons of experiencing them, she still cannot predict how bad everything can be till it is going to shit in front of her. It makes her extra cautious to speak on them.

Perhaps it would have been better for you to be long away from the Red Keep married to some lord. Helaena likes to think she is better than Aegon and Aemond, and she is in many ways. But one thing they all share is their ability to be selfish when they want something. Love transforms that into an even nastier ordeal.

It is why Helaena is not surprised when Aegon began to follow you around like a kitten that wants its mother. She knew it was a matter of time before Aegon grew painfully attached to someone. Deepest of feelings often sprout from aching, wounds inside.

Though the reciprocation of feelings, whatever they may be on your part, did make Helaena pause. It was too easy to see what everything was in beginning. Men will always bend to the whims of their desires. And being desirable is a trait you wield so simply. But time has passed, masks have been dropped, and now the visions become blurred.

Helaena is not sure of your endgame anymore. She’s not sure even you know. If it was to send her and her siblings into a state of uneasiness, then you had succeeded wonderfully.

One day, she finds Aegon laying flat on his back on the balcony of the room they share. Eyes shut, and limbs laid out like a starfish. It was a rare, blindly sunny day in King’s Landing. The bright lighting only made his bags more pronounce. She was sure he had been laying there since the morning, right after the letter from you came in. The single letter for Helaena. She noticed how Aegon’s face fell.

She doesn’t see Aemond these days. Flashes of hair and leather catching her eye as he goes to his chambers or to the dragon pit. And when he is around, he is short and curt. More distant than normal. A claim she did not think was possible.

Oddly enough, the only person not on edge is their mother. Alicent seems to be floating around. Lighter than Helaena had seen her in years. She knows it is because of her half-sister. Alicent had scurried away, half smile on her face when a letter came for her.

Watching her mother in pain and sadness twisted parts in Helaena that she did know existed. Seeing Alicent happy, even in all its ephemeral glory, was worth taking and pushing down the floaty feeling in Helaena’s head.

She fears the dream will be too late again. Something is coming, and none of them are ready. They never are.

Before you left, Otto had given you a list of things to accomplish while at Dragonstone. Some things more realistic than others.

Get close to Rhaenyra.

You would be lying if you didn’t admit that she was a fascinating figure. A looming presence over everyone at King’s Landing despite never being around.

You have watched Helaena’s face fall when Viserys calls her Rhaenyra. Or notice Aegon’s eyes glaze over when Otto reprimands him about acting like a proper prince. You have helped Aemond remove the sapphire from his eye socket more times than you’d like to. Alicent’s whole demeanor changes at the sound of her name. All paths lead back Viserys’s first born.

And the most interesting part is that you do not think she even notices. It makes sense; of course, a princess and named heir would not fret over being the center of attention. She was born and bred to think she was important. More important than others.

“I thought you would like some water,” you bring out a pitcher to the outdoor area.

Rhaenyra’s head was leaning back against the chair, eyes shut, and one hand on her protruding belly. She opens her eyes softly, deep Iris saturated in calmness. Fresh air was always nice during this stage in the pregnancy. Took the mind off the uncomfortable feeling that begins to mount.

As you sit beside her, you notice the dark speck flying in the distance. Just based off the slightly bigger body of the dragon, you assume it is Jace on Vermax.

“Despite the invitation,” she begins softly. “I was worried about you coming here. Well, more worried about what you may have heard about me.”

Rhaenyra takes a sip of the water, and you notice the slight beads of sweat on her forehead.

“What do you mean Princess?”

Rhaenyra smiles, strained. “I am sure Aemond had mentioned me, mentioned my children in a less than glowing light. He still blames me for their mistake.”

You open your mouth, then close it. Often you felt like people expected you to speak on what happened to Aemond. A traumatic event that happened before your family even came to the Red Keep. While Aegon, Alicent, and Helaena recount the story in distaste and anger on Aemond’s behalf. Rhaenyra seems to brush it off as a moment of bad judgement by her son. The truth lies somewhere in the middle.

“Excuse my bluntness, but Aemond does not speak of you,” it was the truth. He was the one directly changed by whole ordeal, and you could tell by the way he avoided mentioning his sister at all costs.

Rhaenyra nods slowly. She seems not to believe you.

“But I am glad that I am here,” you try to shift the conversation. “Daella enjoys being here as well.”

While Daella had embraced the new scenery, Alaric’s attitude seemed to shift. A normally quiet baby seemingly on the verge of tears at every moment.

“I saw the egg she brought with her; it hasn’t hatched yet?”

The question takes you by surprise. Aemond had been adamant about both kids getting eggs in their cradle, the way he never did. You shake your head no. The deep green egg of Daella’s remained intact.

“I’m sure it will happen soon, or perhaps she will be like her father and claim one,” she says reassuringly. Except you do not need that reassurance. It sounds horrible, but a new dragon is the last thing you want to be worried about right now. But there is a sense that her not having one soon would be some sort of inditement on her.

You have seen the way Rhaena frets over it and have heard about the way Aemond did. You would hate to think your daughter felt like her worth was affected over a dragon. That having an unruly creature on her side will make her more valuable.

“But will it change anything,” you question. “Whether she does or does not any time soon. I know dragons are supposed to symbolize being closer to the Gods but does it really. Especially as a young girl?”

Rhaenyra’s brown furrow, pretty face pulled into deep thought. It is something she has thought about.

“No, I guess not,” she begins to pick at her rings. “At least not for me. I used to think that having Syrax meant that I was special, and because of that I would be valued more. Even compared to certain men in my life. That being named heir meant I would not have to go through certain things. In a way, I did not; my life has been different from other noble women. It will be different from other women. But I am also aware that nothing I do will ever make up for what is between my legs. Having a dragon does not change that for me. It unfortunately will not for Daella.”

Her candidness takes you by surprise. You can tell it is something that haunts her so deeply. For the first time, you feel sad for Rhaenyra. She is trapped in the same cycle you all are. Getting entangled in the same game but being the ones punished for it. The only difference is that she may eventually have the power to change it. If she will be is up for debate.

“It does not change the way the men in your family look at you, even the ones closest to you,” the words tumble out of your mouth. The flood gates that seem to open with Rhaenyra shut quickly.

The slight accusation towards Daemon or Viserys makes her back stiff. You must bite your tongue to say the next thing you are thinking. Even Targaryen women must fear those around them. The system will never be even.

———

Group dinners had become a necessary annoyance while being at Dragonstone. Some nights were you able to eat earlier when the younger kids do. Daella and you locked away in the apartments. But most nights you were all but obligated to entertain the drivel that Daemon and Rhaenyra could come up with.

After your tense conversation with Rhaenyra, you felt even more anxious about breaking bread. If there the tension was noticeable, Daemon did nothing to try and make dinner as peaceful as possible.

“Perhaps our guest can give the girls some advice on married life,” Daemon finally pipes up. Slick smile on his face, as looks around the table. “What to do… what not to do.”

Cunt.

Your eyes drift to Rhaenyra, who sits at his side silent; lilac eyes on the plate in front of her. She seems to do that a lot whenever Daemon takes over a conversation. Either goes along with whatever point Daemon is trying to make or shrinks into herself in the worst way. It is nothing like you have seen from Rhaenyra when she is outside of this dynamic.

“You have been married three times; I am sure you have ample experience to help your daughters.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes flicker up at that, eyeing her husband. The table is silent before Daemon lets out a bark of laughter. Head thrown back as if it is the funniest thing he has ever heard. Rhaena shifts in her seat next to you, clearly uncomfortable by the scene in front of her.

Baela looks pissed, while Jace looks embarrassed by the whole ordeal. Funnily enough, the only person who can meet your eyes is Lucerys. A curious look in his big eyes. A warning in his eyes.

“And wit to match,” Daemon grins, a deep glimmer in his eyes.

It is the same amused look that Daemon gave Aemond at dinner moons ago. Daemon, who wants to be constantly entertained, would find Aemond what said and did, thrilling. Dispute the fact that the targets of Aemond’s ire were now his sons. Men like Daemon never truly settle down, and they never put their needs above others. They seek out the gallant behavior in others that they can no longer drum up themselves.

Aemond is all the youth and virility that comes with Targaryen blood. Daemon would find him compelling. More compelling than he has found a member of his family in a long time.

Rhaenyra has been sobered by motherhood, and the pending passing of the throne. The weight of the world changing the way she looks at everything. Gone is the young girl with little care in the world. Gone is the flush of youth that more than likely endured her to not only Daemon, but to others.

Daemon is someone is who thrives off making everyone else in the room pause. The Rogue Prince who wants all to stop and wonder what his next move will be. To let Daemon catch you on the back foot is a sign of weakness. He talks the way he spars. Fluid yet full of surprises.

Rhaenyra looks at her husband with an incredulous look. Then looks back at you with a scowl.

“I am tired,” she mutters, working her way out of seat slowly. Daemon makes little effort to help his pregnant wife. Jace instead gets up to help. Seeing it as an out - Luke, Baela, and Rhaena all get up as well.

Daemon and you stay seated for a moment. He gives you that same grin you have come accustomed to by now.

“You know I think I might have judged you prematurely.”

You raise a brow in efforts to get him to explain what he means by that, but it never comes. He gets up from the table leaving you alone. Rhaenyra’s frown plays in your head. At least you can see that your marriage is not the only fragile one.

It did not take you long to see something is deeply wrong with Lucerys Velaryon. Every thought you had about him was based on the less than promising things you had heard during your time in the Red Keep. And of course, the constant reminder on Aemond’s face.

The skepticism was right, but not for the reasons you assumed it would be. Luke, at a horribly young age, picked up a knife and did something that even the most morbid and seasoned of warriors would hesitate to do. Something is wrong with him the way something is wrong with Aemond.

There is something invisible holding everyone together, and you are sure that imaginary thing broke in Aemond and Lucerys that night at Driftmark. While Aemond was fine leaving the damage on floor till it crept up on him, Luke seems to be spending his life desperately trying to pick up those pieces. But it won’t happen without true remorse. Healing without an apology is not possible. So now, two broken people exist in constant fear.

It makes him dangerous in a way you did not expect. A flighty, anxious eye taker. The irony.

———

“Harrenhal is said to be a cursed place.”

The voice sends a bit of a chills down Luke’s spine. He turns to see you leaning against the study door, wine in hand. Bright eyes full of mirth. You point to the book in his hand.

“We have that book back at the castle,” you point at the one in his hand, as you walk into the room. “An… interesting read.”

The two of you had not been in the same room alone before; it sends Luke’s brain into overdrive. He has to remind himself that he had no reason to be nervous. You were here as a reprieve, at least that is what his mother said. And he always trusts his mother. Even when she has given them reason not to. Under all the splendor and false hope, he knows she means well.

Baela and Rhaena have fully embraced you being at Dragonstone, and Luke trusts them as well. His brother gets embarrassing moony eyed when you are around. He tries to be respectful of his betrothed, but Baela seems to pay it no mind. In fact, Luke believes she is relieved your presence takes attention away from the decision made at the Red Keep. He understands her apprehension.

But Luke has always followed Jace’s lead; he tries to do the same now with you.

“She is harmless, brother.”

Luke highly doubts that. This family does not toil with the feelings or thoughts of those seen as harmless. Harmless people get crushed under the weight of it all. Those to be feared or micromanaged get invited in. Told to sink or swim.

He wakes up every day and reminds himself he has no reason to be worried about the future. He is a Targaryen. He will not be casted out. He will not be crushed.

You lean over him to get a better view of the book, and he gets a whiff of helichrysum and sage. One hand on the table, the other on the back of his chair. Luke blinks rapidly at the page, not daring to look away from the book.

“Blood mixed into the mortar,” you whisper. “I wonder if the horrors within towers and walls truly haunt the houses who stake claim to it.”

Luke feels like he might throw up.

He finally dared to turn, and he sees the side of your face illuminated by the fire the room. Your face as calm as it is unsettling. Like the silver and red spiders that inhabit Dragonstone. The first time they all came back there, after his mother and Daemon had married, he thinks back to finding one on the lapel of his red suit coat. The scream he let out was blood curdling. He remembers the strange look Daemon gave to him. He gives that look a lot. Perplexed and annoyed.

Luke was sure Daemon disliked him for the same reasons Daemon dislikes a lot of people. He does not live up to the expectations Daemon has. Or maybe Daemon had no expectations, the dissatisfaction lies in Luke showing him exactly what he anticipated

But no man would marry his daughter off to someone he saw no use in…. right?

“I heard you like to draw,” you change the subject easily.

Like nods slowly, feeling embarrassed that Rhaena or her mother probably brought it up to you. They tend to gush about the most minute things to make him feel comfortable.

“I am so envious of people who have artistic talent,” you sigh wistfully. “Maybe you can teach me?”

Being alone with you is the last thing Luke wanted, but even then, he finds himself nodding again a bit entranced by the whole situation happened before him. You smile bright before turning to leave.

Luke lays his head down on the cool table to let out a shaky breath. Gods be good.

When Quinton joined the kingsgaurd, his mother cried.

Full on chest sobs, and hyperventilation. The whole scene was… a lot.

In beginning he was sure it was out of fear, now all of her children were away. Both of her sons, taking of a lifelong oath and her only daughter married and far from her family. It was not till her mother calmed down that he realized it was because she expected grandchildren from them. He had laughed at that being the thing she was most heartbroken about. They had joined the most honored spots in Seven Kingdoms, and the pitter patter of feet is what she wanted.

He never thought about children. He has accepted kids were not going to be a part of his life, for better or for worse. That was until he became your protector.

Life is funny in that way. Never letting someone find solid ground. Once you are sure of something, it will be taken away. Your introduction in his life flipped things upside down. Protecting the family was ironically easier to do what real emotions were not involved. When he did not have to question ever person met with, and how they could harm you.

Now he at a dragon castle, utterly confused. Why would any want to harm you begin with?

“I need my own master of whisperers while here,” you said lowkey as you bounced a babbling Alaric in your arms. “People who have been at Dragonstone for longer than us.”

All Quinton can do is give you a look. You know it well. It says it that really a good idea. You roll your eyes in response.

“Loyalties can be tested and broken, just look at Jayne,” you say sourly. “Not everyone here will be completely loyal to Rhaenyra or Daemon, and perhaps they will know something that can help us. Someone unassuming.”

You make a funny face at Alaric, whispering things in a baby voice at him.

“And I know exactly who can help.”

Your eyes go from Alaric, and they flash to the corner of the large room. A young boy with shaggy blonde hair, and a freckled face stands awkwardly in the corner.

“He is just a boy,” Quinton says confused. You grin at him slyly.

“Exactly,” you go to stand up, shifting Alaric in your arms. “Hold him for me.”

Before he can oppose, you place your child in his arms. Quinton just sat there stiffly. Alaric squirms, and he fears that the crying will start again. He tries to bounce him the way you do but he is sure it is no use. Nothing is compares to the embrace of a mother.

As much as the name gesture warmed him heart, being around kids is something he had to get used to. He often had to remind himself that they were half you.

Half spawn of Aemond, but also half you. The prayer is that the good part you instilled in them will outweigh whatever part their useless father put in them. Plus raising children is hard. His mother used to say that it was like cooking. Sometimes your stew would come out perfect. Other times you would just have grimace and eat through the bad taste. Not the best comparison for a young boy to hear, but he understood.

Quinton looks up to see you laughing at something the young boy said. His big blue eyes staring at you in slight awe. It is clear the young lad doesn’t speak to women outside his mother, the wife of a lord her at Dragonstone, often.

The effect you have on people is easy to see, and lately Quinton sees how quickly you are to use it. He supposes he can’t blame you for exploiting the nature of those around you. He can only hope that the side you show him is the full one.

Daella runs into the great hall area to you, an exhausted maidservant following behind. Daella’s short legs can barely keep up with herself. He watches you pick her up watching amused as she explains something exuberantly. Alaric begins to whine. Big lilac eyes filling with tears. This place disturbs him he thinks.

This place disturbs Quinton too.

———

As sun begins to set on over the mountains and castle, a soft breeze carries in the wind through each crevice and dip.

Inside the dragonmount, a low grumble spreads through the walls. Large tan wings spread out to their full, and withered yellow eyes blink into the darkness. A familiar warmth spreading through the large dragon.

The Bronze Fury feeling a presence he has not in years.

I’ve been seriously slacking on the Taglist so I’m sorry for that but here are people I remembered asking. Sorry if I miss anyone: @voniikg @afro-hispwriter @florent1s @crispmarshmallow @tremendouswolfsaladranch @strawbrryquinn @widemiffyhappy @msmarvel-19 @dc-marvel-girl96 @xkennobi @fanfics4ever @hydrationqueensworld @lyra689 @blazzlynch @httyd-marauders @bregarc @b00kdiary @grey-water-colors @mercedesdecorazon @flowerpotmage @bstorn @poisonedsultana @papery-maniac @its-sam-allgood @yu3kkii @hvx @leoramage @neenieweenie @stargaryenx @rey26 @lazypinkpig @blackravena @s0urmarvel @elleclairez @rebelfleur22 @inpraizeof @luvremlu @clora95 @blacpiink @let-love-bleeds-red @iwanttohitmyself @alastorhazbin @kitkat-writes-stuff @carriellie @aloneatpeace @ensolleildelune @landlockedmermaid77

[seretoningghost]

Tomura Shigaraki x Male Reader

Warnings : SMUT.

You can also find my new - and older works posted on my Wattpad! AnonymousN3rd!

I'm still super unsure if Tomura is exactly yay or nay just yet... Like yeah he's hot but... The shit he does..

I- I just love mafia bosses so fucking much- and his outfit at the end of season 5???? WOOOOOF!

(IVE ONLY WATCHED UP TO SEASON 6 SO NO SPOILERS)

Also I listened to Lovejoy - Portrait of a Blank Slate, its just soooo Tomura's vibe. 😎

Power Bottoming specifically mafia boss Tomura at the end of season 5 is literally my brainrot rn.

Y/Ns quirk is vibration where they can make their body or just select parts of themselve vibrate - lightly to super intense, like useful level intense.

His body naturally vibrates at a unnoticeable different level and it makes it so Shigaraki's quirk doesn't work on him.

THIRD PERSON POV

"What can I do for you hmm?!?"

"... Leave..."

"YESSIRR!"

A deafening silence settled in once re-destro left.

Shigaraki stood, propped against his crutch, unsure what to do all by himself.

His comrades were eating sushi, and this was the first time he felt good and was left alone.

Shigaraki turned silently, his crutch making clicks as he walked down the hallway.

Absently rubbing his right hand against his pants, all feeling hadn't returned exactly yet - but that was only temporary.

Walking down the silent hallway he could hear destros followers cheering get quieter.

Until they were practically unheard.

"Well... The capes nice."

Shigaraki paused, turning to the voice.

"Yeah? Well you did always say I was like a mafia boss..."

"... Fuck your voice is hot..." Y/N growled, smirking.

".. Would you like me to say more words?" Shigaraki grinned, teasing.

Y/N stepped forward, circling Tomura and drinking in the new outfit.

"Why did you get something so hot when you know your just gonna destroy it?" Y/N purred, his eyes clouding with lust as he practically roamed Tomura's body.

"Thats the best part, they get me all the suits I need."

"Oh?" Y/N's eyes glinted as he snapped his gaze to Shigaraki's, Y/Ns body vibrating breifly with unbridled lust.

Shigaraki had been fuck buds with Y/N enough to know what that meant.

"Well... How is everything going with LOV?" Y/N shifted.

"Its going good, I'm going to initiate your plan soon... But I think I need some compisation.... For it...~" Shigaraki grinned.

Y/N smirked, looking over Shigaraki again.

Y/N's hand vibrated breifly as he gestured to Tomura.

"You sure your doctor said your allowed to receive payment?" Y/N said with a shit eating grin, almost as if he was gonna snicker.

Shigaraki grinned wide.

"Well... If they didn't..... Who cares? They'll just have to patch me back up when were done~..."

...

The air was hot and unbearable.

Loud bed squeaking and creaking as Y/N slammed his hips down on Tomura, wet slaps could be heard - Tomura's raspy voice moaning beneath Y/N.

Shigaraki laying on the bed, groping tight on Y/Ns voluptuous hips.

Shigaraki's cape discarded and forgotten on the floor, lube haphazardly thrown to the floor without regard to possible future need.

"O-Oh- Oh god... Y/N! More!" Tomura moaned, a high pitched whine leaving his lips soon after.

Pushing his head further back into the matress with euphoria, his hair sprawling across the bed.

Y/N desperately wanted to tease Tomura about how Y/N actually ran LOV now, and how his mentor might feel - but a long winded tease didnt seem fitting.

But something about riding the ex leader of LOV, the same guy who handed it over for some sex - while all the members of the orginization didnt actually know that Y/N ran it... Just really made it even sexier.

Y/N moaned softly, back curving in pleasure as Y/N bounced his hips.

Y/N grabbed hold of Shigaraki's tie again, holding it like a leash as he grinned - moaning and whining as he rode him.

Shigaraki's breath hitched, before it was almost cut off - enough where he wouldn't pass out, but his body still begged for more air - it was-

"So... Sexy..." Shigaraki moaned, squeezing his nails into the supple flesh of Y/N's hips.

Shigaraki's cock twitched deep within Y/N.

Shigaraki stared at the view, Y/N was so damn sexy in the dim lighting of the room.

Shigaraki's eyes clouded with lust as he stared with longing, desire, and hunger.

Y/N reached his free hand down, taking a firm grip of his own cock and giving it a ample stroking.

"Ah..." Shigaraki moaned, eyes glinting with lust at the scene.

Shigaraki would be thrusting right now to deepen the pleasure - but he tried earlier, his body is still too achy.

"M-More~... Aah!" Shigaraki moaned.

Y/N using his quirk to vibrate his body.

Shigaraki gasped for air, back arching roughly.

"F-fuck-"

And with a final moan Shigaraki came, Y/N whimpering and riding a bit more.

Y/N mewled, cumming, slowing down his pace to allow the two of them to ease down from their high.

Both panting when Y/N finally stopped, his thighs shivering as he panted heavily, Tomura still deep inside his guts.

Y/N had his head hanging low as he slouched forward, his hands on Tomura's abdomen.

It was quiet as the room slowly lost its heat, Tomura could feel the heat of his orgasm slowly leaking out of Y/N and down what little of his cock wasn't inside Y/N.

"So... I hope your ready for more~.... Because I'm not done yet~..." Y/N grinned, looking up to Tomura.

Shigaraki stared quietly for a minute, then grinned as he ran one hand up from Y/Ns thigh to his hip.

"Your so dirty... You know that?" Shigaraki teased.

[lurkingshan]

Happy wednesday!

So I was bored and thought I would ask a silly question.

From the bl couples we know and love, who do you think, if given the opportunity, would go completely overboard in their valentine day's celebrations? And what would they do?

Rose💜

Oh, Rose, what a delightful question. Now, if I may offer an observation to give context for this list: Valentine's Day is a specific kind of romantic celebration that many loving couples simply do not bother with. It's a cheesefest, a celebration of consumerism, and often a very public display of love that lots of folks just don't go in for, so a couple's absence from this list does not indicate a lack of genuine affection. Valentines Day is for simps (affectionate). And, in most (but not all) couples, there is only one simp in the relationship. With that said, let's talk about the top 10 simps in bl.

Karan, Cherry Magic Thailand

Let's get this out of the way right off the top, because Karan has reached levels of simpitude previously unknown to man. He is exactly the kind of nerd who would make a big embarrassing deal about this holiday while Achi blushes his way through the day. I believe he has learned from his bad date faux pas, however, so he will make sure to stick to things Achi actually likes and try to reign in the worst of his overspending to avoid making his boyfriend uncomfortable. I'm picturing a homemade lunchbox with heart shaped food, a big bouquet of flowers presented at the office in front of their coworkers, a romantic klongboat ride, and a sentimental gift like a framed photo.

Kurosawa, Cherry Magic Japan

Now you may think its cheating to include two different versions of the same character on this list, but I disagree because Kurosawa is the OG simp and their simping presents very differently. Kurosawa is going for a quieter display, making Adachi a nice dinner at home and reading him an original poem he composed on his lunch breaks. Adachi will blush and stammer and feel bad about not getting Kurosawa a gift, and Kurosawa will tell him his presence is gift enough.

Ten, Cooking Crush

Was there any doubt he would be on this list? Ten loves nothing more than a thoughtful, heartfelt act of service, and Valentines Day gives him a perfect excuse. He's making Prem a sentimental homemade meal tied to one of their cooking lesson memories, and he's created a new magnet featuring the two of them to go on Prem's oven mitt. Prem pretends to hate it but won't stop smiling every time Ten looks away, and later reveals he made them a heart-shaped dessert.

Yai, I Feel You Linger in the Air

Another poet for our list. Yai would love this cheesy ass holiday and take it as an excuse to dress Jom up all fancy, go dancing at the speakeasy, and whisper poetry into his ear to his heart's content. Jom with his modern POV on the holiday rolls his eyes at first, but then gets swept up in the romance and rewards Yai handsomely when they get home.

Hantae, Sing My Crush

This holiday was made for Hantae. He loves nothing more than being loud and embarrassing about his love for Baram. He has a whole Day of Fun planned for them, which Baram goes along with, pretending he didn't get Hantae anything until they get home and he pulls out his guitar to play a new original song he wrote for his man.

Gun and Cher, A Boss and A Babe

The rare simp4simp relationship, we have a twofer! Gun and Cher go all out on Valentines Day to the point of making it a competition for who can pull off the most surprises to make the other happiest. They do this at the office in full view of all their friends and coworkers, of course. In the end it's a draw and Gun lets the staff go home early to their sweethearts, everybody wins.

Gavreel, Gameboys

Picture Gavreel stalking Cairo around the house trying to smother him with kisses, attempting to cook a meal that he definitely burns, ands presenting Cairo with a new body pillow with his image on it for when they are apart. Cairo protests every step of the way, but is secretly touched and loving every minute.

Lian, Cutie Pie

Lian is a traditional romantic so he will be taking Kuea out for a fancy dinner, presenting him with a giant bouquet of flowers and the most expensive bottle of champagne available, and then taking him home for some sensual and loving missionary sex. Kuea eats it up.

Tinn, My School President

Did you think we were getting out of this list without mentioning our most promising young simp? Ha! Tinn loves this holiday and takes it as an excuse to engage in PDA all over campus. Gun returns the favor just to see him blush, and they end the day on a cute date out to an amusement park where they take lots of couple photos and generally nauseate all their friends with all their social media posts.

[bad268]

Best to Worst to Best (Ralf Aron X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/WEC

Requested: Nope, this was supposed to be an Inktober blurb but I liked the plot too much lol (Also, this is my 100th full-length fic, so yay!)

Warnings: Weddings, toxic cousin mentioned

POV: Second POV (You/your)

W.C. 1567

Summary: Sometimes, things need to be improvised.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

It was supposed to be the best day of your life. Your wedding day. Everyone always told you that it would be the best day of your life. However, it didn’t feel that way. Anything and everything that could have gone wrong, did.

First, your photographer was late. That was fine. They were extremely apologetic, and you forgave them because traffic was out of their control. Then, your bridal party lost your shoes. That was almost not fine. Thankfully, you had the same shoe size as one of your friends, so they let you borrow theirs. It's not a big deal yet, but you were starting to get suspicious. Next, your toxic cousin, whom you only invited because your aunt and uncle pressured you, spilled red wine on your ceremony outfit. That was not fine. You almost called it off then and there. You did not consider yourself crazed when it came to your wedding, but red wine on white did not mix. Finally, and the cherry on top, you found out that the press had found your location, shared it online, and now, the place was swarmed with fans. That was it.

“Just call it off,” you cried as you stormed out of the en suite and into the adjacent room where most of your party was sitting. “It’s all gone to shit.”

“Just take a breath, no need to do anything rash,” your right-hand person consoled as you sat on the bed. “It’s the best day of your life-”

“Some funny way of showing it huh?” You snapped, shooting up as you felt everything pile on top of you. “Everything is ruined and if this is supposed to be the best day of my life, what does that say about the rest of my life?”

“Calm down,” your parental figure tried to put their hand on your shoulder, but you stepped back. Even though you wanted comfort, no one in this room could have provided what you wanted. You wanted your fiance.

Blissfully unaware, Ralf was having a blast with his friends and family in their suite. Funny enough, it wasn’t your fiance who felt something was off first. It was his brother of all people. Paul was super close to you. Not only were you the perfect match for his brother, but you were the best race engineer he could ask for. He was also the one who set you up with Ralf in the first place. He liked to joke that he chose his favorite sibling. At that moment, however, he knew something was wrong, so he went to investigate.

He left the suite, not that anyone noticed; they thought he was getting something given that he was the best man after all. He ended up running into your right hand person who was frantically running around. They briefly ran through everything that had happened, and when you asked for a minute to yourself, no one could find you. 

“Such idiots,” he muttered to himself as he walked out of the building, and immediately spotted you sitting on the steps. He noticed that you were still wearing one of those silk robes that your friends bought you as a joke because they would make great pictures, and he wondered what all happened. He quickly sent a text to Ralf before moving to take his jacket off, placing it over your legs as he sat next to you. “Penny for your thoughts.”

“It’s supposed to be the best day of my life, Paul,” you cried and you leaned into his side and he pulled you into a hug. “Not to sound superficial or anything, but everything’s ruined.”

“What do you mean? Everyone is still here for you,” Paul tried to help, but it did not make much of a difference.

“Everyone’s here, but that’s making it worse!” You almost shouted. “If I had picked the right wedding party, someone would have remembered my shoes. If I had a backbone, I wouldn’t have invited my stupid cousin, and my outfit would not have been ruined. And if I had kept everything better hidden, the press wouldn’t be swarming the ceremony location. It’s all ruined, and there is nothing we can do about it.”

“Maybe I’m not the right person you need,” Paul insinuated as he heard the door opening before he started to pull away.

“No, Paul, he can’t see me right now. It’s still our wedding day, and it’s superstition,” you tried to pull him back down.

“Oh, so you are still open to getting married today?” Ralf chuckled as his friend led him carefully down the stairs. You turn around, wiping the tears from your eyes, and you see him walking blindly with a tie around his eyes. His friend and Paul helped Ralf sit down beside you as you laughed half-heartedly.

“Wasn’t this the tie you wore on our first date?” You pointed out as you played with the loose ends of it and held Ralf’s hand with your unoccupied hand.

“That was supposed to be a surprise, but yes,” Ralf replied as his friend and Paul went back into the suite. He held your one hand in both of yours as the hand that was twirling the tie moved down to rest against his shoulder. He took a deep breath as he ran his thumbs over your knuckles and said, “I know this isn’t the wedding you wanted or even planned, but we can still make it work.”

“How?” You responded fast as tears filled your eyes once again. You wanted to wipe them away, but it just felt like there was no point. “How would we ever make this work? The press swarmed my dream venue, and my outfit was completely ruined. It may be superficial, but it was what I wanted.”

“We improvise. Remember our first date?” He said. As if it were that easy, you thought, but replied that you remembered it. Of course, you did. “The original plan was dinner at the fancy restaurant you had been dying to try. However, I made the reservation for the wrong day, so we went mini golfing. That was all improvised.”

“I always wondered why you were overly dressed up for mini golf,” you chuckled absentmindedly.

“Yeah, I found out when I was driving to pick you up. I called to confirm and they said it was for the next week,” He chuckled with you. “We did end up going there for our second date, but if you think about it, our relationship started on improvisation. We can start our married life the same way.”

“Okay, Mr. Improv, how do you suggest we move forward?” You said, finally coming around to the idea. You also moved to pull the tie off his eyes only to see his eyes squeezed shut. “What are you doing? I want to see your eyes.”

“I’m not supposed to see you,” He replied seriously, but after being met with nothing in response from you, he peeked one eye open to see you staring back at him with a smirk. He opened both of his eyes after that, placed a small kiss on your nose, and said, “Did you still want to wear white?”

Two hours later, you found yourself in the backyard of your soon-to-be-in-law's house in an outfit that was definitely not wedding attire. Ralf ruined the surprise that he was taking you to Greece for your honeymoon, and he found an all-white, linen outfit that he thought you would like for the trip. That’s what you were wearing. 

He sent his groomsmen to the house to set up chairs for those closest to you while he helped you get ready. There was a tree in the backyard that acted as the perfect arch, and his parents had flowers growing in the yard. Sure, this was not what you originally hoped for, but it was as close to the original plan as you could get. 

You walked down the makeshift aisle with your parent, and when you reached the end, your parent placed your hands in Ralf’s. You stood there for a second, lost in each other’s eyes before you both realized something at the same time.

“Who is marrying us?” It was funny, really. Neither of you thought of the officiant throughout the chaos, but it seemed to be the most crucial part of the day.

“I cannot believe that’s what we forgot about,” You laughed. This time, you weren’t stressing. Maybe it was because you would look back at this day and think it was funny. Or maybe you thought Ralf had something else up his sleeve. “Did you think about this?”

“I thought through everything else,” he laughed with you along with most of your family. 

“You are lucky I think of these things,” Paul said as he stood up from beside his parents to stand between you and Ralf. “Guess who got their officiant license while you were both running around.”

“I knew I made the right choice choosing you as my best man,” Ralf chuckled as he gave Paul a pat on the back and pulled him into a hug.

“And I knew I made the right choice becoming your race engineer,” You pulled Paul into a hug as well before going back to where you were standing, ready to be married. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

~~~~~

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