#he comes off as dry and unaffected if you don't know him but if you do and you peel off the mask he's literally just a scared little kid

[ineed-to-sleep]

Couple of little references I made for my prophet's design bc I love him a little too much

[prettyboykatsuki]

✮ tags ; gn!reader, usage of honorfics (-senpai once, -san), submissive ish nanami, blowjobs, anal fingering, 18+

✮ wc ; 1.7k (???????????)

✮ a/n ; i dont know what happened. not even a nanami girl. but. i see a man in need. nanami sorry for what every does to you.

It's so easy to get Nanami to bent out of shape.

He tries his best, you think. He tries hard, and he's a good guy. You always feel bad being around him and pulling your pranks and antics. You're not like Satoru - he's told you, because you're much more conniving. Unlike Satoru, who Nanami finds dishonest - he thinks you're too direct. Too plain in your admission, your admonishment, your praise.

He deserves a break, for all the tremendous pressure he puts on himself to do well and protect. to make something out of his life. There's some part of him you feel a lot of sympathy for, and another part that sees him for what he is. A man under duress who's practically begging for reprieve. He wants to vacation on a beach somewhere, but he can't.

You think it's natural - inevitable, that Nanami will give into your flirting. You lay it on thick every time he comes by. he's only unaffected in the brief stretch of time where he thinks you're teasing him. Because he's older than you, jaded, easy. When he realizes there's even the slightest bit of sincerity in your words, he suddenly can't look you in the eye.

It's a troublesome affair for him to have feelings for his junior. It's inappropriate, and he can't approach you in the way he likes. The way he likes being controlled and practiced. He's quite the gentleman. Later, you'll sure he'll wine and dine you nicely as a proper thank you. A man like that leaves no good deed unaccounted for.

But for now, you don't really want to let Nanami do anything for you. You've always wanted to do something for him. Break him down. Maybe it's your problem, since a man with that kind of neuroses always turns on the worst in you.

Still. Still. You can see something in him that no one else does, a desire to forget himself. You can give that to him without trying that hard at it, but it does take a lot of convincing.

He's got the handsomest face when he's embarrassed out of his fucking mind. He gets red. You've never seen it before - but his face is lit up. Pink up to his ears.

He's haphazard. Shirt unbuttoned but not off, tie loosened. He took off his pants but couldn't manage his boxers. You've been riling him up all evening, teasing and testing and pushing. When he finally kissed you later on in the evening, an expression close to a plea - you knew you had him where you wanted him.

So you made it to his apartment, kissed in his hallway, pulled him onto the couch and dry-humped like two idiot teenagers. He can't see him to control it after all your meticulous bullying and he looks so much better that way. Loosened up and picked apart.

He's so easy. It's unimaginable for you in some ways, that your cool and collected senior could break apart over something like this. He's normally so reserved, but you've breached some upper limit and now he's like this underneath you.

The muscles of his thighs are tense as you sit patiently between his legs, a hand on his knee with another wrapped around his shaft. you laugh a little at the state, the pre-cum dripping down your fingers and

"Nanami-san," you punctuate the honorifics "You alright up there?"

He lets out a sigh like he's been holding it in all evening. He tries so hard. So hard. You respect it, admire his endless resolve. He chokes down a sound as your hands grip around the base of his cock.

"Yes," He says, only barely masking the thin veil of desperation in his voice. He's almost begging you. You think you're probably awful enough to get him there "I'm fine."

"You sure? You're red in the face. Been a while? You seem like the serial monogamist type. When was the last time you got laid?"

In an act of unbelievable cruelty, you decide the best time to blow him is now. You open your jaw wide, stick your tongue out and let the spit pool onto the tip of his length. He hisses, almost bites a hole in his lip looking down at you in disbelief. His cock throbs painfully in your hand and you giggle - which makes him look down at you ashamed.

You blink innocently, silently imploring him to keep going. He sighs, an arm thrown over his eyes and his hand closed into a hard fist. You close your mouth around the head, minding your teeth. Nanami tastes like skin and salt and musk, but not unpleasant at all. His pre-cum taste clean, just like the rest of him is so prim and perfect. You dip your tongue into his slit, watching him squirm before taking him down even further.

"Could you please—for the love of—"

You slide off your mouth of to talk. You can't help but want to press his buttons.

"Come on, Nanami-san. You can withhold a little bit. You're so sturdy, y'know, more than I thought. Tell me about your sex life."

Nanami can recognize your words for what they are, because he knows you and the games you play with him. He frowns hard, meeting your eyes and closing his own with a sigh.

"I don't remember," Nanami tells you, honest - nearly biting a hole into his lower lip as you massage his balls with your hands, soft as you kiss down his shaft and lave your tongue over the thin skin "It's been a long time. Years."

"That so? You deserve an orgasm, Nanami-senpai. A good one. You really work hard," You punctuate every word with a touch, a squeeze before he shivers himself into a mess. "Every had anything up there?"

His eyes widen in shock and dismay, but not disgust.

"....A very, very long time ago."

"You okay with it?"

"....Well, yes. I guess so."

"Any lube?"

"There's uhm," Nanami stutters, rubs his eyes like he doesn't know where he is "Oil. In the drawer."

"Kay," You say, casually, patting his thigh as you reach over to get it and return to him no problem. He looks at you awestruck and you look back at him with nothing more to offer "Try and relax,"

You warm the oil up in your fingers first before you pull his cock up enough to touch his ass. The rim of muscle flutters as you touch it, slick thumb drawing circles around. He makes a noise you can't identify, followed by one you can. A moan, slight and quiet enough to go undetected. You grin silently as you ease a finger in, a thumb first then your pointer. Nanami breathes through the motion, and you move slow enough to get him to relax.

Once there's one, you go back to blowing him. He loosens up immediately when he feels the warmth of your mouth, hot and slick, suctioned around his cock. You relax your throat taking him deep, opening his ass at the same time.

It's more attention than he's had in a while. There's an unmistakble quality of lust, gargled words and sounds and shuddering. His chest is so flushed in the bare light of apartment he almost glows. You start with one finger and keep your blowing steady - start him easy with stimulation.

You get another, then another - and when your three fingers in, you decide you have some room to be relentless. Ruthless. You curl your fingers and search for his prostate. You know when you've found it because the sound he lets out is debauched.

It's easy - too easy, to get Nanami completely bent out of shape. Getting him this broken this fast almost feels like a trick of light - his dark brown eyes rimmed red and shaking. Such a composed gentlemanly sort moaning a fucking mess.

His strong chest is trembling as it rises up and down trying to catch a breath. You know when you find the spot because he nearly jerks his hips, but shows enough restraint not to do it. Not to fuck up into his throat animalistically like he wants so badly.

A well-trained man he is. You suppose all men can be a little like dogs.

So you reward him by deep-throating him. It takes all of your willpower and expertise but the reaction is more than worth it.

So polite, he doesn't even swear when he breaks underneath your ministrations. Doesn't cry, doesn't even scream when he wants too. His cock shudders and twitches and pulses against the warmth of your mouth, pre-cum streaming into your throat like a broken faucet. But he doesn't let himself cum, doesn't do anything but let you have your way with him.

No, he wants you to have your way with him.

You pull off and he whines. Whines. His voice, thick and deep, so pitched with need you almost want to laugh. You kiss his cock affectionately.

"You can cum when you feel like it. 'Kay?"

He just nods, speechless. Needy. You feel so good and a little sorry for him at the same time. But you're urged by a silent desire to ruin him at his very foundation.

So for the last time, you let your mouth come down on him and fuck him with your fingers. You give it everything, bobbing your hand and timing your rhythms well enough that your wrists hurt. It's a game of balance, but you manage it - because with even the slightest gestures or veritable movements, Nanami folds.

He caves in on himself, breathing ragged and practically drooling. Poor Nanami, you think. It's just so easy to get him this way, and it's fun too.

The words barely get out of his throat before he can warn you, frantically that he's going to cum. But you don't move, pushing forward and barrelling your way towards his orgasm. You can feel it happen on your tongue, cock twitching hard and he unloads deep into your throat.

You don't taste it so it's easy to swallow, and you swallow hard as you milk him making him pull you off in a desperate plea for mercy.

You laugh as you pull away from him, watching as he stares down at you awestruck and a little afraid. You wipe the corners of your mouth and smile.

"You're so sexy, Nanami-san,"

He groans in shame and embarrassment, still red to the tip of his ears.

"Enough out of you."

[bachiras-toaster]

teaching ranpo a lesson : ̗̀➛

RANPO EDOGAWA x f!reader

contents. nsfw dubcon, dom! reader, submissive!ranpo, tit sucking, bratty!ranpo, dry humping, panty fucking, ranpo tastes his own cum, pet names (reader calls ranpo “good boy” and “sweetheart”), reader jerks ranpo off, he eats reader out, praise

wc. 6.2k

a/n. okay but i wish tumblr didn’t remove my italics whenever i paste my fanfictions from another tab?? when is tumblr gonna start showing me the word count so i don’t have to write on other apps? so, just imagine the italics are there.

"Come in!" Ranpo called out when he heard a knocking on his door, and a pleasant surprise came his way when he discovered that it was you peeping your head through the entrance. "Oh, what a nice surprise!"

You shot him a cold glare before making your way into his room, slamming a pile of documents onto his messy table. You disliked Ranpo, so you didn't want to attempt making conversation, but he seemed eager to chat. Ranpo couldn't help but notice the chill in the air, but he brushed it off- as he always did, his eyes glinting with curiosity as he leaned over the table, examining the documents you'd brought.

"This is it?"

"Yep. All twenty cases that Kunikida has assigned to you." You muttered, crossing your arms as you watched him lean against his desk. "You have half an hour to solve them all before we get to close the cases."

"Half an hour, you say?" Ranpo chuckled softly, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Very well then, let's see what we've got here." He began flipping through the papers, his mind already racing with potential theories and connections.

Watching as he eagerly dove into his responsibility, you turned to leave him to his work. However, before you could even face the door, he grabbed you by the wrist, a little dissapointed that you thought to go so soon.

"You're leaving already?" He frowned, pulling you back. "I was hoping you'd get to see my genius mind at work as I solve all of these mysteries."

"I don't have time to watch you solve these cases, Edogawa. And you know I'd much rather do anything else than stay anyway." You rolled your eyes, scoffing as you snatched your hand away. He scrunched his nose a little, irritated how you'd insist on calling him Edogawa instead of Ranpo.

"Still calling me Edogawa, huh? After we've known each other for so long." He pouted slightly, but his eyes twinkled with amusement. "Well, maybe I should try something else to catch your attention."

"Try all you want. I'm leaving." You let out a displeased snort.

"Alright, let me give this a shot." He interrupted your path towards the door, still holding your gaze. "I'll admit, you're one tough nut to crack... What exactly is it that you don't like about spending time with me?"

You arched a brow. "The master detective asking me a question?" You shrivelled your nose. "Now, I can't tell if that's rhetorical."

"It's not." He grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "So, tell me, what's the matter with me?"

"God, you really are a piece of fucking work." You finally turned back to face him fully, pinching thr bridge of your nose as you prepared yourself for the rant of a lifetime- since he had been so kind as to ask you himself.

"Okay, first of all: You're a narcissist. You think the entire world revolves around you and that your ability is the best. You're lazy and irritating, you leach off of other people, and you refuse to do any work that doesn't interest you. And not only that, but you get kind people like Atsushi and Kenji to go out and run errands for you because you know they're too nice to say no."

His eyes widened at first, but his lips curved in amusement before he shrugged.

"Well, I'll admit to a little bit of narcissism. And maybe a touch of laziness. But I like to say that these kinds of things are what make me me!" He boasted, completely unaffected by your remarks.

Your eye twitched at his unfazement. "It's clear that nobody's ever taught you a lesson up until now, Edogawa. I would've thought that the boss would shape you up to be a decent person, but you're still the same, old egotist."

"Well, I'm sorry if I don't fit into your idea of a 'decent person.' But maybe there's something about me that you haven't quite figured out yet." He leaned closer, his voice lowering. "I don't need to be taught any lessons."

You saw how he attempted to take control of the situation, but you just lifted yourself up and walked over to him, backing him up slightly as you let out through gritted teeth:

"If it were up to me, I wouldn't let you walk around all high and mighty like the boss does" You had leaned so close to him that you were backing him into his bed.

"Oh really?" He challenged, his eyes glinting with mischief. "And what exactly would you do to make me stop, hmm? Torture me? The boss would have you kicked out in no time."

"You see, unlike you, I'm reliant on my strength outside of my ability." You pressed your palm against his chest and pushed him down onto his bed so you stood above him, your eyes glaring down at him. "And even if I wasn't, I wouldn't have the lip to talk back to people stronger than me."

"You're not stronger than me. You might have some physical strength, but your mind is weak. It's obvious that you've never encountered anyone like me before."

"Oh, I've encountered hundreds of narcissists like you in the past. The only issue with you is that I work with you." You flicked the button of his hoodie so it would fall off, leaving him in his button-up, tie, and vest. You pulled on his tie and leaned down so that his face was forced inches from yours. "What's a strong mind if you can't comprehend simple shit like shutting the fuck up?"

"I'm the one who decides what to shut up about." Ranpo grinned, his face inches from yours. His voice betrayed an unexpected level of arousal beneath his bravado. "And I'll never shut up, if that goes against what you want from me."

You loosened your grip around the end of his tie so your finger could hook around the top of it instead, pulling the tie off him.

"You're a brat, you know that?" You lifted your knee up to the side of his bed so that you started to straddle him- An action that caught Ranpo completely off guard because of how completely out-of-character it seemed for you to do, considering your rocky history with the cocky detective. His face flushed red as he glanced up at you, his pupils dilated and his jaw hung open just a little.

"What are you doing—?"

"It's obvious that no one's taught you how to behave before, and since everyone at the agency seems reluctant to, I guess I could fill that role." You glared down at him from the seat on his lap. "You're going to listen to me, and I'm going to turn you into a humble, hardworking, and kind detective."

"You're lying if you think that's possible," Ranpo snorted with a grin, his face flushed with excitement beneath your aggressive stare. Despite his protests, he couldn't help but be intrigued by the fact that you were actually willing to do something like this to the person you hated most.

"It is possible, Edogawa." You hummed. "And I know I can't hurt you physically, so I can torture you in some other ways." Your hands moved down to unzip the fly of his pants.

"Other ways?" Ranpo groaned, his face flushed red as he felt you unzip his pants and touch him through his underwear. "You... you're not actually planning to—?"

"Sh." You ordered. "If you want to ask me any questions, you need to say my name first. And be polite." You fished his erection out of his pants, which only grew harder by the second.

Ranpo's eyes widened, his heart racing in anticipation and fear, but he kept a fidgety smirk on his lips as he attempted to keep his composure.

"Oh, I have no questions. Just enjoying the show."

"Still quite the brat." You commented as you began to stroke the length of his cock, slowly sending shivers through his nervous system.

"Hah... well, aren't you just confident?" Ranpo teased, his breath hitching as he arched into your touch, his cock twitching eagerly. "If you wanted me this badly, you could've just asked. My door is always open."

Suddenly, your movements slowed down immensely, and your thumb swept over the tip of his cock, which caused a jolt. You glared at him with a deadpan stare, but kept stroking at a rate that was starting to get irritatingly slow. Ranpo couldn't help but growl in frustration as you teased him mercilessly, his hands clenching into fists beneath you, his breath hitching uncontrollably.

"Damn, stop it..."

"Stop what?" You asked innocently, swiping the collection of precum that emerged from his slit down to the base of his shaft, making it easier for you to stroke.

"God—" Ranpo's voice cracked as you swiped the precum, his body jerking slightly from the unexpected sensation. "You're not making this easy..."

"I wasn't planning to." You said coldly, leaning down to gather saliva in your mouth before spitting down at his cock to lubricate it more for your hands.

"Fuck..." Ranpo hissed out, his hips jerking upwards involuntarily into your hand, seeking more contact even as he tried to maintain his dominance. "Come on, let's stop playing games now. Stop teasing me..."

"Not with that attitude." You huffed, starting to speed up more at a steadier pace now.

"You... you have no idea what you're doing to me..."

"Oh, I feel like I know exactly what I'm doing... Does it feel good, Edogawa?" You asked in a babyish tone, like some sort of mockery. To that, his face contorted, a mix of humiliation and intense arousal. "Aww, what? Does little Edogawa like being the dominant one?"

"No— I mean... damn it, stop teasing me, already..." Ranpo groaned, his body trembling with the effort to maintain his composure as you teased him relentlessly.

"You're gonna have to ask a lot nicer than that if you want something. Have you no manners?" You went to grab him by the base of his chin by your left hand as your right hand slowly moved up and down his length again.

Ranpo gritted his teeth, his breath coming in quick, ragged moments through his nostrils.

"Stop teasing me... Please." He added, as if he were a a bratty toddler being asked to do something he really didn't want to do.

"That was a good start." You nodded approvingly. "Unfortunately, you can't undo bad manners with one good deed. I'm going to train politeness into your brain by fucking you until you can't take it."

"Don't be stupid. You can't train politeness" He spat back, a mix of fear and excitement coursing through him as you spoke; his hips arched up slightly, offering himself to you once more.

"Me? Stupid? But I can. Look at how you're arching for me right now." Your left hand began to travel down from his neck down to his shirt and vest so you could undo the buttons.

"Stop the attempts now... you're not getting me to submit like this." His heart raced as your hand continued to undo his clothes, revealing more skin.

"What do you mean? It's working." You hummed as you carelessly tossed his vest to the side, leaving him just in his unbuttoned shirt, which revealed his chest that panted uncontrollably.

"I'm not gonna give in so eas—ily." He gulped between his word as the pleasure hit him suddenly. His cock twitched in your hand, leaking pre-cum in anticipation.

"You will. And once we're done, I'm going to be the only member of the detective agency you'll listen to completely. You'll bend over backwards for me and you'll have the upmost respect for me." You stated as a matter of factly. "As for everyone else: You're going to treat them all with the respect and kindness they deserve and you're going to pick up your weight at the Detective Agency."

He seemed amused at your assertiveness, but his heart pounded relentlessly. "No one can control me like that. You're being dumb." He wanted desperately to pull away and give himself a moment to reassert his dominance to take control, but his body betrayed him, responding to your touch and words.

"You will." You pushed him back so his back laid completely on his bed, with you still sat comfortable on his lap. "And we'll start with tabletop manners. If you want something, you say 'please'. When you get it, you say 'thank you'."

"How do you expect me to apply that here?" Ranpo murmured, feeling both humiliated and aroused by your dominance, his body trembled slightly as fet your weight on his thighs.

"Easy. Like this:" You retracted your hand again, leaving him without touch for a moment. Once you had pulled your hand away, he felt a shaky breath leave his lips- Which was much less embarrassing than the whine he had suppressed. "You want me to continue?" You questioned coyly.

The man's jaw just ticked, and he looked back at you with the most unimpressed stare of the century. "Obviously..."

"Ah, ah, ah." You immediately tutted, shaking your head. "That's not what I just taught you. Try again."

You could see Ranpo'a eye twitch at your command, which made it all the more amusing for you when he finally let out a large sigh.

"Yes..." He whispered, hating himself for it but unable to resist. "...Please."

"Loud and clear. I didn't quite get that."

He felt like he was close to giving in, his cock throbbing in anticipation of your touch.

"Yes, I would like you to continue please." He said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Good boy." You teased with a delicate smirk, but one that could barely be seen through your glare.

Upon hearing such a sentence, Ranpo's eyes immediately widened at your praise, and his cock throbbed even more before you even touched it again. He squirmed a bit, his body aching for you to touch him. He knew he was being pathetic, but he couldn't help it. He was hopelessly obsessed with you. His face blushed brightly when you had praised him like that, and it was like such a reward was enough for him.

"I'm no genius like you, but I can understand you love being praised." You hummed sweetly with a stone-cold expression as your hand met his cock again to stroke. "I'm no monster, so I'll praise you when you do something good. That's our deal."

Ranpo gasped softly, his eyes rolling back into his head as your touch sent shivers down his spine. He couldn't believe how much he craved this from you, even though he knew it was wrong. His mind was a mess of desire and submission.

"When you do something wrong, you apologise and say that it won't happen again." You continued reciting the rules.

Ranpo nodded slowly, his eyes still rolling back into his head. "I...I understand." He said, knowing that he was giving in to you entirely. His heart ached as he realized how much he wanted to be owned by you, his hands needing grasped onto your thighs as he yearned to touch you. However, when you felt him on your thighs, you paused again, making him whimper at the lack of sensation.

"I don't remember recall saying that you could touch me. And I also don't remember you asking."

His face turned red.

"S-sorry...I just...I can't help it...I needed to—" He sounded desperate and filthy, his need for you was becoming more and more obvious as time went on. He cleared his throat. "...I'm sorry. It won't happen again." His hands retreated.

"What did I say you should do when you want something?" You queried. Ranpo swallowed hard, his heart racing

"A-Ask...I'm supposed to ask." He trembled, his mind a jumbled mess of desire and submission. He wanted you to take control again, but he also knew that he shouldn't give in to these urges.

"Good. So ask nicely." You offered. You realised how easy it was to get him to listen when your hands were around his cock.

"P-please...can I touch you?" He asked, his voice trembling.

"Touch me where?" Your brown arched.

"Your thighs... Please." He was practically begging now, his submissive side completely exposed.

"Of course. I can even take my tights off if that would make it nicer for you. Do you want that?" Your unoccupied hand went to stroke his chin, his eyes filled with need and desire.

"Y-yes, please...I want you to take your tights off."

You leaned your palms against the bed and hovered over him for a moment so you could pull your tights off your legs. He bit his lower lip nervously, his heart racing in anticipation as he made eye contact with you above him. Having your chest so close to his causes Ranpo's eyes to widen, but he knew that this was all for a greater cause, so he didn't dare to move. Once your tights were discarded of to leave your thighs bare, you sat back on his lap.

"There. Now what do you say?"

Ranpo looked up at you, his eyes glued to your thighs, which were now bare and exposed. His breathing was ragged, and his heart was racing. He could feel himself getting harder, aching for you.

"...Thank you..."

"Well done." You felt Ranpo began to knead at the softness of your skin at the same time you stroked him.

He moaned softly into the touch, his hands moving up and down your thighs, feeling the warmth and softness of your skin beneath his fingertips.

"M-more... I need more." He panted, his voice filled with desire and submission.

"Need more what?"

"More... of this." He said between gasps, his hands moving higher up on your thighs, brushing against the sensitive skin just below your waistline. "I want to touch more of you... Please."

"Like what, Edogawa?" You seemed bored with his lack of clarification.

Ranpo swallowed hard, his heart pounding in anticipation. His gaze flickered down to your hand, still stroking him gently.

"Your... chest." He croaked, his voice barely audible above the sound of his heavy breathing.

"My chest?" Your eyebrows raised a little, amused by his plea. "But do you deserve it?"

"I..." He cleared his throat, his body shivering slightly from the anticipation and excitement. His eyes filled with determination and submission.

"Do you think you deserve my chest?" You asked him directly now, watching as he trembled.

"Yes, I do. Please... I need you. I crave it. Please—" He begged.

"You don't need it. You want it." You corrected him.

"I... Yes, I want it. Please, give me what I want." He groaned, his body arching towards you, seeking out the connection he desired so desperately.

Your lips teased into a smile. "How about this: We do a little exercise to show appreciation to all of your coworkers. If you can say one nice thing about all of them, I'll let you hold my tits."

"A-alright..." He gulped, knowing that this would be difficult for him, as he wasn't the most expressive person when it came to compliments. But the challenge seemed fair- for the reward, anyway. "Umm... I guess Junichiro has a cool ability..."

"Ah- Stop there." You shook your head. "You need to sound more confident about your compliments. None of that 'I guess' shit."

"Y-yes, sorry." He swallowed thickly, trying to find the right words. "...Junichiro's ability is really unique and serves as a perfect defence for our team..." He let out a long, shaky sigh as he could still feel your hands wrapped around his dick. "A-And Dazai's intellect is incredible... It's almost matches mine." The final comment made your movements stop, which caused him to wince.

"No snarky comments either."

"S-sorry... I couldn't help it. I just want to hold you—"

"Not until you give all of your coworkers compliments. Say them. Now." You demanded.

"—'M sorry...! Uh..." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to think of something nice to say about each person. You listened as he continued to spew out more words of kindness, growing more whiny and helpless as he went on.

"...And Kunikida is great at handling the more technical aspects of investigations. He helps keep the whole team on track and ensures we don't miss anything. I really appreciate his contributions..." He could feel himself growing increasingly desperate as he spoke.

"Well done! Now was that so hard?" Your lips pulled into a kind smile as your palm ran down his cheek, which was flushed with a glowing pink colour.

His cheeks felt hot as he let out a shaky breath, feeling oddly relieved. "T-th-thank you... I-It's wasn't so hard..." he stammered, his heart racing as he anticipated what would happen next.

"Now. I'll hold my end of the bargain. Sit up." You pulled him over so you could read the other end of the bed. You rested your back against his pillows, allowing him to settle himself between your legs. "If you want to get a taste of my tits, you'll need to take off my shirt yourself."

His face was flushed and his hands were shaking, but he leaned over and gently pulled the hem of your shirt up over your chest, exposing your breasts to him. With a simple flick, he had unclasped your bra and discarded it carefully to the side as to not cast it too far away. His breathing was quick and shallow as he stared down at your bare chest, his hands trembling as he tentatively reached out towards your right tit, hesitating. He paused, not sure if he should go further. 

"M-May I touch?"

"You may."

With a mix of excitement and nervousness, he gently cupped your breast, his fingers trembling against your warm skin as his thumb swept over your nipple, his fingers exploring every inch of your soft skin. His eyes were locked onto the fat of your chest, and your eyes darkened at how eager he stared at your chest- the wat he fondles your breasts while licking his lips.

"M-May I taste now, please?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You may."

With a small moan of delight, Ranpo finally gave in to his desires and lowered his head towards your chest. His warm breath fanned across your sensitive nipple as he took it between his lips, sucking softly at first before beginning to tease it with his tongue. The way he dragged his tongue across you made it seem like he was trying to make out with your breast- He was so desperate to have it in his mouth. The delicate touch of his tongue sent butterflies through your stomach, and the small moaning noises emanating from his throat only served to heighten the intense sexual tension in the air.

As he leaned in closer, you could feel how his cock pressed between your thighs and up against your clothed cunt. As he sucked on your tit, he was pushing his tip up aright against you- Almost involuntarily, like he didn't even realise. Feeling the warmth and wetness that spread across his tongue, Ranpo couldn't help but become more assertive. His hands roamed up your body, seeking out your breasts, pinching and rolling the nipples in time with his mouth's movements. His cock pressed against you even more as he leaned forward.

But you held your hand against Ranpo's chest to push him away, and he whimpered as he lost connection with your nipple.

"Are you getting too excited, Ranpo?" You questioned, gesturing down to his leaking cock. "It seems like you're pressing up against me way too much."

His eyes flickered up to meet yours, filled with a mix of desire and defiance. He swallowed hard, his cock twitching against your thigh as he pulled back slightly, but not entirely.

"I... I can't help it.” He said softly, in an almost apologetic tone.

"It's like you're using getting to taste me as an excuse to get yourself off down there too." You let out a deep breath. "I told you, if you want something, you need to ask."

Ranpo felt a blush spread across his cheeks and neck as you called him out, his heart racing as he stared down at his erection. His cock throbbed again, as if eager to fill the void between them.

"I... I want to be inside you, please…”

"Well, after that, I don't think you deserve it." You huffed, to which Ranpo's eyes widened in shock and disappointment; there was still an undeniable spark of determination within them.

"Please! Please, don't do this..."

"How about another exercise then?" You suggested, causing his eyes to light up at the opportunity.

"Yes, another exercise...!" Ranpo breathed out in relief, his mind already racing with potential scenarios. He could feel himself growing even harder against his will. "What would you like me to do?"

"I want you to tell me how smart Dazai is... Without complimenting yourself in the process." You offered, watching how his eye twitched.

He bit his lip, thinking for a moment. There was no way he could take the opportunity to praise someone he knew he was smarter than, but he had to find a way to prove his independence.

"Dazai is... extremely intelligent.”

"Is that it?" You scoffed

"I don't know what the stakes are! I don’t know what I'm getting in return..." He grumbled.

"Good boys don’t ask for something in return. But, if you can compliment Dazai. I'll let you dry hump me and fuck my panties. That's all you get." You offered, but that still seemed enough to satiate his neediness. He seemed to hesitate at first, frustrated at his inability to resist praising Dazai but determined to find a way out.

"He is incredibly intelligent and... cunning." He added, knowing that even with his compliment, it would still be clear who was smarter.

"You can be nicer than that." You told him with another shrivel of your nose.

Feeling the heat between you two intensify, Ranpo let out a small groan of desire. He took a deep breath and tried to ignore the intense throbbing he felt between his own legs. Contrary to popular belief, it probably would kill him to compliment someone else- but the reward was too sweet for him to care.

"Dazai is... Incredibly intelligent- An underrated source of intellect for the team. He may not show it often, but his strategic thinking is one that has saved our asses on numerous occasions.” He said it all with a grumble, not even looking you in the eye- But you were satisfied, nevertheless.

"Well said." You smirked. "Okay. Now you can take off everything you need, except for my panties."

With a mix of excitement and nervousness, Ranpo began to undress you, pulling your skirt off. He crawled further towards you, his eyes fixated on your panties as he reached out to touch them, his tongue wetting his lips as he realised his great achievement..

He steadily pressed his tip against your panties, the precum already leaving a wet patch on the cloth. He couldn't stand that the fact that he couldn't feel your pussy instead, but the panties would have to do. So, with a soft moan, Ranpo began to grind against your underwear, his cock begging for more as he felt your wetness against him, all while his other hand slid up your leg to trace soft circles around your inner thigh. He let out a low moan of pleasure as his hips moved back and forth against your panties with more force, feeling the head of his cock rub against your fabric, on the edge of what he desperately craved.

"F-Fuck..!" He almost instinctively whimpered out. Even you couldn't help but let out soft whines as Ranpo's tip just about bumped your clit through your panties- An action which only caused Ranpo more motivation. Feeling the warmth emanating from your body, Ranpo's determination only intensified. His hand gripped your thigh tighter, digging into your soft skin as he continued his relentless assault on your pant-clad sex.

"Does that feel good, huh?" You asked, panting heavily.

Heaving as he continued to pleasure himself through your panties, Ranpo nodded whilst gnawing on his bottom lip, his eyes narrowed down at the space below between you in concentration.

"I... I can't take it anymore... let me..." He pleaded, pushing against your panties with his cock. "Please-"

"Please what?" You glared at him, narrowing your eyes at his desperately blushing face, which had beads of sweat dripping down his cheeks.

He groaned in frustration, his cock poking at your panties as he panted heavily.

"Please let me have you... I need... I need... Ngh~!" Ranpo stammered swiftly. "Oh, god- Please! I'll do anything—"'

You seemed amused by his begging, all while he was still thrusting his cock against your panties.

"You ‘need me'? What do you mean by that?"

"I... I need you, okay? —Fuck! I want you!" He confessed- backtracking when he heard his own mistake, hips moving faster and harder as he pleaded for release. "I just... can't handle this anymore..."

"You want to cum, is that it?" She chuckled, brushing her finger against his chin.

"Yes, yes, please... I can't hold it much longer..." He whimpered as he continued to grind against your panties, his hips pistoning up and down in desperate need.

“God, please, let me cum… I don’t even care what I have to do this time…”

"My, my, aren't you desperate." You cackled at him, teeth sinking into your lip as you attempted to suppress your own moans at the tension. He hadn’t been bumping at your clit so much anymore, rather sloppily thrusted against your clothed hole instead, but the warmth in the action was enough to cause you to sweat.

"You cum when I say it's okay for you to cum."

Ranpo cried out, his eyes closed as he moved faster, tears threatening to fall from his lids as his hips slammed against your panties, need coiling inside him.

"Fuck, it's too much... I can't—"

"If I let you cum, will you be a good boy tomorrow at the agency?" You asked him simply, seeing how messed up and blushy his face became. "You're gonna be nice to your coworkers and you're not going to be lazy?"

Ranpo panted heavily, his eyes glossed over in lust as he nodded hurriedly.

“Yes, yes of course... just... just let me cum... please..." He pleaded.

"What did I say about speaking more clearly?" You demanded. He inhaled sharply with another thick swallow, gyrating his hips as he pleaded for you.

“I'll be a good boy tomorrow! No more laziness, I'll be so good! Please— I’ll be on my best behaviour, just for you— Fuck!”

You smirked.

"…Okay, you can cum then." You hummed, seeing how his tired eyes lit up with the permission.

With a loud, shuddering whine, Ranpo finally reaches his peak, his fingers digging into your thighs as he found release. With a shaky arch of his own back, his seed spurted between your legs, painting your panties with his essence.

"God, you're so messy." You sighed.

"I'm sorry... I can't help it... you're just too..." He gulped, his eyes roll back, revealing his submission even in his post-orgasmic state.

"Well, since I was so nice and let you cum." You grabbed a fistful of his hair and forced his head down a little so he was forced to look up into your eyes. "It's your turn to make me cum."

Ranpo couldn’t help but blush at your touch when your hand grabbed a bunch of is hairs, his body still trembling from the aftershocks of his orgasm- but finding a new source of pleasure all the same. He whimpered softly, unable to meet your gaze as he was so fixated on your panties and how his own seed coated the fabric.

"C-Can I..?"

"I expect you to." You said darkly. "Eat up. And get a taste of your own mess before you do.”

He was reluctant, but did as you commander him to, tentatively reaching out to lick at your panties, his face flushed with embarrassment and submission. As he tastes his own seed, his face contorted a little at the taste, but his body tingled with pleasure, an unavoidable moan escaping him.

As his tongue dragged across the cloth of your underwear, he latched his teeth onto the edge of your panties, pulling them down slowly. When he had torn them down completely, it revealed your swollen, wet folds to his greedy gaze. The man looked up at you guiltily, his face burning red as his cock twitches in anticipation, leaking more pre-cum as he sees your panties still clinging to your thighs.

"Don't be shy now." You said, assisting him to fully remove your panties as you kicked them off to the side to reveal your glistening cunt. "I thought you wanted to taste me."

He nodded silently, leaning forward to taste you properly. He took a large strip between your legs using his tongue, tasting your sweet nectar as he starts to lap at your folds, his mouth exploring every inch of your wetness.

"That's it..." You shuddered as you felt his tongue inside you, finally feeling your own sense of pleasure. Ranpo’s heart raced with excitement when he sensed your enjoyment and he continued his assault on your sensitive flesh, pushing his face deeper into your folds, seeking to please you even more.

"F-Fuck... God, you use your tongue so well." You chuckle softly through your gentle moans. "See what happens when you use that mouth for better things rather than pissing people off?"

He hummed in agreement, his tongue continuing to wedge itself between your folds. With a groan, he licked harder, drawing your walls upwards, seeking to reach your throbbing center.

"You're gonna eat me out until I cum, aren't you sweetheart?" You grin, hands finding his way to his hair to run your fingers through the strands before stopping to grab a handful of it again.

"Mhm..." He moaned, his fingers twitching with desire. His tongue darted out, swirling around your clit, making you shudder as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. You had treated him so well that night, and he fully intended to return the favour.

—

The next day at the agency, Ranpo kept his side of the promise. For the first time— Possibly ever, Ranpo wasn't glued to his office desk anymore shoving treats down his mouth, instead, he was walking around and offering his assistance to anybody who looked like they needed it. It amused you to see him frantically searching for work to do while you were working on your own thing at your desk, pretending not to see his efforts, but you were glad that your intimate act with him didn’t go to waste.

"Would you look at that! I've never seen Ranpo so diligent!" Dazai commented to Kunikida, who was as equally surprised by the sight of the rare happening.

During the mesmerising scene, Kenji had happened to pass by Ranpo, which made him feel like he had been granted a glorious opportunity by the gods above. His eyes lighting up, the taller, brunette stopped Kenji in his tracks- Whom of which had been two boxes of files, tapping him on his shoulder with an awkward smile.

"Hey, Kenji, do you need help carrying that?" Ranpo queried with a hopeful gaze, to which Kenji stared blankly, blinking a few times.

"...It's a little heavy." He said softly with gentle beamed smile, trying not to offend him.

"Don't worry about it!" Ranpo reassured him, holding out his arms. "Where do you need me to take it?"

Upon seeing his eagerness, Kenji's eyes sparkled exponentially and he went to drop the boxes in his grasp.

"To the boss's office!"

Ranpo immediately felt like the weight was going to crush his arms when the heavy boxes had been dropped onto them. He struggled for a moment to hold them up, but eventually found his method to keep himself standing without feeling like his arms were going to break. After the wave of accomplishment had washed over him, he frantically looked over to you to see if you had been watching him with a hopeful smile— Which you had, of course, but your head was tilted down as to not let him know that you had.

"Maybe he's finally learnt that he has responsibilities at this agency." Kunikida suggested, staring as Ranpo uncomfortably waddled out of the office, the boxes threatening to break his fingers.

"I wonder what could've made him suddenly realise that though, considering he had never lifted a finger to help before." Dazai's eyes narrowed.

[tw1l1te]

Ooohh , I just read about the flustered links reacting to showing skin and flirty-ness (it’s great!), but how do you think Legend or Four would react? For some reason I feel like Legend would be really surprised initially and caught off guard, but then get used to it pretty fast. For Four, (going with the concept that he is four people in one) I feel like, from his sides, Red would be flustered, Green would try to act respectfully and avert his gaze, Blue would blush, but would try to not bring attention to it and act normally, and Vio would be 100% unaffected. Meaning that Four is a mess or reactions all at once.

Ugh I'm having so much Legend brainrot rn :>

I feel like Legend is the more suave one in this scenario. He's used to people being flirty with him, sexual innuendos, yada yada. But when it's you that insinuates that? He's smitten, turned on, all of the above.

Four is kinda similar in the sense that he hears sooo much stuff about people's sex lives in the blacksmith shop, like an ungodly amount, so he doesn't really react to it much. The colors internally are wreaking havoc mentally, though.

Here's some scenarios for the two<3

Legend

He was sewing up Wild's tunic after dinner, as the fabric was so full of holes, it was hardly a piece of clothing.

You wandered off to go wash up in the nearby stream

The group setup camp for the night, so everyone was taking inventory of weapons and food and doing whatever hygiene/self care regimes that needed to be done

Mistakingly, however, you grabbed Legend's spare clothes instead of your own. Of course you fucking did.

Your presense was made known with a wolf whistle from Wars, causing Legend to look up from his work, choking on his spit when he noticed what you were wearing.

You were wearing his dark green long tunic and shorts, hair loose from your typical up-do.

Mother of- seeing you wearing his clothes was doing something to him. He felt... hot. His mouth was dry, eyes glued onto your form. The clothes were a bit big on you, your neck and shoulders exposed to him.

"Sorry, I meant to grab my own clothes but it seems like I accidentaly took yours. I can go change-"

"Don't. Please don't."

Oh. Oh. Oh-

A sly smile spread on your lips, Legend already regretting his vocal admittance.

You sit next to him, head on his shoulder. Breathing on to his neck, you whisper "You like me in your clothes don't you? Why don't we see how much you like me without them."

Four

He was hammering away at a sword, sheltered from the downpour outside. The others were in the other room, looking over their materials and planning next steps for their journey

Suddenly the door slams open, you standing thoroughly soaked through from the rain.

"Holy- What were you doing out there?! Get in get in-"

Four quickly places the hot blade somewhere safe so either of you don't get burnt or catch something on fire.

Four runs to the broom closet, grabbing an old blanket to warm you with, coming back to you and bundling you in it, but not before noticing that you had been wearing all white meaning-

Meaning he could see everything

The curve of your chest, the outline of your hips, even your dark green lacy panties that he bought for you a month ago

"I-uh was out doing some errands and somehow took the long way back and I got lost. Also, got caught in the storm, as you can obviously tell.

He clears his throat, trying to avoid gazing downwards, which was done not very subtly at all. He was practically looking at the ceiling.

"-Ah you can see everything, can you?"

He nods, ears burning red.

"I probably shouldn't wear all white when I know its going to rain, that's my bad. Although..."

You place a delicate hand on his chest, playing with a button on his tunic, his heart hammering hundreds of miles a second and the colors were going haywire-

"I do like the color of panties you chose for me. Why don't we go see how the others you bought look on me, hm?"

teehee :3

[man--eater]

from his lips, not words alone pleased her: chapter six

Chapters: 6/? Fandom: Hazbin Hotel (Cartoon) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Original Female Character(s) Additional Tags: Slow Burn, grey ace Alastor, demisexual OC, Hurt/Comfort, Cannibalism, additional tags to come as things unfold, think jane eyre but Alastor is also the madwoman in the attic, POV First Person, praying mantis OC, graphic depictions of cannibalism, Sexual Tension, between two mostly-ace hopelessly confused people, who don't know what they're doing, Biting, plus size OC, religious trauma, Found Family, Smut, Dry Humping, Bloodplay, threatened noncon Summary:

“I butchered and ate the last man who told me I should smile more,” I said quietly, unable to stop my raptorial claws from rustling in anticipation. “Ha ha! Don’t you threaten me with a good time!” Alastor said, beaming.

chapter six: of worse deeds worse sufferings must ensue

Alastor steepled his long fingers together, eerily calm. “You go too far, Husker.” His smile widened, and Angel read the threat of vengeance in it as clear as day. Angel clenched his jaw; he dealt with enough dangerous, thin-skinned Overlords at work, he didn’t need this shit at home too. Charlie looked back and forth between them, miserable, still not comprehending. Lucifer was laser-focused on Alastor, watching him through half-lidded eyes, just waiting for him to make a move. Only Rosie appeared unaffected, sipping her wine as she watched the chaos she’d set off unfold.

read more at AO3

[toomuchracket]

have we discussed about flatmate matty braiding the reader's hair? it's just dominating my mind lol

i see it as being like... you not being very well at some point after you and matty get together - maybe the hayfever strikes again, and all you can do is wallow in your boyfriend's arms and try not to get annoyed at how unaffected he is by the high pollen count lol. matty's quite strict about you washing your face and hair every time you come in from outside (which isn't often, just maybe to go to the pharmacy or the doctor); he'll shower with you and wash your hair and coo at you while you cling to him, and once you're out of the shower he'll really gently wash your face for you, and he always has the most adorable concentrated facial expression while he does that, which makes you smile so much you can almost forget you're not well lol. most of the time, you're content to sit and let matty dry your hair for you, but there's one particular day where you're just like ":(( it's too warm i don't want to use the hairdryer i just want to go and lie in bed and relax", and matty's like "alright, sweetheart, just let me brush your hair and then we can go, ok?"; you do, and then you lie on his chest in bed while you watch the o.c., and matty really gently massages your head for a little bit before he gets an idea. he's like "sit up a bit for me, sweetheart, i'm going to plait your hair so it doesn't go all frizzy when it dries, cos i know you'll get annoyed at that", and you're like "mhmm ok" - you think he means like, just a regular plait, so you're surprised and slightly miffed when you feel him section your hair at the very front of your head as you would with a french plait, and you're indignantly like "which other bitch taught you how to french plait?", and matty just laughs like "none of them, sweetheart, i've just seen you do it on yourself and me so many times that i picked up the technique". and you're like "oh. really? wow", and you can hear matty grin when he says "yeah, i'm quite good with my fingers. guitar and all. but also, remember that time i made you squ-" - you cut him off like "right yes i get it ok let's just watch seth and summer now", and matty kisses your shoulder like "you're so cute when you're flustered, baby. and you're so cute with this hair! it's turning out quite well". once he's done, he takes a pic of the back and shows you, and tbh he really has done an alright job; you joke like "damn i'll really never need to touch my hair again lol you can just do it for me", and matty's immediately like "and i WOULD. gladly. i love touching your hair. and i love you" lmao simp <3

[luveline]

mouth of september, part 5 | sirius black x reader  

"Sod off," Sirius says. "No one said anything about school. It was about the principle of things." 

"The principle," you repeat, more because you like the way he said it than any want to make fun of him. 

He catches your eye. "Behave," he mouths. 

summary times are hard, but there’s always reasons to stay [5k]

warnings reader has suicidal thoughts/suicidal ideation, reader has a poor appetite/ disordered eating, marauder friendship heavy, fem reader, she/her pronouns used for reader, angst, hurt/comfort, please be careful to read the bold warnings

read part one | two | three | four here

“You’re gonna be late for work,” Sirius says, standing in the doorway of your room. 

You’re hiding in bed, sheets thrown half off your clammy skin. The fan on your nightstand putters uselessly over your too-warm face as you look at him, unaffected. 

“Why are you here?” you ask, disorientated.

“Cos you’re not getting ready for work,” he says.

You both work in the back of Flourish and Blotts, a job in high demand. Missing even one day will get you sacked, and you know this.

"Are you sick?” he asks upon your silence. 

You shake your head and look away from him, shame creeping up your spine. He leaves without saying anything and it makes you feel worse, cringing into a ball. You spend long, hot minutes like that, face covered by your hands and an acute upset beginning to form. You can feel it in your fingers. 

When he comes back he’s not in his uniform anymore. 

“We’re sacked.”

“Sirius,” you groan under your breath, closing your eyes. It’s supposed to imply how he’s an idiot for losing his job when he didn’t have to. It sounds needy.

“Your fault." He's joking but it's true.

He climbs into bed beside you, raising his hand to your yucky forehead. Your skin is disgusting, oily and dry and everything that can be wrong with it at once. You cringe away from his touch and he doesn’t mind, making a terrible lovely soothing sound as he strokes your forehead. 

“Did you eat?” he asks.

“Not hungry.”

His fingers move from your forehead to flatten the small hairs of your eyebrow. “All stuck up,” he says. “You must’ve slept well.”

You hum. It’s a terrible response but it’s what you can manage. 

"Gonna tell me what's wrong?" 

"No." 

"That never ends well for you." 

"I can't really win," you say, voice small. You clear your throat. "I tell you and feel stupid. I don't tell you and it…"

"Eats you?" 

You want to be buried alive. 

Sirius strokes the skin above your eyebrow over and over and over. You close your eyes because there's nothing else to do, your whole body aching. You're content to never speak again but the guilt weighs heavy, and you rally at yourself. 

"You didn't have to stay home with me." 

"I care about you." His words are said with a stilted and yet genuine warmth. 

"No, I mean. I wouldn't have done anything." Your own are similarly awkward and much less warm. 

"I know," he says softly. 

"Do you?" 

“Yeah, hufflepuff, I do.”

You frown. 

"How's your hug quota this week?" 

The hug quota is one of those things you hate to love and love to hate. Insisted upon by James who'd been informed by Lily. Something about brain chemicals. And whatever it is, they really work. A hug a day for a few days in a row genuinely has the power to keep you up and running.

But you don't like needing them, and it's easy to run circles around the boys and convince them that you've already had your allotted hug from someone else.

You cringe. "Fuck off." 

“Guys?” James’ voice echoes loudly from the front door. 

You glare at Sirius. “You called him.”

“No, I didn’t.” He’s frowning too, holding his hands up in surrender.

James hits the door open against the wall. You’re so listless you don’t even jump. 

Sirius is a different story. “Fucking hell, what is your problem?” he asks furiously.

“Why are you guys here?” James asks, more perplexed than annoyed. Remus would likely be a different story.

“Why are you here?” 

There’s too much talking. You gaze up at James pleadingly, hoping he’s gonna take pity on you and stop talking. He does the opposite, eyes softening, a frown on his face. He’s in weird clothes that don't fit him right. 

“I… I was gonna paint her room.”

“What?” you ask, your throat hurting. 

“It’s been white since you moved in. I brought paint. Was gonna do it while you were… in work. Why aren’t you in work?” He frowns between you both. 

“She’s not feeling very well," Sirius says lightly. 

“You’re sick?” 

You close your eyes. “No.”

“Oh. Uh.”

“James, you don’t have to paint my room. We rent, are you even allowed to paint my room?”

“Sure you are. And we’re magic. We can just make them white again.”

James crawls over Sirius' legs to sit at your feet. He grabs your ankles and pulls, giggling to himself when you squirm away from him. He takes no notice and drops your calves over his thighs.

“Since we’re all here, we should do it the muggle way," James declares. 

“Why,” Sirius begins dryly, “would we ever bother with that?”

James pats your legs. “She’s sad. Exercise is good for you.”

“I’m not sad.” 

They ignore you. 

“It’s, like, teamwork. And friendly fun. And bonding. And I don’t like seeing you all curled up on yourself like this.”

“I don’t know, James, when has forcing her to do things ever worked?”

“Well, remember when we went to Cribbs Causeway and we made her climb-“

“Okay, guys, can we stop? Please? I just want to-”

You turn your face abruptly into the sheets and exhale raggedly. 

There’s a small silence. 

“Hey,” Sirius says lightly, his hand over your shoulder, heat seeping down into your skin. “You’re okay. Everything’s fine.”

James snickers and then screeches. “Don’t kick me, dickhead.”

“You’re the dickhead, dickhead.”

“It’s weird hearing you be nice.”

“I’m always nice.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I might not be the most tactile guy on earth, but I know how to comfort someone, dick. Stop projecting on me.”

“Projecting? I comfort people well.”

“You don’t.”

“I do!”

“And that’s why Lily didn’t talk to you for half the week this week? Because you're so good at it?"

“You bitch.”

You laugh, you can’t help it. You’re so determined to be miserable that you don’t want to, trying to hold in the shaking of your shoulders. It’s all for nowt – Sirius has his hand on your back and he can feel it from the first tremble. 

“Why’re you laughing, hm?” he asks, relief palpable. “You agree? You think I’m a bitch?”

“No,” you say into your sheets. 

“She does and you are.”

“I know she does,” Sirius says. “Hufflepuff thinks I’m a total bitch.”

“I don’t,” you protest, turning onto your back. 

Sirius hovers above you, his dark hair falling into your face. You blow it away carefully, eyes locked with his.

"What colour paint is it?" he asks James without looking away from you. 

James laughs, the kind of heavy chuckling that strikes the fear of God in you instantly. 

-

It's not the worst colour in the world. Sirius, speckled in paint from head to toe, actually looks really pretty. "Orange suits you," James says, similarly spotted.

"It's not orange. It's yellow. Yellow-orange." 

"Very hufflepuff," you murmur, with less paint covering your clothes and skin but still enough to need a shower. 

Honestly, you'd needed one before all the painting. Neither James nor Sirius had made you feel bad for your dishevelled appearance, but now that you're feeling less fuzzy you're worried you smell bad.

You stand further away from the boys with a heavy paint roller in hand, your wrists aching. Between the three of you, you'd managed a quick but shoddy job.

Sirius had fobbed off any actual effort at first, claiming to be the managerial influence. He'd provided breakfast (cold in the middle, but made with a lot of effort, and, in your opinion, heart) and drinks, before he'd stolen the record player back from Remus' room to soundtrack your hard work. 

James is enthusiastic and high energy, so he'd done the bulk coverage. You'd tried to neaten up the edges but are ultimately waiting for Remus' return. He'll have the best advice. 

"You'll have to gloss the skirting boards again, is all," James says confidently.

"I'm not touching anything else until Remus comes home," you say.

"He's gonna be mad about Florish and Blotts," Sirius pipes in, sitting on the sheet draped precariously over your bed. 

"He's gonna be mad at you," James corrects. 

"He loves me." 

"He loves Y/N more " 

"That's not true," you say, frowning. 

It's one of those silly things that you think about more deeply than you should. You're not gonna try and convince yourself that Remus – that any of them – would like you as much as they like each other. 

It's nice to think that they do, though. 

Not that they ever leave you out. You'd go as far as to say there's some pitious favoritism happening at all times. Even now.

James throws his arm over your shoulder and rags you about. "Alright, Hufflepuff. You smell like a quidditch cloakroom. Go shower, please." 

In the shower, everything is clearer. How much you like your friends, how much you really want to be by yourself, somewhere else. And it's surprising, always surprising, that you can be loved and still feel like this. Guilt is a heavy weight. It settles. 

Why can't I just be happy? 

You're not even sure why you'd felt so awful this morning. It's a thousand things and it's nothing at all. You just don't want to be here. You don't want to be anything. 

You can hear Remus getting home and realise you've been in the shower for too long. You almost slip getting out, light-headed and emotional, and have to sit on the side of the tub to gather your bearings. 

A knock on the door cuts the fog. Remus' warm voice, "I'm home. Are you okay?" he asks. He doesn't have to shout. 

"Yep," you reply. You don't mean to sound so clipped.

"Coming out?" 

You stare at the wall. "Yep," you say under your breath.

"Have you eaten?" 

"Remus, can you just-" you start, voice cracking. You clear your throat. You feel awful, but you'd been about to ask, Can you just leave me alone?

To your horror, he leaves. You scramble to pull open the door and apologise but he's not there. Sirius is, and he looks surprised at your expression. 

"Hey, it's okay. He went to start dinner," he says gently. 

"Oh. Okay," you say. You stare at the wall by his hip, aware of your nudity and his handsomeness and, most of all, his worried gaze.

"Uh-huh. Asked me to ask you if you want something in particular." 

"I want ham 'nd egg and chips," James pipes up, emerging from your room with a grin. "We cleaned up the edges." 

You look to Sirius for confirmation. He shakes his head at you.

"Okay," you say, water dripping around your feet. 

Both boys move to let you pass. You dry off and dress in an unhappy haze, head pounding. Now that the painting is done the feeling that had plagued you all day rears up again, bright and shiny and twice as insistent as before. 

It wouldn't take a lot. It wouldn't take a lot. 

Five seconds of pressure. 

"Y/N," Sirius says. 

You turn. The door's still closed most of the way. You can see a fraction of his naked arm through the slit. 

"Come on. Dinner." 

You grab a pair of socks and open the door. Sirius watches you hop into them without saying anything, offering his arm when your balance wavers. His skin is cool under your palm.

You plod into the kitchen arm to arm with Sirius and find James already eating your madeira cake with a spoon. You can't be bothered to tell him off – in fact, you wouldn't tell him off even if you did have the energy. He looks like he's enjoying it, and he's one of your best friends. Whatever, he can eat it all if he wants to. 

Sirius does not agree. "Who said you could have that?" 

Remus turns where he's frying eggs on the cooker. "What? He told me you said he could." 

Sirius steals the spoon, wacks James' hand where it had been holding the cake, and says, "It's Y/N's." 

"It's okay," you say, shrugging. "He can eat it." 

"It's not okay. It was expensive, and you like it." 

"I like James." 

James grins and pulls out a chair for you to sit in. "Thank you! I knew you wouldn't mind," he says sweetly, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as you sink down beside him. "It's called sharing, guys. If you're both so offended, I will get her another." His tone takes on a grand effect.

You melt under James' friendly touch. He's a good friend. He can eat all the food in the flat if he wants to. Or all the food that's yours, at the very least. 

Remus huffs and turns back to the eggs. "Idiot," he says.

"You'll ruin your dinner," you say quietly. 

James smiles and gives your shoulder a good squeeze before letting you go. "Remus always gives me the dwttiest portions anyway." 

"I'm an equaliser," Remus says simply.

"Yeah, and what does that mean?" James asks. 

It means that James has started to fill out. He's all muscled from quidditch. You still can't believe he plays professionally, and you're not the only one. You don't think James had really realised how different it would be from school sports. These days he's always training, bulking, or something between. That's why it had been so surprising to see him this morning. 

"It means you're fat," Sirius says. 

A chorus of boo's. 

"He's not fat," you say. It's true, he isn't. He's certainly gained weight, but his height leaves room for it. 

"He's muscled," Remus says, rolling the word around.

"He's chubby now. He's my chubby guy," Sirius says, doting. 

"And still stone cold sexy," James says agreeably. 

"That won't ever change." Remus puts down four plates, each with one slim cut of gammon and chips, and then returns for the frying pan. 

Your chips are noticeably more voluminous. You start to transfer them to James' plate while Remus' back is turned. 

"I don't want an egg," you say when he returns. 

He puts one on your plate anyways. You frown at the grease and the thick smell of it. James gets two, Sirius gets two, and Remus gives himself one. 

There's a bustling of chairs being pulled in, the metallic clink of cutlery, salt and vinegar being exchanged, and then the first few bites in silence. 

"Thank you, Remus," you say. 

He beams at you. "You're welcome. I cleaned up all the edges in your room, alright? It looks good in there. You guys did a great job without me, surprisingly." 

Remus likely wouldn't have managed much manual labour anyhow, but his expertise is invaluable. 

"How did you?" you ask. 

"He cheated," James says, gesturing with a chip speared at the end of his fork. "Used a spell. Sick." 

"Totally cheated. After all, we spent all that time at school to learn things we should never use again," Remus says dryly. 

"Sod off," Sirius says. "No one said anything about school. It was about the principle of things." 

"The principle," you repeat, more because you like the way he said it than any want to make fun of him. 

He catches your eye. "Behave," he mouths. 

You smile shyly and feel something prickling in your chest. You loathe to admit what it is, stabbing a chip so hard the plate creaks. 

"It looks amazing now," James says behind his hand, mid-chew. 

"It's pretty," you say. 

You cringe at the texture of the chip you'd been eating. When you get like this eating is never fun. 

You put your fork down and stand up. All three boys glare at you and you ignore them as you've learned to do, heading straight for the cupboard. "Does anyo-" 

"Please," says James, at the same time as Remus says, "If you don't mind." 

Sirius stands and slides himself between the counter and the back of Remus' chair to help. It doesn't take much more than that for the conversation to split in two. Remus and James start talking about the latter's next quidditch game. 

Sirius grabs three glasses from the cupboard and bumps your hip. "Do you want to go sit back down?" he asks quietly. 

"No." 

"Not hungry?" 

You don't answer because the answer is disappointing. No, you're not hungry. If it weren't for their company you'd be curled in a ball in bed with a pillow pulled over your head.

"Do you want a hug?" he asks, even quieter. 

You've enough wits about you to laugh. Sirius offering you two hugs in one day? 

"What did I dress as last Halloween?" you ask him, turning on the tap. 

He kicks open the freezer and tears into the new bag of ice cubes. You watch him add ice to your cups one by one. "You were an angel." He closes the freezer. "We matched. I was the devil. Why?" 

"Thought maybe you were someone masquerading as you." 

"You were testing me?" 

"You passed."

"Sit down," he says, rolling his eyes. 

You take a glass for you and James and set them down. Sirius does the same for himself and Remus, though he complains about Sirius spilling water all over his sleeve, to which Sirius smiles flirtatiously and reaches into his cup for an ice cube. 

They enter into a childish kerfuffle of Sirius trying to drop and ice cube down Remus' back. James pretends to be above it, though you know had he been in either of their seats he would be doing the same. 

"Idiots," he says cheerily.

"You're the same brand." 

He grins at you. "Did Sirius and I argue today? Even once? After I called him a bitch, that is." 

"No," you admit, to your own surprise. 

"Exactly. Remus is the problem." 

You slide your fork under your egg and drop it onto James's plate. He eats it in two impressive mouthfuls before Remus is any the wiser.

"I don't think that's true," you say, cutting your chips into pieces and trying to make yourself eat them. You ultimately can't face it. 

"Not hungry?" James asks. 

He's giving you his most brotherly look. Slightly scolding, slightly concerned. His dark curls bounce as he leans toward you. 

"Eat a bit more and after we'll share what's left of the madeira," he suggests. 

"How generous of you." 

"You know me, shortcake." 

You just can't eat. You feel weirdly close to tears no matter how nice James is being, or that Remus had made your dinner with care, or even that Sirius is stealing peeks at you. Their affection actually makes it all feel much worse, like you could burst into tears at any moment. It's so embarrassing to feel like this and have them know it, have their pity. You've far from earned it. 

You nibble at the same chip for the next ten minutes until everyone is finished, and then you offer to do the dishes. You lift your own plate before anyone can look at it, holding your hand out in wait for their dishes. James stacks the remaining plates and you almost drop them trying to carry them to the sink. 

You scrape off the food and rinse them. Sirius starts to clear off the table. James declares himself a guest, nabs the madeira and heads for the living room, Remus hot on his heels. 

"Let me ask you something," Sirius says. 

You wait for him to continue, a hot sponge in hand, soaping up the plates and oily frying pan. He doesn't. "Yeah," you say lightly, because he's still your friend even when you feel like nothing is worth anything, "ask me, Siri." 

His footsteps are quiet behind you, moving from one end of the kitchen to the other as he cleans. "If I…" Bleach sprays over the tops. He appears behind you sudden and close to grab the dish cloth. You can almost feel the heat of him. 

You turn to look at his face. He wrings the cloth out blindly, eyes on you in turn. "If I wanted a hug, would you give me one?" 

"You want a hug?" you ask. 

"Is that weird?" 

"No, of course not. It just," you turn back to your dishes and rinse off the last two plates in succession, "isn't like you?" 

"You don't think so?" 

Drying your hands with the tea towel, you lean against the sink and watch him wipe down the countertops. He's clumsy, but he does it exactly as Remus had shown him when you first moved in.

"I like them from you," he says, tossing the sullied cloth in the sink. 

"Do you want one?" you ask.

He opens his arms. You step toward him without any reluctance or hesitance. If he's only asking because he thinks you need one, you don't want it. But if he wants one himself…

"Are you okay?" you ask, voice smothered where your face rubs against his collar. 

The t-shirt he's wearing is soft under your arms. You cling to the sensation, moving one hand slowly up the dip of his spine just to feel the fabric. 

He shudders and wraps you up tight. His hugs are always like this, firm and no-nonsense. Comforting, sweet, but solid. His hand finds the tense space between your shoulders, his thumbs digs in, falls back, and digs in again. It hurts just enough to feel good. 

"I'm alright. I've been thinking about us." 

Cheek pressed to his collarbone, you stare at the bump of his upper arm. "You have?" 

"Florish and Blotts won't take us back," he says.

You relax. Right, he's thinking of your current unemployment.

"But I think James' mum can get us something, if I ask her." 

"Like what?" 

His mini massage pauses. "Um… I don't know. I doubt we'll get anything in Diagon Alley again." 

"Sorry," you murmur. 

"It's okay."

"I don't think you should've stayed home with me." 

"I like staying home with you." 

"But enough to lose your job?" 

"Wanna know a secret?" 

You're afraid of what he has to say, but you nod.

"I didn't wanna work there without you. I'm not entirely selfless." 

You marvel at what he's said and the way he's said it. You love his voice. Some might say Sirius talks too stoically, but the longer you've known him the lighter his voice has become. 

"I'm glad we're friends," you say, squishing your cheek to his chest. 

He laughs. You can feel it. "Me too." 

"Like, really glad. You and Remus and James. I don't know what I'd do without you." 

Feelings aren't something Sirius has ever been attuned to, but he tries for you, clearing his throat to say, "I don't know what you'd do either." 

"Tell me how you really feel." 

His hand stutters against your back. "Not like that," he says quickly. "I mean- I mean, I can't imagine your life without me in it. I can't imagine my life without you. Without Prongs or Moony. It's like imagining a cup of tea with no milk in it." 

"Some people like tea without milk." 

"Some people are twats, that doesn't have anything to do with me," he says, shrugging. 

You peel away from him and straighten some of the hair curled around his cheekbones affectionately. 

In the living room, James and Remus seem to be having a similarly fond checkup. James has pulled Remus' left arm – notorious for aching – and has coerced him into a 'massage', wherein James pulls it this way and that, gentle, caring. Not a massage, but he's trying his best. 

"-yeah… Well, what did you think? Did they help?" 

"I don't know, Prongs. I think so, but it might've been in my head." 

James shrugs. "I'll get you some more anyways. Maybe it will take a while to work." 

Remus sighs with a general blasé attitude you're not sure he feels and sinks further toward James, the two of them as close as they can be on the smaller of the sofa's. You and Sirius sit in the larger, not quite as close as your friends are to each other, but almost. 

"I saw this thing in the prophet about a potion," James continues. 

Remus has already read all about it. "I saw it. It'll be years before they know for sure, and it… well, it's more expensive than I'll ever be able to afford, anyway. But maybe," he adds when James' smile drops. 

James doesn't stay defeated for long. He drops his gaze to Remus' arm and pushes his thumbs down the soft of it one after the other. "Lily's mum had something for her-" 

"Cataracts?" Sirius asks. 

"Irritable bowels?" Remus asks. 

"Pancreas?" you ask, to Sirius' glee. 

"She's a poorly lady." 

"We know." He brings her up often enough.

James glares at you all and flops down, dejected. He's careful not to tug at Remus, but besides that he's downright petulant. "You guys have been the fucking worst since I moved out. Constantly ganging up on me, watching movies without me-" 

"What would you have us do, Prongs? Never watch a film again?" Sirius asks. 

"We'll have to start a book club." 

"Or a games club," you say seriously. You and Remus make a winning scrabble team. 

"No! Absolutely no fun is to be had while I'm not here! Or I'll feel very left out!" 

"I doubt the book club would be very much fun," Sirius says, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table, arms behind his head. "Remus'll have us reading all his sky-fi-"

"Sci-fi." 

"- rubbish. Next we'll be speaking in tongues and-" 

"Sirius," you say, jabbing him in the ribs. "Remus doesn't speak in tongues." 

"You didn't hear him retelling his last novel the other night, doll. I think he started making up words, toward the end." 

Remus grins. "They were believable, weren't they?" he asks, sounding so happy it immediately infects the rest of you. 

You start to laugh as quietly as you can manage. James attempts no such discretion. 

-

Your room doesn't look as bright at night. The walls don't glow like they had. The sickly, tickling smell of wet paint sticks to the back of your nose. You count backward from one hundred slowly and try not to think about the past, things you don't want to think about. You try not to think about your job. Every time you do, you start counting down again. You've yet to break eighty. 

You reach your hand out in front of you. The light from Sirius' room creeps under your doorway, just enough to illuminate the contours of your knuckles. You tense your hand, hold it high and leave it there. 

None of these tricks ever work. 

Your hand starts to ache. You curl it toward you and sigh, annoyed. Where your low mood earlier in the day had felt like a burning distraught, a panic, it now feels closer to defeat. I want to kill myself becomes less of an urgent wish and more of a cold truth. There's nothing heart-pounding to it. Only guilt. 

You sit up in the dark, sheets cold over your naked legs. Your hands fall in the space between them. A marionette. 

Five seconds of pressure, you think. 

The floorboards creak as you cross the room. You flick on an old lamp and sit at your desk, still covered by a sheet to protect your books from paint. From under the sheet you recover your current library book, a collection of poems. Your journal's nowhere to be seen. You're not sure this is a poem you want to recount, anyhow. 

The paper is worn under your touch. You read back the poem for the tenth time this week.

IN MEMORY OF A FRIEND

John, I have been trying to find you in water. 

Scales racing down the lengths of your legs 

and the shadows of you painted luminous. 

Your hair moves as if silk sprouts between 

your ears. The light can hardly reach you. 

You dance in it. In actuality, nothing so fanciful 

would remain of you. 

I have been trying to find you in wood. 

I see you running through tall grass, see you 

swapping your hands for claws. Your eyes turn

silver. Again, it's too grand, so I imagine you 

a puppet. Dainty wooden limbs suspended by 

clear twine. Five seconds of pressure all it takes 

to cut you loose. 

I have been trying to find you in light.

On stage, I dream you with your face made up

and all your bruises covered. A casino of colour,  

a rainbow splayed over your show clothes. If 

you've gone somewhere you don't want to be 

followed, let it be in the glitz and glimmer of 

the limelight. 

John, I have been trying to find you. 

I look for you in everything. Your bruises, your 

moods. I see a spider's thread in the sun and 

expect to find you strung up at the end. Five 

seconds of pressure. Take off your costume.

John, I have been trying to keep you here. 

John, I wish you'd wanted to be kept.

.

You scratch the paper with your nail very gently. 

It's the kind of poem that makes you worry about yourself. 

You edge out of your room and listen at the door jam for your friends. Soft snores from Remus' room. Silence from Sirius', his light now off. You pad across the landing to his room anyhow. 

You don't knock, only push the door open a half inch and whisper, "Siri?" 

He's curled on his side away from you. For a moment you think he's still sleeping, but then his arm drops behind him and he pulls back the sheets. 

You close his door slowly and climb in beside him, face to the back of his head, a perfect image of his stance. His bed smells so strongly of him you have to hold your breath. 

"Is the paint bothering you?" he whispers, voice husky with sleep. 

Your friends at the dinner table. His dark curls a half inch from your nose. 

You don't ever want your friends to have to look for you. 

"Do you really think James' mum can get us a job?" you murmur. 

"Don't worry about that," he says. You can practically hear his brows furrowing. "I'll find us something else if she can't. Everything will be okay." 

You wait for his breathing to even out and curl your pinky finger with his, like a promise. 

[goldenbi]

G | 718 words | by goldenbi for @effiepotterisamilf @struttingstag may 3rd prompt "first time" Regulus Black/Pandora Lovegood/James Potter read it on ao3

The conversation was only a minute or two long. Long enough for James to feel his breath catch, for him to see Pandora's eyes sparkling with amusement and Regulus's mouth cock up at the corner. Long enough to know that he had it bad.

It had also been long enough for people to notice. The whole of sixth year Gryffindors were staring at him, some with forks halfway to their mouths.

James crossed his arms, "They are just Slytherins, I don't know why you are all so shocked." This was quite hypocritical because James was shocked himself. 

They had approached so casually, Pandora sitting on the edge of the table, Regulus smirking down at him. But these Syltherins in particular were James’s weakness. 

Pandora was as ethereal and intoxicating as the wings of a Veela. And Regulus, well he was Sirius's brother, wasn't he? They were so similar in some ways. But Regulus was like cool water. Unaffected. James just wanted to toss the stone that would make waves on that pretty surface.

They just continued staring. "You don't even realize," Remus observed curiously. "Maybe it was his first time."

James blushed. Did he give himself away? He'd only told--well, he hadn't told any humans about his fascinations with the two Slytherins. So what if it was the first time that he’d been invited? 

"Couldn't have been, they started it before he did," Sirius said. "They knew."

James's mouth went dry, "What did they know?"

"What did they say?" Peter asked, his voice high and squeaky.

James's face scrunched in confusion. "You heard them, they asked if I was going to the Slytherin party tonight."

James looked to Sirius, always his anchor, but Sirius was just studying him blankly. "And what did you say?"

"I mean–you were there–I said that the only times I've been in the Slytherin common room is when I've snuck in," James answered.

Sirius nodded for him to continue.

"And they told me that if I like snakes as much as they think I do then I should sneak in again tonight," James finished with a blush. 

Peter laughed.

James swung his head toward him. "What?"

"Snakes," he laughed harder.

Remus chuckled too, and even Sirius had a small smile.

"James, mate, you were speaking in Parseltongue," Remus explained. 

"All we could see was your face getting redder and redder," Sirius teased.

"Fuck off," James said, and he knew his face got even redder because all of his friends started laughing around him.

Eventually they calmed down enough for Remus to ask, "So, Parselmouth, eh? How come you didn't tell us?"

"I thought you all could..” James lowered his voice, “like an animagus thing.”

“A bit weird though,” Peter said. “Thought only Slytherins could do it.” 

“Honestly, I thought we were speaking English just now."

"I wonder how they knew then," Sirius mused, reaching for a scone. “It’s very rare.” 

James knew he would just blush again so he laid his forehead on the table and mumbled, "Because I talked to a fucking snake."

Another round of laughter.

"You talked to a snake about...?" Remus asked, mirth in his voice.

"Oh, Merlin," James knew he would never live this down. "I helped him off the path and asked him if all snakes were as pretty as he was." James lifted his head so he could clunk it back down on the table. “Then I talked about all the pretty Slytherins."

There was even more laughter from his awful, no good friends.

"You can't trust snakes to keep secrets," Peter giggled.

"James, only you," Remus said fondly. 

“I know,” James whined. 

"So… Are you going?" Sirius asked. His voice was neutral, like he didn’t mind either way.

James looked up and saw all his friends smiling. "They just exposed me in front of everyone!"

"No, James," Remus shook his head. "They just claimed you in front of everyone."

James swallowed. Claimed. He liked the sound of that. 

“What do you mean?” James asked. 

“From our perspective, the three of you were flirting, just in a completely different language,” Remus said. “They wanted everyone to know you were like them.” 

Fuck. James was going to be putty in their hands. 

"Yeah, I'm going," James said. "But first I have to find that snitch of a snake."

[the-mad-starker]

Starker Smut: The Daily Life of a Stark Heir [4/6]

Yay another chapter done. I feel like it was rushed but I'm satisfied. 🥲

Summary: A fun little car ride before the big event.

WC: 2353

(AO3 Link)

Tumblr: Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3

Fic notes: Omegaverse, starkercest, alpha Tony Stark, Omega Peter Parker, intersex omegas, vaginal sex, anal sex, creampie, knotting, felching, free use, somnophilia, kitchen sex, blowjobs, oral knotting, cockwarming, exhibitionism

Chapter notes: anal sex, car sex, vaginal fingering

💗💗💗

It's a Friday night and usually, he has a nerdy hang out planned with Ned but SI is hosting a gala tonight.

So Peter will make an appearance and he'll take as many pictures with his genius father as the photographers want. The questions, though, he'll field to his dad. They're always asking when he'll be mated off and who the lucky alpha would be.

Peter knows he's a genius like his dad but sometimes he really wonders how no one could see his father's plans for him.

The omega shrugs it off as he trudges his way toward the parking garage where he knows Happy is supposed to pick him up.

There's a limo there instead and the distinct familiar figure leaning against the side has Peter perking up.

"Dad!" He calls out surprised but pleased. It's not like it's uncommon for Tony to swing by but with how fast things have to move for the Gala, he hadn't expected to see his father until they met up at the event.

Tony gives him a cheerful wave and when Peter gets close enough, the alpha envelopes him in his arms. His dad nuzzles against his neck, inhaling the faint scent of books and ink and nestled deeper, his omega son's unique one.

Peter indulges in it, letting his father scent him as much as he pleases. When Tony finally pulls away, Peter smiles at him.

"Thought you would be too busy to come today," Peter says with a bright smile.

"Never too busy for my favorite kid," Tony says seriously.

"I'm your only kid," Peter says cheekily. He takes a step towards the limo door only to gasp in surprise when his father pushes him against the shiny polished surface. "Dad…?"

"As my only kid," Tony says, "gotta make sure you're ready for tonight."

There's some shuffling behind him before Peter realizes that his father is going on his knees. His hands are pressed against the tinted windows, but he sees the way his breath fogs up the glass. His cheek feels warm, too, against the cool surface.

It comes as no surprise then when he feels his daddy pulling his pants and underwear down.

Since they hadn't fucked in the meeting, Peter's body has been in a state of arousal since then. His body is just too used to a fuck, quick or otherwise, when his daddy gets his hands on him but their schedule is so tight today.

His pussy is getting wet, of course it is. How can he pretend to be unaffected? He feels his daddy's breath against his exposed ass, his fingers gently rubbing and spreading the slick around with soft wet sounds.

"Dad…" Peter complains.

"I'm sorry I couldn't fuck you properly earlier," his daddy apologizes, "A quickie probably isn't in the works right now either. Don't wanna tire you out too much before the big event."

"I can take it, dad," Peter protests fiercely. "You've made sure I can take anything you dish out to me so don't…"

His father's insinuation that Peter can't kind of annoys him because he's Peter Stark. Only he knows how to thoroughly please his father. Even when he's thoroughly used and dropping, he can handle anything his daddy wants.

"Mhmm," comes his daddy's hum of approval but Peter isn't sure he's even listening.

His daddy's too focused on playing with him and he does play.

Tony grips his ass and spreads his cheeks apart with just his thumb. Even if he looks over his shoulder, Peter wouldn't be able to see what his dad is up to so he just waits.

He doesn't have to wait for long. His daddy thumbs the tightly furled hole of his asshole and finds it dry. The light touch makes Peter clench up instinctively.

"Daddy wants to use my ass?" Peter asks curiously, shifting on his feet and wiggling his hips a little. With the time crunch they're in, he figured his dad would just do a quick fuck and hold off on knotting.

"It's too tempting not to, kid," his daddy admits. "Just for a little bit, okay?"

"Mmkay, you can use it whenever you want, dad," Peter says, "I'm your omega, after all."

Tony purrs at the words. "That's right, isn't it? My good omega son."

Peter shudders when his daddy moves his hand between his legs, rubbing against his pussy lips and dipping into his wet hole. Peter's already wet so when Tony starts to leisurely pump his fingers in and out, Peter moans in appreciation.

It's not what he needs– he needs his dad's cock– but it's good enough.

Peter leans his forehead against the window, fogging it up even more with his breath.

His heart jumps when the window he's leaning on jerks down just slightly.

"Boss, we need to get going," Happy calls from within. "Is he– Pete, let your dad know cause we gotta get going."

"Mmk–" Peter barely acknowledges it but he calls out to his dad with a soft moan. "Dad, Hap– Hap says we gotta go."

His daddy's fingers persistently jab inside him, fingers circling and rubbing in a spot that has Peter's eyelids fluttering. Another deep press has the omega biting down on his lip because it's right where the knot would sit. The pressure isn't the same, so it's not the same as being knotted, but it still feels good.

"Just need a minute," his daddy says.

Peter repeats it to Happy but he's barely aware of doing so. He only knows that the window rolls back up because his fingers leave streaks where his breath had fogged up the glass.

"Dad… daddy…" Peter whines. His voice echoes and bounces around in the large open space of the parking lot.

His alpha daddy gives one last shove of his fingers, one last jolt of pleasure that has Peter arching his back before he removes them.

"Keep it down, kid," Tony reminds him and then those slick wet fingers return but not to his pussy. They nudge against his back hole, one finger testing the tightness before sliding in.

Peter gasps and holds very still, trembling, as his daddy works his asshole open. It's been a while since their morning fuck so his hole is tight but still soft and ready for use.

His daddy prepares him diligently, slicking up his back hole with the wetness from his pussy. Peter opens easily, knowing to relax and push back so that the prep takes almost no time at all.

His hips push back, chasing after the pull of his father's fingers. It's a different kind of pleasure, getting fucked in the ass. But it's one that Peter's gotten used to.

He expects his daddy to press him against the limo once he deems Peter ready.

Instead, his alpha yanks the limo door open and Peter gets shoved inside. His chest is pushed down against the expensive leather seats and he scrabbles to get up.

Hands grab into his hips, keeping him right where his daddy wants him. His alpha's cock is pushed inside his hole, fucking in halfway before his father pulls out and does it again.

"Mmph!" Peter groans and clings to the seats as his ass gets fucked.

His daddy fucks him from behind and he steadies himself. His jeans help to cushion his knees and his daddy's hands keep him in position.

"Boss!" Happy complains from the front, "Pepper's gonna kill me if we're late. We gotta get Peter ready for the gala too."

"Ah…!" His daddy's cock pushes up right against his prostate.

It doesn't seem as though his father would stop and Peter revels in it even when he feels bad for causing trouble for Ms. Potts.

The alpha reaches around, fondling Peter's hard cocklet as it drips and stains the floor of the limo. He gives another thrust, sinking in deep and making Peter gasp as he sees stars. Then Tony grinds in deep, savoring the closeness of their connection, the tightness of Peter's ass.

He stills and his hands slip back to Peter's hips before sliding down, each warm palm settling on his cheeks. Then similar to earlier, he spreads Peter's ass apart and gives a hum of approval at what he finds.

"God, look at that hole trying so hard to take cock," Tony groans in appreciation. He rubs at the reddened hole, the tip of his thumb threatens to breach the already stuffed rim.

Peter clenches even tighter around his daddy's cock, breathless with how full he feels. When Tony doesn't do anything else but admire the view, Peter gets impatient and bounces a bit. He rocks on his dad's cock in an attempt to get him to continue.

"Ugh, hold on, Pete," Tony grunts. He pulls out a couple of inches and then spits to where his cock is exposed. When he sinks back in, the renewed wetness makes it even slicker and easier to slide in.

To Peter's dismay, his dad doesn't resume fucking him like before. After a few more thrusts, his daddy pulls out completely and leaves the omega feeling unfulfilled. Peter's about to turn around and complain when a swift smack against his backside has him jolting.

"Get in, kid. I'm not done with you yet but we gotta get going, as our dear Happy keeps reminding us." Tony says. His cock is still glistening wet and so hard, twitching between his father's legs.

Peter eagerly obeys, holding onto his pants as he gets in. His daddy slides in after him and tugs at the omega's pants.

"Get these off and get on my lap," he instructs Peter. Then to Happy, he says, "Let's get rolling, Hap! We got a gala to attend."

Peter kicks off his pants, leaving them in a heap on the floor along with his underwear.

Happy starts to drive off as Peter moves into position. He wobbles on his feet as the limo moves but with his daddy's help, he sits on the alpha's lap.

Tony's cock is hot against his bare skin and he shifts up.

"It'd be so much easier if you just used my pussy, dad," Peter complains when he blindly tries to position his dad's cock at his other hole.

"I love all your holes, Pete, but just get my cock inside this sweet ass of yours. Don't want your pussy too sore for tonight so it's this hole fo now," Tony says patiently even with his voice strained.

He's helping Peter balance while Peter finally presses the alpha's cockhead to his rim. Once positioned, Peter sinks down on his father's cock and they both groan when he fully sits on Tony's lap.

Peter presses a hand against his belly and groans when he feels Tony's cock twitch inside him.

"Go on, kid, fuck yourself on daddy's cock," Tony orders him. He helps Peter bounce on his dick, his hands tight on the omega's hips.

Outside, the sky is starting to darken and once they join the road, other cars flank the limo. The windows are tinted but uncovered so even from where Peter's sitting on his daddy's lap, he can see other drivers and passengers and even the buildings as they drive on.

Peter eagerly continues his bouncing, helping along with the movement of the car, though it sometimes gives him trouble. He doesn't want to slip off his daddy's cock, though, so eventually, he keeps his bouncing to a minimum. It's just enough stimulation to pleasure his daddy.

At one point, his daddy helps him turn around so that his knees settle on either side of his daddy's hips. This position is much easier and he tucks his face into Tony's shoulder, drinking in the scent of his alpha.

"Happy, can you turn right here?" Tony interrupts.

By then, Peter has his eyes closed, just focusing on his daddy's hands, his voice, and his cock.

His eyes shoot open when they hit a rough patch of road.

"O-Oh!" He cries out when he falls back against his daddy's chest. "Mmph!"

He quickly realizes this was his daddy's plan all along because the rough patch of road doesn't end. They've turned down a bad stretch of road that's partially under construction and each pothole, each rough bump, has Peter bouncing roughly in place.

His daddy is enjoying it immensely and Peter… Peter is too distracted by the now rough fucking. He's barely catching his breath and has to cling to his father.

His daddy's cock is fucking into his ass roughly, in and out– Every bump has him bouncing higher than intended and when he drops, it's to the shock of his daddy's entire alpha cock shoving in from tip to hilt.

Peter barely has control and only had the help of his daddy to keep him in place. He ends up giving himself over to the mercy of the road and his own luck and just braces himself for the rough fucking.

By the time they get back on smooth clean road, Peter's come twice and has ruined his daddy's clothes. His daddy also came, shooting off a load into his ass but making sure to keep his knot from shoving in. As a result, they've made a mess between their legs, his alpha daddy's come spilling from his used hole.

His daddy has shoved two fingers back into his asshole, swirling the mess of alpha come and slick together.

"We're here," Happy announces cheerfully.

Peter groans even as his daddy finally pulls his fingers out and gently pats his ass. His hole feels a bit sore but it's nothing he can't handle, especially since it's more than likely his daddy only intends to use his pussy for the gala.

"Time to get ready, kiddo. Hope you're ready for tonight."

His legs feel like jelly but Peter huffs against his daddy's neck.

"'m okay, dad. Just… maybe carry me in?"

Tony chuckles but Happy opens the doors, his daddy does exactly that and brings Peter in his arms to where their team is waiting to get them ready.

[ultfreakme]

One thing that bothers me about jujutsu is that the author doesn't know how to develop some characters. 1 Shoko Ieri is an interesting character but I find her apathetic without a cold and superficial personality. 2 itadori yuji doesn't seem to be a protagonist he seems more like a tool than the protagonist of the work. 3 nobara had no development dry and emotionless death. and many other characters. There were only 2 characters that really had development, which was gojo and geto, for me, they were the only ones that had it. Why do you think the author did this, is it because he didn't want to develop the characters that's why he killed many important characters? I would appreciate it if you respond.

Yeah he's bad at developing female characters. Shoko seems very interesting but her powers haven't been really explored and she's relegated to waiting on the sidelines. Obviously she doesn't have to fight to have development but her skills can still be interwoven into the story. Although, I do think her personality makes a lot of sense. All her dead friends and colleagues are deposited at her feet and their life or death depends on her. If she becomes emotional, she wouldn't be able to survive it. The detachment is necessary for her to do her work. My only gripe is her lack of screen time and lack of focus on her during the Hidden Inventory Arc.

Nobara's death feels like such a waste. Now I'm not a professional writer but I do know a thing or two about planning stories from writing fics.

I usually plot out key events and fill in the blanks as I go along. There are times when I have to remove or alter a key event from the outline because while filling the gaps, the characters reacted differently to what I first imagined. So I come to a crossroads; modify the character so they'd trigger the key event, or change the key event? It's a juggle between both.

I think Akutami had all his key events in place to convey the overall theme of his story but when filling the gaps of the outline, the characters gained their own voice and started acting too differently to accomplish the key events. So maybe he chose to alter and remove characters instead of changing the story trajectory?

Eg: Yuuji v Mahito needs to happen -> Yuuji defeats Mahito but fails in killing him -> Kenjaku gets Mahito -> Start the Culling Games

Now, Mahito needs to be alive by the time Kenjaku arrives and perhaps this could've made sense if it was just Yuuji v Mahito & maybe Todo. BUT. Nobara is handcrafted to destroy Mahito. She is accidentally the perfect opponent for a majority of the main villains(she could probably find a way to take on Kenjaku or be key in figuring out how he works).

Nobara's capable of being a grade 1 sorcerer and is aware that Mahito can transform souls. We saw Nanami being unaffected because he protected himself with CE so Nobara SHOULDN'T HAVE DIED THERE even if she wasn't aware of the Mahito switch because we have precedent that a grade 1 or similar level sorcerer is harder to transmogrify and can protect themselves! Nobara is fine with excruciating pain and likely has a good grasp on souls because of her powers so even if was changed, I don't think she should have died in Shibuya.

That Mahito fight, emotionally would have paid off way better if Yuuji + Nobara destroyed him. But that fully deviates from whatever emotional arc Akutami has planned for Yuuji so it just, couldn't happen. So he removed a character (also Mahito needed to be taken by Kenjaku to start CG so, it's for practical reasons as well).

I think Yuuji's lack of presence is also because of this altering the character thing. I don't know if Akutami like, really thought about the power scaling well? Because prior to the last 10 or so chapters, Yuuji was NOT strong. Him not having a CT really set him back in terms of ability. Plopping him into a setting where everyone is more powerful than him accidentally made him seem futile in taking down Sukuna and Kenjaku. The problem, I think, is:

Yuuji's been nerfed.

The story itself keeps mocking or rejecting his dreams to help others and makes his dreams seem futile and foolish.

Strength and selfishness is important in Culling Games and even Shibuya arc. In Shibuya arc he got to grow stronger but in CG he's nothing extraordinary or stand-out. CG is like a bunch of egomaniacs fighting so I thought Yuuji's uniqueness would be exemplified to discuss what true strength and selflessness means but it just, continues being an ego clash of 'might is right'. Right now, it's getting more even but it took way too long for Yuuji to find his footing and now everyone has lost track of Yuuji and his visions. It's like his goal of giving everyone a respectable death has been deemed too stupid.

Like you START the series by giving your character a goal; be strong, protect others, don't die alone. It's fine to change these goals....but now Yuuji's goals haven't been given enough focus so I have no idea where he's at right now because the series turned into a death game.

I think Culling Games is terrible at giving the main characters anything. The new characters are fine, but after watching the old cast die off, it feels harder to get attached to any of the new people because-- Why? None of the main characters interact with them and when they do it's all just fights, and we never know the new characters beyond their CT. Often times they just die anyways or disappear.

I think it's coming back to Yuuji now. I binge-read the manga up to the middle of the Sukuna v Gojo fight so I'm not really done processing all the information to really see what Akutami is trying here.

On Gojo and Geto- yeah they feel really well developed. Geto's arc is contained and done so it's impossible to tamper with or make worse. I find that a lot of writers do well when a story is shorter and there's a specific start and end goal. Gojo too, I agree although Akutami seems to have had a hard time (I think him dying was tragic but I see no point in him coming back anymore, his death was done well. I think we just grew numb as readers to deaths because it keeps happening repeatedly). Gojo and Geto were plotted even before the main series so they probably had a lot more time to be fleshed out and written so it's no surprise they're so well done.

WRT why Gege Akutami made the choices he made? I don't know. I've only been back in JJK fandom for a like a month or two. I don't want to speculate on his thought process when I'm not really that good at keeping track of the characters and their progressions but if I had to guess....I think this is happening for practical reasons. CG characters are numerous and new, each with weird CTs. I can't imagine keeping track of ALL of them and using their weirdly specific CTs to their full potentials at all times and writing on a weekly basis.

Characters will be left behind, powers will go unused. I think this wouldn't be as much of a problem if we had a main cast focus but we don't. We spend a little too much time with the side characters and one-off characters with zero involvement from Yuuji so when these characters disappear, it feels all the more strange.

My boring answer to the lack of development on many side characters is a weekly schedule pressure thing.

His other reason for killing off characters might be two things;

the man doesn't know how to write female characters

the themes of JJK makes it so that death is normal and plot armor isn't spared for main characters.

First point's self-explanatory, but the second...I think this is what happens when you don't put plot armor on anyone. The entire franchise imo is a critique of social systems that oppress the people living under it and even having the ability to see the damage the social systems cause isn't enough to stop them, only potentially raise awareness and do small fixes. Geto's arc is like, a very on-the-nose example of how capitalism makes it so that the laborer is detached from the product their work is contributing to. Just like in real life, we may be aware, but we individuals can't do shit. The only ones who manage to thrive are the ones who are already powerful.

If JJK is following this theme, then it's mandatory for characters to suffer. No one can escape this(well, no one has found a way to). These deaths become important in showing how depressingly futile things are. It is unfair, it is wrong. But modern society is just, like that. The weak get trample, only the strong can speak. In a world ruled by strength, there is no point pursuing anything else(*ahem* Sukuna *ahem*).

So in a way I think the death part works. They would work better and feel justified if the characters weren't forced to be developed on a tight schedule and Akutami knew how to write women.

That's my......huge answer. Idk if this properly answered the ask. It's just my opinions. Idk, what do you think?

Thanks for sending me this btw!

[thatsamoodrightthere]

KinnPorsche episode 7 bathroom scene

All week I've been planning on writing out a full episode analysis but the last few days have been unexpectedly rough mentally, so I'm just going to analyse the bathroom scene and see if any of it makes sense because my brain is a dumpster fire right now and this could all be rubbish. Yet again this is a beast of a post, I almost dread to think what a full episode analyse would look like. This show being what it is I'd say apply all trigger warnings just in case.

Vegas is once again being a creepy shit, while trying to come across as really nice and helpful. He's all for taking advantage of Porsche while he's intoxicated, which seems to be a theme I've got to say, now I've never read the novel and don't intend to but what is it with Vegas? Is he not capable of getting a willing partner so he's resorted to drugging people or preying on drunk people? I am really not liking that this prize parasite is supposedly the one for Pete but that's a tangent for another post I reckon.

So he's making a show of being helpful to Porsche, getting him out of his wet shirt and sort of half heartedly drying his chest off and kind of out of nowhere he kisses Porsche. Whose facial expression mimicked my words watching the episode, what the actual fuck. Porsche is drunk so he's not hiding any of his facial reactions at all, it's instantaneous discomfort and he's visibly confused because again for him this has come out of absolutely nowhere.

As well as the visual cues the viewers get of Porsches face, his body immediately responds, and not how Vegas wants it to. Porsche curls sideways and away from Vegas and his arm comes up between their necks and shoves outwards trying to gain enough distance to get a decent foothold. Vegas is pushing Porsche practically on top of that counter, it's a disadvantage but Porsche also brings one of his legs up between them as another barrier to Vegas. Literally everything about Porsche's body is screaming 'I do not want this' and while he's not yet at the point of fighting to get Vegas off of him, he's trying to show that the advance is unwanted. Normal people would read that reaction and back off while apologising profusely for the misunderstanding but we have already established that Vegas is a vile bastard and he keeps pushing that unwanted advance with complete abandon.

Thanks to Pete keeping Kinn updated on Vegas being overly friendly with Porsche, Kinn is already on his way while this whole bathroom scene starts. It's been a pretty tough transition for Kinn this episode, he's recovering from being shot, has had no choice but to lend Porsche out to the minor family, had a tense conversation with his father and he knows Vegas is making a play for Porsche so he's already angry before he gets to the bathroom. He storms in like a threatening storm, with the absolute boss energy to match it. He rips Vegas off of Porsche like his weight is nothing and throws him across the room courtesy of one hell of a deserved punch. Kinn's got his gun out and pointed at Vegas in seconds and I'm not gonna lie I really want someone, anyone I'm not picky, to shoot Vegas in the dick so I was a bit disappointed that didn't happen but you know I live in hope.

Kinn's voice from the second he entered that bathroom was probably the 'strongest' we've heard in this episode, you can audibly hear his rage and he's using that power in his voice to absolutely dominate everyone in that room and it visually works. Even Vegas, the creepy shit, isn't unaffected. Kinn is aware that Vegas wants everything that Kinn has, including his power and position so everything that Vegas has done is a subtle power play or has an element of it. Vegas responds to Kinn's command in that bathroom with as much disdain and helpless disrespect as he possibly could while having a loaded gun pointed at him, he slaps the gun away and consequently the hand with that all important ring on it (I absolutely wanted to call it the ring of power just because it makes me laugh), it's a not so subtle sign that he will listen for now but he's not afraid of Kinn and won't cower before his authority.

I found it really interesting that, had a fight broken out, it was equal man power with the exception of Porsche. So we have an enraged Kinn with two of his best bodyguards, god love those poor sods and the situations they end up in, and we have Vegas and two of his bodyguards. The positions they were in was quite awkward but also telling, Vegas didn't really have an opportunity of killing Kinn and escaping that room and likewise Kinn couldn't have shot Vegas without being at least injured by one of the bodyguards at his back.

Just going to take a minute to enjoy the absolute boss energy of Kinn to stand there with his back to two armed men who were not loyal to him and probably wouldn't have minded shooting him while his back was turned. There has been a lot of speculation on Kinn and his trust issues, including whether or not he trusts his bodyguards to keep him safe but we see here that he does, at least he trusts Pete and Pol enough to turn his back on armed possible assailants. Anyway back to my main thought process of all those armed people and if they started shooting each other. Even if Vegas had attempted to shoot Kinn, his bodyguards might be occupied with Kinn's but we can't forget about Porsche. Unarmed, half naked and intoxicated he might be but he is still a formidable opponent and Vegas knows that because Porsche fought him off, however brief it was, when Porsche was drugged and vulnerable and in that bathroom he's had time to start sobering up. Taking on that much risk, with that many guns in such a small vicinity would literally have been suicide for Vegas and you can see he comes to that conclusion just before he slaps Kinn's gun away, he's a creep and while I question his intelligence at times he is obviously risk aware and acts accordingly to save his own skin and he leaves.

Kinn, still in a rage, orders all bodyguards to leave. They've not even fully left before Kinn is crowding Porsche back into that counter and the mirror, noticeably Kinn is still angry and that's not helped by the fact that Porsche looks amused.

Kinn shouts in Porsche's face, because that's worked out so well for him before and it's not helped that what he shouts is automatic blame upon Porsche. "What the heck were you doing?" The background music here also changed to a more ominous sound, which matched the mood onscreen perfectly. Porsche reacts about as well as you'd expect after being unfairly blamed for the unwanted advancements of a parasite, sorry I mean man, and his stance is beginning to radiate defiance.

There was a lot of visual cues and body language with the bathroom scene and I can't adequately describe just how powerful and moving it made it. Take for instance Porsche, Kinn has just shouted at him and instead of shouting back he focuses on looking, really looking at Kinn's face. His eyes are flitting all over it because he's trying to get a read on Kinn and we see the confusion Porsche feels when he can't. The reason he can't is because this isn't the Kinn from the forest who became an open book to Porsche, or even the Kinn from earlier in the episode where he was making Porsche promise to return to him. No, this Kinn is the one who has been warned off, again, by papa Korn but Porsche doesn't know that. To Porsche, Kinn has shut him out for no reason beyond the situation they are now in and that gets Porsche's defiance and own irritation to the forefront and then Kinn repeats his question and slaps Porsche.

Once again proving that he is not willing to take Kinn's crap, Porsche with force shoves Kinn off of him. Also interesting to note that Porsche hit Kinn's left shoulder/chest area close to the bullet wound with zero hesitation or concern, it's absolutely savage and I approve. Porsche immediately snaps at Kinn that he's done nothing to warrant... Well any of it really because he's done nothing wrong and he's right to snap that Kinn never trusts him. Kinn helps his cause here by nodding along to the fact that he doesn't trust Porsche, give the man a gold star for sabotaging himself - he deserves it no contest.

Every word and action now is clearly coated in irritation from the both of them, you can practically feel the weight behind every charged word and they are about to get brutal. Porsche lands the first blow by telling Kinn to shoot him just like he shot his ex, the absolute stillness on Kinn's face for a second before it's wiped away by unadulterated violence is hair raising. That look on his face, while academically interesting, is visceral and alarming and yet Porsche doesn't even flinch. Throughout this scene we've seen Porsche's strength in himself, what he'll accept, what he won't and that not much living actually seems to scare him which has been commented on before. Kinn pushes Porsche even further into the counter and he's all tightly controlled rage but did anyone else notice where his hand landed on that counter? His thumb curls around his gun - a subtle sign of the violence in the air and the threat of who Kinn is and what he's willing to do.

What Kinn says next is vile, absolutely vile and honestly I was screaming profanities at him in my head so I had to watch it a few times to get over that initial reaction and analyse the scene. You can see by his expression that his words are a calculated move, they are designed to hurt Porsche to the full extent and Kinn knows Porsche. He knows that to hurt him he has to diminish his worth and value, not to himself because Porsche is too self assured for that, no he has to diminish his role in Kinn's life and that's just instant maximum damage. It's the hurt bomb to end all hurt bombs and Kinn knows that, that's why he says it and not because he believes it. Boy better not believe it or a bullets gonna get lodged somewhere painful. I genuinely think that a talent of Kinn's is to suss out weaknesses, whether in a person's character or as something that can be used against someone, he can find it and store it away until he has need of that knowledge and he can use it as a weapon and I don't think anyone in his life is safe from that, not his family and evidently not Porsche.

Feeling less than happy with Kinn myself, I cheered when Porsche slapped him and our boy wasn't holding back (as he shouldn't). In a move that wasnt intended as one Porsche snapped back with the most devastating of possible comebacks, 'I shouldn't have loved a crappy guy like you.' immediately he tries to walk away, not because of what he said but for the absolute hurt he is feeling. His expression was just breathtakingly devastated and so deeply hurt and the impression I got from his confession was that it was matter of fact. His word choice was quite telling 'loved' not 'love' I don't think that was accidental at all but a sign he was already compartmentalizing it, he was already turning his hurt inwards and walling it off whether to protect himself and/or begin processing his hurt. Yes he loves Kinn but he's not going to put up with his appalling behaviour nor is he willing to be walked all over just because he feels love for Kinn. Porsche values himself even if others don't, that sort of behaviour from Kinn is devaluation at best and Porsche knows his own boundaries and he sticks by them. Porsche is fully prepared to walk away and hes not afraid to show Kinn that, it's like he's saying 'yes I love you but I can walk away and one day I'll stop loving you'.

Kinn grabs Porsche before he can leave and in a move all too reminiscent of his creepy cousin, he crowds Porsche against the wall. Again. Porsche's body language and the position he ends up in, is also like with Vegas when he was uncomfortable and wanted out. He's turned away from Kinn and he's even hugging his arms to his chest. Part of it is also defiance, sure Kinn's got him pinned but that doesn't mean he has to look at him. You see Kinn's expression as he realises that too, his face just crumples in on itself -hes fucked up and he knows it. He can probably remember what it was like before to lose Porsche's trust and his willingness to share his happiness with those around him, to be shut out by Porsche is to lose all the joy and light he brings to those around him. Yet again Kinn is faced with a Porsche that is hurt because of him and that destroys whatever leftover anger/jealousy Kinn has. Now he has to try and find a way of reaching Porsche who has closed himself off and who won't even look at him and who doesn't want to be there in that room with Kinn anymore.

I noted that Porsche was still breathing really heavily, he's emotionally in pain and very possibly still angry, you can hear his breathing right up until Kinn issues his very sincere and soft apology. As soon as he does, Porsche's breathing levels off and becomes calmer and quieter. The music for that apology scene and the defeated/devastated look on Kinn's face was just absolutely masterful, there aren't words for that ability to grab at the audience and really make them feel every bit of emotion possible.

Kinn nuzzling at Porsche shouldn't have been sweet but by god it was, it was just the sweetest thing. Porsche though seemed somewhat unaffected, his eyes were open but he didn't really seem very present - maybe he was thinking it all through because he came back to himself when Kinn nuzzled his ear. That got a reaction, he immediately closed his eyes and his body relaxed and he turned around to face Kinn. He looked so sad here and slightly resigned, like he's just realised this is probably going to be an ongoing thing with them in the future, I wanted to give him blankets and ice cream and maybe pat him on the head a bit.

Kinn was scanning Porsche's face like he's never seen him before because he wants and needs confirmation that Porsche meant what he said, all while Porsche is looking at him unimpressed like 'yeah I love you, so what'.

I'm going to be honest I was a little unsure about the sex scene at first. When Kinn was kissing Porsche's body, Porsche didn't really seem all that on board with the idea. He was passive, allowing the touch but not engaging until Kinn kissed him, he returned the kiss and got some control back by grabbing Kinn's neck pushing him back and scanning his face. Again trying to read Kinn and this time Kinn is an open book. I just want to celebrate the little nod Kinn gave, with their past sexual encounters I think it was super important for that little check in of consent, from both of them. If for no other reason, than consent being imperative, than once again Kinn is stone cold sober while Porsche is... Well not. He's sobering up but he's still still under the influence. I really liked that once consent was given, Porsche went from gripping Kinn's neck to cupping his face with both hands and drawing him in for a soft, unhurried kiss.

I'm not going to comment on the sex scene itself, for reasons that aren't at all to with awkwardness at analysing it.

My final take on that ending is that the hug they shared reminded me so much of the goodbye hug in episode 6, tight, all encompassing, a little bit desperate and like they never want to let go of each other. Porsche's face, which we see clearly while Kinn's is hidden, quite clearly shows some turmoil. That whole situation escalated so quickly and I'm interpretating his look at the end as 'you are a fucked up human being, imma keep you,' because we know from the glimpse of episode 8 that they look very happy with each other. Hopefully we get a bit of a breather angst wise but with the supposed dead ex turning up I'm not going to hope for too much.

[ncji]

Six Months

Pairing: SasuNeji

Rating: Mature

Summary: Shinobi sometimes have to take long missions. Neji doesn't want Sasuke to go on an especially long one, though.

...

"No."

Sasuke was a little taken aback. "That...isn't an option..."

"It is now." Neji wasn't open to debate. He returned to their dishes, punishing them for the Uchiha's inconsiderate screw-up with harder than necessary scrubbing.

Unsure how to respond without sounding cold and callous, Sasuke opted for silence, waiting.

That only annoyed the Hyuuga more. "I rejected a mission today. Do you know why?" Carelessly, he tossed a plate into their drying rack. Luckily, it rattled the dishes, but nothing broke. "I told them I couldn't leave my husband for three months..."

Sasuke frowned. Could his timing have been any worse?

Too upset to finish his task, Neji turned off the water and faced his husband, whom he threw a dishtowel at. "Six months, Sasuke! You accepted a mission that will last six months! That's twenty-four weeks! One hundred and eighty days!"

The dish towel hit its target, but only because Sasuke thought it might make Neji feel better. With a sigh, he pulled it off his face and set it on the counter. "I can tell time, Neji..."

"But you don't know the value of it!" He was more than upset. Neji was hurt, tears gathering along his waterline. "That's six months I'll spend worrying about you...Six months I'll be taking missions, and there's never a guarantee I'll come back from them...You'll miss my birthday..."

"I'll make it up to you." A kiss wasn't likely to solve the issue, but he still tried to use one to comfort him.

With a hand on the Uchiha's chest, Neji kept him comfortably away from him. He didn't want his hands on his hips or his mouth on his lips. "You can't make up time...When you sacrifice it, it's gone forever."

Sasuke's life had been varying degrees of isolation, so he just couldn't understand what the issue was. That didn't mean he was incapable of realizing there was an issue, though. It was just interfering with his responsibilities, his duties. "Neji...You know I'm indebted to the village..."

"Don't give me that! You know how I feel about the village!" he shot back.

Sasuke sighed again. "Naruto said he'll work on your clan when he becomes--" The air was forced out of him when chakra pulsed out of the hand keeping him at a distance, and Sasuke stumbled backwards.

"How dare you?"

Now he'd done it. Before Neji could storm off and ignore him for what time they had left until he needed to leave, he grabbed him around the waist. As usual when he was this upset, his husband struggled, not violently, but enough to let him know he didn't want him to touch him.

"Let go of me! Let go!" he yelled. They were lucky their closest neighbor was never home. Neji was pulling at Sasuke's fingers, trying to bend them back, when he was tossed onto their marital bed. Immediately, he sat up and held his hand out as a barrier between them. "You don't love me. If you did, you wouldn't be able to leave me for six months. You don't love me!"

Sasuke had learned a long time ago that Neji could say cruel things that he didn't mean, so he was mostly unaffected by the claim. "I do love you," was his simple reply. He propped a knee up on the bed, reaching out towards his beloved.

Neji wanted to hurt him, though. He wanted Sasuke to feel the way he felt. "I should find someone to fill our bed while you're gone," he threatened.

Sasuke's eyes only narrowed for a second, before his expression softened. The reaction caught his husband off guard, so he didn't struggle when Sasuke pressed him into the mattress and crawled over top of him. "You should. I give you permission," he whispered against the Hyuuga's lips.

Neji choked out a sob, then pushed at Sasuke, really put his strength into trying to get him away from him, but stronger hands pinned Neji's wrists to the mattress above his head as lips dotted tender kisses along his neck. "I don't want anyone else! I want my husband!" he cried.

"I know," Sasuke murmured against pale skin.

Neji continued to struggle against his spouse, breaking his hold when he tried to pin him with only one hand, pushing at him, even slapping him once, until Sasuke was inside of him. The bruising grip on his wrists relaxed as his hips met each thrust. "Please don't go," he begged through tears.

Sasuke didn't answer. A no always ruined the mood. Instead, he laced his fingers with his lover's and moved. Slowly and deliberately.

Neji moved with him, even as tears rolled past his temples and into his hair, even as he hiccupped through his sobs. He moved. He did it to maintain their physical and emotional connection. He did it to remind Sasuke of what he would be without if he left. He did it because it was Sasuke and he loved him.

Their lovemaking came to a crescendo with quickening thrusts and desperate moans from his Hyuuga, and Sasuke emptied himself into the body quaking from orgasm beneath him. Spent and high off of the release, he kissed his husband, but the afterglow wore off with a quickness when he felt how Neji's lips continued to quiver. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Neji didn't answer. He just clung to Sasuke, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, one hand buried in his hair. Sasuke wasn't going to listen to his words anyway. All he could do was embrace him while he still had him.

Then, he would have to face Konoha alone again, without anyone there to ease his growing despair. One month. Two months. Three months...While everyone around him enjoyed their blissful ignorance, he would stare at reality in the mirror. He lived in a cage, the bars made of Main House Hyuuga, and everyone outside of it had averted their eyes long ago. They had left him to rot. Four months...The ever-dimming world would grow black and bleak. Hopelessness would set in. Five months. He would sit outside and watch the birds fly with envy in his eyes. Six months. Sacrifice would become his first strategy in every conflict. He would face danger with hope for an end. Then, Sasuke would come home, kiss him sweetly, and the healing process would begin again.

Bonus:

"He hasn't talked to anyone since it happened." Kakashi opened the door and gestured for Sasuke to enter. He had no interest in watching a man stare at a prison wall. "I doubt you'll get any closure from this."

Inside of the cell, Sasuke stepped in front of his husband's vacant stare. He seemed to be somewhere else, safely hidden away in his own mind. When the door shut and the lock clicked into place, though, those pale eyes came alive. They were not welcoming. He had never seen that look on Neji's face before, so filled with betrayal. How could the Hyuuga blame him for what he had done?

"Six months," he bit out.

"Six months," Sasuke confirmed. His tone was more level, less emotional. He couldn't handle the emotions that wanted to explode onto the surface, so he kept them suppressed with every ounce of control he had.

"Six months."

"Six months," he repeated, "and you decided to get back at me by...killing your clansmen and beating up one of the cousins you let live." Maybe Neji would see how utterly insane it sounded if Sasuke said it.

"I didn't beat her up. I sterilized her. She beat herself up by resisting."

Evidently not. Neji seemed to think it sounded sane enough to warrant an explanation. Sasuke sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You let her live, but you took away her ability to make life..." It was disturbingly poetic. "Why didn't you do the same to Hinata?"

Neji let out a laugh. "I tried. That's when Naruto put my genocide to an end."

Genocide. Sasuke swallowed thickly. "Did you sterilize yourself?"

"No. I was waiting until I spoke to you. I won't live long past this conversation," was his bitter reply.

Sasuke nodded, but he couldn't pretend to be a hollow shell at the notion his husband was playing out his own version of his brother's life, right down to a suicide that required Sasuke in some way. "Why?" he asked, choked by his emotions to a whisper.

Neji leaned forward on the stone bench that doubled as a bed and smiled mockingly at the man he had given his heart to. "Maybe now you'll love me as much as you love Itachi." He kept on, even as tears rolled down the Uchiha's face. "Maybe you will finally question your loyalty to this village, now that you've seen what it pushed me to do. Maybe you'll understand how terrified I was of the main house. Maybe, just maybe, you'll see Naruto for what he is, the man who left your husband caged while hanging on to an empty promise..."

What followed the confession was stunned silence and utter disbelief. Had he really ignored so much suffering from his own husband?

"Six months," Neji repeated. "Six months..."

[gutsandgoregalore]

Black Dahlia

CW: Mild gore

The sun was bright that day. It mercilessly scorched the vast pale dunes, the sand burned with all the wrath of an angered god. The air was dry and still, void of any movement as the heavy heat sapped at the strength of anything unfortunate enough to exist in this realm. 

Although, it seemed that some creatures were unaffected by the dreadful sun or simply didn't mind it. The sand began to twitch as the temperatures reached their highest before it parted, revealing what looked like large white crows with beak and talons too sharp to be anything natural. 

The birds took a moment to shake the sand off their glistening feathers before taking off with a few powerful flaps to the one place in this endless desert that would always offer them a fresh meal.

At the end of the birds' long journey awaited a bound angel with sorrowful apprehension. The thick chains all over their body keeping them firmly in place clattered a cruel symphony as Damaris shifted in a pitiful attempt to give themselves some protection against their ravenous attackers, so close that they could hear the fervent flapping of their wings - freedom that would've made Damaris jealous and sick with longing if they still had it in them to care.

Soon enough, the feathered punishers arrived and gleefully began their feast. Damaris did not have the energy to cry anymore, when hundreds of claws stabbed into them, or when beaks began to greedily tear bits and pieces of their flesh, or when the sun and the sand hurt their open wounds even more. Stupidly, they thought that these birds reminded them of home - with their uncanny resemblance to big white doves, but with claws as sharp as an eagle's and beak as skilled and merciless as a vulture's. Their eyes failed to hide the malice and hunger that drove them to this place every day. 

Damaris did not know how long their assault had lasted on that day. Minutes blended into hours that blended into days and it took them too long to realise that, at some point, the birds had ceased their feast and were instead only looking at them intently. Damaris focused all the energy they had into moving their head around, despite the protests all over their body, and froze when they were met with an iridescent white robe they never wished to see again. 

"Have you come here to gloat?" They tried to keep their voice cold with the contempt that suddenly filled them, but it came out weak and shaky. Curse them.

"Can't I pay my old friend a visit every once in a while?"

You're not my friend, Damaris wanted to snap, but thought better of it. "Why are you here, Samael?" They weren't in the mood for this, whatever it was. It wasn't enough that their body ached all over, now he was here on top of it all.

"How long have you been here? A couple of decades, perhaps?"

"A century."

"Already?" He made a soft sympathetic sound, but the corners of his mouth twitched up. "How sad a fate you have met with."

"You did this to me," Damaris bit. It came out raspy, hurt. Bleeding all over, just like them.

A shadow fell over Samael's face, his gaze growing dangerous, his voice soft. "You brought this upon yourself. No one goes against the Shepherd and escapes unscathed." It seemed he was making a conscious effort to restrain himself, indicated by the stony calmness that suddenly overtook his features. "Did you think I wouldn't catch up with you? That you could betray him and get away with it?"

"No." They wanted to quip something scathing, but their brain buzzed and it was all they could do to keep their voice remotely steady.

"No," Samael echoed. "And yet, you still tried to fight us. I've always found that interesting in you. I don't think I've ever had to fight for anything in my life." He grew wistful, like he was curious what that struggle, that desperation, felt like.

"It seemed the right thing to do, at the time." Damaris's voice grew weak, unconvincing, even to their own ears. "Being willing to die for the greater good and all that."

"And look where righteousness got you." He had that damned sad expression again. "I warned you, Damaris, and I gave you a choice."

"Join me or feel the wrath of the Shepherd," They mock-mimicked his voice. "As if I ever would." Their voice cracked along with their resolve. "You were my friend, Samael. You betrayed me. You abandoned me here."

Samael scoffed, a soft scolding sound like Damaris was a perfect pupil that had disappointed. One of the birds jumped closer and pecked at an open wound as punishment. "I never abandoned you, dear. I'm here, aren't I? And my offer still stands."

"What?"

"You still have a choice. I can save you, give you the life you were always meant to have. You need only say the word."

"And if I choose not to come with you?"

"Well," Samael grinned, all teeth, "in that case, you'll find there are much worse fates than this."

Damaris swallowed, considered their options. Samael could be bluffing. They didn't think he was bluffing. The Samael they knew was a man of action, willing to do anything to get what he wanted, with little restraint or consideration, though he would never go so far as to harm Damaris. The Samael before them was volatile and unpredictable, a corrupted reflection of the man they once knew. He might as well have actually been three seconds away from following up on his words with something horrible as proof that he was serious. 

They looked up. Samael was calmly gazing down at them with his arms crossed, a small satisfied smile playing on his lips like he already knew Damaris's answer. 

Damaris knew better than to test his patience.

They squeezed their eyes shut. "Y-yes." They were so unbelievably screwed. "Yes, I'll come with you. Please get me out of here." Digging their own grave deeper with each word.

Samael lit up. "Great!" With a snap of his fingers, the chains binding Damaris to the ground melted into dust, and the awful birds burrowed back into the sand with one final caw. He hoisted the angel up, waited patiently for them to steady themselves on their feet, shaking from the strain and lack of use. After that, everything went black.

Damaris found themselves in an unfamiliar place that looked half house and half garden, teeming with flowering plants that all gave way to a sizable tree heavy with fruit.

They were left momentarily stunned and stayed rooted to their spot as their tired mind struggled to keep up with the pace. When they finally willed themselves to look around, Samael was already somewhere deep in the coils of this new place. Fortunately, before Damaris could panic and get lost in their search for the other angel, Samael returned with a bundle of cloth in his hands and pep in his step. 

"I thought you'd like a change of wardrobe," he said as he reached Damaris and grabbed their hand. "I don't have many clothes your size, but this'll have to do. We'll get you washed up and then you're going to try it."

They sputtered. "I- wait what? We?!"

"Yes. Or would you rather I left you covered in all that blood and sand? I'm fine either way."

Damaris felt an overwhelming urge to cry. They hung their head low.

"That's what I thought. Now come on, I don't have all day."

[sunlitmcgee]

To build upon the idea in this ask I sent @tobi-smp, I actually tried to visualize this "walking garden" take on the concept of zombie c!wilbur. I'll also ramble about it because there's a lot I was unable to draw in the limits of ms paint :"

so whatta we got!

well

1: The majority of the decay is on his torso and lower body, making his face one of the last places left that hasn't been completely decomposed. The face is the one area that hasn't been completely by decay, leaving his left eye and part of his mouth unaffected, if a bit pale.

2: Aside from his face, much of his body has been overtaken by the effects of decomposition that comes with so much exposure after so much time. His skin is green in most places, has a saggy texture, is very fragile and starts to leak pus at the slightlest hint of damage. His hands, arms and legs are wrapped in several layers of bandages for the first few months post revival. His skin starts to dry and takes on a firmer leathery texture eventually.

3: There is a large gaping wound in his chest. It was left behind by Phil's sword where it jabbed into Wilbur's heart and broke several ribs. Those ribs are still shattered or at the very least snapped off at the ends. Looking into the gap, you can see the outlines of movement from his organs, and it is largely for this reason that he constantly has some manner of chest guard on(once Tommy can convince him to get one, anyway). The discharge from this hole's rim leaves a faint stage on his sweater. It gets better as his skin toughens and once his body adapts to the whole "being alive again" shit.

4: The flowers. Flowers everywhere. He doesn't know where the roots for all the vines start, just that wherever the rotten patches of skin are, thick vines of emerald green erupt and have spread over his limbs, chest, neck and back. In place of his missing eye is a vibrate blue that's nestled in the socket. The roots don't hurt. The vines make moving a bit annoying. He gets used to it. Tommy's always watering them, which is annoying, but eh it's better than him hating him, maybe?

he's popular with the butterflies...maybe he can get used to that.

[god1ngs]

━‎ second chance

synopsis; dream offers you a deal

contains; manipulation, fighting, war, guilt tripping, death threats

prolouge + 2.1k wc

note; wow this was really long, but i hope you enjoy the prologue of seven days! also i'm changing the update schedule to every wednesday because im impatient lmao

seven days masterlist ; masterlist ; next part

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎everyone was fighting. there was no time to think as people charged into battle, screaming echoing off trees and shaking the leaves. the war went on, the violence unceasing between the dream smp and l'manberg. this was the worst possible outcome.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎you never liked war, even if you were known for starting chaos, this wasn't the type of chaos you wanted nor needed. l'manberg was still fragile, still in a new and weakened state, having not been built too long ago. war would only tear it down.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎before you joined l'manberg, you and dream were close. really close. the two of you could be seen everywhere and, without a doubt, were two of the closest people on the server. and yet the two of you had drifted apart before everyone else.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎it started when dream became more power hungry, demanding l'manberg to be tore down simply for his own tyrannical reasons. you noticed, the change in his attitude evident, yet didn't say anything. it didn't stop dream from lashing out at you and even exiling you though.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎it was too late however, even by then. you were already too entangled with dream, and he knew it.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎you hadn't spoke to dream since your exile. you stayed in the walls of l'manberg, usually only speaking to wilbur or tommy. you were more lonely. dream was, in a sense, all you had. he was the one person you talked to and the one who seemed to care about you.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎sure, you spoke to george and sapnap, but they weren't dream. dream was the one you favored, despite saying you liked them all equally. that was clear, no matter how much you insisted you didn't.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎it was even more clear when dream began speaking.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎dream, sapnap, and george stood outside the towering walls of l'manberg. they had tnt and weapons that were far greater than your own. they were intimidating, exactly as they had planned. they stopped the violence for a moment, pausing when dream raised a hand up.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"i want to speak to [name]."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎it was as if time had stopped. you were stood behind wilbur, but the only person you could see was dream. an arm was placed in front of you, wilbur's, and he said something. but you weren't listening, too caught up in the way dream was staring at you.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎was he staring at you? you couldn't tell with his mask on.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎you came back to your senses, looking up at wilbur. you had always been one of the loud ones of l'manberg, but you stayed quiet as he talked to dream. you heard your name amongst his words, but couldn't decipher what he was saying.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎then it happened.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎within seconds everything was gone. ash scattered across the once green grass and smoke rising in the air. it happened all so quickly. you had ash in your hair and there were bits of stone and wood laying around. you all ran to the caravan, trying not to get caught in any more flying debris.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎glass crunched beneath your feet as you walked in the caravan. part of it was gone and the glass panes had been broken. it was evident how much destruction had been done by dream. so why were you still thinking about him?

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎you hadn't noticed, but your ears were ringing. you were lightheaded and there was blood on your once clean uniform. "i consider this a win." wilbur said, ever so confident. it was refreshing to see his confidence still in tact. it reminded you of dream.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎you stood beside the caravan now, the destruction of your home creating a sinking feelinf in your chest. however, it was gone once wilbur stood on top of the vehicle. he wrote the declaration of independence, the giggles from you and your comrades filling the air.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎it was a change of heart from the war that ended only minutes ago.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎afterwards, you all got patched up. wilbur had been bandaging your hand, having got shards of class from the windows of the caravan stuck in it, when he suddenly sighed. "[name]." he said firmly, looking at you. had you done something?

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"did you hear what dream said today?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎it was all a blur, the loud sounds of war and your own thoughts had drowned out the sound of anything else. "no? what did he say?" you asked, something arising in your chest. you couldn't tell what it was, but there was a familiar sense of giddiness. you were giddy to know what dream had said, willing to be hooked on every syllable coming from him.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎he only shook his head, wrapping your hand. "nothing. just something about how he wanted to talk to you." he answered, not noticing the way you got somewhat upset. you hummed, nodding your head before he turned to the night sky. it was late, much later than you were supposed to be up.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎everyone else had already been asleep, having been nursed hours ago, but you had only just noticed the shards of glass in your hand. you didn't know how the pain had left you unaffected, but dream had always told you how strong you were.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"you should go to bed," wilbur murmured after a moment of silence. "it's late and we have things to do tomorrow." you nodded quietly, unaware of the tired look on the mans face. you bid your goodnights, and with that, you went back to your home.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎you had been trying to go to sleep for hours. you couldn't seem to stay still enough to go to sleep. perhaps you still had energy from earlier. you sat up, frowning as you glanced out of your window. the grass, once lush and green, was now tainted with the aftermath of war.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎maybe a walk would help.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎you got a knife, a simple form of protection in case anyone tried to attack you. you walked out of your house, careful to be quiet to not wake any of the others. you hoped you were the only one having sleeping problems.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎you found yourself wandering out of the walls of l'manberg, sitting beside a lake. it was peaceful, the gentle glow of the moonlight reflecting off the water. it was silent, the crickets and the sway of the leaves being the only noise around.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎or so you thought.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎you hadn't even heard anyone come behind you. you were alone, weren't you? it appears not. "i haven't seen you in a while." his voice cut through the peaceful atmosphere, bringing dread and longing all at once.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎you turned to look back at dream, the smile mask haunting and causing you a sense of peace at the same time. your mouth ran dry, eyes wide as you looked up at him. this was the first time you two have talked in months.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎you nodded in agreement to his words, wondering if you should be scared or excited of the man. you wanted to feel nervousness, to be put off by his sudden appearance, but all that came was the relief of finally being able to talk to him.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"not talking, huh? do you even miss me?" he asked, taking a seat beside you. you panicked, frantically trying to tell him that you had missed him, but he only laughed in your face. "calm down," he teased, the grin in his voice calming you down. "you always overreact at every little thing."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎you apologized sheepishly, embarrassment tickling you. he sighed, leaning back on his palms as he stared at the moonlight. was he relaxed? "you know, i tried to talk to you earlier. in front if l'manberg. did you not hear me?" he turned to look at you, tilting his had quizzically.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎you shook your head, rubbing at your arm. "no, i didn't. i'm sorry. it was really loud then." you explained, being comforted as he put a hand on yours. "it's alright. just make sure you listen for me next time okay?" his grip got tighter at his words, a passive aggressiveness punctuating them.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎you nodded quietly, his iron grip alleviating at your movement. silence washed over you two again, your mouth opening and closing at the words you wanted to say but didn't know how to. it changed once he pulled you closer to him.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"do you know why i exiled you, [name]?" he asked. you were confused, brows furrowing as you shook your head. "no .. why did you exile me, dream?" you asked, hesitant but willing to get the answer. he hadn't told you what he had exiled you for, having only told you he was done with you and to get out of his sight.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎his hand left yours, instead resting on your chin and tilting your head to look up at him. he was much more intimidating with the moonlight shining behind him, yet looked like an angel all the same. once more, his grip tightened on your chin. you winced, knowing there would be a mark there.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"you threatened my power. you were the one thing holding me back from doing what's necessary. exiling you was the only way i could make sure you wouldn't get in my way," dream seethed, snarling beneath his mask. he snatched your face closer to his, your eyes wide with confusion and fear. "but you're threatening my control again."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎he let you go, you grabbing your chin out of pain and stammering at him. he reached for his sword, bringing it out of its sheath and pointing it at you. you were vulnerable, only having a knife that you couldn't possibly reach for with him keeping his eyes on you, not without risking your safety.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"killing you in the only way i can make sure you don't hold me back anymore."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎he raised his sword, and your life flashed before your eyes. you begged. you pleaded for mercy, tears welling in your eyes and your hands covering your head. "please dream!" you sobbed, sniffling as you begged him to spare your life. "i won't get in your way anymore, i swear! i'm sorry!"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎your life should have been over with, but he stopped. he tilted his head down at you, his sword still pointing at your chest. you whimpered, tears streaming down your face. you couldn't even feel the embarrassment of it with all the fear weighing you down.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎he weighed his options, thinking for a moment. unbeknown to you, he grinned beneath his mask. he would play with you for a little while longer. "alright." he said, amusement coating his tone. he tilted your chin up with the end of his sword, the blade nearly caressing your neck. it scared you, how easily dream would be able to kill you.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎dream almosted pitied how pathetic you were.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"i'll give you seven days. a week for you to say goodbye to everyone, and when those seven days are over, you come right here, at this time, and you get to convince me to either spare your life a second time or i kill you. understand?"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎the joy in his voice, the raw delight, terrified you. you nodded frantically, not passing up on a chance to have your life spared. your mind was already racing with thoughts to convince him to spare your life.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"if you try to go against me in any way possible within this week, i'll kill you in front of your friends instead. do we have a deal?" he put his sword away, putting his hand out towards you. you hesitated, terrified to touch him. yet he only insisted, shakily shaking his hand.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎he snatched you towards him again, his tight grip on your hand making it ache. you swallowed with nervousness, catching a glimpse of his wide grin underneath his mask. all the more reason to be terrified of dream.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"don't disappoint me."

taglist,

━‎ ‎ ‎@paradigmax ; @pachowpachowbucket ; @acatstalkingyou ; @angelicaschuyler-church ; @saucey-kneecapzz42020 ; @piano-boo ; @i-need-hugs ; @strawbrinkofdeath ; @halloweenpoison13

[starkermeup]

Be a Good Boy for Mr. Stark

Peter shows Tony how appreciative he is of him.

Or what should of happened in the car ride home in Homecoming.

Cross-Posted on AO3

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.

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Peter smiled warmly as Mr. Stark talked to him, trying hard to focus on his words, while also attempting to convince himself that this was really happening. His role model and idol The Tony Stark, thinks he's special and deserving of his attention, to be even a future avenger, it was still a lot to take in. But he was loving every minute of it.

"Are you listening kid?" Mr. Stark asks, frowning at the prospect of being ignored and it takes Peter right out of his stupor. He nods his head shyly and blushes when he looks into Tony's dark chocolate eyes. That was going to take some getting used to he decides. "Because I don't like repeating myself."

"Y-yes, Mr. Stark. I heard you loud and clear. I was just thinking about everything you're doing for me and I feel so lucky and thankful that you'd take a chance on me." Peter finishes rather lamely and looks down nervously as he fumbles with his phone.

Tony stares at him with a raised eyebrow and it is then that Peter realizes the limo had stopped moving. Mr. Stark smiles at him then, but in a way Peter had yet to witness prior. He suddenly leans over Peter and Peter's confused but hugs the man regardless. If Mr. Stark wanted to hug him, there was no way he would deny him.

Tony waves his hand dismissively at the window and the figure on the other side walks away. Peter shivers when he feels Mr. Stark's hot breath on his ear.

"There is one way you can show your gratitude for my kindness Peter." Tony says and Peter feels chills run up his body. "You want to show me how grateful you are?"

The teenager blushes harder and clutches his mentor's expensive jacket. Mr. Stark couldn't be serious could he? There's no way he's talking about...

Tony guides Peter's hand down from his shoulder, down his suit until he stops on something hard and Peter audibly gasps when he realizes it’s his mentor's cock. He was aroused and it was for Peter of all people. He felt dizzy with realization and something hotter as Mr. Stark rubbed Peter's hand over his own crotch.

"Well? What will it be Mr. Parker? Are you thankful? Are you going to be a good boy and show me how thankful you are?" Tony asks smoothly, like he's completely unaffected by the movements of Peter's hand. Peter wants to change that. He whimpers at the good boy comment, feeling himself get harder by the second.

"Y-yes Sir I want to. I w-wanna show you how much I appreciate you." Peter says and he's not sure what he wants or what Mr. Stark wants from him but he's more than onboard for whatever because Mr. Stark wants him.

Tony smiles against his neck and brushes a fleeting kiss there. "Good boy. Now get on your knees." Mr. Stark says the last part with an edge and Peter finds himself dropping to the flooring of the limo before he really knows what he's doing. "Take it out, show me how grateful you are Peter." Mr. Stark motioned towards his crotch and Peter's mouth goes dry as he carefully takes out his mentor's cock with shaky fingers. Before he knows it, Tony's cock comes into view, much thicker and longer than his own. Peter's breathe hitches at the sight and his mouth waters. Mr. Stark was huge. The girth of it alone was making Peter anxious with the fear of letting his mentor down. That was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Sir, I-I don't know what to do..." Peter hesitates. Instead of frowning like the teenager anticipated, Tony smiled at him again and reached out to ruffle the boy's hair.

"That's okay, I'll help you through it. Wrap your hand around the base and lick the tip." Mr. Stark says easy like he was explaining bio-tech and not teaching his mentee to give him head. Peter nodded and did as he was told, gapping at the way his hand couldn't fully wrap around the sheer girth of the cock. He leans down, shyly licking the head a few times feeling the taste of salt and pre-cum on his tongue. Tony hums pleased at his efforts but tugs on Peter's curls edging him further down his length. "Don't be shy, I wanna see just how appreciative you are." Mr. Stark says and Peter can read between the lines to what he means. "Breathe through your nose." The man above him adds.

Peter closed his eyes and sucked hard as he allows his mouth to take the whole head in his mouth. Mr. Stark groans at the sensation and Peter wanted to smile that he's getting The Tony Stark off. It motivates him to take the man deeper, feeling his jaw start to ache from the thick cock.

"Hmm, yeah that's so good, Peter. You really are such a good boy, aren’t you? Showing me how grateful you are, how much you want it. Such a good boy..." Tony praises him and it makes Peter moan around him. He wants to be Tony's good boy, wants to make him feel good.

He's nearly to the base when his gag reflex kicks in and he pulls off embarrassed, coughing a little.

"I-I'm sorry Sir. I-I don't think I can take it all in my mouth." He resisted the urge to add yet because Mr. Stark probably won't want him to show his appreciation again after this. His heart sinks at the thought. He couldn't have that. "Can I try again please?"

Mr. Stark stared at his mentee, hair disheveled, eyes blown and lips puffy. All this from a little dicksucking. Amazing. He pondered. "Of course baby." Tony said, petting Peter's already messy hair.

Peter's heart fluttered and his cock twitched at the word. Mr. Stark just called him baby. Baby of all things and Peter felt hot all over as he sucked his mentor back into his mouth. Peter closed his eyes again and rolled his tongue, going up and down on the cock, thinking of all the best porn he'd seen, trying to imitate what they did. It seems to be working as Tony's groaning nonstop with his hand securely in Peter's hair, not yanking but simply guiding the boy down.

"Fuck. You're doing so good baby. Keep it up, let me see your eyes. I want you to remember who you're thanking accordingly. Remember who this mouth belongs to from now on." Tony says, thrusting his hips up in time with Peter opening his eyes. Tony seeing Peter's big orbs widen as he gags on his cock. Tony groans at the sinfulness of the act in front of him.

Peter whines but doesn't pull off, instead focuses on breathing through his nose and rutting his hips against the floor desperate for some friction. As his mentor gently fucked his mouth, praising him, Peter couldn't believe his fate, his role model and crush since he was a kid wanting him like this. It was almost too much. Mr. Stark had said his mouth belongs to him now. Peter whimpers at the idea as he hollowed his cheeks. That would be nice he thinks, to be owned by Tony Stark. He wants it. Craves it even.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum baby. Gonna bust my load in your mouth and you're gonna swallow every last drop. You're going to show me just how grateful you are." Tony utters and stares at Peter as he comes hard down the boy's throat.

Buried to the hilt of his mentor's cock, Peter had no choice but to gulp down the waves of warm cum the best he could, eyes not leaving his mentor. Despite the act they just committed, somehow staring at one another like this, felt like the most intimate thing they had done. Peter pulls off when he thinks he got it all and suddenly feeling very exposed.

"M-Mr. Stark..." Peter says and a small string of cum on his bottom lip, connected to the tip of the man's softening cock. He isn't sure where he's going with this. Although he isn't given a chance to finish because Tony groans as he grabs him up and planting the boy in his lap. Peter blushed at the sitting arrangement. Even though, Tony was soft now, he was still big and Peter could feel it on his thigh. It made him moan desperately. "Please, S-Sir I need to-" Tony hushes him with a finger to his lips.

"It's okay, I'll take care of you baby," The older man says and he looks even better up close like this, so handsome and god, did he smell good. Peter tried to close the small distance between their lips but Mr. Stark beats him to it, tugging Peter forward by the curls at the back of his head. Peter gaps, immediately clinging to Tony. He moaned as his mentor worked his mouth open, feeling like jelly in his embrace. His first kiss, going to Mr. Stark, he whines with realization, unintentionally grinding down, which made him whine more from the friction.

Peter must have got caught up in the rolling of their tongues because he doesn't even notice Mr. Stark's hand traveling down his back and around until he lets out a high pitch moan in the kiss. Tony presses hard on the teen's confined hard-on.

"Look at you, so hard just from cock sucking. You just aim to please, don't you Peter? Always being such a good boy...I think you deserve a reward." Tony says against the boy's mouth. He slides his hand into Peter's jeans and wraps it around his throbbing cock, Peter leans forward from the friction, resting his forehead against the older man's shoulder. Noises he can't contain slip out as Tony works his cock up and now.

"G-god, M-Mr. Stark I-I" Peter can't even finish his sentence, too focused on the heat of his mentor's hand on him. It felt incredible, another first taken by Mr. Stark and he was getting off on it. He couldn't help the way his hips move on their own, only moaning more when Tony lets him.

"That's it Peter. Fuck my fist like the needy little thing you are. I want you to cum like this. Good boys do as they're told so be a good boy and cum baby." Tony whispers into the boy's ear, jerking him faster.

Peter isn't sure exactly what takes him overboard, he'd bet it was the 'good boy' or 'baby' comment. Either way, Peter was coming and whining as Tony worked his cock completely, milking it of every drop until he was soft and sensitive. Peter collapsed on top of his mentor, completed sedated, trying to catch his breath as the latter pulled a handkerchief out of his jacket.

"Hm, you made a mess of my suit jacket." Tony clicked his tongue and Peter blushes with embarrassment.

"I-I I'm sorry sir. I didn't mean to. It just felt so g-good..." Peter says and he's staring down at the man's chest. Tony tips his head up, so they're eye level and presses a kiss against the boy's lips. He pulls away shortly afterwards (much to Peter's disappointment) and smirks at him.

"Since you were getting your reward, it's alright this time but-" Mr. Stark stops as he holds Peter's jaw in place, looking at him with dark orbs. "If you do it again, I'm gonna make you clean it up with your tongue, understand? Good boys don't make messes."

"Y-yes Mr. Stark, I'll be more careful next time." Peter says, still floating from the best orgasm he ever had. Again. Mr. Stark wanted to do it again with him and that was definitely something Peter could get behind.

"I know you will," Mr. Stark says accordingly and puts himself back into his slacks, Peter can't help but watch, still in disbelief the cock was just in his mouth. "You're a good boy."