#i wish he'd wear that bottom right one again

[prettybabybaby]

Perv! Ethan jerking off while on the phone with you, possibly while you're crying to him about how your date stood you up or something.

again, not exactly what you asked for but this is what came out so.

¡ 18+ only ! ¡ minors do not interact !

content: murder, dark!ethan landry, fem!reader, male masturbation

¡ scream masterlist !

your breathing was short and shallow, the strain on your throat clear even over the static sounds of the phone. he could picture you sat in the small space between the post of your bed and your closet, knees up and teary face tucked between them. he pictured your bunched up skirt that had undoubtedly slipped down your legs, pooling around your hips and exposing a sliver of your delicate panties. he let himself wonder what kind you wear.

ethan struggled to keep his own breathing level and push down the whimper that wished to voice his pleasure. his grip on himself was tight, loosening slightly with every twist of his wrist as he kept a slow but steady pace.

“i just,” you let out another sob, “i wanted it to go well. i got dressed and everything…” your began to sniffle again, “and he left me there. all alone. no text… nothing.”

“i’m sure you look gorgeous,” he forced out when you began to cry. god, why did you sound so perfect when you cried? “f-fuck, he, he wasn’t worth your time, beautiful.”

blood was rushing south in intense waves, stiffening his cock almost painfully and causing crystal beads to dribble out of his tip and down his shaft, lubricating his strokes that were becoming more and more frantic.

“i’m still so worried, e,” you whimpered, “with the killer loose…”

ethan glanced around, pumping furiously as you continued, “it’s so scary, isn’t it? anything could happen, no one's safe." you were. "not even him... god, i hope he's okay."

his grip on his phone tightened, trembling as he worked to restrain himself, the task much harder now that he was so close. his hips began to lift, meeting his fists as his eyes flickered around the scene in front of him. the empty eyes, the crimson liquid pouring from parted lips, and the still chest of your lover. your sweet voice confiding in him, trusting him with your concerns and feelings of pain when he was the cause of all of this made him shiver as his cock pulsed in his grasp.

he had gotten jealous, he had followed your date home, stalked him, plotted his demise right under your nose. and here he was, plan executed and not an ounce of remorse. in fact, he'd go as far as to say he enjoyed it.

ethan chuckled, humorous and breathy, "yeah." he couldn't hold back a strangled moan when your sobs started up again, little hiccups disrupting them.

"e," you whimpered. the whine of his nickname had his hips thrusting pathetically, lip tucked between his teeth and grip tightening. "please." his stomach fluttered, orgasm just over the edge. he forced his eyes open, only managing to crack them open, but the bloody scene in front of him was still visible. lifeless and unmoving. no longer a threat.

"i need you..."

his teeth punctured his plump bottom lip, filling his mouth and flooding his taste buds as he came, sensitively trembling as spurts of his seed shot out of him, a thick stream falling down and over his fist.

[bywons]

﹆ WITH AND WITHOUT — LHS

⌕ where lee heeseung realises he messed up too bad

𖦹 pairing. toxic!bf! lee heeseung x f!reader w.c. 0.7k tw/cw. cursing, implications of cheating at end genre. angst/hurt sru's note. pls don't let this flop TT ( CATALOGUE?! )

¤ feedbacks and reblogs are always appreciated!

heeseung's head aches more than ever, and for every second that he stares at the minimalist silver pendant sitting still between your collarbones, it's thin silver chain hugging your neck ever so softly, it aches even more.

and now it's the time for his heart. he physically cringes out of guilt when he watches you retract your hand away from his. he just wants to hold your hand in his, wants to embrace the soft warmth that once felt like home, that cosy and cordial sensation that gave him butterflies.

but now that is long gone.

it started with heeseung really. from your shoulders missing the embrace of his arm to his cheeks missing your tickling, feathery kiss. neither of you know when this started; an invisible wall growing between you two, and all you can do is sit and watch, letting the wall increase the distance you've already built in between you both.

“you should focus on the movie instead”, your tone is boring, maybe even annoyed. or maybe none, heeseung simply doesn't know. he can't concentrate on whatever's playing in front of him, his eyes are fixed on your necklace, sending such visuals to his brain out of which he can only think of scenarios that hammers his heart even more.

the pendants’ a heart. it's a fucking heart.

“yeah, i am”, heeseung lies, again. just like the way he lied to you three months ago saying he would definitely attend your birthday party albeit his rough basketball practice.

you searched for your boyfriend's compelling face for hours that evening. waited for him the whole night, an hour passed by, then two, then three. every face in your apartment left and the one that should've been there by your side on the couch, holding you in his arms and kissing you all over, was not there. lee heeseung indeed broke his promise that day, along with a piece of you.

“really? what just happened right now then?”, you yawn, munching on the caramel popcorn, a flavour you didn't really like. but heeseung is unable to answer your question right now, he doesn't find enough words to formulate a sentence and explain why he didn't really know what was going on in the movie. his eyes just mindlessly read over the subtitles at the bottom of the screen not really getting the context behind it, there are more vital thoughts in the back of his head, eating him alive in this moment.

heeseung mentally curses himself for instances that took place months ago. instances which once broke your heart, you cried over it, burying your face in the pillow and then eventually forgetting about it. instances that heeseung never cared enough to think about twice before going to bed, or use to reflect on his actions or even think about it.

but suddenly heeseung wishes he could go back in time and return to your birthday party that evening, he wishes he was not that casual to flirt with your best friend in front of you, he wishes he hadn't caused those meaningless arguments with you, he wishes he'd never told you that his ex was better. heeseung wishes he was a better boyfriend for you.

“this one new?”, and heeseung's eyes are back on the necklace you were wearing, it's dainty silver heart infuriating him even more and he can't find the reason why. why the fuck can't he recognize the necklace?

“this one?”, you very well know which one he means when you point at the silver necklace on your neck, or else why will you be sitting with your cardigan pushed all the way down to your collarbones? “you gave it to me, don't you remember?”, you smile.

“not really”, heeseung trails off, a smile from you felt odd after days of cold shoulder from you. it doesn't feel genuine though, so he returns another fake smile hoping you wouldn't notice, “maybe i forgot.”

heeseung can never forget, never ever when it comes to you. he might have been the worst boyfriend ever but he's dying for your touch right now, maybe playing hard to get in your own relationship got him? he can't bet on being ‘good boyfriend’ all over again, he knows he fucked up. but he can bet on one thing though.

he swears and he swears to god and all his 23 years of life, he has never bought that necklace for you.

‘cause why the fuck would it have a ‘J’ engraved on it?

© bywons, 2024. do not copy, translate or upload any of my works without my permission.

(📌) :: TAGLIST IS OPEN! @euncsace @fleumiu @leaderwon @dimplewonie @yrhome @heartswonn @jwonistic @aaasia111 @ashtxrie nets! @/k-labels

[moon-rivr]

(i mixed these two together so i hope that it’s okay with the individual anons :D )

dress

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem reader

content: smut, feelings of betrayal(not from reader), unprotected p in v, oral (f and m receiving), begging (from reader), panty sniffing

author’s note: quick question, do you all prefer longer (4k+ words) or shorter fics 🤨 italics is flashback btw :) (i’m not rly a swiftie so i’m sorry if i butchered this 😭)

word count: 3.5k

The dress itself was nothing short of beautiful, the shade of red accentuated you beautifully and it hugged your curves perfectly. Though you received many compliments and longing looks from the people at the event, none of them were from the man that you wanted. You weren't too sure if you'd see him again after such a long time being away from Nueva York but you kept your hopes up. The room was full of your soon-to-be coworkers but you had little interest in trying to maintain pointless conversation with them.

You walked over to the food table and grabbed yourself a Coke with a bag of chips, the rest of the food looking unappealing. You turned around and were met with a broad chest, the impact causing you to stumble back a little bit and drop your chip bag. "Sorry about that," you told the person you'd bumped into, grabbing your chips. "No worries, it's all good."

The voice took you back to the days of sneaking around the library when no one was around, of hiding around in the bleachers after football practice was over, and of the day you left Nueva York. You weren't expecting to find him so fast in the crowd, but you had to admit that the time apart had done him well. He was no longer the tall and awkward boy you met during a study group but a man molded by experience and muscle.

"You look as beautiful as the first day I saw you," Miguel lowered his head to whisper in your ear, affirming your suspicions that he'd recognized you. You had about a thousand words that you wanted to say to him but none of them could compute into complete sentences. When you opened your mouth to respond, you were left by yourself at the food table. You decided to push away the butterflies that were swarming around in your stomach and went to go talk to some of the other people at the event.

You'd taken your letter from Columbia back to Miguel's house, a unsaid pact between the two of you that you'd open your letters together. You could only hope that the amount of endless nights studying in the library would pay off but a part of you felt dread at having to open it. You knocked on his door, shifting from foot to foot nervously as you waited for his response. He came out with his headset half on, wearing a pair of sweatpants and thick black glasses. "Hey, come in," he told you, gesturing you to come in.

"I got waitlisted," you told him as you opened the letter, looking up to see that his expression had shifted to something solemn. "It's okay. we can still go to college together. You got accepted to NYU right?" He tried to offer a solution but you bit down on your bottom lip, trying to figure out the best way to tell him. "I'm not staying in Nueva York for college. I applied to UCLA and got in. I hope you're not mad at me or anything," you responded, playing with your fingers nervously. "It's okay, we'll stay in contact and call every weekend."

The two of you did not stay in contact after the first couple months and you felt like you were just a spectator in his life. He'd been going to clubs and frat parties, a complete 180 from who you'd met, and the realization that you didn't fit into his life anymore hit hard. Though you wished that you could've ended things in person with him, you ended up breaking up with him in text after seeing him get too cozy with a girl on his Instagram story. You knew that it was your decision to go away but you couldn't help but feel upset at how fast he'd moved on from you.

"Are you okay? You've been staring into space for a while," One of your coworkers spoke, breaking you out of your thought as they waved a hand in front of your face. You blinked, returning your attention back to the conversation at hand. “Yeah, I’m all good. What's this about the cafeteria on the second floor though?" you responded, trying to engage in the conversation even though you felt a pair of red eyes staring at your every movement.

The evening went by quickly and soon enough, the event began to wind down. You thanked your boss for the job opportunity and for hosting the party before heading out, waiting for your taxi outside. Goosebumps formed on your skin as you shifted from foot to foot, unaccustomed to the Nueva York night air. You felt a jacket on your shoulders, looking up to see Miguel standing there next to you. "I know you don't owe me anything but I'd like to talk to you. It's been a while," he spoke up after a while, his voice coming out raw like it'd been difficult just to get the words out.

The drive back to Miguel’s place was spent mostly in silence with some questions coming from the taxi driver in front. "So how long have the two of you been dating?" the man up front asked as he approached a red light, doing his best to be polite. Miguel kept his mouth shut, practically drilling holes at the taxi driver's headrest with his eyes. "We're not dating, actually," you responded awkwardly, offering a small smile to counteract the glaring from the man next to you. "Oh, I’m sorry for assuming," he responded, staying quiet for the rest of the ride after that.

"Thank you," you told the taxi driver once he pulled up to Miguel’s penthouse, getting your wallet out to pay. Miguel pushed your hand away and handed the driver a twenty, getting out of the car without a word. "Sorry about him. He's a little.. temperamental," you mumbled, getting out of the car after Miguel. You followed him up to his house, taking note of how nice the area was around you two. He gestured you to come in, holding the door open for you.

You stepped inside his house and you couldn't help but notice that even though he lived in an expensive neighborhood and he had expensive furniture around the place, the house was devoid of anything that made it a home. Miguel shut the door and unbuttoned his shirt at the top as he walked over to the kitchen. "You didn't eat anything at the party, what do you want to eat?" He asked you, leaning against the counter a bit as he waited for your response. "I’m not hung-" you started to say but your grumbling stomach betrayed your words. "Whatever's easy to make then."

"When'd you get back to Nueva York?" He asked, his voice taking on a note of indifference like the time you'd spent beforehand didn't matter to him. "I got back around three months ago, I think? I’m still getting adjusted to living on the east coast again," you responded, thanking him for the meal that he'd made. The smell of seasoning and spices filled up the kitchen after he was done cooking, the plate of food looking nothing less than inviting. "And you didn't think to call me? To see how I was doing without you?"

You almost choked on your food as he asked you these questions and you immediately reached out to grab the bottle of water he'd set down. "I didn't think that we were in a position for friendly conversation. Last time I saw you, you were dancing with some girl at a club," you responded, keeping your eyes on your food so you wouldn't have to meet his face. He sat down across from you, his presence demanding for you to pay attention to him. "You left me. You don't know how hard it's been to force myself not to call you and see how you're doing. To see if you still think about me as much as I think about you," he told you, his gaze unwavering as he looked at you.

"Tell me, why'd you apply to Alchemax?" He asked you after a couple moments of silence and you played with your food as you tried to avoid the question. "It's one of the best genetics labs in the country. It'll do miracles for my career," you responded, telling him the same lie that you told yourself when you clicked on the application button. "Ese cuento ni te lo crees tú. Te estoy pidiendo la verdad, nada mas y nada menos. Why'd you apply to Alchemax?" he asked you once more and you felt your defenses come down with the way his eyes softened as he looked at you. (you don’t even believe that story. i’m asking you for the truth, nothing more and nothing less)

"Because I was hoping to see you again, Miguel. I didn't think it would happen so soon and I would've been happy just to see that you were okay," you responded, finishing up with your food as you avoided all eye contact with him. "Then why'd you leave me?" He inquired, looking like the boy who'd gotten rejected from the football team all those years ago. "I didn't leave you, specifically. I left because I wanted to discover who I was without you, Miguel. I was just your girlfriend during high school, and while I don't regret our relationship one bit, I also didn't know who I was without you," you told him honestly, standing up to clean up the plates.

He led you to his bedroom after he'd taken over cleaning the plates, turning on the lights as the two of you stepped inside. He took the jacket off your shoulders and tossed it onto a chair he had on the side, taking a couple seconds to stare at you in the dress. He went behind you, sliding the zipper off with such precision and his mouth went to your shoulder, kissing every bit of skin that had become available to him. "I'll keep you buried with my cock all the time so you don't have to leave me," he mumbled, finishing up with the task at hand.

You got down on your knees and started to stroke him with your hand, trying to get adjusted to the size of him again. You kissed on his thighs the way that he liked when you two were together, the small shudder that ran through his body being enough proof that he still enjoyed the same things. You slowly lowered your mouth onto his cock, giving some kitten licks to the tip since you knew that would get him even more worked up.

You slowly swirled your tongue around the mushroom tip, licking every drop of precum that had leaked out during your teasing. You took more of him in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you tried to adjust to the size. Your hand pumped the base, squeezing around it tightly as you worked it in tandem with your mouth. His hand came to the back of your head, guiding you down his length to the best of his ability until you felt the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. Your nose rubbed against his happy trail and even though tears were starting to brim on your waterline from how deep he was, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride at having taken him so well.

You brought your mouth down to his balls, sucking on them and swirling your tongue around them while your hand jerked him off. The precum that had leaked out from his tip served as a perfect lubricant, making the whole experience all the more pleasurable towards Miguel. You brought your mouth back to his cock, your mouth running down the underside and tracing one of the veins running along the side.

"Look at me," he ordered, though his voice came out more ragged than he would've liked. you looked up at him, your mascara had dripped down your cheeks and the red lipstick that you'd worn tonight was smudged around the corners but you still looked so angelic to him. He leaned his head back, like the sight before him was just too much to look at while his hand continued to guide your head.

"Tan hermosa que eres," he murmured, his whole body shuddering as he came closer to that peak. (you’re so beautiful) He finished in your mouth and you swallowed it down greedily, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. He helped you stand up and carried you over to the bed, slotting himself right in between your legs. He hooked his pointer finger in your panties and slowly slid them down your legs, his gaze on your glistening cunt.

He brought your panties up to his face, taking in the scent of you. He put it to the side and looked over at you, kneeling between your legs. “I'm gonna keep those. Just in case you decide to run away again," he told you, pressing small kisses on your thighs. Your legs started to wiggle as he pressed featherlight kisses on them but his firm grip on your thighs restricted you from moving them any further. He bit down on the insides of your thighs, his canines piercing the skin slightly as his tongue lapped up the small drops of blood that dribbled down.

He started licking at your folds, taking his time to get adjusted to you and your taste again before he delved in. He thrust his tongue inside, his eyes closing from the sensation of having you under him once again. You brought your hands up to his hair, tugging gently on the black curls as he continued to tease your hole. He used his tongue to thrust in and out of you, his hands up on your breasts as he tugged and massaged the nipples. He used the tip of his nose to brush up against your clit, applying stimulation every so often.

His fingers came down to your cunt and he picked up the slick you'd released with his pointer and middle finger, bringing them up to your mouth. You took them instantly, your tongue swirling around his fingers as you tasted yourself, the result of what he'd made you feel in this time together. He slowly pushed one finger in, only reaching halfway before he filled up up. Your cunt squeezed tightly around his finger, coating him with a wave of fresh arousal as he began to thrust it in and out of you at a rapid pace.

His tongue came down on your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around the nub the way that had your toes curling and your hands gripping his hair. You swiveled your hips against his face, your orgasm starting to bubble up inside of you. "Beg me to cum. Beg me the same way I used to beg for you to stay in Nueva York," he told you, only stopping his movements to hear you plead for that sweet release. "Please Miguel! I won't leave you again, please just let me cum! I've been good," you pleaded, tears starting to build up at the prospect of having your orgasm ripped away from you.

"Doesn't really sound like you wanna cum, muñequita. Beg like you mean it and I’ll consider it," he teased you, his eyes sparkling with newfound mischief. You wondered why he wanted you to beg so badly, when he used to be the one who'd beg to be inside of you, to taste you, and be the one that would be willing to fuck your panties just for a feeling of you. "Please, Miguel! I'll stay with you this time! Just let me cum, please! I’ll be good," you complied with his request nonetheless, your bottom lip wobbling as you did.

He let out a dark chuckle and went back to fingering you, his mouth attached to your clit instantly. He let out a couple moans as he thrust his lower half into the mattress, seeking out a form of relief for himself as well. Your nails dug into his scalp but he didn't seem to mind, in fact, he seemed to go faster the harder you pulled at his hair. You came with a moan of his name, falling back onto the bed as you tried to control your erratic breathing.

He placed your legs against your chest as he aligned his cock with your entrance, your previous orgasm providing him with the ease that he needed to slide in. It was still a struggle to take in the sheer girth and length of him, but the sting didn't feel too bad after a couple seconds. He let you adjust to his cock before starting off slow, the look on his face being a complete change from when he'd asked you to beg. It felt like he was trying to make love to you rather than fuck you, each thrust deep but slow like he wanted to make this moment last.

"Miguel, go faster please," you spoke up after a while, needing more of what he could give you. You appreciated his efforts of wanting to take things slow, but you wanted to be fucked with such intensity that your legs would be wobbly after. He sped up, his balls slapping against the globes of your ass with each thrust. He brought your legs down and attached his mouth to one of your nipples, sucking on it like he'd been starved of the taste of you. Your hands came up to his hair once more, pulling on the strands with each relentless thrust that he gave.

You enclosed your legs around his waist to pull him even closer to you, wanting to feel the warmth you'd been missing. He brought his hand to your clit, rubbing small circles on the nub as he angled his cock to hit your most sensitive spot. Your legs began to shake as you felt the coil inside of you tightening up, threatening to snap at any moment. Your orgasm washed over you quickly, coating his cock in your slick as his thrusts started to get sloppier and faster. You tightened your legs around his waist, restricting his access to pull out. His eyes widened and you were quick to reassure him, "I'm on birth control."

He came quickly after that, his cum filling your walls completely as his cock pushed in you. He pulled his cock, making sure that he wouldn't overstimulate you in the process. He cleaned you up with a wet cloth, using light pressure as he cleaned the cum leaking out. You took a couple seconds to let your vision go back to normal before you stood up, grabbing your discarded bra and red dress.

"Where are you going, chula?" He asked you, causing you to stop your movements. "I'm going home. I figured that this was just a one night stand," you responded, looking back at him as you held your clothes in hand. "So you're gonna leave me again after you said you wouldn't?" He inquired, his brow raising as he challenged you. "What do you want me to do here, Miguel? We're not exactly friends at the moment and we're not strangers," you responded and he walked over, holding your hands in his.

"Choose to stay with me. we'll figure out this whole thing in the morning when we're not clouded with sex," he offered and you let out a small sigh, looking up at his red eyes. He could act as indifferent as he wanted, but those eyes showed nothing less than the longing that had accumulated in the time you'd left. "Do you have anything I can borrow?" you asked him, setting your clothes on the chair that his coat was resting on. "Figured you could sleep in that red dress of yours, you looked magnificent in it," he suggested before he walked over to the closet to hand you one of his shirts.

He helped you take your makeup off, even taking his time with the mascara though he was growing more and more agitated. He ended up going to a pharmacy that was open 24/7 near his home to get you a cleanser and some other necessities, making sure that you were comfortable in your stay here. The two of you laid down in his bed, intertwined in his sheets as his hand rubbed small circles on your exposed thigh.

"Where does this leave us, Miguel?" You asked him after a while, wanting to get some answers. "I've never stopped loving you, y'know. I've been hoping for a while that you would just show up on the street and still want to be with me. So I guess what I'm trying to ask if you'd like to go out on a date with me. Get to know and love me again," he responded, his movements on your thigh stopping as he talked before picking back up again.

"I'd love that. For the record though, I never stopped loving you either."

[tatsumessy]

Forgotten Birthday - {Satoru Gojo}

the clock strikes midnight and your phone dings, excitedly you sit up from the comfort of your bed hoping that the text you just received was from your boyfriend who was working late tonight but no…it was from shoko.

scary pookie 🐻: happy birthday y/n 💋

you quickly send a reply thanking her then continue scrolling through your phone for another ten minutes waiting for a text but nothing ever came. you just decided to sleep because you’d most likely see him tomorrow.

morning came and you woke up to an empty bed, that still didn’t worry you…getting dressed and wearing your normal outfit that you’d normally wear for work but changing things up a bit. usually you’d wear your hair up because of how long and frustrating it’d be to deal with throughout the day. but today you decided to leave it down while curling the bottom of it.

~

arriving at school you walked down the corridor hall waving good morning to your students while also thanking them for the birthday wishes. you ended up seeing gojo standing at the end of the hall looking at his phone, seeing you out the corner of his eye he brightened up instantly. “Y/n.” he said coming closer and smoothening down some stray pieces of hair then kissing your forehead. “you look beautiful. i’m sorry i didn’t come home last night…and i probably won’t come home tonight either.” he responded pressing a gentle kiss on your lips before walking away.

you smile softly to the ground trying to stop yourself from becoming overly sensitive just because he didn't say happy birthday. maybe he has a surprise planned later and was pretending…yeah that sounds like something he'd do. he possibly couldn't leave you to celebrate the worst day of your life alone right?

he’s been stressed so maybe that’s it, i mean it’s not a big deal right…

you kept telling yourself that all day up until you got home and was met with nothing. a cold quiet apartment that was dull and sad and was ready to have you laying in bed crying all night. you were tempted to call gojo but something told you not too, he seemed busy and you didn’t want to bother him. you didn’t want to be a burden.

~

1:43 am

“you’re here late.” shoko says to gojo who was sitting in the chair leaning back slightly while rubbing the bridge of his nose. “yeah. sadly.” shoko glanced over at her bestfriends figure then back down at her clipboard, “how was your lunch with y/n?” she asked glancing up once again, “lunch? we didn’t have lunch together. i haven’t seen y/n since this morning.” he said using his hands to push his blind fold up slightly.

“so you didn’t do anything for her birthday?” right when those words came out of shoko mouth gojo jumped up, his heart started beating out of his chest at the thought of one: him forgetting your birthday and two: him leaving you alone on your birthday. “fuck!” he shouted immediately leaving the room and heading to a 24 hour convenience store to grab some flowers and your favorite snacks.

he rushed home and upon entering he could tell just how much he hurt you. your bag and shoes were thrown on the floor in the living room and the food you ordered for you and him for dinner wasn’t eaten. it was just left on the counter cold and soggy. the weight of those dollar store flowers and snacks felt even heavier. he walked to your shared bedroom and saw you sleeping on top of the sheets still in your uniform.

setting the things down on the opposite end of the bed he walked over to you and bent down to where he was face to face with you. “y/n…” he whispered gently rubbing your head trying to calmly wake you up. “baby…wake up.” he said finally catching your attention as you stirred in your sleep, he leaned over turning on the bedside lamp. your face had dried up tears on it and your eyes were still a bit red, the sight of you made him tear up himself.

he dropped his head into his hands and let a couple of tears fall. “i’m so sorry y/n…i forgot your birthday.” he sobbed silently not wanting sympathy from you because he fucked up. “satoru.” you said trying to grab his attention. “toru…” you said once again and he finally looked up at you teary eyed. “you came home.” a small blush appeared on your cheeks as you looks down at his sad ones.

he didn’t say anything but just looked up at you, “come here.” you said holding your arms out for him to find comfort in you and without hesitation he did. he wrapped his arms around your waist and dug his face into your neck. “i don’t deserve you.” he whispered and you rubbed the back on his head. “you are the best birthday present i could have asked for…i don’t care that you forgot. you came him to me that’s all that matters.”

[ifonlyitwasmidnight]

You had never been the domestic type.

MDNI 18+

(CW: a few curse words, reader being a smidge insecure, a singular smack to the ass)

It wasn't really by choice; you just never fell into that roll.

Your time as a child was spent running with the "delinquents" of the neighborhood, learning to fight with them, to tinker, to cry, to fuck, and eventually, how to love.

Which is how you wound up here, gritted teeth and balled fists on the counter as plumes of black smoke rose to the ceiling, setting off the smoke detectors and filling your apartment with their obnoxious tune.

It was supposed to be a nice night. You'd even put candles on the table, for fucks sake.

And, of course, now was when your front door would crack open, signaling the arrival of your boyfriend.

Your bottom lip wobbled as he approached, hiding a smirk as he placed gentle hands on your hips and moved you away from the still smoking oven.

It was quick work for him to pull the burnt food out and throw it into the sink. You'd have to throw that pan out.

He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you tight against him, using his free hand to tilt your chin up. A hot tear leaked from your eye, running slowly down your cheek.

"What's all this, beautiful?" He kept his voice low, that hint of amusement still there.

You heaved a sigh, "I just wanted to do something nice for you. I thought maybe if I was a little more... I don't know —"

"Domesticated?" He offered, and you cringed at the word.

"Do you ever wish I was more like that?"

He barked a laugh, finally unable to hold it in any longer. The glare you shot him only served as further fuel for his amusement.

"What is so funny?" You snapped, trying to push away. His arm snaked down around your waist quickly before you could get far, refusing to let you go.

"There isn't a single thing, a single fuckin' one, I'd change about you. You don't need to wear fancy dresses," he slid his hand up your rib cage, his hand smooth over the silky material of the dress you had awkwardly squeezed yourself into, causing you to shiver, "Though, I won't ever say no to you wearin' this again, fuck babe."

He cleared his throat, eyes refocusing on yours, "I love you. All of you as you are. I've loved you since we were stupid teenagers, and you threw me down on the ground for tuggin' on your braid."

Your lip quivered again, this time over your boyfriend's disgustingly sweet words.

"How 'bout you go put something a little more comfortable on? Maybe those boots I got you for your birthday, and we go out for a ride. We can stop at that little corner restaurant you've been wantin' to try, yeah?"

Your fists curled into his shirt, pulling him down as you pushed up on your toes to meet his waiting lips. He chased you as you pulled away, longing for you to stay there with him for just a moment more.

"Love you, babe," you murmured against his lips.

"Go get changed," he said with a swat to your ass that was sure to leave a handprint.

---------------------

If it fits, it ships.

x DRAKEN, Mitsuya, Baji?, Ichigo, Shunsui, Renji, Kirishima, Bakugou (let's be honest, he'd never let you cook anyways), HAWKS, Cloud, Zack Fair.

AN: it's a smidge self-indulgent, but what're you gonna do, right?

[runnning-outof-time]

Where the Sky Opens Up to Everything | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by @notyour-valentine

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader (pre-war)

Summary: Tommy and (Y/N) get away from the smoke and the dirt of Small Heath, where Tommy is finally able to clear his mind for a moment.

Warnings: drinking, mentions of/coping with the loss of a parent, injuries

Word Count: 3477

A/N: it was so fun to be able to write a bit of pre-war Tommy again…he’s just so fun to explore. I took inspiration from a line in the song called Darling by Zach Bryan - it’s italicized in the story. I also took inspiration from this set of pictures…it’s what I imagine the field to look like. Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

-1910-

(Y/N) was sitting in the front room when the sound of incessant knocking began ringing through the otherwise quiet home. It made her jump and her heart rate immediately quickened as she stood from the chair and cautiously walked to the door, wondering who could be on the other side of it.

The knocking didn't cease until she opened the door, coming face to face with her boyfriend: Thomas Shelby. He was out of breath and looking worse for wear with his bottom lip split and a cut above his right eyebrow. (Y/N) gasped at the sight of him.

"Can I come in?" he asked in a hurried manner, glancing over his shoulder down the street before focusing on her again.

"What's happened to you, Tommy?" she asked a question of her own, shock still ruling her expression.

"I'll tell you when we get off of the street," he didn't elaborate, still set on getting away from the public eye, "let me in, please, love."

(Y/N) peered around Tommy to see if she could gain some details for herself, but nothing but an empty street stood behind him. She looked at his pleading eyes again, her grip on the door handle tightening. Their gaze was held for a few moments before (Y/N) let out the breath she'd been holding in. "Come in," she said to him, stepping aside as she spoke. Tommy said nothing as he hurried into the house, taking it upon himself to quickly shut the door behind him. "Will you tell me what's happened to you now?" she asked as soon as he'd turned to face her again, her arms now crossed over her chest.

A defeated sigh escaped his lips before he said anything. He knew she wasn't going to give it up, so there was nothing he could do now besides tell the truth. "I got into a fight," he began, hanging his head slightly as a huff escaped his lips.

"Again?" (Y/N) wished she didn't sound surprised...this had become a common occurrence recently.

"It was a few guys around the shop...talking bad about my family," he explained the reason behind the situation.

"Oh, Tommy..." (Y/N)'s sentence trailed off into a sigh, knowing full well that family was a weakness of Tommy's.

"I wasn't going to stand there and let them continue on with it," he continued, sticking up for himself.

"I know you weren't," she agreed with him, moving through the living room then so that she could go into the kitchen and get what she needed.

"Where are you going?" Tommy asked after her, craning his neck slightly so that he could catch a glimpse of her through the archway.

"I'm getting what I need to clean you up," she told him, returning to the living room with her hands full of some towels and a bowl. "Sit and let me see," she instructed after she'd placed the things down on the side table next to the couch.

Tommy obliged, perching himself against the arm of the couch so that he could be sitting slightly lower than (Y/N). He watched as she dipped one of the towels into the bowl of water and brought it up to his face. She then gently took hold of his chin with her free hand and began dabbing the cut above his eyebrow, grimacing when he winced from the contact.

"I'm trying to be gentle," she said softly, going to get more water so that she could move onto his lip.

"I know you are," he answered her, watching her actions intently as she began to clean off his lip.

"You're still bleeding," she commented, a worried look flashing across her face as she grabbed one of the other towels. "Hold this above your eye and keep pressure on it," she instructed him then, bringing the cloth up to rest it against his cut.

"Yes, ma'am," he obeyed her order, a slight grin on his face as he tested the waters.

"Don't you start," she clocked his teasing, biting back her grin as she sent him a stern look, "and don't you answer me with 'yes ma'am' again," she managed to get in just as he opened his mouth. He closed it in response and she shook her head, knowing that that was what he was about to do.

A comfortable silence fell between them then as she continued to clean off his lip. Thankfully the cut was superficial and only stretched the exterior section of his lip. His teeth and the inside of his mouth remained unharmed. She took hold of the towel he'd been pressing to his forehead once she was finished with his lip, carefully examining the wound that had, thankfully, stopped bleeding.

"This looks deep, Tommy," she said, wincing slightly as she tried to determine the severity of it, "you might need stitches."

"I'll be fine," he brushed her off, making her send him a deadpanned look in response.

"You'll have a scar for the rest of your life," she warned him of the consequences.

"It's not the first one I'll have gotten," he reminded her. She sighed at his stubbornness.

"At least let me bandage it for now," she offered.

Footsteps were heard coming down the steps before Tommy could give his response.

"Shit," (Y/N) breathed, her heart rate picking up for the second time in this short span of time.

Her mother walked through the archway, into the front room a matter of seconds later. "Oh my, what's going on here?" she asked as she took in the scene she'd been greeted with.

"Nothing, mum, it's just..."

"What's happened to you, Tommy?" she cut (Y/N) off, her face scrunching together in worry when she saw his injuries.

"Nothing major, Mrs. (Y/L/N)...just caught the curb the wrong way," Tommy offered up a lie, saying it as if he was reciting his name. (Y/N) inwardly sighed at his made up story.

"Oh goodness, that's never fun. You should watch where you're walking next time," she took the bait, offering her sympathy as well as a possible remedy for the situation.

"I'll remember that," he said with a nod and a charming smile, making (Y/N) want to sigh again for the fact that he basically had her mother in the palm of his hand. She loved him because he always said what she wanted to hear.

"Could you get me a bandage from the aid kit, mum?" (Y/N) asked, and her mother nodded before hurrying off to the powder room to grab what was needed. "Thank you," she said after the supplies were sat down on the side table. Her mother nodded before telling them that she'd be in the kitchen if anything else was needed.

(Y/N) watched her leave the room before she began working on applying the bandage to the cut on Tommy's forehead.

"Finished?" Tommy asked once she'd stepped back from him. (Y/N) only nodded, making Tommy stand from the arm of the couch and move over to where a mirror was hung on the wall. He looked at his appearance for a moment before turning and coming back to where (Y/N) was standing. "Thank you, love," he said to her, hooking his arms around her waist so that he could pull her into his frame.

(Y/N) reached out and grabbed his cheeks the second she realized that he was leaning in. "Your lip, Tommy," she said to him, a hint of worry in her voice.

"Just let me kiss you," he brushed her worry off, "please?" he then raised his eyebrows for added effect.

(Y/N) sighed, rolling her eyes at his stubbornness before she leaned in and pecked his lips. She smiled at the slight pout that was present when she pulled away. "That's all you're getting," she told him.

"We'll see about that," he remarked, a grin spreading across his face.

"Tell me more about what happened," she changed the topic of conversation, reaching behind her to unhook his hands from her waist. She looked down at them once she got them, a frown forming at the sight she was met with. "I didn't clean up your knuckles," she commented, happy that her mother hadn't seen them. They'd throw the tripping on the curb story right out the window.

"Me knuckles are fine," he brushed her off, squeezing her hands as an extra assurance. (Y/N) glanced over at him before she brought both of his hands up to her lips and kissed each of them gently. Her actions made a soft smile form on Tommy's lips. He truly didn't deserve her.

"Tell me," she urged him again once their hands had dropped away.

Tommy exhaled a sigh, knowing that she wouldn't let her original mission go that easily. She was stubborn like him in that sense. "There isn't much to tell...a few men were next to the shop; talking of how me family's good for nothing; of how me father's a deadbeat, of how me mum, she..." he stopped, choking on the lump that had been rising up his throat. He cleared his throat before attempting to continue, hoping that his voice wouldn't fail him, "they weren't wrong about him..."

"You can't give them that satisfaction, Tommy," (Y/N) sighed, her heart hurting for him. He'd backed himself into a terrible place and now fought to keep appearances.

"I couldn't just stand and take it either," he offered her the way of thinking on the opposite side of the coin, "they were talking about me family."

(Y/N) nodded, knowing the truth behind his statement. It was evident that he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. "Just try..." she trailed off for a second, shaking her head and sighing at the thought of what she was about to say, "try not to let them rough you up as much next time."

Tommy chuckled at her statement, knowing that that was something he couldn't wholeheartedly promise. "I'll try," he answered her anyway, squeezing her hands again before he leaned in and stole another kiss from her lips.

He grinned at the look she was giving him when he pulled away, knowing that he was about to get a talking to for kissing her again. But she said nothing in response, instead shaking her head as a smile graced her lips.

——

"(Y/N)...it's good you're here," Arthur said after he opened the door to find the person he called standing on the stoop of the home.

"Where is he, Arthur?" (Y/N) asked, stepping inside and following him deeper into the house.

"On the sofa," he answered, nodding over to the person he was talking about as they entered the living room, "I pulled him out of the pub before he could get any worse...he was already fixin' to fight some men there," he shared some more information about what Tommy had been doing.

"Thank you," (Y/N) sighed, smiling at the young man, who left the room then after, before she turned to her boyfriend. "What have you done this time, Tommy?" she asked with a sigh, telling just from how he was slumped on the couch that he'd had one too many to drink.

"I can't tell you," he shook his head, wanting to spare her of the details.

This time, she actually let him. "This has to stop...how many times have you turned up like this over these last few weeks?" she asked another question, her hands falling to her hips.

"Not now, love..." he groaned, pressing his palms into his eye sockets in hopes to quell the dull ache he was already feeling.

"Too many, times, Tommy...too many times," she answered the question for him, "you need to stop, and I know that that's easier said than done, and I know things haven't been quite right since your mum passed, but this can't be how you go on," she continued, her voice becoming shaky as she showed how much she cared for him, "this isn't you, and I know that it isn't."

"(Y/N)..." he trailed off, letting out a dejected sigh as he looked away from her. He was unable to hold her eyes; the emotions in them made him feel more guilty than he already was.

"Here's what we're going to do..." she started off, sitting down on the couch next to him so that she could take hold of his hand and make him look in her direction, "you're going to sober up and we're going to get out of this city for some time," she explained her plans to him.

"And go where, love?" he asked her, his eyebrows raised slightly as he waited to hear more of her plan.

"I've got the keys to my family's cottage. We'll go out into the country...the fresh air out there will clear your mind," she explained, removing one of her hands from his so that she could fish the keys she'd taken out from the pocket of her skirt to show him.

"They gave 'em to you?" he asked her, surprise present in his voice. There was no way her parents would give two slightly older than teenagers free reign over their vacation cottage.

"I took them," she corrected him with a grin, her words and expression making his own grin grow.

"I love you," he breathed, chuckling slightly.

——

True to her plans, (Y/N) and Tommy set off on the trip to her family's cottage the next morning. (Y/N) suggested walking, but Tommy had a better idea; he'd managed to charm his Uncle Charlie into using a horse for the trip. They arrived as the sun was setting, and Tommy made quick work of getting a fire lit so that they wouldn't grow cold as the night went on.

He woke up the next morning with (Y/N)'s head resting on his chest, her hair splayed out over his shoulder. He smiled warmly at her as he gently combed his fingers through her locks.

It amazed him that she was still by his side, even after all that he'd done. Things hadn't been easy now that both of his parents were gone. He had to step up and work to provide for his siblings so that they wouldn't go hungry. Sometimes 'providing' meant dipping into things that were illegal...Tommy wasn't entirely too proud of it, but they usually brought in more money than honest work. She came from a good family; had a home life that was the complete opposite of his. He had no idea what she saw in him, but he wasn't about to bring light to it.

"Whatcha thinking about?" her sweet voice broke into his thoughts, making him look down to meet her eyes.

"You," he answered, craning his neck to press a kiss to the top of her head.

"Good thoughts I hope," she said with a smile, lifting her head to rest her chin on his pectoral.

"Always," he smiled back at her, his answer making her let out a soft giggle.

"We should get up," she spoke through a yawn, sitting up and scooting closer to him.

"Why?" Tommy groaned slightly, wanting to stay this close to her for as long as possible.

"Because you've got to see the grounds this cottage has," she answered him, not budging when he took hold of her arm and tried to pull her down on top of him. "Come on, Tommy," she attempted to coax him again, brushing her hands through his raven-colored hair.

"Leavin' this bed is the last thing I'm gonna want to do if you keep doin' what you're doin'," he stated, a lazy grin gracing his face as he looked up at her.

"It'll do you good though," she ignored his suggestive statement, persisting with her cause.

"I can think of some other things that'll do me good," he persisted with his cause.

"Thomas," she huffed, unable to keep the grin from her face as she tried, and failed, to be affected by his cheeky behavior, "I'm getting out of bed and you should too," she said then, flipping the covers off of her so that she could stand.

"Wait," he called after her, grabbing her hand so that he could spin her back to him and match his lips with hers. "Needed a kiss first," he mumbled against her lips before pressing his to them again.

"Get up," she mumbled against his lips, kissing him another time.

"I will," he answered her, stealing one last kiss before she pulled away for good and finally got off the bed.

They got dressed then, stealing glances at each other before finally making their way outside. Nothing much was said as they walked hand in hand through the tree-covered grounds. It wasn't long until they got to an opening, where the trees gave way to glorious, golden fields of flowers and rolling hills that went on as far as the eye could see.

"This what you wanted to show me?" Tommy asked as the two got themselves comfortable up against the trunk of a tall tree.

"Yes," (Y/N) nodded, a smile on her face as she settled in against Tommy's chest, "my dad always says that it's the place where the sky opens up to everything."

Tommy hummed in agreement to her statement, smiling softly as she brushed her fingernails over the skin of his forearm. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to relax despite everything that was running through his mind. A peaceful silence fell around them as they took in the nature surrounding them. It was easy to get lost in the reverie of the sunlight and the sound of the birds chirping. It felt like they were the only two people on the planet, and that was something that Tommy took solace in.

"Do you think that she's still proud looking down?" Tommy wondered aloud, his mind slipping to his mother's memory again.

She'd been on his mind a lot lately. The pain of losing her was still there; clawing its way through him to get itself to the surface. His attempts to push it away often had bad intentions and consequences, but he still hoped that he was watching down on him with a smile.

"She is," (Y/N) cut into Tommy's thoughts with her answer, a certainty present in her words.

"Yeah?" he checked, a hopeful glint in his eye as he turned his head slightly to look at her.

"Yeah, she is," she affirmed with a slight nod, "she's still proud of you, Tommy. I know she is. She may not be proud of the fights that you've been getting into, but I'm sure she sees what you're doing for your family...how you're fighting to provide for them," she elaborated then, a smile on her face as she watched his eyes soften, his guard falling completely down.

There was a brief pause in their conversation as they looked out at the fields around them. "I feel closer to her out here," Tommy broke the silence as he quietly spoke out his thoughts. (Y/N) said nothing in response, instead choosing to turn and face him so that she could wrap her arms around his torso in a tight hug. He accepted it, holding onto her tightly as he kept his eyes focused on the field ahead of him. "I'll get better, love," he whispered into her hair after a few more moments passed, "I'll stop the fighting...I'll throw myself into the business. I'll make things better," he promised her.

(Y/N) lifted her head from his chest to look at him once he was finished speaking. A smile formed on her face as she nodded slightly, "I know you will," she told him before she leaned in and pressed a languid kiss to his lips.

Tommy held her to him, pressing a few more kisses to her lips before letting her go so that she could settle into his side once more. The two sat in the peaceful silence for some more time before deciding to take a walk further into the field.

The rest of their day, and several day trip for that matter, was spent roaming the grounds of the cottage. Tommy picked (Y/N) several bouquets of flowers, and (Y/N) managed to get them lost a handful of times as she tried to remember the trails she used to hike with her family.

Each night they'd find themselves tucked up against the large tree, watching the sunset over the rolling hills; where the sky opened up to everything.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cilliansangel @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable @thomashelbyswife

MASTERLIST

Listen to the song Darling by Zach Bryan:

HERE.

[atarathegreat]

Sleepy Time Mirio Togata

Showing that he was stressed out wasn't who Mirio was. Hero work took it's toll after a while, whether you were Endeavor or Hound Dog.

"Lemillion, sir?" One of the many assistants was peeking in his office, "It's after hours." She was right, it was after midnight and Mirio wasn't an overnight hero. Mirio sighed and thanked her for reminding him as she walked off. 1:30 in the morning for a man who was usually home for a delicious dinner and spent an hour watching tv with his beautiful wife was too late and too upsetting. Not only had he not eaten since midday, but he was also unable to spend time with the woman he loved before waking up the next day and doing it again.

The clanging of his locker opening filled the empty changing room, making him groan. If one more thing was loud and bothered his brain, Mirio was sure he would lose it. With his gloves tucked neatly in the bottom of his locker, he kicked off his shoes and placed them in with. An unanswered call home told him that Y/n was asleep, as expected at such a late hour.

Street lights revealed his way home. Mirio just wanted to be home, wished he would've been home hours ago instead of ever having woke up for work. Dark alleyways and brightly lit store fronts assaulted his eyes as he tried to stay focused on road signs and street lights.

He felt guilty, so guilty, for opening the door and dropping his keys loudly. A heavy sigh scratched at his already dry throat, but he could tell that Y/n had gone around and placed her hands on the very wallpaper. Mirio was eternally grateful for his wifes quirk, the way her simple handprint could exude calm like a lavender candle, no matter it's placement.

"Baby?" Mirio spoke softly as he walked into their room, slipping from his jeans. Waking her up wasn't really his plan, but he would love to speak with her for at least a little bit.

Y/n was laid on her stomach, soft snores sliding from her lips and reaching his ears. He loved her, more than he thought was probably healthy, but he loved her. Just the way she was laying, the fact that he knew she wasn't wearing any bottoms under that blanket, and her thin tank top was enough to make him stare. Groaning, he palmed his crotch as he thought about her body. Y/n shifted slightly as Mirio pulled the blanket from her, folding it out of his way as he settled between her legs, using his knee to spread one of her legs wider.

"Baby?" He pressed himself to her back, slipping his hands under her and groping at her breast, "Wake up, honey."

She hummed in her sleep, hardly a reply for the man who wanted to hear her voice, but he wasn't in a position to complain. He'd left her at home all day and missed their time together. The way she wiggled rubbed her bottom on his cock, making him hiss into her skin. Mirio couldn't take it and shoved his boxers off his thighs, "I'm sorry, baby, I know I should wake you up."

He hooked his fingers in her panties and moved the fabric aside, making her groan disapproval at the cold air that he didn't doubt was taunting her cunt as much as it was taunting him. "Just a second, baby," Mirio spit into his hand, rubbing it along his length, "it'll get warm again."

"Oh, hell..." Mirio rubbed his saliva coated tip through her folds, feeling the slight relief only her contact brought him. "Little wider, sweetheart." Mirio bent her knee, picking her up a little to stuff a pillow under her hips. Soft kisses were trailed across her shoulders, his hand gently rubbing his tip around her entrance. "God, I'm sorry, Y/n." Mirio grunted as he pushed all the way in, bottoming out as softly and quickly as possible. The way Y/n's brows knit together and her soft moans went straight through his body and twitched in his dick.

Slow, deep thrusts pulled silent grunts from the tired hero, his hands wrapping back around and groping his lovers breasts. Panted breaths blew heat onto her neck, whiny moans escaping her as a heat in her own body woke her. "M-Mirio?" Her breathy voice caused his grip on her tits to tighten. Mirio placed a chaste kiss to the back of her neck, "I'm sorry, baby."

She gripped the pillow under her head, "Fair trade, since we missed our movie." And Mirio laughed, thrusting deeper into her warmth, "Will you leave a handprint on me?" Fuck, Mirio was almost too far gone in her body that he wasn't sure he could hold out much longer. "Finish this and I will." She nodded, scooting her legs under her to raise her body into him. Mirio leaned back and squeezed her hips. "Hold tight." Was the only warning received before Mirio started pounding into her, his own whimpers joining in with her loud moans.

"Sorry, baby." Mirio panted, grabbing her wrists and holding her up as he went faster, eyes trained on where his cock was disappearing into her, "You're holding me perfectly, I can't take it."

"Oh, yes you can." Her sounds were honey. Mirio was always lost in her voice, but when it was breathy and tired and whining, it was like his dick took on all the thinking. He could feel his tip hitting as deep as her body allowed, her gasps confirming that he was hitting right where she needed him. "Gonna come for me, baby?" Mirio chuckled, dropping her chest into the mattress. Once more, her whines were enough of an answer for him, enough of a silent plea for him to go a little faster. "Shit, Miri!" She moved her ass to meet his thrusts, her breath hitching each time his cock kissed that sweet little spot that she loved. Mirio's eyes rolled back as she came, her cunt squeezing him and milking out his own orgasm.

"I'm sorry, baby, I should've woke you up first." Mirio rested his head on her back. Her giggles reached his ears and she wrapped her fingers around his wrist, leaving her print, "Apologize by making breakfast in the morning."

[youreobsessedwithtoomanyfandoms]

In a World of Boys, He's a Gentleman

Words: 1748

Warnings: references to cheating, name calling, probably poor writing and OOC characters but whatever

DC Masterlist Main Masterlist 1989 (TV) Event Masterlist Join My Taglist

This takes place pre Dick. Maybe little bit of being Batman? Basically Bruce is still really known as a playboy, but unlike many of my other ones here, this Brucie is a good boy and isn't gonna cheat because hell nah. I also am having that, like Bruce, Y/N had her own reputation because that just makes sense to me

Also, Y/N is also rich in her own right, which is why there are references of her and Bruce growing up together and other things like that. So yeah, yippee

The swimsuit that Y/N wears is described to be a two piece, but not that it shows skin or not so imagine that however you wish you; if you see it as a bikini or one with a top that covers everything and has bottoms basically making it a one-piece

This is the "Slut!" part of my 1989 event! You can also see this as the one for "Blank Space" since I wasn't doing one fully

Anywho, enjoy

Love Z <3

Y/N stood next to Jessica Sturwich as she talked about her husbands new investments. The sun beat down on them as they stood on the yacht that Bruce had recently begun to own. Her eyes drifted around, trying to drown out the sound of Jessica's annoyingly high pitched nasally voice.

She laughed to herself as she saw Elizabeth Bynes in, what she would describe as, a flamingo pink bikini, shamelessly flirting with Bruce. A small smile graced her lips as she saw him throw her a "help me" look.

She looked back at Jessica and gave a small, fake laugh. "I'm sorry, but I'm gonna take my leave now, Bruce is calling me over."

As she turned on her heel and made her way towards him, she tried to not let what Jessica said hit her. "Hey, it's just the guy of the week. Not like you have to do everything he asks."

All she did was turn and shoot her a sweet smile, "Why don't you tell something similar to your husband's mistresses." Before turning back and making her way to Bruce.

As she reached him, she gently grabbed his bicep and kissed his cheek before smiling at Elizabeth. "Betty! I haven't seen you in such a long time! How's your mother?"

She watched as Elizabeth's smile faded. Betty had always been her least favorite nickname, plus Y/N knew that Elizabeth knew that she had been caught.

"She's been well." She watched as Elizabeth glanced at Bruce before looking at her again. "Who knew that the two richest people in Gotham would end up together."

Y/N hummed, "It makes sense." She smiled up at Bruce, who's arm fell down to her waist, before looking back at Elizabeth, "Also helps that he's much better than the other men I've been with."

"Right...and which number is he?"

She felt the way his arm tightened around her waist before he spoke. "I think that it's more of which number she is for me." She listened to his fake laugh before he sighed, "I think that we should finish up here and head back to shore. Why don't you go locate Adam Becker, I'm sure that he'd like you by his side at his gala tonight." He started to push him and her away, "See you later."

The two of walked away, out from the sight of everyone, before she leaned her head into his chest. Small tears gathering in her eyes. She hated the words that were always said about her. Even if they weren't lies, she did go from guy to guy...person to person. But she didn't sleep with them all. Only...at most half. Many of them weren't even relationships she had wanted. They were relationships her family had put her with.

But this...this wasn't it. This was one she had wanted.

Bruce gently kissed the top of her head before mumbling against her hair. "We don't have to go tonight." He tightened the grip around her waist, "We can stay at the manor, swim in the pool under the moonlight." She smiled against his bare chest as he rubbed circles into her lower back, his thumbs occasionally toying with top of her swim bottoms. "I could tell Alfred to leave us alone and we could just...be grown adults, alone, in a big pool."

She giggled before looking up at him, "As fun was that sounds." She gently grabbed his arms from behind her, moving them in from to hold his hands. "But we promised to be there. I already told my parents to not go cause I'd be there on their behalf."

He sighed, "Well...always can do that afterwards."

"Are you trying to get me to have sex in a pool, Mr. Wayne?"

He shrugged, "Not like you've never done it before."

"You wound me."

He smiled innocently, "Nothing around about that sweetheart."

She carefully moved from him as the bell rang that they were back at the port. "I think that I will meet you at yours before the gala tonight Mr. Wayne."

He gave her a lovesick smile as she walked away, "See you tonight, Miss. Y/L/N."

--------

Y/N stood next to Bruce as he talked to Lex Luthor. She adjusted her stance every once and a while, attempting to ignore all of the eyes on her. She knew why they were there, after all, she always ended up breaking up with guys at the third gala she went to with them. This was their third.

Everyone was expecting it to happen...but it wasn't going to.

"Y'know, I was surprised to hear that you and Miss. Y/N Y/L/N were together." She turned her head back to the other man, a small smile on her face as Bruce held her tighter. "Maybe you'll be the one to tie her down."

Her smile faltered and she move uncomfortably as the words left Lex's mouth. But before she could cover her uncomfortability with an awkward joke, Bruce came in. "I don't see it as tying down as much as I see it as me possibly being someone she finds safety in."

She looked up at him with a smile, a real happy smile, as she leaned into him. He was right. For the first time in years, she felt like she could be herself with him. Be...not the dumb rich girl she had pretended to be for so long.

She had been so lost in her own world that she hadn't realized that Bruce had pulled her away from Lex and the rest of the crowd until she felt her back collide with a wall and he brought his hand to her face gently.

"You were upset. What happened?"

She sighed "People were staring."

"And?" He leaned in and kissed her, "You look so fucking gorgeous tonight, of course they're going to."

"But that's not--"

"You're all dressed up, let them stare."

She allowed her lips to form a small smile, "We're both dressed up, so I guess...I guess they might as well be looking at us."

He smirked, "Really?"

"And...I think, maybe for once, it might be worth being called a slut." She leaned in before whispering, "Or maybe I'm just drunk."

He tilted his head to the side in confusion his lips opening slightly, as if he was about to say something. But they closed before a gently smile and look fell upon his face. "Why don't we go back out there, hm?"

She smiled gently and nodded, "Okay."

--------

Y/N laughed at the front page of the newspaper as Bruce came and wrapped his arms around her. She lifted the paper for him to see and soon enough his own chuckle filled the air. "World renowned rich, billionaire, heiress, and slut; Y/N Y/L/N looks like she might have actually fallen in love with billionaire and philanthropist Bruce Wayne as she gave him this look last night at Adam Becker's charity gala. Has she really found the one or is this just her current boy of the month?" He looked down at her, "What do you say?"

She hummed, "I think that they looked at my drunk expressions and try to read my mind."

He kissed her temple before speaking, "I mean to say, you hardly had anything to drink to drink last night. What did you mean by being drunk?"

She smiled up at him, "Not from alcohol." She tilted her head to the opposite side of his, allowing her lips to ghost the shell of his ear. The words leaving her mouth before she meant to let them, her still half asleep mind not fully thinking. "I meant drunk from love."

She felt herself and him freeze, both of them processing what she had just said. The L word. Something she had contemplated saying for so long, but kept convincing herself to not to out of fear for what he would say just slipped out of her lips.

But instead of anger or him laughing at her, his lips formed a smile. "You love me?" She silently nodded and he turned her around before kissing her intensely. He pulled away, but only to put his forehead onto hers. "I love you too."

It led to her swallowing hard, "But what if it blows up in our faces...in your really pretty face?"

He shrugged, "Then it does." He kissed her gently before brushing hair from her face, "I love you so much. I was just scared that you didn't."

"And I was scared that you didn't love me."

He smiled, "I guess we're just two idiots."

She smirked slightly, "Two slutty idiots."

He laughed and nodded, "Yes, two very slutty idiots."

--------

Y/N sobbed as she held onto her stomach, trying to comfort herself. She knew she shouldn't let it affect her, but she couldn't help it. She tried to ignore the television as it played the news channel talking about Bruce with another woman last night. She sobbed, she knew Bruce. But it didn't that she knew that everyone wanted him. But she knew it was just one of those issues when someone was at the right place at the wrong time...or maybe this case it was wrong place, right time.

She barely heard the door to the bedroom click before she felt Bruce's arms wrap around her, whispering into her ear that it was okay. She sobbed into his shoulder. She didn't understand why this was hurting her in the way that it was.

"I'm so sorry baby, I tried to push her off of me before. Please believe me. I'll...I'll do anything to prove it to you."

She breathed shakily, "I believe you. I just...I don't know why this is hurting me the way it is."

He moved to gently take her head in her hands to make her look at him. "Because...this is the longest real relationship either of us have had." He brushed hair from her face, "Trust me when I say that I never want to hurt you. Not on purpose at least."

She nodded and buried her head against his shoulder as he held her tightly. She refused to let him go. Refused to let him get away from her.

She refused to let him go as it felt like he was one of the only gentlemen in a world full of boys.

[babybatscreationsv2]

could you maybe write something where tony takes his son peter to get some new clothes but he ends up needing “assistance” in the changing room?

I went a little heavy on the incest kink but like sue me 🤷‍♀️

...

....

Peter twisted and turned in front of the mirror. He'd thought he wanted the booty shorts but now that they were on maybe it was a little too much. And maybe so was the crop top...

He looked himself over again and again, but he just couldn't decide. He needed a second opinion and at least his dad had never shamed him for what he wore before. So he was probably trust worthy now right?

"Hey dad?" Peter called through the dressing room door.

"What's up, kiddo?"

"I think I could use some help in here."

"Need me to zip up your dress?" he teased.

"I didn't get any dresses but if you think I should..." Peter laughed back though the idea wasn't terrible. Maybe he should try one on.

Tony tapped on the door as he reached it and Peter pulled it open. He grabbed the man and pulled him in before anyone could see, just in case.

"So, what do you think?" He held his arms out and turned in a slow circle. "Is it too much?"

His dad was unusually silent, but he didn't seem upset. Peter couldn't help but blush as he was observed. He took Peter by the shoulders and turned him toward the mirror.

"That depends. What were you going for?"

Peter blushed. He was going for 'horny, available, twink' but that felt silly now. His father's fingers traced the hem of his shorts in a line from the front of his thigh to where they rest just at the bottom of his ass.

"I think these could be shorter," he said, but the teasing fell from his voice as each word came out. The tips of his fingers curled under the fabric. "Are you wearing anything under these?"

"Ugh... my briefs were too long so... no." Peter chewed his lip. This was so dumb, why did he call him in here?

"That's gonna be a problem if you end up getting the attention you're after," one wandering hand found his bare abdomen and slid down. His fingers trailed over his crotch.

"I wasn't..." Peter tried to argue, but he looked into his father's eyes and he couldn't. He looked so... interested. Those fingers kept running up and down, making it hard to breathe. "Dad?"

"This is what you wanted, right?" He palmed Peter's ass through the shorts. "You need male attention? Have I been neglecting you?"

"It's not like that."

"No? All those work trips don't bother you? You don't wish some old man would feel you up and make you call him daddy? Don't you wish it was me?" He groped Peter's cock more openly through the shorts.

"Please," Peter gasped.

"Please stop? Or please more?"

"More," he whined.

Tony pulled him back against his chest. With one hand he held his chin and tilted his head up, meeting his eyes in the mirror. With the other he pressed his palm against Peter's hardening cock. "What a little whore you've become," his father purred in his ear. He kissed the side of his neck and Peter moaned.

"Daddy-" A hand covered his mouth.

"You want someone to hear your dad touching you?"

"Please please please!" He begged under his palm. Peter squirmed in his hands. His cock ached.

"You're gonna cum in these shorts and then I'm going to buy you this slutty little outfit and you're only going to wear it for me, understand?"

"Yes, daddy."

Tony took his hand away. He watched him in the mirror. "What was that, kiddo?"

"Yes, daddy," Peter moaned.

[hutchersonsgurl]

You are gonna wish you were dead Clapton Davis part 2

Paring x female reader x Clapton Davis

Tall and chubby reader

18+ older Smutt warning ⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

___________________________________________

FAST FORWARD>>>>> after going out for an ice cream with your brother and Clapton it's date night ;)

_______________________________

You are at school and all day you have noticed that Clapton always being around you somehow like in class he'd sit next to you or behind you with that little smirk on his face

you like the attention you are getting and you are not gonna lie about that but It was kind of weird how he would go out of his way to be right there always ever since the day Clapton asked you on a date you had a new sense of confidence even changing your a style a little bit you have been wearing makeup and cute Jeans and a leather jacket you have fell in love with when you was shopping at the mall with your friends

"So what's going on with you and clapton?" your friend asked

I don't know he's always messing with me somehow I blame my brother you say as you roll your eyes you leave school walking out with your friends giggling and laughing eventually getting home

So it was 7pm already you have gotten ready you picked out some cute jeans and a tshirt since the two of you are going bowling

You meet Clapton at the bowling place

He wore the same clothes he wore to school his pink hat, white t-shirt, and tan shorts.

You and Clapton came up with a bet if he wins he gets you kiss you and if you win you can kiss him whenever you want who ever gets the most strikes win

"It's a win win either way yn " Clapton says as he's about to line up his shot

"Don't mess up" you say as he rolls the bowling ball and it ends up being a butterball

"Ooops maybe you should pay attention Davis," you say as you walk by him for your turn he rolls his eyes and says" You cheated" he replies hack

A few more rounds and Clapton ended up winning

So here's the moment he's about to kiss you

He goes up on his tippy toes to reach your lips and then he's lips crash into yours you kiss him back hungrily he bites your bottom lip softly you pull back and just stare at each other

" Woah you're a good kisser," Clapton says with a smirk

"You're not too bad yourself, Clapton," you say

"So do you have a ride home? I can drive you" Clapton asked

"Yeah sure I'd like that " you respond back

The two of you get into his car and as he drives he has his hand on your thigh

You are trying everything in your power to not lose your mind

Clapton pulls into your driveway and see that there is no car in sight it" looks like I'm home alone wanna come in?"You ask shyly

"Yeah sure "he says with a smile

The two of you walked into your house you turned on your lights and locked the door

"You want something to drink"? you ask

"Yeah sure can I have a Cocoa Cola?" He asked

"Yeah one sec" you say as you open the fridge and hand it to him

You sit on the kitchen counter as he drinks his can

But then he started looking at you not so thirsty for pop now

Clapton walks up to you standing on his tippy toes and crashes his lip into yours

You kiss him back roughly matching his speed he pulls back and brushes your hair slightly and kisses your neck

"Clapton please just fuck me already" you say looking at him hungrily

"Shit don't have to tell me twice " he says in one breath

 He slid your pants along with your panties down your legs, situating himself on a bar stool in front of me

Placing each of my legs onto his shoulders. Placing kisses on the inside of my thighs, he spoke again. “Now, let me make you feel good.” Before you had the chance to respond, he immediately began sucking your clit.

"Oh fuck Clapton" you moaned out, His fingers sped up for a moment then he pulled his fingers out as he placed his lips back onto your clit.

"Yes Clapton yes" you threw your head back in pleasure, he sucked harder as yourself feeling your orgasm approaching. Reaching down I ran my fingers through is black hair as he sucked the soul out of your clit

He pulls his face out of your clit as he has you lay down on the counter

He unbuckles his pants and throws his shorts and his boxers on the floor he opens your thighs once again

He slowly pushed himself inside of you your clit took it perfectly he felt your walls closed around his cock

He begins to thrust inside of fast and hitting right in your g spot

"Oh fuck I'm about to cum" you say with a moan

"Cum on my dick baby girl" He says letting out a moan of pleasure

You cum on his dick and he pulls out

But just as you came off the high you heard a car door and you see that it's your brother's car ......

Taglist @leahdhopkins4321

-----------------------------------------------------

Part 3

Not edits btw

[starlightshadowsworld]

My thoughts on Bsd Chapter 113

Spoilers.

Obviously.

Okay guys we get it Sigma is alive, everyone chill.

I didn't think Sigma was dead, but good to have confirmation regardless.

The true duality of Double Black is that they can take down the most vindictive and smart villians.

And also share one braincell between them.

You'd think the first one or two times Chuuya dropped Sigma he'd think maybe this isn't gonna work.

And of course he dropped him 15 times.

I kinda wish it was 16 purely because Chuuya is wearing the same outfit he had on during the Dragons head incident (which was 6 years ago, when he was 16.)

But this is still funny.

... Hold on I just realised Dazai doesn't know Sigma has an ability.

Otherwise he'd probably know what happened to him, given how similar it works to Ango's.

Chuuya stop saying Fyodor is dead, you've said it twice now and the more you do the less I believe you.

Ohhh hell yeah I love the effect of all the memories looking like pages.

Starting from the bottom of the pile seems like a good idea but man how long is Sigma gonna be out for?

Oh back to this shit... Listen I don't care for Fukuchi but I do love Fukuzawa.

The fact Fukuchi admits there were other ways but this was his decision.... He could've spared Fukuzawa all this pain but chose not too.

Man fuck this guy.

Also the condition that 500 lives could achieve world peace, hated that.

The coin bombs didn't threaten lives he says like it didn't almost kill Tachihara.

Of course it was Fyodor's plan, only he'd come up with such nonsense.

At least we know why Fyodor was in Mersault now.

Back to Sigma.... Why is there a castle?

... Please tell me that's not Fyodor...

IS THAT BRAM?!

... What the fuck am I witnessing?

And not just Bram, Count Bram who's body isn't impaled by the sword.

And it is Fyodor, how old are you?! Love the robe but what?!

Oh and right back to this... I said it before and I'll say it again fuck Fukuchi man.

Having Fukuzawa choose between his life or the Agencies, become the thing he never wanted to be or save his family.

I do wonder if that choice is basically the mystery to get out the book, because this is shill Poe's book.

Or if that was just finding out the mystery of the past, who knows.

God and Fukuchi not needing to give any last words because he has no regrets. Because his best friend is going to kill him and it's everything he wants

Fukuchi wins and it costs Fukuzawa everything.

I do love that Fyodor retains his love for getting captured on purpose.

And flirting with Count Bram apparently, I can already see the fics.

Man when even the Vampire King calls you evil incarnate.

Is Fyodor trying to be a seer? What is this premonition? Or is he just fucking around.

Oh shit yeah reminder that Bram is from Ireland, so that's why the Romans be such an issue rn.

... Jeez how far in the past is this?

Also, is it just me or does Fyodor have a scar on his face he doesn't have in the present?

Yeah Bram I don't think that's gonna kill him.

Oh and Fukuzawa aiming him cut down Fukuchi in the same place he sliced Akutugawa.

AWW AND HE CAN'T DO IT.

My heart, I'm so glad Fukuchi didn't get mad at him for it or I would've flipped the table.

You're really asking a lot.. Like way to much.

Which is when Teruko shows up.

Awh Teruko... And putting the sword in Fukuzawa's hands so he takes the fall as she cries.

I can't...

Fuck man...look at him. His face, his eyes Fukuzawa is never going to emotionally recover from this and neither will I.

Aya hunny I appreciate the enthusiasm but you might wanna read the room.

[professionalakazasimp]

Douma x Reader

Part 6

-Interactive game-

[AFAB reader]

Choice made:

"Agree but insist on knowing what he needs you for"

Warnings: Emotional manipulation, brief mention on corpses, messed up thoughts in general lmao

"I'd like to come with you, but I really need to know where we're going first." Your voice had a hint doubt and suspicion.

"Ah, this is a stubborn one." He thought to himself. He couldn't say he felt upset about it. Heck, he couldn't feel anything about it. Though he was a little amused to see you act all careful while already being his prisoner, his slave.

Though he couldn't just straight up tell you the truth to where he was taking you or what he was going to do to you, that would really make you fussy for sure.

"Aw, dear, but that'll ruin the surprise, will it not?

It really saddens me that even though I've done so much for you, you still don't trust me even a little."

You were dumbstruck, him saying this, it leaves you no choice. If you apologize and still wish to know more, it'd put a bad impression on him and he might even kick you out sooner, but if you do go—

You shake your head, repeating to yourself in your mind that if Douma had any bad intentions, he would've already done them, since you were just a defenseless, injured person at an unknown location.

"Ah sorry, I have trust issues because of past incidents. You don't need to tell me where we're going. I'll come along." You finally respond.

The fly really flew right into the web, huh?

"That's great! And it's okay, I wasn't upset anyway." He replied in a cheerful manner.

"I'll send you some nice clothes to wear soon. Be ready by 9, alright?"

He asked, but left before even hearing your answer. That's okay, you wouldn't have been able to answer him anyway. You were too busy processing what just happened.

~•◇•~

The sun went down, as did Douma down the staircase. He is a demon, and he has his own set of "responsibilities", but he doesn't really care. He wanted to have fun with you instead.

His plan for you was to take you to that one part in the forest he threw all the remains of his meals. It was quite a beautiful spot if you ignored the rows and piles of ribs, skulls and other bones.

He couldn't wait to see your reaction. It'll be so funny and cute, at least for him. It wasn't his fault he found it amusing to do this.

He wondered if you'd be terrified, traumatized, angry or all three.

Well, doesn't matter, all of them are entertaining reactions.

He'd decide whether to eat you, let you live or do something else to you after that and he had quite a few ideas.

~•◇•~

Some time passed and you finally got those clothes he was talking about.

A woman wearing a plain white kimono, with her hair tied into a bun brought it for you. She was weirdly quiet like the rest of the people here, and by "rest", you mean that one man you saw talking to Douna a while ago. There weren't many people here were there? Or maybe there were but you never got to speak to them.

Even after you thanked the woman in a cheerful voice, she simply nodded with her head facing facing downward and left. How strange.

"Woah..." you mumbled while inspecting the clothes sent to you. This was expensive stuff.

It was a red kimono with blue and purple lotus patterns in what seemed like water at the bottom. There was a blue sash with it too. It was really sweet to the eyes.

You wondered again why Douma was doing this for you. Could it be that...he likes you romantically? You really don't have many complaints if that's the case. You're willing to give it a shot.

You look at the clock on the wall, its 8:36 pm. You rush to get ready with what time you had.

~•◇•~

Finally out of the unguarded confines of your room, you walk around the mansion. It was kind of eerie despite being so clean and well kept. It had a few bright lights on the ceiling right above the hall accessible through the double staircase. Other than that, there were a few dim lanterns here and there.

Even though it wasn't wrong for you to be here, you felt like a princess trying to escape her prison in an unknown territory like in the books you often read. Maybe it was like that. You knew absolutely nothing right now. Not even knowing where to go from here or where Douma was.

[theoldaeroplane]

transfiguration's going to come for me at last

uh here is a big chunk of Fray's backstory. i'm mostly posting this to share with my ttrpg group but. you can read it too. 5.5k words, cw for violence and Bad Times

---

Fray tries not to think about the last time he saw Zion, but most of the time he can't help it. It just overcomes him, so warm and inviting he cannot help but fall into the memory.

It is bright and crisp at Charn's boundaries, and she has come to see him and the rest of Gyr Warden off, like she always does. Fray is in high spirits, pleased as always to be serving Charn, to be serving Zion by serving Charn. Her broad hands cup his jaw and she bows her head over his, her scruffy strawberry blond hair falling into her eyes: one brown, the other the same gleaming gold as his own, the hexagonal pupil betraying its artificiality. She looks at him like she is peeling him apart. She always looks at him like that, like she can see something in him no one else can. She did even before she lost the eye. "You come back to me in one piece," she tells him. "See to it."

"We always do," Fray signs back with a teasing smile.

"You had better," she murmurs, and bites her lip. "I don't know, doll. Got a bad feeling about this one."

Fray might have brushed anyone else off. Not Zion. "It'll be well with us," he assures her. "Best warden team in Charn, right?"

"Hmm," says Zion, and reaches up to pull out one of the clips she always wears to keep her permanent cowlick under control. It's thin, flexible metal, a small star shape affixed to one end and painted blue. "You wear confidence well," she tells him, and uses the clip to gather his bangs out of his eyes. He touches it as she does, feeling the warmth of being cared for bubble up in him. "But you'd best promise me anyway."

"I promise," Fray tells her, and rolls his eyes good-naturedly.

---

Gyr Warden, the best Luminary team Charn has ever produced. Gyr Warden, the ones dispatched when threats to Charn's noble purpose arise. Gyr Warden, the ultimate strike force, the keepers of the peace, the sword and shield raised against the everlasting threat of the apocalypse.

Gyr Warden, bested by a pit.

It was a covered pit, of course, sheltered under the remains of some great building so the snow would not weigh its disguising sheets of rusted metal and repurposed tarps down too much. It had been rigged to collapse in on itself only with enough weight. Four persons' worth, or thereabouts. Fray can still remember the sickening way the floor gave out from under him, the buckling and screeching of metal scraping together, how the world spun. One moment he had been focused on their surroundings, in search of the escaped targets Proxy reported sighting amid these ruined machines and buildings, and who she had gone ahead to scout for. In the next he is falling, falling, falling.

It's luck and his heightened reflexes that keep him from being impaled on the stakes stuck purposefully in the bottom, but mostly luck. He just knocks his skull against the metal floor of the pit and blacks out for a few seconds. He wishes he'd stayed out when Glint and Shrike's agonized screams split his ears. Beyond them, Sworn clutches an obviously broken arm. Basalt and Proxy are nowhere to be seen, until a horrible boom rings out over the shrieking. Basalt's lifeless body comes tumbling into the hole after. He nearly lands on Sworn, who screams a little in shock.

A trap, Fray thinks dimly. A simple, stupid, obvious trap that he should have noticed. Basalt stares at him from across the pit with frozen, staring eyes.

It's luck again, and years of training, that see Fray stay still when he detects movement above. His head is ringing with pain and the wails of his impaled teammates, until another terrifying boom rings out. Shrike goes limp. Whoever is shooting botches putting down Glint. The first shot just destroys her arm and the screaming redoubles, ragged and piercing. There is a scuffle and shouting up above. Sworn is whimpering, shuddering, staring---staring up at where Proxy is shoving her way toward the edge of the pit, through the gathered crowd of figures in tattered gold and jade. They let her push past, too far for Fray to read their expressions. Proxy lunges for the rifleman, bellowing something Fray cannot hear over Glint's screams.

Three of the figures fall on her, and the shooter cracks her across the face with the butt of his rifle. Another of them steps forward and puts a slug into Glint's forehead. The screaming stops. At last, Fray can hear what Proxy is saying:

"Stop! Stop! You said you wouldn't hurt them!"

There's a chorus of scoffing laughter, and despite her hextech, despite her training, Proxy is still overwhelmed when the crowd piles onto her and as one hurls her down into the pit, just yards from Fray. She lands badly, on one of the half-raised pieces of metal that had formed the false floor. The crunch her spine makes as it snaps at the waist echo in his ears long after their assailants walk away.

---

Once the figures leave, Sworn tries to drag themself to Fray. Miraculously unharmed for the most part, Fray rushes to them instead. Proxy lies where she fell, but her ragged puffs of breath into the frozen air betray that she still lives.

In silence he triages Sworn. Their left arm snapped on impact, but snapped cleanly. The livid swelling in their ankle suggests that it fared much worse. They're fine apart from that, other than scrapes and bruises, and the fact they just watched the horrible execution of three of their teammates. Three of their family.

Fray does what little he can for the injuries. He focuses on pulling Sworn out of their mounting panic not only for their sake, but for his, too. Sworn is the youngest. Sworn has rarely been faced with the cruelties that the outside world is capable of. He only relents when Sworn swallows and asks in a splintering voice, "Orders, major?"

Reality starts settling in again. Fray braces himself best he can. "Stay with Proxy," he signs, and does not allow himself to look at her. "I have to ... perform retrieval."

"Acknowledged," Sworn says weakly, and allows Fray to help them hobble to Proxy's side. When they're settled, when Fray has done a silent, mechanical once-over of Proxy---he cannot bring himself to look her in the eye---he picks himself up, and takes stock of their situation.

The pit has sheer metal sides. The walls rise up nearly twenty feet. It seems excessively deep, for a grave. There is nothing that would lend its to an escape, especially not with Sworn's ankle.

He looks around long after he has gathered the information he needs. He's putting off retrieval.

Basalt is nearest. Fray calls a knife to hand out of his hextech and sets about the grim work: pulling the implanted machinery out of his team's bodies, so that it will not fall into enemy hands. Basalt is still warm. His blood crawls sluggishly out of the spots Fray cuts into him.

He hears the conversation begin, behind him.

"You led us into a trap," says Sworn.

"Yes," says Proxy, who never lies.

"You betrayed us. You betrayed Charn."

"Yes," Proxy says.

"What did they tell you? What was worth this?"

Proxy is quiet for a long time before she says, "Does it matter now?"

Fray, listening, supposes it doesn't. Sworn falls silent, and then begins to cry.

Body by body, Fray excises hextech from his brethren's flesh. He pulls stabilizers and hard light generators from limbs, and goes about the delicate work of deactivating the spine stabilizers. The liquid battery inside each one is rigged to explode when tampered with, unless disabled through the addition of another compound in a hidden compartment. He's seen the result of failing to do that, on one of his first field missions, before Gyr Warden. The lieutenant had fallen, and the enemy tried to pull the hexes from her back. The explosion had killed everyone within thirty feet.

He crushes each one into uselessness, scattering their delicate interiors haphazardly around the pit. He even buries some of the pieces. He takes a long time to do it, too long, because when he is finally done there is only one more thing left for him to address.

Proxy lolls her head to one side when he comes to stand over her. She hasn't gotten up. "Major," she says, and tries to lift an arm in a salute. When Fray only stares at her and shakes his head she wheezes; he thinks it might be a try at a laugh. "Fucked this one up, brother."

A dozen things fly through his head. He wants to ask her why, he wants to ask her what was supposed to happen to them, he wants to ask her what he did wrong that she betrayed Gyr, that she betrayed Charn. He wants to scream at her, to shake her, to beat the shit out of her.

Instead he just signs, "You're paralyzed."

"Yeah. Seems so."

"I need you to tell me who those people are."

The way she stares up at him, her face slack in an emotion he cannot decipher, makes his stomach churn. "Just people, Fray," she says softly. "Just people like you and me."

Something in him snaps. He drops to one knee, fisting his hand in the front of her coat and hauling her up by it. Proxy just stares up at him dully, as if waiting for his judgement. "Tell me what just happened," he grinds out, the words fluting and mutating in his throat. It sounds more like tll m wht js happnd.

Proxy is quiet for a long time, looking at him, then past him, at the edge of the pit. "I made a mistake," she says eventually. "I trusted the wrong people. I thought I was too clever to be taken in. Now all of Gyr Warden pays for my arrogance. I throw myself on your mercy, Major."

Fray stares at her. Proxy, his second, his sister-in-arms, Proxy the great-hearted, Proxy the wise and merciful. The one he trusts---trusted---above all but Zion herself. She matches his gaze until he lets go of her shirt, too overwhelmed by the sensation of his heart cracking apart.

---

A day and a night passes. Another follows. Once some of the people in jade and green return. They talk quietly among themselves, casting a careful eye over the three remaining members of Gyr Warden, and then leave. Though he checks and rechecks their cage for means of escape, Fray finds nothing.

At night, he keeps himself from despair by remembering Zion.

Zion stands head and shoulders above Fray (not impressive), could pick him up and throw him (a bit impressive), and is journeyman under the head machinist, overseeing the ancient technology inside the bodies of Fray and the other Luminaries (very impressive). She snores. She ruffles his hair every time she passes him. She is ruddy and precise and gentle and sings to herself when she works with a voice as rich as syrup, and if she told Fray she needed him to kill someone, he would do it without question.

Zion is one of the rare Charnites to have hextech without being a Luminary: the unmistakably false eye in her left socket, provisioned for her after she lost the real one retrieving machinery from the dangerous bunkers that spread warren-like under the city. Zion was the one who stayed with him night after night when his body rejected the first hextech he was given. She was the one who recommended him for the more unregulated, more compatible newer iteration, citing his dedication and skill. His body belongs to Charn, but Zion is the keeper of his heart.

In the frozen nights, where he builds pathetic fires out of the clothing of his dead companions to keep the rest of them from deaths of their own, he thinks about how he promised her he would come back unharmed.

---

"They're waiting for us to starve, I think," Fray signs to Sworn on the third day. "Or grow hungry enough to surrender. But I imagine they would have made their demands already if it were that."

"Why don't they just shoot us?" Sworn says, absently, like they are asking what time it is.

"I don't know."

Sworn is quiet for a long time. "She must, though," they say at last, and does not need to indicate whom he means.

Fray has managed to create a makeshift shelter with the fallen metal. If nothing else it functions as a barrier between them and the sight of the bodies. Fray has moved Basalt and Shrike to the furthest edge, but Glint's blood froze her to the spikes she is impaled upon. He cannot remove her without great effort, and he must conserve his energy to attend to the living.

The shelter was mostly for Proxy, who has lost the use of her legs. She has said nothing since Fray's aborted interrogation, seemingly waiting around to die. Sworn has cursed her out a few times, only stopping when Fray intervened. Honestly, he doesn't have the energy for that, either. A Luminary is better equipped for the deadly weather than your common man, but they starve the same as anyone else, and the rations he pulled from their packs are running low.

They drink snow melted in a crude bowl and set over the tiny fire Sworn's hextech allows them to make. Sworn's foot looks infected, looks like it's dying. Proxy starts refusing her portion of the rations, so Fray makes a disgusting-looking broth of them and force-feeds it to her. Traitor or not, no one else is going to die on his watch. Not while he can help it.

On the fourth day, one of those jade-golds reappears, alone. Fray catches sight of her sitting at the pit's edge with a rifle slung across her lap, watching them intently. Upon realizing she's been noticed, she just raises a hand, like this is a casual greeting. Fray swallows his anger and signs to her. "Who are you?"

She squints at him. "Don't know that hand stuff, champ."

Sworn is in no condition to translate, but they're roused to do so anyway. This is an opportunity too important to let slip. "You don't need to have my name," she says in response to Fray's prior question. "But I know yours. It's Fray, right? Rank of major, to hear Proxy tell it? Do they name all of you after nouns? I suppose that's one way to strip off your humanity."

"Her name is Agrippa," Proxy murmurs. It's the first thing she's said in days. "Agrippa of the Vow."

Fray gives no indication of hearing Proxy. "Then what do you want with us?"

Agrippa of the Vow blinks down slowly at him. "Because I want to watch you suffer," she says. "After everything you've done, all the lives you've ruined, all the innocent people you've slaughtered ... I want to see you down there, with the person who betrayed you. I want you to lose your fingers to the cold. I want you to get so hungry you peel the flesh off your friends' bodies and eat it. I want you to hurt." She leans forward, eyes roaming over them. "And then I'm going to put you down like the dog you are. I'm going to make it take days."

"What's wrong with you?" Sworn cries, leaping to their feet. "We're trying to save this horrible world, from people like you---"

"Sworn," Fray hisses, whirling on them.

"You people don't see it, you don't understand---"

"Sworn!"

"Kiddo, don't do this," says Proxy.

Sworn says, "We only do what we have to," and Agrippa tilts her weapon down. There is the thunder of the weapon and the soft sound of Sworn falling to the snow. Fray lurches toward them, trying to drag them out of her line of fire. They clutch at their stomach, blood foaming past their lips.

"Fucking brainwashed animals, the lot of you," the woman calls down. Her voice drips with disgust. "There, Major. You can eat that one fresh. You're welcome."

---

Sworn passes sometime in early morning. They had ceased whimpering some two hours before, and despite Fray's best efforts he could not keep them conscious.

He puts their body with the others. He retrieves their implants and destroys them, except for the one that creates fire. He spends almost an hour trying to get Glint off the spikes and poles, and in the end simply saws through the metal with his hexblade. His hands are raw and bloody by the end of it, but Glint gets to join the rest of the family. Because that's what they were, or what Fray had always believed Gyr Warden was. A family.

Their bodies won't rot in the cold, and the floor of the pit is ancient steel. But he has Sworn's flame hex, and it is no natural fire. The stench of burning hair and flesh sickens him, and the black smoke that belches up from the pit does away with any hope he might have had of the pyre going unnoticed. Regardless, Agrippa will not see him reduced to cannibalism. He stands in front of the flames for what feels like hours, forcing himself to watch. To remember. Shrike, storyteller, musician, field medic. Glint, trick shooter and master of comedic timing. Veteran and scout, Basalt, who could find his way through any storm. And Sworn, fresh and promising, so clever and passionate.

Gyr Warden, his cohort, his family. His to protect. His to fail.

When he goes back to Proxy and flings himself down beside her, she makes a low, pained sound. "And then there were two."

He does not answer her.

"Fray, I need to tell you something."

He does not answer.

"Luminary-Major First Among Us Into This Fraying World, look at me."

Fray snarls. He obeys, he glares at her, his teeth coming down so hard on his lip that it breaks the cracked skin. His hands shake when he signs. "What?"

Proxy is crying. The tears come slow and languid, freezing to her face before they can slip all the way to the ground. She waits long enough to make sure he's paying attention. "I want to tell you why this happened," she says, voice creaking with the effort, "but I don't think you're ready to understand it."

"What does that mean?"

"It means it took me such a long time to understand it myself that I can't possibly hope to convince you of it with the time I have left."

He wants to tell her she has years left. Even now, even after everything, she is still his family, and part of him will always love her despite it all. He wants to comfort her, to promise her he's going to get them out of here, that he's going to take them home. That they're going to be okay.

He can't.

"Tell me anyway," he signs, slumping against the side of the shelter. "I might as well know."

"You'll kill me for it."

"I wouldn't bother. We're already dead."

"Yeah," Proxy says with a broken laugh, and tells him.

She's right. He doesn't understand.

---

Luminaries stop sleeping like they did in their prior lives. They must still sleep, but they need less of it, and they rouse more readily. This is why it's such a shock when Fray is awakened by something being pulled over his head.

He panics. He thrashes, kicking, throwing elbows, but an uncountable number of hands on him force him to stillness. People are talking around him, saying be careful, get him tied, don't underestimate him because he's small. His arms are jammed behind his back and tied painfully tight. He can hear Proxy's muffled yelling, grim voices, the crunch of many boots on snow. Then he is being raised into the air. Up and up and up, and then down as he's thrown to the ground. The thing over his head is taken away.

The world is black except where it is white with snow or orange with the light of the bonfire that has been built near the pit. Countless figures in ragtag clothing stare down at him; he can't make out details with the way his numb face is pressed into the snow. "Alright!" calls a woman's voice. Fray recognizes it as that of Agrippa. "You all know Lieutenant Proxy," she sneers the title, "as our very own woman on the inside, who in her arrogance thought we would let her little pack of murderers live." There's a series of jeers and snarls. She goes on: "And of course we've got the famous leader of Charn's precious slaughterhouse here today as well!"

Something takes hold of his hair and pulls him up to his knees. The crowd, at least fifty strong and armed to the teeth, explodes into noise and howling. Through his cold-dulled senses, through the lightheadedness of having run out of rations the day before, he hears them as a kind of terrible chorus. Curses, death threats, oaths of vengeance, cries of murderer and baby-killer and monster.

He thinks back to what Proxy said to him, that they are only people, people like Gyr Warden. Only Gyr Warden is---was---nothing like this bloodthirsty, torturous mob. Not for the first time, he mourns Proxy's good nature getting the better of her.

It's Agrippa who has him by the hair, he finds as he looks around for Proxy, and Agrippa has a knife in her other hand. In the half dark, crazed with shadows, it is all but impossible for him to make out anything, but at last he spots the half-limp form of Proxy on Agrippa's other side, her hands tied in front of her. Agrippa is still going off, talking about justice and punishment and whatever other madness she's concocted for herself. A zealot, he thinks with a dull, distant pity. She knows not what she does.

As best he can, he braces himself for what he knows is to come. He has no hope for a quick death from these lunatics, but perhaps they will be kinder to Proxy.

"What shall we do with him, then?" Agrippa asks the crowd. The noise surges back into a fervor. They want his blood. They want his agony.

Strip him and throw him in the fire.

I bet he won't be so dangerous with his eyes gouged out.

Carve up the girl and make him watch.

Not Proxy, he pleads in silence, she was misled, she made a mistake, he would bear a hundred tortures if it meant they would spare her. She is still his scaffolding, his right hand. He still loves her even now. He dares not beg for her safety, not when giving up such a wish would be like dangling meat in front of wolves.

"I know what you really want," Agrippa shouts, yanking Fray's hair high enough that he struggles to his feet to ease the pain. His pulse screams in his ears. "This man's head, yes. But you what you really want is the ones pulling the strings. You want to blot out this disease before it comes for anyone else. You want Charn!"

Cheering.

"And what does Charn have that we don't?"

"Those damned machines," snarls one.

"The old technology," cries another.

"The fucking Luminaries," finishes Agrippa. "And what is a Luminary but a man with metal in his limbs? I say we rip them out of him."

A boon, Fray thinks, half delirious. That will kill him. A mercy. And the hextech will be useless without the serum.

Unfortunately, this is when Agrippa turns her attention back to Proxy. "Okay, Prox," Agrippa says, voice dripping with poison. "Here's your chance to spare yourself some pain. Tell me how the shit inside you freaks works."

Proxy gapes at her. "I don't---I don't know, Agrippa, I told you I don't know!"

Agrippa gives a great, aggravated sigh, and sinks the knife into Fray's shoulder. The guttural shriek that tears its way from his throat is so horrible that at first he does not realize he made it.

"I don't know!" Proxy wails. She pushes herself up on her bound hands. Blood has frozen around a cut on her forehead. "We're just soldiers! We don't get told how it works! Stop hurting him!"

The knife twists. Fray screams, bile crawling up his throat. "We've caught your kind before," Agrippa says patiently, in a different voice than the one she used to whip the crowd into frenzy. "We've tried implanting the technology into our own men. It doesn't take. I need to know how to make it take, Proxy." She pulls the knife out, slow, slow, and the withdrawal is somehow worse than the stab. For a few seconds, the blackness overtakes everything.

When Fray comes to again, the knife is between his lips, threatening to split into his cheek if he moves. "Stop crying," Agrippa is telling Proxy. "You know how to end this."

Proxy's shoulders shake. "You're horrible," she says. "We deserve death for what we've done, but you're no better. I'll tell you. I'll tell you."

How? Fray wants to ask with the last shreds of intelligent thought left to him. She understands the process no better than he does; it's a closely guarded secret for this very reason. Yet he never suspected her part in the trap, either. How long has she been working with Agrippa? What else has she betrayed?

Proxy shakes tears from her face and swallows a sob. "You have to start at the spine," she says. "You can't transfer them unless you crack the power cell. They're coded to the individual."

She's lying. She knows as well as Fray does what happens when the liquid battery cracks. Relief sweeps over him like an avalanche.

He is shoved down to the ground again, his bindings cut and his arms stretched out before him by two men. He shrieks as his stabbed shoulder is yanked forward without heed for his pain. His coat and clothes are sliced open to expose his back. The three stabilizers that burrow against his spine are left open to the freezing air. He seethes his breath in through his teeth against his pounding heart as Agrippa sets her knife against the topmost one and pops the housing off.

He is trembling from cold and tension by the time Proxy walks Agrippa through the last protective layer above the battery. "Now what?" Agrippa is saying, and Fray manages to twist his head enough to find Proxy's face. She has run out of tears, and stares at him. He jerks his chin the slightest amount. Do it.

Proxy takes a deep breath. "There's a cell of liquid," she says. "If you expose the liquid to air, it releases the hexes."

"What a fucking nuisance," Agrippa says, and leans forward. Fray feels it through his spine when she sets the tip of her knife against the glass to crack it.

The failsafe has been primed. Unprivileged modifications of Farlight property is disallowed. Cease and desist, or local override will activate. This will be your only warning.

The words somehow---he doesn't know a better word for it---the words are somehow coming from his bones. He hears them as if they're being spoken directly into his ear, a tinny, buzzy voice, neither male nor female. At first Fray thinks he's hallucinated it, until it comes again when Agrippa's knife bounces off the glass.

Failsafe activated. Local override activated. Tolerance is: zero. God help you.

Several things happen simultaneously. The first is that there is no self-destruction, no ignition. The second is that something surges through his exhausted body. The machinery in his arms and chest and spine blaze with light and heat, and he stares in bewilderment as dozens upon dozens of golden, hard-light hexes appear from nowhere all around him, like a full-body shield. One of the men holding his arms down jerks backwards; the other is not so fortunate. The gleaming hexes burn through his hands like a knife through butter. Behind him he hears Agrippa raise her voice and then cut herself off with a strangled grunt of pain. There's no one on him, Fray realizes, and tries to push himself upright.

He moves, but not in the way he had meant to.

He's drawn stiffly to his feet, the shouting and gunshots muffled compared to the overwhelming hum in his ears. His own skeleton is being operated without him. It draws his sword and moves him puppet-like, jerky and slow, until it isn't, until it's deadly and swift, faster than he's ever moved before. He cuts down man after man with cold efficiency and watches himself do it, watches bullets ricochet harmlessly off the armor. There had been some fifty strong in the crowd when this began. By the time he can stop and draw breath, over half of them lie dead in the snow. Agrippa has vanished.

The thing---the local override---seems satisfied by this. It turns him around and surveys the area, as if checking its work. The only remaining living thing is Proxy, staring at him with wide eyes. She awkwardly shoves herself up with her hands, twisted painfully at the waist. "Major?" she says, and the override notices her.

No, Fray thinks as his body steps toward her. No, you can't, she's not a threat, stop, stop! He tries to work his jaw, his throat, and nothing comes out. He tries to hold himself back, tries to fight it, tries to regain control. It's like trying to hold back a wall of sand with his hands.

"Fray?" Proxy says as he comes to a stop in front of her. "What---what is that? What's going on? How---?"

She doesn't get to finish her question, because despite the way he is screaming at himself to stop, he lifts his arms and brings the sword neatly through her neck.

Nearby, the fire crackles. The hum begins to wane, and he can hear his own labored breathing. Tolerance met, says the voice in his bones. Local override cleared. Thank you.

The armor dissipates. The sword shivers into nothing. Proxy's severed head stares glassily ahead, her jaw half-open.

Fray falls to his knees. He tries to scream, but nothing comes out.

---

There is no more Gyr Warden.

There is no more Luminary-Major First Among Us Into This Fraying World.

There may not even be a Fray anymore.

A storm blows in, the next day. A blizzard. It covers everything: the pit, the bodies, the blood. In the morning, from the place he collapsed next to the fire and into a barely-sheltered crevice of metal, Fray stares out over the pristine white and spends the next hour hoping, hoping, begging, pleading for it all to have been a horrific dream. For his team, his family, to still be alive. He wants Sworn to irritate him with questions and to hear Glint and Shrike argue over rations, with Basalt telling them both to shut the hell up. He wants Proxy to come up behind him and smack him across the back of the head, the way she always does when he's done something stupid.

He waits for a long time.

When this does not happen, he picks himself up and starts walking.

He walks for so much longer. He walks through the empty, meaningless white void and sees nothing, no one. He got a new coat from somewhere and it keeps him from freezing outright. He collapses more than once and each time hopes another blizzard will come and bury him, too. His wish is never granted. He picks himself up again. He starts walking.

He walks and walks and walks.

Until there's a caravan.

The man who runs it is tall and dressed in brilliant orange and black. His gold jewelry shivers and jingles every time he moves. He looks Fray over with keen interest before calling for food and blankets and some hot tea, for God's sake. Fray watches it all happen. He doesn't realize it's happened to him until late into the evening, when the man sidles up next to him and asks him what on earth he was doing wandering the permafrost alone. Fray, who had been staring stupidly at the blue star on the barrette he's just taken out of his hair, just redirects his hollow gaze to the caravan owner. The man takes this as chastisement rather than the utter speechlessness it is, and instead asks: well, where are you headed?

Fray means to say Charn. He means to say home.

Instead, Fray says in halting, splintering words, each one tearing at his throat as it passes, "As far from here as you'll take me."

[spicykat9]

It's a me! Cause you told me to send this ask lol. So when you want could you please write some itager? Feel free to do what you want, all I ask is Feli is the dominant one lol

Ugh bottom/submissve Lud my beloved. I may have went a little overboard, but hey, what's the fun in omegaverse if there isn't a little bit of plot?

Rating: E

Pairing: ItaGer

Word Count: 2406

Author's Note: Really really mild dubious consent because the heat affects some of Ludwig's reasoning and Feli doesn't think they'd be doing this otherwise. But Ludwig has wanted this for awhile, long before he even knew he was an omega.

Read on AO3

Better Late than Never

With his tall stature, strong build, commanding presence, and desire to protect, everyone around Ludwig assumed he would be an alpha. But he never showed any signs of being either secondary gender, so by the time he physically grew to twenty years old, it was deemed that he was simply beta. 

Ludwig was quite content with that. Now he didn’t have to worry about pesky biology like heats and ruts getting in his way of work or the things he enjoyed. He could carry on with a peaceful life–or as peaceful of a life as one could have as a nation. But life never seemed to let Ludwig be peaceful. 

In the dead of night, Ludwig woke up with a scalding pain in his lower abdomen and drenched in sweat. It didn’t feel like indigestion or the flu, and it wasn’t like he strained the area recently. He didn’t want to get up, but he needed pain medication and maybe a cool cloth. But he'd give himself a few minutes and hopefully the worst of the pain would subside so he could get up.

When it didn't, Ludwig forced himself up and hobbled to the bathroom. He knocked over a few things as he scrambled for the bottle of Ibuprofen. He gulped it down with a glass of water and trudged back to bed. When he returned, Feliciano was sitting up in his bed. Right, he had snuck in again. Though at this point it wasn’t really sneaking in. Ludwig always left a window unlocked.

“Are you alright Luddy?” Feliciano asked, words running into each other in his half-asleep state. 

“Yeah…I don’t know. Dinner didn’t agree with me, or something, but I should be fine in the morning.”

Feliciano tilted his head. “Okay. Hey, do you smell something?”

Ludwig collapsed into bed, trying to get comfortable. “Huh?”

“Something…Sweet. Like something baking.”

Ludwig huffed, the pain wearing his patience thin. “Just sleep,” he barked.

“Fine. I’ll make sure to make a light breakfast tomorrow morning.”

Feliciano seemed to fall asleep quickly, his breath evening out. Ludwig wasn’t as lucky. But after two hours, the pain dulled, and he could finally embrace a restless sleep. 

- - -

Feliciano awoke with Ludwig cemented against his side, clinging to him. Though it wasn’t the first time they woke up tangled in each other’s limbs, something was off about this morning.

First off, Ludwig was panting and whining in his sleep. And not the kinds of whines and pants like he was in pain. Feliciano swallowed thickly.

Second, it was 9:00 AM. Ludwig rarely ever slept in past 8:00 unless something was really wrong. But he was ill the night before so surely that was why he was still asleep. Feliciano felt Ludwig’s forehead, finding it scalding. 

Third, and the most incriminating off-set, was the suffocating, caky scent that layered the room thickly. The same smell he had caught a whiff of the night before. Feliciano bolted up. How did he not realize this before? The scent, the flushed skin, the stomach pains. Ludwig had gone into heat. And not just any heat. His first heat. Feliciano needed to get out of there before–

Even as an alpha, Feliciano could never beat Ludwig when it came to physical strength, and Feliciano never before did he wish he was any different. But that supposed "alpha strength" would come in handy right about now.

He took in a deep breath and immediately regretted it, the pheromones burning his throat and blanketing his mind. No. If there was any time he had to focus, now was the time. Holding his breath, he attempted to wiggle out of the hold. It took a few minutes, but he was finally free, feet hitting the chilled wooden floor, grounding him. 

He thought he was in the clear, but in his escape, he had awoken Ludwig. He groaned, and on instinct, Feliciano turned around. Ludwig looked up at him, eyes hazy, completely disheveled, ready for the taking. Feliciano smacked his burning cheeks before his mind could wander anywhere else. He skittered to the door.

“Feliciano…” Ludwig rasped, thin lips slightly parted. God how the Italian wanted to kiss those lips (as well as put them to other uses).

“You’re not in your right mind Luddy,” Feliciano chuckled nervously, gripping the door knob. “Um…I’ll get you some water…And maybe I can find someplace to get toys and–”

“What’s happening to me?”

For a moment, Feliciano’s lungs cleared, and the strain in his pants became a distant throb. “You’re…You’re experiencing your first heat. And I need to get out of here before I do something to you I'll regret.”

“Oh…”

Feliciano smiled in spite of everything. What a thoroughly Ludwig-type reply. “I’ll be back with things to help soon–”

“Don’t go!”

He was so close. Just open the door and run. Far away. He was good at that. And it was for the best. No one got hurt that way. But his feet refused to move. 

“Ludwig I…I won’t be able to control myself I–”

Ludwig took a deep breath. “I…I know enough of how this all works. You can help me. I-I need you to help me. Please…Please fu–take care of me.”

Something snapped, and the next thing Feliciano knew, he was straddling Ludwig, pushing him down on the bed. It wasn’t Ludwig below him. It was an omega. An unmated omega in heat. And as any good alpha, it was Feliciano’s duty to fu–

“Luddy…” Feliciano swallowed, coming back to himself despite the dizzying smell. 

“Please…I’m hot, and everything aches, and…I need…I need…I don’t know. I read manuals about this but–”

“Shhh…I’ll take care of you. J-Just relax and be a good omega for me.”

Run. Run. You need to run. You’ll ruin everything. Just RUN.

Reason was screaming at him, but when he was this close, lips centimeters from Ludwig’s, its voice became muffled and desire took over. Hungrily, he claimed Ludwig’s lips, thrusting his tongue in forcefully, claiming Ludwig’s mouth. 

Ludwig moaned into the kiss, arms wrapping around Feliciano’s neck, pulling him close. 

Feliciano felt like he was being torn in two. As much as he wanted to relish in the fact he had Ludwig where he had always wanted him, and as much as his rut was encouraging him, he wouldn’t let himself enjoy it. He had to stay focused and…

God Ludwig smelled good. When Feliciano pulled away, he couldn’t help but sniff along Ludwig’s neck. Ludwig smelled of cinnamon and apples, like a pie or even kuchen. Feliciano wondered if he tasted just as sweet. 

With one last quick peck, Feliciano moved down to Ludwig’s boxers. He ripped off the article of clothing, unable to hold back anymore. Slick leaked down Ludwig’s thighs, glistening in the early morning light. Who would have thought the strong, stern, tough German nation was an omega all this time? Especially such a cute, needy looking one. 

His instincts may have been in the driver’s seat currently, but he had enough of a mind to stretch Ludwig nicely. Couldn’t have him tearing now. He eased in two fingers. Despite this being their first time, Ludwig took him easily. Biology sometimes had its perks. Slowly, Feliciano began to thrust and curl his fingers.

Ludwig gasped, gripping the sheets. He sucked Feliciano’s fingers in, wordlessly begging for more. 

“Oh don’t be like that Luddy. I want to hear you, I want to see you. Now be a good boy and look at me.” Feliciano never thought he was capable of growling like he did those last words. 

And Ludwig obeyed. Looking up with shining blue eyes, pupils blown wide, giving him timid bedroom eyes. Feliciano couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled out his fingers and slicked up his cock with the natural lube his partner was secreting. Again, sometimes biology could be convenient. He pressed in without any hesitation. 

Ludwig arched his back, letting out a strangled cry at the intrusion. It immediately pulled Feliciano back into himself. 

“Mio Dio! Ludwig? Ludwig, are you alright? I-I’m sorry I–”

“Move,” Ludwig gritted out, “Bitte… Move .”

“Okay…” Feliciano took in a breath. “Okay. Just tell me if I hurt you.”

This will make him feel better. You’re helping him. It will be okay.

Feliciano rolled his hips in an experimental thrust, ears perked to Ludwig’s reaction. Ludwig moaned softly, eyes fluttering closed, muscles clenching around Feliciano’s cock. Feliciano couldn’t help but groan. 

Without a second thought, he pounded into Ludwig at incredible speed. He couldn’t remember ever moving that fast in his life. Not even during retreat. But pleasing Ludwig was more important than any war duty. 

All Ludwig could do was gasp and moan, the sounds becoming louder with each thrust. Feliciano smirked. The straightlaced, no-nonsense German was coming undone so easily and it was all because of him. The thought went straight to his groin. 

“Yes…” Ludwig panted, “Yes, yes, yes. Faster…F-Faster.”

Feliciano didn’t know if he could go any faster, but for such a sweet omega, he would try. He snapped his hips, gripping Ludwig’s to keep him balanced. If they happened to get bruised in the process, that was just a bonus. Ludwig let out a cry of both pain and pleasure.

Feliciano leaned down, nuzzling Ludwig’s neck, tempted to sink his teeth into the skin. Despite the dizzying smell messing with his mind, he still had enough of himself to shake that idea out of his head. He already went too far. He couldn’t mate Ludwig like this. His lips instead trailed down Ludwig’s collarbone to his chest, leaving open-mouth kisses along the way. Ludwig shivered. 

Feliciano grinned against the flushed flesh. When he reached Ludwig’s chest took one of the nipples into his mouth, sucking gently. 

“Ah~” Ludwig moaned breathily, “Feli Ich…”

“Awww. Are you close? Do you want to come?”

Ludwig nodded. 

“Oh caro,” Feliciano purred, backing up. He pulled out to really make Ludwig desperate. “Use your words. What do you want?”

“Bitte...bitte lass mich abspritzen.”

“Good. Good boy.” Feliciano thrusted in right to the hilt, filling Ludwig up completely. For good measure, he twisted Ludwig’s nipples. Ludwig arched and with a choked moan he came and came and came. Feliciano didn’t know it was possible for someone to come that much.

Heat pooled in his lower abdomen at the sight of Ludwig’s pinched face, mouth hanging open, tears in his lashes. He could already feel his knot expanding.

“Feli what’s…ah!”

“I-I’m sorry I can’t help it. B-B-But don’t worry. It’s just my knot. Everything is okay.”

“Oh…right.” Ludwig looked away red-faced, laying back on the bed as he was filled to the brim. He winced every now and then, but otherwise, he seemed to be getting comfortable.

“It’s…It’s not too painful is it?” Feliciano asked softly. The dizziness and fog were going away. Ludwig’s pheromones must have been depleting thanks to the orgasm. Perhaps now he could properly care for Ludwig in this state. 

“No. Just…weird. But my cramps and thirst are gone.”

“Good…”

Feliciano shifted his weight, so he was laying on top of Ludwig. Knots could take a while sometimes, and considering how worked up he got, there was a good chance this was going to be one of those longer times. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Ludwig and instead rested his head on Ludwig’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. 

“This might take a while,” Feliciano warned.

“That’s okay. It would probably be sore to move anyway.”

Ludwig sounded so calm despite being in the middle of his first heat which he didn’t prepare for, and getting his brains fucked out by his best friend. Feliciano wasn’t holding up as well. He enjoyed it, and he was disgusted by that. 

Feliciano felt sick to his stomach. If he wasn’t literally attached to Ludwig he would have locked himself in the bathroom, perhaps gotten sick, and scrubbed himself until he finally felt clean. 

Ludwig burrowed his nose into Feliciano’s neck. “Thank you…” he whispered.

“Don’t.”

“I know this isn’t the end, but I feel a lot better now. So you deserve gratitude.”

Feliciano squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to cry. “I couldn’t control myself.”

“You had enough control to make sure I was alright.”

“But not enough to not fuck you without consent.”

“I was practically begging,” Ludwig scoffed.

“For all we know, it was just your heat.”

“I’m telling you it was not. At least not completely.”

“Ludwig you’re in such a vulnerable state right now. You’re still in your heat period. Your  first  heat. Which tends to be the worst and the strongest. You’re not in your right–”

Ludwig flipped them around, pinning Feliciano to the bed. His eyes were cold and alert like Feliciano always knew them to be. “Don’t you  dare  question my mental state. I may be an omega in heat, but I’m not helpless and I’m not some…thing…that can’t make choices. I’m relieved you helped me. I wanted you to help me. And if you’re willing, I still want you to help me. I couldn’t dream of doing this with anyone else.”

Feliciano lay slacked jawed, words jamming in his throat before a phrase finally pushed through. “Is this your idea of a confession?”

Blush blotched Ludwig’s cheeks all the way to his chest. “Maybe…”

Despite the last few threads of lingering guilt, Feliciano burst out laughing. What a way for the universe to get tired of their bullshit and shove them together. “We’ll talk about it more after your heat,” Feliciano concluded, “But I will help you in the meantime. After we’re…um…freed I guess? And we’ll have something to eat and drink before your symptoms return. Okay?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Ludwig mumbled, eyes drooping.

Feliciano smiled softly and flipped them back around, so Ludwig was laying down again. “Are you already tired?”

“A little…”

“Well, while I’m out getting everything we’ll need, you can rest. Hopefully, it will be a little while before we have to start up again.” 

Ludwig hummed, his hold on Feliciano becoming weaker.

By the time Feliciano could dislodge, Ludwig was fast asleep. With a kiss on his forehead, Feliciano set off to get breakfast, water, and suppressants. He'd need them if he was going to get through these next few days. 

[deibreak]

@dynmghts asked:

katsuki had spent some time deliberating on what to get shoto this year; he didn't want it to be impractical, and he didn't want to be shown up by the others in what they get themselves. competitive, unyielding - katsuki wants it to be known that he did it better than everyone else.

so, katsuki begins his early morning start with hand-making shoto's favourite food from start to finish. cold soba is, theoretically, very easy, and it would've been easy enough to use store-bought soba noodles, but that was diminishing the value of this meal. he spends the extra time making them by hand - and they looked pretty damn good, too - before finishing the meal preparation and setting it up in a bowl.

besides the meal, katsuki had a few tangible gifts prepared for shoto, all neatly boxed and wrapped with a meticulous approach - because why the hell would he stop at just one? [ because of course, he's resolved to outdo everyone this year. ]

"right." katsuki guides poor shoto to the nearest surface, pushing him down by the shoulder so he might sit down. "sit down, shut up, take this." and with a little more grace, the blond hands over the cold soba he'd made, brushing off his hands. "eat. gimme a second, and don't move."

it takes him less than a few minutes to leave and return with the multiple gifts he's prepared for shoto, placing them down next to the other with a huff. "there." a pause. he supposes he's missing the most important thing - he hands over an envelope with a card inside, absent of fanfare, but with clear and precise handwriting. [ it's obvious that katsuki has put plenty of care into everything he's done leading up to this moment / the card wishes shoto well, says a courteous happy birthday, and despite its haste, there is a clear signing of katsuki's name at the bottom. ] "if anyone says they did better, i bet they're fucking lying."

and the gifts themselves? in one, katsuki opted for a pair of chopsticks, which katsuki got custom-made to mimic shoto's hero costume. there are a few other bits and pieces - a gift card for a place with good soba, some tools to help with different areas of training, even bits of hero merchandise ... [ because he knows that shoto is a quiet fan of all might, and the merch is subtle enough. ] ... but the most expensive of the lot was pretty evident.

and thus his final, and best gift, is a weighted blanket; deep blue in colour and very heavy, its tag indicates it as one of the more expensive and well-trusted brands, and its overall feel is meant to be warm and welcoming. he spent the longest trying to decide if shoto would even like it. [ but, in the end, he said fuck it and did it anyway. ]

"happy birthday... or whatever." / i'm sorry this is so long but happy bday shoto!

If Shoto hadn't checked his phone early in the morning, head still in a haze, wondering what the unusual number of messages was for, he wouldn't have remembered what day it was. Among everyone who wanted to wish him for his birthday, his friends and family, his father's contact made it on top of the list, desperate same as all his efforts to make up for the parent he had been. Bitter was the feeling the boy woke up with, and it was once again the same man's fault. Shoto had no plans to pay this day any attention — he had long given up on the idea of celebrating, and even if he recently had chosen to change (rebuild himself from scratch), remnants of the past, of memories he didn't want to recall connected to this day, made his expression more sour than usual, resembling the one he used to wear at the beginning of the school year.

That was, until he met with crimson gaze, welcoming in its own way, and with a promise he couldn't yet explain.

Silently he took seat as forced, eyes falling on the meal meant for him, already struggling to understand why the blond had gotten in this much trouble for him, for a day that held no actual special meaning (especially not for Katsuki, and neither for Shoto, having learnt to ignore it after years of disappointments). He didn't wait for long before he joined his hands in front of his chest, thanked him, and started eating. Perfectly made to his liking, resembling the cooking of his mother, the taste of it brought back forgotten memories of comfort. There was no way he could enjoy cold soba made by someone else's hand ever again. Could this have been his goal from the start?

His favorite meal so deliciously made was more than he could ever ask for, yet when the other came back carrying presents (like a second santa, only that he was harder to believe, even if the real deal), with his mouth full he stared with confusion at the gifts offered. All those couldn't be for him, right ? He was supposed to choose one of them, right ? Instead of answering his questions, the card given added to them. Shoto wasn't meant for such extreme kindness.

Couldn't Katsuki see it, him who saw through everything?

Many of their classmates appreciated him more than he deserved ( he wasn't being insecure, perfectly aware he hadn't earned their appreciation, hadn't yet tried hard enough to be worthy of all their friendship ), Katsuki being the last he expected to hear him wish for his birthday.

The gifts presented to him made his head momentarily blackout — overload, too much information for him to process. If he tried to count the gifts Shoto had received from the very beginning of his life to this day (christmas included), he wouldn't count as many as the ones the blond had prepared.

How heroic of Katsuki, as if trying to make up for the letdowns of many years — as if trying to erase all the memories that kept Shoto awake at nights with this blanket.

When he got his hands on it, Shoto stared at it for a long while, before burying his face on it. Awkward was the sight of him, to anyone who didn't know him well. The feel of the blanket, he wanted to test, sleep being his biggest comfort ( had Katsuki noticed? ), even if often a challenge. His comfort, when all his days were focused on training alone, and sleep was his only time for rest — his only escape. It was soft, warm, and heavy ( just like the feel the blond gave him whenever they spent time together ). A perfectly chosen gift, matching them both.

His presence alone was a gift. Somehow, Shoto's luck seemed to have changed. From spending the biggest part of his life lost in the darkness, suddenly surrounded by such warm light he'd be, heart-warming, an inexhaustible source standing before him, allowing him to stay close. How lucky . . .

Katsuki had won his bet, long before Shoto's birthday came. For being the only one who'd make him smile with ease, when for long he had forgotten how. For easing him through all his anxieties, with his raw honesty diminishing them to their actual value. For showing him how to care deeply, when he'd once look down upon everyone.

Still learning to give voice to his heart, overwhelmed by excitement he'd find no words to describe his feelings. It was happening more often these days, the more his heart opened up to emotions unknown, the harder he worked to understand himself, but mostly to understand those he cared for. ❝ I have no words. ❞ Maybe the truth was the answer. Katsuki would forgive him, wouldn't he? He was the same after all, relying on actions rather than words. Shoto's face had changed color to a deep shade of red, unfamiliar as he was to be treated with such care.

❝ Thank you. ❞ For caring. For being his dear friend. ❝ This is the best. ❞ The best of presents. The best of birthdays. ❝ You're a wonderful friend. ❞

[ggomomomo]

Roomies | 5 - Impostor

@felinettenovember

Read on AO3

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Switching places with his cousin had grown to be a burden on his end as he struggled against rabid fans and a hectic schedule. Adrien was insistent as usual, earning him a piece of freedom away from his overbearing father. Felix wouldn't have indulged him if not with the promise of a special favor if he needed it.

With his hair styled in a model-esque manner and loose-fitting top billowing in the breeze, Felix stretched his legs in the park to take a break from the photos. His lip subconsciously curled. Photos. It was a miracle that they even looked the same during the shoots. Same face. Same product.

"Hey Adrien! Want some water?"

Felix almost fell from the bench seeing Marinette jog up to him while holding a bottle of water. He took a second to stare at her before accepting. Did she know? Did she not know?

"You're lucky to have the sun out today." Marinette smiled, taking a seat beside him. "The weather's nice."

He channeled his 'Adrien' act, not knowing how to feel about his partner not recognizing him. But then again, he was supposed to fool everyone for the façade to be convincing. His grin stretched out into a lopsided one, and his shoulders arched downwards. "Yeah, I've been dying to get out for a while."

She snorted. "But you're still working."

"I'll live."

A pout graced her lips as she stared at the director and cameramen setting up for the next session of the photoshoot. "I wish Felix were here."

"Fe---Felix?"

A sigh. "He's . . . I don't know. I worry about him sometimes."

Worry?  Felix felt guilt stir at the bottom of his gut. Was it right to ask about himself while wearing the mask of his cousin? "He can be a bit . . . harsh sometimes."

"Harsh? Felix isn't harsh," said Marinette. "Sure, he can be blunt, but he's kind and sweet and gentle."

His pulse raced.

She tucked a hair behind her ear. "I was just worried that he might be misunderstood or that he feels lonely. Or I'm too bothersome for him."

"You're not bothersome." He bit his tongue instantly afterwards, deeming his reply a tad too hasty. He repeated more slowly. "I mean, he never said anything about you being a bother."

"I don't think a lot of people know but we're close. Really close." A small smile perched on her lips. "But you know him; he tends to keep his feelings to himself you know? And I don't know how to help."

A beat passed. And two. And three.

Felix remained silent. So silent that he thought his heart would take over their shared quietness.

"I can't speak for Fe," he began, "But I'm pretty sure he's happy with just you being around. If he has a problem, I'm sure he'll tell you."

"You think so?"

"I . . ." He mentally winced. How much was Adrien supposed to know about him anyway? "I haven't seen him as comfortable with anyone as he is with you. Which means you're important in his life right now. Knowing him, he'd do anything to keep your relationship from breaking apart."

"Oh," she murmured. "It might not seem like it on the outside but he's special to me too. I don't think I'd ever have the same connection with anyone else."

She looked straight into his eyes with an indecipherable expression. "It's just that we're so comfortable with each other that we don't need words most of the time. But I can't be sure all the time if I'm reading him right."

He sucked in a breath. She knew.

She knew.

He was stupid to believe that his Ladybug, his own partner, his roommate wouldn't recognize him in a heartbeat.

"When the time comes that words matter the most, you'll know how to use them," he told her quietly, reaching to the side to squeeze her hand.

Marinette chuckled shakily. "I hope so. I really don't want to ruin what we already have."

She turned to face him, a subtle gleam shimmering in her eye, and pressed her lips on his cheek. "Thanks for telling me. And good luck with the photoshoot."

Felix found himself in a daze as she left, not even giving him the time to register what had happened. His fingers touched the side of his face whilst heat crawled into his skin.