#i would riot for every single one of you

[loverboybrightsideghost]

yeah upon more thought. a little worried abt the wicked movie.

[myfictionaldreams]

Day 17: Hate Sex - Sirius Black x Slytherin!Reader

Summary: You were in Slytherin, it was in your blood to hate Sirius Orion Black, so why can’t you stop thinking about his stupid, handsome face?

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, hate sex, arguing, mocking, teasing, sexual tension, enemies with benefits, alcohol, size difference, praise kink, choking, dom/sub, slight degrading, rough sex, edging,

masterlist 📚 

kinktober masterlist😈 

AO3 Link 

“Fuck my life; why the hell is he in here?” you exclaim as Sirius Black saunters into the library with all the swagger and arrogance of someone ready to cause a riot.

“Here we go”, another student mutters under their breath from across the room. You weren’t sure who, but you glared in the general direction of whoever had said it.

It was infamous that you absolutely loathed Sirius, and he, in return, hated you with just as much passion. You were natural enemies; he was in prideful Gryffindor, and you a cunning Slytherin, but the hatred delved deeper than just this. You thought he was a pompous, arrogant prick who bullied Slytherins - mostly you - and seemed to always get away with it every single time. He had directed his pranks towards you more times than you’d care to count. You were constantly on high alert, paranoid that another attack was coming from the Gryffindors. Seeing any shade of red filled your heart with dread every single day.

Today, you were having a relatively good morning, mostly spent revising in the library with a towering pile of books beside you. It was a warm summer’s day, so most students were outside, which was always your favourite time to study, not having to fight with the others for specific books or for an area of the library to work.

Another reason you preferred to stay in the castle was that the Marauders were likelier to be out, causing havoc where the crowds were formed. You cursed loudly at seeing them in the library, instantly ruining your calm day.

“Well, well, look what dirt turned up in the library. I’m surprised you even know how to read, Sunshine”, Sirius taunts as he immediately struts over to your table, picking up one of the books in your pile and idly flicking through it whilst leaning his weight against the table.

You sigh heavily through your nose at the nickname, loathing it more than any other pet name that he decided to call you, mainly as it originated from a prank in your first year where he’d stained your hair bright luminous yellow and thus, Sunshine was his favourite taunt. “Please fuck off, I’m only going to warn you the once Black, and give me the book back!”

“Why would I leave? These books all seem highly intelligent for your silly little mind. Maybe I should help read to you, see here, this is what they call the ‘title’, it means what the book is called-”

“Sirius, I swear to Merlin, if you don’t shut the fuck up-”

“What’s going on here?” the librarian rushes over, interrupting your seething threat with her stern face, glancing between you and Sirius, who was grinning, ready to woo the teacher.

“Oh, nothing at all, Professor. I was just asking if I could borrow this book when she started to shout at me”, Sirius explained with surprisingly good acting skills that had your eyes widening and mouth gaping open with anger.

Before you could even begin to justify Sirius’ lies, the librarian turned to you, her lips pursed and eyes sharp. “Please leave the library. I won’t have you causing a commotion like this”.

She leaves before you can stand up for yourself, your cheeks flooding with heat as your blood boils with anger. Especially as your enemy begins to laugh tauntingly, head tipping back as he obnoxiously laughs, throwing the book back onto your pile.

“Thank god for that; I might be able to concentrate without a slithering snake like you here”.

You stand abruptly, wand in your shaking hand as you rage angrily, “I fucking hate you!”

He steps closer, invading your personal space as he smirks down at you, “The feeling is mutual, Sunshine. Now, do you want me to help you pack up your crap, or can you manage that all by yourself?”

Before you can answer, you’re both interrupted by a calm voice, “Sirius, leave her alone, will you?” Remus tried to convince his friend to step away. With Sirius distracted, you start roughly shoving your items into your school bag before turning back to them both, especially Sirius.

“I hope you choke”. With one last glare, you purposefully bashed your shoulder into Sirius, knocking his balance slightly as you stormed off.

However, as you passed a couple of Hufflepuffs, you overheard one whispering to another, “They probably just need to fuck, and they’d get over this stupid tension”.

“What the fuck did you just say?!” you demand, stopping in front of them, looking between them as their heads dropped to hide their faces. “That’s disgusting. How dare you even say something like that-” you begin to chastise, your wand returning to your hand as a reflex to defend yourself.

“Excuse me!” the Librarian returns to your side, which only makes you more frustrated as you’re stopped from doing what you really want.

“I’M LEAVING!” you scream, gathering the attention of everyone; you promptly scowl at them all, specifically Sirius, who you expected to see grinning at you getting into trouble, but instead, he was only a step behind you with an odd, wondering expression on his face.

You don’t stay to ponder what he was looking at as you grip your bag closer to your body and storm off. How could someone even think something so disgusting!? You and Sirius fucking?! Absolutely not. You’d rather walk around Hogwarts naked than go anywhere near Sirius fucking Black.

A few hours later, you’d found your friend lounging beside the lake, where you promptly joined her with a huff. “Oh no, what did Sirius do now?” she says, knowing your sour mood could only be caused by one person.

You explain with increasing agitation, “And then, you’ll never guess what some Hufflepuffs said! They said that me and Sirius Black,” You shiver for emphasis, “Need to shag, and we’d stop arguing! I mean, can you believe it? That’s disgusting; I can’t think of anything worse!” You’d expected your friend to look disgusted, just like how you felt, but instead, she raised one eyebrow with an unphased expression. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Well, I mean… He’s not that bad to look at, and from what I’ve heard, he’s very much a people-pleaser in the bedroom. Anyway, you know what they say,  if you’re being teased by someone it’s most likely because they have a crush on them and I must say… You’re both always teasing each other”.

Even though your friend grins and mocks you, you still find it offensive that she would even say such a thing. “Are you kissing me? Sirius Black is a self-centred, arrogant asshole who only thinks about himself. There is no way I would ever go anywhere near him!”

“Yeah, but you can’t deny that he’s handsome. Even though he’s a Gryffindor, he's from the Black lineage, with his long hair, dreamy eyes, and stunning smile. There’s also the fact that he plays quidditch, so I bet those thighs of his are scrummy”.

Shaking your head at her words, you sigh, “That doesn't matter, he’s still-”

“So you admit it?” She cuts you off with a knowing smile.

“Admit what?” you question innocently.

“That you think he’s handsome”, she states confidently with a shit-eating grin.

“I’m not saying that, I mean- Uh… I don’t know!” You throw your hands into the air, exacerbated, “I guess he’s handsome, but that doesn’t change what an asshole he is”.

Your friend shrugs, “I don’t know. Maybe this answers all the tension. The two of you need to fuck, and maybe all the arguments will stop”.

“If you ever say that again, I promise I’ll curse you. Right, I’m changing the subject. I don’t want to think about him anymore. Are you still going to the party later in the Ravenclaw's common room?”

“Definitely! I can’t wait. Are you going?”

“Yes! I need a drink after today”.

As the moon came out to play, so did all of the older students throughout Hogwarts, as it seemed everyone was going to the party. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you sighed in frustration as you couldn’t style your hair correctly, too distracted thinking about that good-for-nothing, long-haired, handsome idiot.

There was that word again. Handsome. ‘Was he handsome?’ you thought to yourself. Of course, he was, with his grey sparkling eyes, he was one of the tallest in the year, lean from all of his quidditch playing, and his hair was always clean and effortlessly styled, and his clothes were always smart and expensive looking, the only part of him that you could tell was from his pure-blood status.

You hated that you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Undoubtedly, you hated him, but would it be the worst to shag him? You shivered at the thought, internally demanding that the idea needed to leave your mind immediately, ignoring the pulsing between your legs as an image flashed into your head of his face between your legs.

You shouted in frustration, giving up with your hair and deciding that it would have to do. At least your dress was beautiful, a Slytherin-green floor-length gown with silky smooth material accentuating your body and a long slit up the right side revealing your thigh. It was lavish and probably over the top for a common room party, but it was so rare that you could dress up, so you seized the opportunity. You’d applied a generous amount of make-up and silver high heels to match the dress, adding a couple of inches to your height.

The problematic part was sneaking up to the Ravenclaw common room, but thankfully, there was a system of students on the watch to lead the way there. Once inside, you poured yourself a drink of whatever was in the cauldron and found a couple of your friends already there.

Ten glorious minutes of happiness passed before it all came crashing down around you as James Potter shouted, “The party has arrived!” Not only him but the other Gryffindors had entered, making you roll your eyes and drink a hefty glug of the alcohol in your cup, savouring the burn as it rushed down your throat.

You couldn’t see him immediately, and you hate that you searched the crowd looking for him; you pretended that it was because you wanted to be prepared if he walked over to you and no other reasons whatsoever. There he was, standing with his back to you as he poured his drink with Remus.

‘Fuck’, you cursed to yourself, quickly looking away as your cheeks warmed. Why did he have to look so good? It seemed his surname was his favourite colour today as he wore all-black, well-worn combat boots paired with baggy black jeans and a tight t-shirt that seemed to stretch over the well-toned muscles of his arms and shoulders. It wasn’t just this that had your thighs clenching together to try and relieve some building tension. Still, for once, he’d decided to tie his hair up in a loose bun, some strays of hair already loosening, but for some reason, that only made him more attractive, and did he always have an earring?

You finished the rest of your drink as you realised just how much attention you gave Sirius. You need to get him out of your head, so dancing with your friends would be the best distraction for now, but you fully anticipated that he would come over and ruin your night sometime soon.

However, Sirius stayed on the other side of the party, which even your friends commented was odd, considering he always loved making your life miserable. You continued to shrug it off, saying you were having a great time because of it; however, your eyes wandered over to him occasionally, and it seemed he always had the same idea as you would catch each other's eye and then quickly look away embarrassed.

The night continued, the music increasing in volume, and now that you weren’t worried about Sirius interrupting, you slowed down with the alcohol, not wanting a hangover in the morning.

“SOMEONE SNITCHED TO FILCH, HE’S GETTING THE PROFESSORS! EVERYONE RUN!” A second later, the entire party was shoving and pushing each other to get out of the door, running in different directions.

Some teachers were already in the corridors, catching students, giving them detentions and taking away house points. You followed a small crowd, struggling to keep up with your heels, which you now severely regretted; however, it was a small blessing when Professor McGonagall caught the group at the end of the corridor, so you quickly turned down a deserted corridor, breathing heavily and beginning to sweat from the exercise and fear.

Just as you turned down a corridor dimly lit by fires on the wall, someone from behind grabbed your arm, forcefully pulling you in another direction. Before you can comprehend what is happening, you’re engulfed in darkness, and a broad hand is shoved over your mouth as you’re pushed against the door to the store cupboard you were just pulled into.

“Shhh, someone was behind us, " Sirius whispered from the darkness; even though you couldn’t see him, you knew his face was in front of yours because you could feel the warmth of his breath on your face.

Your instinct was to try and shove him off, but then there were echoing footsteps in the corridor outside. You both freeze, not even daring to breathe in case you’re caught. Both of you listened intently until there was only silence on the other side of the door as you slammed your elbow into his stomach.

His hand drops from your mouth, allowing you to whisper, “Get the fuck off me, don’t ever touch me again”.

Now that you had a moment to calm down, as he moved back into a space, you could see a slither of him from the gap around the door that allowed the light to seep in. Sirius chuckles lowly, rubbing his stomach from where you’d elbowed him. The deep laugh seemed to affect you straight between the legs as, for some reason, you found the noise mildly erotic.

“Why? You never know; you might like it when I touch you”, Sirius taunted, his voice soft and yet husky at the same time.

Your entire body seemed to buzz with anticipation and excitement at his words because there was no way Sirius Black had just flirted with you in some capacity.

“Shut up”, you say bashfully, folding your arms over your middle.

In the crack of light seeping in, Sirius' head tilted to the side, “What, no comeback, oh my witty little snake, have you lost your tongue?”

It seemed you had no air left in your body at his words, but you forced yourself to move away from the door, turning with the intention of leaving. However, he hears something you don’t as he’s pushing you flush against the door; even with your heels, he’s towering over you.

Before you could question what he was doing, he rested his index finger across your lips and whispered into your ear, “There’s someone outside the door”.

You can’t hear that, though, as there’s only the pounding of your heart rattling in your ears with how close he is to you. He was inhumanly warm, and this close, you could smell his addicting aftershave that reminded you of citrus and oak, but lingering in the background was vanilla from his shampoo as a couple of strands of his hair fell into your face. In this position, you couldn’t see him; even as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you had to rely on your other senses. 

You swallow audibly, causing your lips to press harder against his finger until the cool metal of his ring is indented into your chin. His breath is just as warm as his chest against yours, and this close, you could smell that he’d been drinking fire whiskey.

The pressure on your lips lightens as whoever is inspecting the corridor disappears again. Sirius doesn’t remove himself, though; instead, he allows his finger to do its exploration in the darkness, skimming across your cheek, over the shell of your ear, which causes you to shiver and your nipples to harden beneath the dress however the fabric was so thin that Sirius could feel them against his chest.

His finger continues to move down your jaw until it is at the point of your chin, pushing it up so you're forced to tip your head back further against the door.

“Sirius”, you whisper in a pleading tone, and he moves, fast and brutal as his mouth connects with yours. The kiss was fiery, full of passion and need. The hand under your chin desperately moves into your hair to hold your head in place while the other grips your hip, pulling your body closer to his. Your hands were just as grabby as one reached for his shirt, feeling the hard muscle beneath, and another moved to his jaw, feeling the softness of his recently shaved face.

You both moved as one, tilting your heads to the side to deepen the kiss further, mouths opening to allow the exploration of your tongues, tasting and wanting more. You weren’t thinking clearly, and neither was he but damn with the consequences.

Sirius bit into your bottom lip gently, tugging it back until it was snapping back to normal, but he didn’t stop there as his mouth began to move down your throat as he moved your head back. Open mouth, hot kisses were pushed into your skin until your toes curled in your high-heeled shoes.

You needed more of him, all of him, feeling so pathetically desperate that sweet little whines kept spilling from your lips as he sucked just below your ear like he knew that was your special spot.

Reaching behind his head, you roughly pulled the hairband out of his hair so, at long last, you could run your fingers through his soft locks. Sirius seemed to enjoy the touch as his hips thrust into yours, and you could feel the evidence of his arousal, rock hard in his jeans. Your arousal was currently ruining your underwear, clit throbbing and pussy begging to be touched in some way.

This could be a sign to stop and reason that this was your enemy. It had been since day one at Hogwarts, and now you’re ready to rip each other's clothes off.

As Sirius’ mouth moved lower, teeth scraping over your collar bones, you decided to be brave and lift your right leg, wrapping it around his hip to hold him closer. Sirius instantly gripped your thigh, groaning to himself when he was met with bare skin as he’d forgotten this was the side with the slit in the material.

“This god-damns dress”, he praised against your skin, which made you laugh lightly at how desperate he sounded. The heat of his palm against your naked thigh only made you want to feel him closer as he kissed you again. Higher and higher, his hand creepy, gripping your thigh until he pushed the silky material further up your body until you could feel your underwear was on show. This only encouraged you to pull his hips closer with your heel until his jean-covered cock was pressing against your panty-covered cunt.

Sirius shuddered, his hands tightening on your thigh and in your hair, as his tongue devoured your mouth, capturing every little moan you released as his hips thrust forward. It was your turn to tremble as the roughness of his jeans was felt through your thin underwear, nudging your clit and causing more moisture to gather in your underwear.

Everywhere felt like it was burning: your skin, core, and head. Everywhere that Sirius touched left a scolding mark as you couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t fathom waiting a moment longer.

Pulling your face away from his, with a harsh pull on his hair to snap his head back, you roughly demanded, “Just fuck me already, Sirius”.

He grinned in the darkness as he rutted his hips harder against yours, knowing what you truly wanted. Sirius’ mouth returned to your through as he darkly said, “Say please”.

It was an effort not to roll your eyes, but you did huff as you, in turn, pressed your pussy against his crotch. “I’m not saying-”

Any sassy remark you were thinking of saying was cut off by the giant hand now wrapped around your throat, not hard enough that you couldn’t breathe but enough to draw your attention as his mouth hovered over yours. You could feel from the shape of his lips that he was smirking as he repeated with more emphasis and slowing of the words, “Say. Please”.

Your mouth dried of any saliva at the tone of his voice, instantly falling into submission as you quietly asked, “Please fuck me, Sirius”.

“Good girl”, he praises against your lips, making your knees buckle slightly, having never been praised like this before.

A hand wrapped around your ankle as he moved it back to the floor, and suddenly, you were holding onto the door as his body dropped to his knees, and you didn’t realise until now just how much you were relying on his body to keep you upright.

Sirius’ hands were underneath your dress, grasping the edges of your underwear and sliding them down your thighs. As you stepped out of them, he moved your dress back again, your bare pussy on display to him, and even though it was too dark for him to see, you could still feel the warmth of the flush on your face.

“We haven’t got time for that, just fuck me already”, you snapped at him. Of course, you would love for your earlier thought of his face between your legs to be a reality, but right now, you needed his cock inside you before you combusted on the spot.

Thankfully, Sirius didn’t argue or get you to beg for his cock any more as he stood back up, towering over you again as the rustle of his belt being undone was like music to your ears. “Always so fucking demanding”, he scolded light-heartedly under his breath.

Reaching for his waist in the darkness, you were planning on helping him undo his jeans to free his cock, and you wanted to feel what you were dealing with. Like every other time you’d known him, Sirius had other plans.

Your hands were pushed away as he grabbed your hips instead, but only so that he could turn you around. Your face was unglamourlessly shoved against the wooden door as Sirius rushed to gather the material of your dress until it was bunched around your waist. Clinging onto what he had planned, you pushed your arse out from him and were greeted with the pleasant sensation of something hot and hard against your cheeks.

“Spit”, Sirius demanded into your ear as he pressed his fingers into your chin. It felt filthy and slightly degrading to spit into his hand, but as you could hear him wiping the slickness onto his cock, you didn’t care anymore. In fact, it only added more eroticism to your thoughts.

Neither of you said a word as he adjusted the height of his hips, pressing into your arse cheeks to spread them slightly as suddenly something knocked against your hole. Sirius helped to guide his cock as he slid it into your pussy, your walls burning from the stretch of the sheer size of him. 

“Fuck! You could have warned me you’re so big!” you chastised him. Inch after inch opened you up wider until his hips were flush with yours, and his hand rested back in your hair, pulling your head back against his shoulder.

“Sorry, Sunshine”, he chuckled, kissing your cheek with a hint of sarcasm in his tone. You couldn’t help but hear that stupid nickname in his sultry deep voice, and with his entire dick pressed into your cunt, you couldn’t help but squeeze him tighter. Sirius ground his hips in harder, smiling against your face, “I fucking knew you liked it when I called you that”.

You wanted to retort back to him, hating when he had the upper hand, but as he began to withdraw his cock, any coherent thought disappeared from your mind entirely. As he pushed back in, you couldn’t help but rise to your tiptoes, following the lead of his body fucking into you.

Sirius made sure you were accustomed to his size before beginning to properly fuck you. All the tension, the bullying back and forth, the teasing and times of losing your mind at the idiot that was Sirius Black had all been worth it as he fucked you unlike anyone before. He was toweringly tall when you were face to face, but when his chest brushed over your back, you felt much smaller as he seemed to crowd around you everywhere.

He breathed heavily into your ear, occasionally biting your lobe or sloppily kissing the junction between your shoulder and neck. However, it was the pounding of his cock that had you completely and utterly at his mercy. His strokes were deep and long, his entire length disappearing into your sopping-wet hole. It felt so unbelievably good that you didn’t even care that you were near enough to scream out your moans for anyone in the corridor to hear.

Your hand reached behind your head to find him, your fingers slipping into his hair again to hold them. Harder and harder, he pushed the two of you into the door; it was a surprise that the barricade didn’t break with the force he was putting into fucking you.

Then you felt the deep coiling in your core, like everything inside of you was tightening, all pleasure amplifying as your orgasm teetered on the very edge. It seemed Sirius could feel this too, with how tightly your spongey walls were suffocating him as he grunted louder into your neck.

“Wait, don’t cum yet; I’m so close, don’t cum”, you begged, not entirely wanting it to end just yet. Sirius gasped, his mouth opening wide as his eyes did the opposite as they clenched shut as he concentrated on fucking you and not orgasming.

It doesn’t take long to feel the first flutterings of that eye-wateringly beautiful sensation between your legs as you quickly stammer, “I’m cumming! Fuck- You can cum, please cum with me”. Sirius’ legs nearly gave out underneath him, hearing your sweet words.

As your pussy contracted in wet bursts around him, Sirius released every drop of cum inside of his body, deep into your walls so that you could feel yourself becoming full and it beginning to drip out as it became too much. His thrusts slowed to a stop as you both slumped against the door, catching your breath for a moment, the tiny store cupboard now becoming suffocating.

The after-orgasm guilt hit you like a tonne. What had you done? You’d just fucked your worst enemy, and his cock was still inside you.

You couldn’t help yourself; you needed to ruin the moment, need to get free and cry into your pillow over what an idiot you are, so with hate and distaste, you turned your head further over your shoulder. “This changes nothing between us”.

Sirius took a moment to process the words before his mouth was hovering over your ear, his breath tickling your skin, “Not at all, Sunshine, I still hate you”.

Good, you think. That’s what you’d hoped because you still hated him too… right?

With a grunt, you elbow his stomach again but with less force, just needing him to back away from you. Thankfully he did without any arguments, his softening cock slipping out of you and globs of his cum following this.

With trembling knees, you shoved your dress back down. Reaching around in the darkness, you found the door handle and turned, neither of you saying another word as you walked out of the door, hair a mess, make-up running down your cheeks, dress creased, lips swollen and cum still dripping down your thighs.

You walk with as much confidence as possible, keeping your head high as you try not to turn around and see if he is watching you walk away. It was only as you turned the corner that you realised you’d left your underwear in there with him; cursing to yourself, you turned back, not wanting another student or someone to find them. You weren’t sure if you were happy or sad when you returned to the cupboard to find Sirius gone, but not only that, but your underwear was too.

[mondaymelon]

₊˚ෆ 𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇 !! | sagau xiao, childe, zhongli x gn!reader

ˋ°•*⁀➷ cw: uhm. obsessiveness? yandere if you blink a couple times? cult themes... the usual deal with this au

⤷ [ you, the benevolent and kind overseer and creator of teyvat, has descended upon this world in mortal flesh, with a presence that is overpowering, omniscient, and so impossibly pure. ෆ yet, one day, you come into the cathedral with a gash on your arm, dripping with shimmering golden ichor that spilled from your veins. there will always be those who are too foolish to see the light you bring. ]

— sagau!xiao noticed you immediately. it would be hard not to. since the beginning, he had always heard it.

your sound. a beautiful one, a heavenly one. a chord struck him, somewhere in his chest, and he found himself panting on the ground, clutching at the fabric of his shirt.

like a electric charge - one that leaves you startled, tentative, with the tips of your fingers still tingling from what happened moments prior. a buzz in your veins that thrums along with your heartbeat.

he didn't deserve to see you. not with what sins he had committed. but xiao was selfish. he wanted to, with his tainted body, he wanted to praise you, scrape his throat raw with his voice.

and so he did.

his face brightens as you step into the cathedral, dressed in ceremonial robes as per usual. you look ethereal, why would you not? your eyes are warm as they fixate on him, and he can feel his heart skip a beat and words die in his throat. he kneels before you orderly, readying to lift his head when something catches his attention - that is, the coppery scent of blood.

blood?

a droplet splatters onto the dustless floor. melted gold.

xiao's already stood up before he realizes it. his eyes are blown wide, his shrunken pupils sharp, like a cat's. "who. who did this to you?" those words take all the willpower in him to speak. his mind is swirling, racing, thinking up of every single possibility, vision scattered and blurry as unbridled fury teems within him.

"it's nothing. some civilians have begun rioting in the city, saying that i'm an imposter. all i did was show them a little bit of my blood and they all started singing praises, so the issue has been resolved." you shake your head with a soft smile, like this matter isn't anything to concern himself over.

it is.

he hates it. how he feels so fucking powerless, how he couldn't even stop this simple event from occurring in the first place. it's his fault. it's his and everyone else who dared not believe your words. your word is the truth. it is the undeniable laws of the world, what maps the stars and what lays the land.

he'll have time to ingrain that within everyone's minds. even if it means time away from you. but that's not the issue at the moment. he turns to search for bandages, but sees the already-healing wound slowly closing up as your skin mends together.

there's a knife at your side, coated in something that shimmers in the rays of light coming from the high, color-tainted windows.

something in his heart decides, seeing your reserved smile.

there will always be those who are too foolish to see the light you bring.

very well.

then he'll just have to eradicate every last one of them. ₊˚ෆ

— sagau!childe had, to be honest, never cared all that much. why would he, to the person who had abandoned him into the cold, dark, abyss? yet, the smile on your face. it's bright. so bright it burns him. was there a day where he could smile like that?

no, no. he couldn't. that's an expression only reserved for someone as beautiful as you. as pure as you, like a blank, unblemished canvas, with the world as its paint. it's a level of resplendency that no one on this cursed universe could ever hope to accomplish.

a god in flesh, living in a tainted world. a walking contradiction that he had grown to call the thing that allowed him to keep living. something that spurred irony, you who broke all forms of the logic he had made to keep himself sane. perhaps that was why the heart he'd locked away has suddenly begun aching again? is that why he feels so warm from your divine prescence?

"childe?" you call out his name into the vast, empty hallways, glancing around for the familiar sight of a tuft of ginger hair. he hears you at once, rushing to your side with a grin on his face.

"your grace??" he bows at the sight of you, unable -to contain his excitement as he quivers in place, the smile on his lips tugging upwards even more than its current extent. "yes, what's-"

he stops abruptly, his voice faltering as he catches the scent of something iron. one familiar on the battlefield, a liquid that'd paint the surroundings a beautiful red.

his heart pounds. the thrill of a battle? no, that can't be it. if that was the case, how come it felt like he was slowly suffocating on his unspoken words?

that's when he catches the sight of the poorly wrapped bandages encasing your forearms. and the shimmering ichor that's soaked through the hastily wrapped cloth.

he moves to grab your arm, but curses himself out as he quickly changes direction and tightly holds your wrist, his expression more pained than yours, despite you being the one suffering with the injury. "what... your grace, what is this?"

he hates your knowing smile. he hates it. (oh, but does he? could he hate anything that is of you?) it just reminds him how you're all too far for him to reach, a purity that he does nothing to maintain. "there was a riot in the city against the church. luckily, they all quieted down after i gave them a glimpse of..." you trail off, ending your incomplete sentence with a sheepish smile. the rest is self-explanatory, anyway.

his vision trembles as his pupils shake. "haha, you...?" fuck. fuck fuck fuck, just whose idea was it to allow you near a knife? how did you get your hands on that?? which stupid fucking bumbling idiot allowed for this to happen?

it's his fault. he should've been by your side. curse the fatui, curse them all, how could they possibly dare keep him away from your holy being? the guilt that churns within him, is that why he remains mute as you step away, gracefully walking to meet with the other retainers?

there will always be those who are too foolish to see the light you bring.

no, it's fine.

it will all be fine.

cutting off their tongues won't be enough. cutting them up until they're a dismembered, bloody mess isn't even close to what you've suffered for the sake of humanity.

yes, he'll make them realize that. they'll pay with their blood a thousand times over. ₊˚ෆ

— sagau!zhongli had his breath taken away by you before he even saw you, before the two of you had even exchanged words. your presence - it was so simply alluring, a saccharide charm that just drew him closer and closer.

sweet. yes, it was a familiar flavor upon the tongue that had long since tasted the many marvels the world had to offer. like a warm cup of tea, made from the sugary extract of flowers, how the sensation of it seemed to bloom upon your mouth.

ah, how should he put this. perhaps you had procured the blossom in his heart instead? stems, leaves, buds, a floret that'd only appear when you were in his gaze. a steady thrum that ran throughout his body with every stolen glimpse he took from your attention expertly.

perhaps, was this what he felt all those years ago?

did it matter? his soul was resolute, now, and it glowed gold, just like the blessed blood that flowed through every vein and lay in every vessel within that beautiful, beautiful you.

yes, ichor... just like the splatter of it on the ground...? a pang of fear strikes him - has something happened to you while he was away? he should've none better than to trust those good-for-nothing other cultists, who spend all their time babbling about your gloriousness yet turn a blind eye to whenever you require assistance!

no, he had to calm himself down. this wasn't the moment where he should grow frustrated. first, he must confirm the situation... he's planned this out to the every plan b, c, d, e, and so on, so how come he's still feeling so anxious?

there you are, upon your throne, busy conversing with a fellow archon, the one as free as the wind. funnily enough, you were the one that tied him down like a shackle.

"ah, zhongli. are you alright? you're breathing quite hard." you tilt your head, averting your gaze from venti's sparkling eyes and instead fixing them on the usually stoic man's jumbled expression. his shoulder's heave as he resists the urge to collapse at your feet.

"what... what are you... you're hurt?" stained bandages peek out from just below your silk sleeve, a sight that cannot possibly be missed from his attentive gilded eyes. "why didn't you tell me? i-i'll call one of the healers so they can-"

"zhongli, there's no need for that." with a hand, you gently signal venti to leave the scene, which he does, with obvious reluctance. a silence gesture that resonates with appreciation deeply within him. "this was of my own accord."

"your own accord?"

"unbelievers decided to throw a riot, and there wasn't much i could do except...well, don't they say that seeing is believing?" how come you don't look the slightest bit pain? where is your self-pity? your frustration? "anyhow, i'm not in a good state. please leave me for the time being, i don't plan on receiving any more audiences tonight."

he bows hastily, yet each movement is still finely crafted with minuscule adjustments that have taken him thousands of tries to master. he does as you say, and his strides are quick and long. it won't take a genius to see that his facade has crumpled, with the clear agitation that's spreading across his features like a wildfire that devours all in its path.

there will always be those who are too foolish to see the light you bring.

he'll change that. every thrum of the golden markings running up and down his body seem to pulse in unison with his heartbeat, which is raring like he's recently returned from the battlefield.

who would've thought he'd so quickly return.

this time, of his own will. he'd be sure that these fools of this world would learn the truth of your paragon. ₊˚ෆ

(a/n) please save me the delulu has returned and iTS NOT LETTING GO

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123

[jointherebellion215]

His Kiss, The Riot

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x female!reader

Summary: When you and your secret lover make plain to Feyd-Rautha your wishes for a life together, despite the proposed arranged marriage, he surprisingly acquiesces. But he can't let you go so easily, can he? Loosely based on the song from Hadestown.

Word Count: 1.6k

TW: manipulation, Dark!Feyd-Rautha, arranged marriage, NONCON elements, gore, violence, she/her pronouns, female!reader, tragedy, star-crossed lovers, songfic, not quite a happy ending (oops), dark dark dark interpretations of Hadestown and the story of Orpheus and Eurydice.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who read If It's True and liked, reblogged, or commented. I appreciate every single one of you. As always, I would love some feedback, likes, comments, and reblogs if you can :)

This is Part Two to my Feydestown trilogy (I'm so sorry for the pun). You can read Part One here.

AO3

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Dune properties, characters, or storylines-- nor do I own anything related to Hadestown. The images used in this are not my own, and any similarities to stories or events other than what are directly referenced are strictly coincidence.

The devil takes this Orpheus

And his belladonna kiss

“So you wanna get married? Take away the woman I just offered my hand to, to whom I all but have legal claim?”

Your beloved’s replied words of affirmation to his words hold the slightest tremor, but like a dog to fresh meat, Feyd-Rautha sniffs this out immediately. Another smile graces his face. Feyd speaks to the crowd now, “Yes, I was promised the Lady’s hand in marriage. But! I am a benevolent figure, so I guess I’ll let the lovebirds go.”

The crowd starts to give polite applause, while your knees grow weak at the news. You can go? Has love really prevailed on this day?

“However,” and with that, your heart drops “I have some conditions for these… nuptials.”

You could sense the air growing thick with tension as the reality of the na-Baron’s ruling twists out of your favor.

“Conditions?” You whispered.

“Of course, my darling! I can’t make this too easy on you, now can I?” Feyd paces back and forth on the steps from which he speaks, making your eyes dart back and forth with each step he takes. Vigilance overtakes your body in case of any rash decisions.

“You two can leave the city, but it won’t be hand in hand. This pair will have to walk in single file, with the boy in the front and my darling Lady at least thirty paces behind. No ships, no speeders, no running. Walking.”

The energy of the room starts to grow more electric as the points of this term seem to set in.

“The Lady cannot speak out or make any indication of her following behind. You’ll be faced forward the whole journey. Once you reach the edge of the city and passed the threshold, you can be together for eternity.”

Your breath hitched. Seems easy enough, right?

“But, if the boy so much as turns his head to check and see if the Lady is following, the deal is off. She’ll return to me, and we will be married.”

Nothing makes a man so bold

As a woman’s smile and a hand to hold

“Is this a trick?” Your beloved asks plainly.

Feyd tilts his head, pacing down the steps to ground level. “Now, what makes you say that? I’m being generous. I’ve set my terms.” He is now nose-to-nose with the man attached to you. 

“Now meet them or face the consequences.”

The hand holding yours is now pooled with sweat. You quickly and subtly jerk the arm of your beloved when he starts to protest, not recognizing a gift when he sees one. You bow, the picture of poise and grace that you were raised to be. There is still time to leave with all of your limbs intact, you could not afford to slip up now.

“We offer our most sincere gratitude, my Lord na-Baron. Thank you for this most auspicious opportunity. We will not squander it.” 

Your beloved gives a clumsy bow to match yours. Feyd’s manic smile grows as he clasps his hands together. The sound echoes through the hall.

“So it shall begin!” 

But all alone his blood runs thin

And doubt—doubt comes in

The pair of you hold hands, side-by-side, at the entrance of the palace gates. A crowd has followed you to the edge, with onlookers from the outside spectating the unexpected appearance of a noble. Occurrences like this did not happen often, if ever.

“You heard the terms. The Lady must walk thirty steps behind. She must not speak to you.” Your hands reluctantly separate, following the orders you were given. You can feel your heart pounding with each step that you take away from each other.

“Some of my guard will accompany you, to ensure that you comply to the letter.” Four Harkonnen warriors step forward and encase you in a square formation, leaving the love of your life alone and vulnerable. He looks back towards you, fear and doubt creeping into his eyes. You nodded at him, believing that you could succeed in your task. That you would prevail.

“You may begin.” Feyd voices, and with that—you start your journey. Step by step, you walk further through the foliage that immediately surrounds the castle gates and into the city square.

Once you and your beloved reach the horizon, Feyd turns to walk past the crowd and back into the corridor.

Your father, the Duke, bows quickly and offers his gratitude, but is ignored as the younger Harkonnen goes to gather his blade and shield. With a yell, he summons his guards to formation. As Feyd checks the integrity of his weapon, one of the Baron’s advisors tentatively steps towards him.

“My Lord, perhaps you should consider letting them go—” In the blink of an eye, the man is silenced with a swift slash to the throat. Blood spills through the advisor’s hands as he struggles to put pressure on the opening. His body flops to the floor and Feyd carelessly steps over the writhing body to march forward.

“Let’s go fetch my bride.”

Dangerous this jack of hearts

It had been almost an hour of walking by this point. There had been almost a dozen times where you wanted to give any audible indication to your lover that you were here. A whisper, a whistle, a stomp of your foot. Anything. But now you could see the edge of the city, you could almost taste it. 

A life with your love was within reach. 

The guards accompanying you shifted inward, almost boxing you in. You were hopeful, but nerves were creeping in.

This was going well. Too well.

The grand arch signifying the edge of the city was above your lover now. The field that you used to meet at in secret lay just beyond it. You’re almost there. Just twenty more steps and you could be together, forever. 

He steps over the threshold, you see his shoulders lift and fall in an exhale. Then, the man you had fallen in love with— who you wholly believe in— slowly turns his head to lock eyes with you. A pale figure steps out from behind a pillar accompanying the arch.

The growing smile on your face immediately falls. You call out his name.

Oh no. 

The na-Baron tsked and shook his head, as if scolding a child. Harkonnen troops flanked the area, giving Feyd-Rautha enough berth to have his fun. The three of you were surrounded, but only one really had the advantage.

“You were so close!”

Your beloved held out a hand, “Wait, wait! I made it over!” He started to back away in fear, unarmed and exhausted from the long walk. Colorful, ripe foliage brushed his legs as he back into your field.

“Ah, but she didn’t. So, face the consequences.”

Then his blade pierced the man you love. 

Your ears started to ring, throat working itself raw as you wailed. Tears blurred your vision, you could hear the gurgles of the blood leaving your fiancé’s mouth and the slosh of his newly disemboweled entrails hitting the lush field before you.

With his kiss, the riot starts

His body made a sick thud on the floor, and your body jumped along with it. 

You ran towards your dead lover, cradling his face and sobbing for the soul that was just ripped away from you. He didn’t deserve such a violent end. His only crime was loving you and being loved in return.

A chuckle sounded from above you, and you turned your tear-stained face to the brutal Harkonnen. He was covered in the blood of your lover, his spoils of war staining his pale skin. Black teeth on full display, his shoulders gave a slight shake as he expressed his humor. His laughter sparked a rage in you like you’d never seen before. It didn’t matter what bonds you may or may not have formed over the conversations you had the last week. He’s a monster. He needs to pay for what he’s done. 

Red flooded your vision.

With a roar, you lunged for the man. His laugh grew more manic as you smacked, punched, kicked, and hit every visible part of him that you could identify. In your grief, every ounce of training that you received flew out the window. He took every blow with a smile, as if he enjoyed the punishment you were attempting to bestow on him.

“There we go, my darling. Show me your pain. Your rage!”

Your mind started to clear with the more hits you landed. With a quick swipe, you had the weapon that killed your beloved against the naBaron’s neck. The Harkonnen soldiers immediately stepped forward, but Feyd stopped them with a wave of his arm.

“Ah ah ah! Leave her be.” His grin almost split his face in half, specks of dried blood making a painting of his face. 

“Do it. Go ahead, come on.”

He pressed his neck forward, purposefully putting pressure on his own blade. Fresh blood started to trickle down his neck, adding to the gallons already spread all over his uniform. 

The shock of his willingness to put his life on the line made you hesitate, which made him cackle in your face. Your anger made you draw the blade back and slice it across his chest. A groan left Feyd’s mouth, 

“Good girl.”

An unexpected thunk to the head made your vision start to spin. Feyd’s arms braced around you, slowly lowering you to your knees and down to a lying position. He cradled your head as if you were a precious commodity, when he leaned forward and captured your limp lips with his. 

As black started swallowing your vision, you heard him say,

“Don’t worry, my darling bride. It’ll all be alright. You won’t feel a thing.”

[washeduphazbin]

Electrifying

Vox x Fem!Reader

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

=_MINORS DNI_=

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Request: Hey! I was wondering if you could do a Vox x feedreader, where he’s in his room with all those TVs, doing his broadcast or something? And the reader comes in and gives him a BJ (smut pls) I changed some things. I hope it's okay. Enjoy you, sinners. ;)

When you were alive, you weren't particularly religious; that's not to say you didn't believe in the concept of heaven or hell, just that you didn't care where you ended up. Your family was religious and cared more about scaring the word of the lord into you than your personal beliefs. In your head, you assumed that it was your anti-religious beliefs that would earn you a one-way ticket to hell. You didn't expect the reason to actually be the fact that you hacked yourself into a secret government database and ended up in prison, only to die in a prison riot that you played a part in. You become a number one target when you can hack the guard's security cameras.

Long story short, you died and woke up in hell. Then you hacked your way into working for one of the most powerful Overlords in hell, specifically by glitching out every one of his broadcasts until he noticed you.

Vox was going to kill you when he found out you were the one fucking up his tech, but you managed to convince him that combining your skills would serve him much better than slaughtering you and wasting your talent. He put your skills to good use; Vox could finally take breaks from constantly patrolling the cameras around Pentagram City and focus much more on improving his already well-renowned tech. It took a lot of sucking up and managing to break into some of whatever radio shops that were left in the city and breaking all the old-timey tech that things finally shifted between your relationship with the Overlord. Destroying those radios caused you to immediately jump on the Radio Demon's shit list, which as a normal Sinner was not ideal.

However, it jumped you up immensely on Vox's Employee of the Month board. In fact, you were almost sure you were his favorite employee ever.

He finally trusted you enough to show you the central hub where he ran his broadcasts, and you moved from ordinary everyday Sinner under contract to Vox's right-hand woman...who was...still under contract...semantics.

From that moment on, you were constantly by his side throughout every single one of his broadcasts. While Velvette might be the backbone of the Vees, you were Vox's hype woman, keeping him out of trouble while encouraging his most chaotic ideas. That's how the two of you remained for a consistent seven years until the Radio Demon hijacked Vox's broadcasts, showing all of Hell he's made his triumphant return.

"I can't fucking believe this, I've spent years building my empire, YEARS, and he thinks he can just take it from me like that? Does he even know who I am?" You watched your boss prepare for his late-night broadcast session, flipping switches and plugging wires into his head while ranting about that deer-faced fuck

"He's not worth it, Sir," You speak softly and notice his shoulders relax at your tender tone. "You've been running Pentagram City for years. At this point, your viewers aren't just going to turn you away for a guy who sounds like he swallowed a microphone instead of a dick." Vox snorted with delighted laughter as he sat down in his studio chair. His claws drumming on his metal table pinging around the studio, you stepped closer and noticed he was still trailing Aslastor's every movement on camera. "May I speak freely?"

He thought briefly before turning his screen to face you, "Well, spit it out then."

"Your 'hatred' for Alastor is boarding on obsessive; it's creepy and- don't give me that look." You huffed, crossing your arms, "You permitted me. Plus, you haven't even heard my suggestion yet."

"And why exactly would I let you suggest anything after your attitude?"

"It'll help you relax," your hands spread across his shoulder pads down his chest, and you could hear his processors running a little louder in embarrassment. "I have lived to serve you since the day you hired me. Let me help you." You purred softly next to his screen, nuzzling against the cool metal; you saw how his claws dug into the table before him, creating claw marks.

"I suppose if you're offering." He leaned back in his chair, wires still connected to the back of his screen; you hummed, moving in front of him. Subtly, very subtly, you pressed the start broadcast button with your fingers. He watched with spiraling eyes as you kissed the side of his screen before kneeling between his legs. You saw sparks of embarrassment erupt from his screen, "wait, what relaxation are we talking about here- fuck!" He cursed, voice glitching in a way he usually used to command attention from his viewers and Val. Your hands gently trailed over his belt buckle as you leaned against his thigh,

"Not yet," You teased softly, "Maybe if you're good." You whisper with a wink, kissing his inner thigh, "Don't you wanna relax?"

"Yes." He commanded you hurriedly before composing himself, "Be a good girl for me, baby. Help me relax."

"Yes, sir." You hummed, unbuckling his belt, and with a click of his metal clasp, his belt was pulled from his pants. You felt cold claws trace your cheek as you looked back up at him through your extended lashes. His screen was glowing a mesmerizing purple hue; he looked briefly awkward,

"Vox, say my name."

"Yes, Vox." You licked your lip, rubbing your thighs together; your fingers pulled and tugged at his pants in a way of asking permission. He gave a single head nod as his slacks were pulled down to his ankles. You heard him suck in through his teeth as you landed forward towards his boxers, admiring the significant hardness in his pants. "Look at you; you're so big already..." You felt drool pooling in your mouth, and he made another strangled electronic sound. "I can't wait to feel you in my mouth." He seemed to gather some confidence back as he gripped your hair, causing you to whine,

"If you're so eager. Then suck." His eyes flashed a plethora of pretty colors, and you felt your willpower drop, hypnosis, your heart skipped a beat as your underwear flooded with your slick. He grinned wickedly as your mouth opened wide, tongue lolling out of your mouth as you took him out of his underwear. His dick was unlike anything you've ever seen. It was long and curved, sticking straight into the air, showing his eagerness for your mouth; blue and red wire-like veins seemed to pulse with need. You leaned forward, nipping gently at his now bare thighs as he hissed in through his teeth before swallowing his length in your mouth. Vox groaned, a static sound; as soon as your hot mouth swallowed him, sparks from the monitors singed your skin. You smiled, knowing that his sounds and your actions were being broadcast for all of hell to see and hear, and he was none the wiser.

You felt his claws dig into your hair, pulling you forward, forcing you to take him deeper down your throat. You groaned around him and began to suck as deep as you could take him down your throat. "Fuck baby, fuck." He hissed as you looked up at him through half-lidded lashes, opening your mouth wider and running your tongue on the wire veins underneath his dick. He shuddered and choked back a moan as you pulled back. You began to kitten lick along the sensitive tip, swallowing the blue precum that was forming at the slit. He shuddered, the screen glitching a few times as it flashed different frames and colors. "Don't stop now; you're just getting better." He grinned crookedly, petting your hair like a pet; you gave him a look. He snickered, urging you forward back onto his dick,

"I'm going to make you cum so hard, your blue screen." You purred, licking your lips, gathering spit in your mouth before taking him as deep as your throat would allow. He was heavy in your mouth and throat, filling it even though he wasn't thick. His tip hit the back of your throat as you choked around him. He moaned heatedly, eyes squeezing shut as he jolted as you suctioned your lips around him. He was close, and you could tell his hips began to twitch as he attempted to fuck your throat. You took that as a sign to place your hand on his balls, squeezing them and caressing them through your hands; you were rewarded with an even louder moan and a shout of your name. "That's it, baby, I'm so close, harder. fuck you're such a good girl." That seemed to do it as you moaned around his cock, the vibrations sending shockwaves through him as he shot his load down your throat, which you swallowed eagerly.

He tasted like you swallowed a packet of blue raspberry pop rocks.

You pulled off of him, licking your lips, and noticed his entire body was slack, face completely blue, sparks shooting out the back of his head. You giggled, turning to the screens and seeing yourself on camera; you hummed, hiking up your skirt and giving a little bow to the audience before ending the broadcast. You and Vox's phones were blaring with messages nonstop; you picked up Vox's while he was rebooting. You opened it quickly, remembering his passcode from when he told you to monitor Val's activities with the tracker he placed on the Moth. There were notifications from social media and Vox tech itself, which you promptly swiped away so Vox couldn't see them immediately when he rebooted. About a hundred texts from Velvette and Valentino in the Vees shared group chat.

Velvette was screaming about all the social media images she'd have to wipe to protect Vox's image and how much of an idiot he was for not double-checking that he wasn't on air. While Val was giving a rating while sending a play-by-play and ranking your technique, begging Vox to let him use you in his next shoot. You giggled, leaning down to snap a picture of you with a still rebooting Vox and sending it to the other Vees before throwing the phone away. If things go well, he'll fuck you on air next; worst case scenario, you'll double die, known as one of the best dick suckers in hell, probably only second to Angeldust.

[toaster-boi]

i only recently found out about it, but the Lancer ttrpg sounds like a riot, based on the weapons alone.

you have the Apocalypse Rail, a capitol ship-grade railgun designed to crack open anything smaller than a dwarf planet at interstellar distances, scaled down to fit the largest mech a single operator can handle yet still firing shells so fast they experience time dilation,

the Mimic Gun, a writhing, ever-shifting mass of programmable matter imbued with the metaphysical concept of "gun" which counts as every ranged weapon class at once, capable of re-rolling its entire statblock at once for no more than one action,

the Omnigun, a gun that doesn't and cannot exist, firing projectiles that aren't real, but the damage they cause ontologically cannot be stopped, avoided, nor mitigated,

and the Decksweeper: a weapon whose most deliberately dramatic, technobabble-y description would include terms like "case-telescoping canister shells," "point-blank tactical engineering," "themopneumatic cycling automation," and "arrayed blunt kinetic impactors."

in layman's terms, mech-sized and cannon-caliber (but otherwise completely normal) automatic breaching shotgun.

[ailithnight]

A fic based on this prompt by @chaoswarfare that I had originally put in the reblogs, but decided to move to its own post since I've got some ideas to continue it. No promises on this ever being a completed fic, but I'll try.

A King in Arkham

Listless eyes trace the cracks in the ceiling; their owner blinking slowly from his place, lying nearly motionless on a thin mattress supported by a metal shelf held to the wall by thick black chains. His face is blank, not sad nor angry nor despairing like so many others in this cold and lonesome place. No, his expression is empty, as though there is simply nothing to feel.

Bruises and scratches and even a couple very deep cuts litter a small body. Were anyone watching, they'd see a new one appear as if by magic across a gaunt cheek. Even as blood begins weeping from the slash, not a single emotion flits across the face. Not even a flinch.

Tomorrow, doctors will assume the patient cut himself. They will search his cell, again, and find no weapon. They will search his body and find not so much as a fingernail capable of creating the mark. They will check the security feed and find, as always, that the moment of injury glitches; one second no cut, the next fresh blood. They will try to force the patient to admit self harm, but he will remain silent.

When the door to his cell swings open with a buzz and a clang, echoed by every other cell in the building, the blank faced boy with dull eyes doesn't move. It's the 6th time this month, and the 13th since arriving 3 months ago.

When the sounds of screams and rioting grate on sensitive ears, he merely sighs, the first hint of feeling flashing across his face in the form of a minute second of frustration before blankness returns. When a pair of escaping patients rush past, one stopping to ask if he's coming, he remains unresponsive.

"Leave him! Kid never tries to escape. He's to far gone."

The kid in question feels his eyebrow twitch. He's not 'gone' anywhere, thank you very much. There's just no point. Nowhere to go. No one to help him; to understand that he's not crazy, just haunted. At least, no one who won't turn him into a monster. A horrible, world destroying, viscious monster.

Besides, Arkham's not too bad. At least it isn't a GIW lab. And his rogues have even started showing up less and less since he was sent here! Though maybe that has less to do with Arkham or Gotham and more to do with the kid's utter refusal to even defend himself.

"Now come on before Bats start showing up and put this place on lockdown."

A black form with a red head drops from above, just barely within the kid's peripheral vision. A brief moment of recognition and even something adjacent to interest flickers in blue eyes.

"Bats like me, perchance?"

.

Red Hood was assisting containment with an Arkham breakout. There had been a lot of them in the last few months and Batman was getting grey hairs trying to figure out why. No one in particular was even trying to break out. No one could be pinned for the inciting incident. Just randomly, at any point in the day, the automatic locks would spazz out and everyone would be released.

So the big bad Bat had called all hands on deck, requesting at least one vigilante be at or near Arkham at all times, hoping to at least keep most of the big fish in their cages while they tried to figure out what the hell was going on. And Jason had graciously agreed to help. So here he was, at 3am on a Saturday morning; assisting guards in keep inmates corralled; keeping any eye out for any maximum security escapees.

With none spotted so far, and the people below him literally admitting that they're giving up hope when the Bats arrive, Jason figured he might as well see if a bit of scare tactic will convince them to go back to bed willingly.

"Bats like me, perchance?" The would be escapees in front of him startle and whip around.

"Red Hood?"

"The one and only." Jason shifts to not so subtlely place a hand on his weapons. "Now why don't you 2 just go on back to your rooms and we can forget this little infraction. I won't even tell the guards to write up a discipline slip." The two inmates eye him, then his guns, then each other warily. Finally, they both raise their hands in surrender and begin walking back to their cells.

Jason permits himself a quiet chuckle, much to low to be picked up by the modulator. As he turns back to grapple up to his bird's eye view in the rafters, his eyes catch sight of the inmate who apparently doesn't try to escape. For just a moment, green swamps his vision as Red Hood registers the sight in front of him.

He almost steps in to the cell before a harsh buzz sounds and cell doors clang shut again. An intercom crackles to life announcing the effective lockdown, instructing guards to begin escorting patients back to their cells, cataloging each attempted escapee for future disciplinary measures.

Batman's voice sounds out over comms.

Not a single inmate made it past the main gate. Good job Hood.

Jason seethes for moment longer in front of the cell before biting out his question on the main channel.

What the hell is a kid doing in Arkham!?

A strangled sound makes it through the feed and Nightwing responds, strained.

What?

A KID! Can't be older than 15. In cell... 26B. Looking rather roughed up, I might add. Since why does Arkham even accept minors?

Oracle responds.

Pulling records right now.

Jason eyes the kid, who seems to be entirely unfazed by Red Hood discussing his imprisonment 8 feet away from him. Actually, unfazed is the wrong word. Apathetic is better. Entirely emotionless. Green threatens Jason's vision again as he ponders the potential reasons for the look of resigned desolation on a face so young.

Looks like he was transferred over from a psych ward in Illinois 3 months ago. Ward of the State. File says self-destructive behavior. Apparently he picks up unexplainable injuries and claims ghosts gave them to him.

That still doesn't explain why they sent him to Arkham!

Batman's voice filters back in.

Hood, pull out.

Jason has to force himself to keep his voice down.

WHAT!? I'M NOT LEAVING A KID HERE!

It's almost 4am. Red Robin is on route to relieve you.

I AM NOT LEAVING A 15 YEAR OLD IN ARKHAM!

We will be investigating this further.

15! YOU KNOW, THE SAME AGE I WAS WHEN YOU LET ME DIE IN THAT FUCKING WAREHOUSE.

Jason almost regrets the statement as he here's Dick's stuttered breath. But it seems the kid might have heard him and something about the statement seems to catch his attention.

He actually turns his head to look quizzically at Jason. The expression only lasts a couple seconds before slipping back into blank neutrality as he turns back to the ceiling.

Batman's voice grinds in his ears, an edge in his tone telling Jason that if he doesn't listen, the Bat himself will come pull Jason out.

Hood, his transfer coincides with the start of these break outs. He may be involved. We will be investigating this further, very thoroughly. If he's clean, we will be getting him out of there. But for now I need you to pull out. File your report.

The tone softens.

And get some rest.

[autistichalsin]

I don't know, I just find it interesting that every single one of the three characters who consent to having the player have a poly relationship with Halsin, have the fandom erase their consent using the exact same argument, which is, and I quote:

(They) don't actually want it. They just are afraid to lose you.

All of these characters will not hesitate to read the player the riot act for violating their boundaries, and there are quite a few scenes where they (especially Astarion) will outright break up with the player for going too far. These are adults who have little trouble standing up for themselves, yet we are supposed to believe that suddenly, with and only with Halsin, they are unable to consent. (Notably, this also is applied only to the poly romance; the characters' ability to consent to a monogamous relationship with the player is, of course, never to be questioned.)

Shadowheart, who practically salivates at the idea of being regaled with your story of "climbing Mt. Halsin", must not have really consented. (Women can't consent to icky, nasty sex things, see. That would imply they have desires of their own.)

Karlach, who is passionate and strong and hot-tempered, who, again, will call the player out on anything that makes them uncomfortable, is suddenly a shrinking flower who just can't tell the player, "no, I want a monogamous relationship." It can't be that her terminal illness has left her unable to examine her own feelings around polyamory; it must be that she is only saying it not to lose the player. Because Karlach is, somehow, the kind of woman who would stick around if she thought the player would sink low enough as to pressure a dying woman into an open relationship? (Again: women are always delicate flowers. They can't consent to anything, clearly.)

And then there's Astarion. Astarion, who has the most triggers to break up with the player out of ANY romanceable character. Astarion, who says he has trouble saying no to sex sometimes, but explicitly says the reason he's willing to give this a try with Halsin is his experience in this area which guarantees Astarion won't get hurt (and even says earlier that he won't have a relationship with Shadowheart too because she has no experience.) Astarion, who is eager to find his own desires again. Astarion, who wants to make choices- even wrong choices or ones he regrets, because isn't that half the fun of getting to make a choice? Getting to fail? Anyway. THAT Astarion is, coincidentally, ALSO, somehow, lying to the player and doesn't want this at ALL and only says this so the player won't leave him. He leaves if the player manipulates him into sex, he leaves if the player lets him get kidnapped, but this one boundary is, somehow, one he just can't seem to express. Because, you see, survivors are MAYBE capable of enjoying sex, but only "normal" sex with the player. Can't have him agreeing to something taboo like polyamory, because then he might not seem like a delicate flower.

Even Halsin, the bear himself, isn't immune to this: people insist that he too doesn't actually enjoy poly, and only says it because he thinks if he asserts himself too much, makes it seem like he wants the player to himself, that they won't be interested and will reject him. So he pre-emptively brings up something he can't properly consent to... despite polyamory being the default in wood elf culture. Despite wood elves specifically viewing romantic jealousy as immature and worthy of mockery. See, if a character has insecurities and is in a poly relationship, that must mean they aren't actually poly, not that they need reassuring. When a character in a monogamous relationship has doubts, that just means they need comforting, but when they're in a polyamorous relationship, well, that just means they can't truly enjoy poly!

I don't know, I just find it really fascinating that the arguments against the characters who are poly or open to poly "really" being poly are all the exact same argument applied uniformally to the characters regardless of whether that actually fits their backstories and behaviors during the scenes where it's discussed. It's like poly makes people uncomfortable, but they aren't willing to reckon with their favorite romanceable character(s) having such drastically different values around relationships, so the only way out is to insist they don't actually like it/are incapable of consenting. It's as fascinating as it is frustrating, really.

[izvmimi]

cw: fluff. reader wears a dress and is in their late 30s, as is bakugou.

Despite your best hopes, you and Dynamight are late to the charity ball. Not because of anything particularly sexy, at least not this early in your budding relationship, but because traffic decided to be hell at 7pm on a Saturday evening, and while many precious seconds were lost both in his prolonged gaze at your dress and your inability to find the words to tell him how handsome he looks in his suit, there wasn’t much you could do about the highway congestion.

(You’re thankful at least that he respected your suggestion that explosions and chiffon would not mix.)

The two of you manage to shuffle in right before everyone’s finished taking their seats. Katsuki is of course seated with the remainder of the top 5 ranking heroes, and their partners, and he pulls out a chair for you to be seated, your name tag placed right in between him and Deku’s partner. She watches him slide your chair in and help you place your shawl in a safe place, then whispers something to her husband who’s smiling as he always does, splitting glances between the emcee, his wife and his flustered friend.

You try to keep your embarrassment to a minimum, and are thankful when Katsuki finally rubs your shoulders gently before disappearing to the restroom. Now you are alone, warmed in the cheeks and trying to look very interested in the opening speech. No time for introductions, but you can recognize everyone at the table even if you haven’t formally met. Izuku’s partner’s eyes settle on you again and it takes her exactly five minutes to give into finally shifting closer to you, just so she can whisper,

“You know, it’s the first time I think I’ve seen him fuss over someone like that.”

You can feel your body tense ever so slightly, but her demeanor is friendly if a bit playful. She introduces herself in a whisper, despite the fact that you already know who she is, she’s been on the television on and off for the past decade as Number One’s number one. 

“He talks about you all the time,” she adds. You smile, unsure of what to say back except that you’re thankful that you’re finally here to meet his wonderful friends.

You’re new to all of this, and in many ways, feel very much a fish-out-of-water, having lived a quiet life, single and responsible to no one except your well-loved cats. You’ve been on dates in your 20s and have long since lost your interest in the dinner-and-a-movie combo by the time you turned 30, and now that you’re closer to your 40s than you are your 30s, the butterflies in your stomach with every nervous smile or brush of your fingers Katsuki offers you carries a soft twang of embarrassment. You’re too old to be this giddy you think sometimes. 

She says nothing more to you until the speech is over, and Katsuki arrives at the same time as she turns again. Her eyes narrow playfully as Katsuki slips into the chair beside you, slipping his hand over yours on the table. 

“Kacchan, aren’t you sweet?”

He scowls at her, but his hand doesn’t move. Shoto, you can see from across the table, looks curiously at your joined hands while Izuku pulls his partner in and gently reminds her not to worry you. He’s quick to introduce himself as well with a firm but not-too-firm handshake.

“We’re so delighted to meet you,” he says. Red Riot gets up from his seat and claps Katsuki on the shoulder, and it’s loud enough that it startles you a bit, but he’s grinning ear to ear as he looks at the both of you.

“We were beginning to think you’d die alone!” he exclaims, which has Katsuki gritting his teeth. 

“Will any one of you stop acting like I’ve never had a date before?” He’s seething and you try to stifle a giggle. He hears you and his head snaps in your direction, but your smile quickly softens his look of betrayal. He scoots his chair in and holds your hand tighter.

“Act normal,” he hisses to the rest of them, and the lights dim again for the next speech while Izuku and his wife keep sneaking glances at you and giggling, huddled together, as if they are kids themselves.

You on the other hand are gleeful but keep your laughter internal. Katsuki leans in and asks you what’s so funny, but you both know.

You’d think you’d all known each other since you were kids, the way Katsuki’s friends have so easily assimilated you into the group, and it only mirrors the way you’ve always felt since you’ve met him.

That things have fallen in place, perhaps late, but better than never.

[tarjapearce]

Bad Teachings (Pt. 17)

Older! Miguel O'Hara x Reader

WARNINGS: Sexual language, mild smut, masturbation, awkward situations, a bit of Miguel on Dad mode, Angst, depictions of nightmares, bonding time, emerging fears, relationship doubts, mild character background depiction, comfort towards the end.

Summary: The cracks in Miguel's past begin to widen.

A/N: Sorry in advance :'). (feedback much appreciated ❤️✨) I DO NOT AUTHORIZE my works to be translated or updated to other platforms without permission. Thanks to my beta reader @oharasmommymilkers00 ❤️

Previous

Chapter's song:

Let me show you.

Those words had forever marked your brain with Miguel's watermark forever, claiming almost every bit of you for himself.

Not only he showed you, but also taught you many things.

How to kiss, how to properly sleep in his chest, and how to address him from now on.

Amor.

He was your sunshine. You ray of hope, your light in the darkest days, your savior when everything had crumbled apart. The bandage and glue of your bleeding heart, your life teacher and now all yours.

And still, you couldn't help but feel like a total fool at lost on what to do. The relationship was a blank canvas awaiting to be painted with so many new emotions and experiences created by both, to create the Opus Magna of yourselves.

You held the brush, and Miguel guided you through the strokes. That kiss was the base from everything, the beginning of a beautiful work in progress.

Ever since you kissed, it was like adoration, devotion and commitment had entered your world, foreign words added to your life's dictionary. And as the ever good teacher he was, he made sure for you to understand each one of their concepts.

The first thing he had been teaching you was commitment. He committed to come home to you, to keep himself healthy, to make you smile in every chance he got, and also, a must, he was committed to give you a breathtaking kiss whenever you smiled. Which was often.

And it had only been a couple of days ever since you decided to take his invitation. There was no room for regret, no room for what ifs when you were experiencing first hand what was like to be his.

Hands on you, roaming every romantic line of your form with such care and gentleness it made every pore of your skin to sing in delight. A brief call during lunch break to check on you, to ask you what you wanted for dinner, and just to hear your voice really.

He gave a gentle rub on your feet, despite ending up a bit annoyed that you were a bit too ticklish, after you came home, exhausted from work, which in return you prepared his lunch and gave a massage on his scalp before he drifted off to sleep.

The way he held you while sleeping spoke volumes. He'd always end up being the big spoon, a lazy hand hanging on your supple hips, his arm underneath your head, bicep acting like your own pillow, perfect for accesibly cradling your head for your morning kiss. Your thigh would hook on his hip, and your arm would slide underneath whatever side he faced you with, doing your best to snuggle him closer.

He'd nuzzle your neck while stirring awake, peppering your face with small kisses on the side of your cheek. He'd squeeze and breath you in, as if receiving his daily dose of endorphins in those single actions alone, they rioted as you blinked the grogginess away and immediately graced his day with a sweet and bashful smile.

"Morning, mi niña."

You curled into his chest, and groaned happily, relishing in his warmth.

"Good morning, amor."

He nearly melted at your pet name, specially when he taught you how to pronounce it correctly. He'd ask you to repeat the word over and over, just to hear you calling him that.

"Gotta go run."

You groaned and curled on him like a tiny marsupial both hands around his neck, leg unabashedly ontop of his waist.

"Can I be selfish for today and ask you to stay in bed with me?"

His hands caressed your hair, twirling a strand of it in his hands, he smiled.

"You want me to stay?"

"Please? It's kinda cold outside and bed gets colder when you leave."

You murmured in sleepy breaths and Miguel chuckled.

"Sólo porque tú me lo pides." (Just cause you ask me to)

You hummed as his fingertips massaged your scalp in soft moves that had you melting, sending you back to sleep.

-----

After what it felt like forever, your day eventually started, He didn't go for a run, but welcomed your day with a hearty breakfast and a cup of freshly brewed coffee.

You talked, washed the dishes together, then you took a shower and prepared for work.

Although the campaign had been marching smoothly, there were some things that needed to be addressed as soon as possible so you could focus on your area. Deadlines were approaching, and you knew how persistent Julius could get.

Miguel joined you a couple of minutes later, coffee mug on hand, and a stack of papers and his usb on the other.

"Got the information you needed from the marketing area"

"You did?! My goodness, finally I'll get Julius out of my ass. Thank you." You pecked his lips as he gave you the memory card.

"Is he overbearing?" He put his glasses on, to then stack up the papers, a pencil nested in his hand, small and frail between his fingers.

Your eyes couldn't help but look at his hands. "Not really, he's just been stressed lately"

Roughed up, calloused, veins with a purple shade that nested under his cinnamon skin. A pair of limbs you loved feeling, specially when he held you at night or caressed your body.

He chuckled, "You're staring."

"'Course I am. You have the prettiest hands I've seen."

You slid yours in between his, tangling fingertips while you snapped a picture of them together. Unlike your photo with Simon, your hand wasn't just laying there, looking pretty. They held onto Miguel's, on each other's. His fingers enveloped yours tenderly.

" What should we caption this?"

"Caption?"

You nodded while giving the image some brief retouches and finishes.

"What about... Nosotros?"

"Noso-truhs?"

He smirked at your little mishap but nodded.

"What does that means?"

"Us."

Oh

Your heart leaped and your stomach did a pirouette. The implicit confirmation of your situationship finally came clear. You were together.

"I like it."

His touch lingered, his warmth was always inviting. To your surprise he took your hand and gave a kiss on the back of your palm.

When you met again after work, there wasn't an hour he didn't kiss your hands, showered your head with pecks or touched you. As much as you wanted to keep revelling in each other's sweet affections, work demanded your whole attention.

He got to scribble some numbers and do calculations, your eyes couldn't help but dart towards what he was working on. A hospital's logo in the upper corner, he flipped the page.

The document, the bill, to be more precise; seemed an old and regular thing he checked, as some folding lines were too marked on the worn paper. He even hummed, apparently satisfied as the numbers he was doing seemed to match in his scribbles.

You focused on the files on your screen, and connected his drive to your computer, files copying by default. You then searched for the reports he mentioned and sent them to Julius.

One more thing out of the way.

Silence was comfortable. You pulled the drive out and poured the file into a copy of the whole work itself, to your surprise, there was a video file that remained outside the archive.

"Didn't know they had done videos already", Miguel snapped his attention to you, heart pounding in slow motion as you made click on the icon.

"¡No, no, no, no, Espera! Don't-"

Shit

"What-" Your hand froze mid air, upon seeing the contents of the video. Eyes widening impossibly big, cheeks warming up to the point of reaching your ears. He tried to pause the reel, but the video player got stuck and locked when he ripped the trinket from the port.

"Shit..."

Your giggles turned into soft moanings as they filled in the space, while Miguel rubbed his face, a faint dash of pink in his ears.

Fuck...

Your hands fisted on your lap, the video played, your heart thrummed violently under your ribs, gaze unable to tear from the screen.

Is this how you looked back then?

Hips urgent, riding your own hand, mouth agape, totally drowning in the swirling sensations that made your hand to squeeze at your breast, panting and biting your lip. The video shut off right when you were about to come undone.

The footage stopped in an erotical frame of you. Eyes closed, cheeks flushed, one hand toying with your taut nipple, pulling it softly as your other hand buried itself within the baby blue cotton panties that leeched off the silhouette of your hand as it got lost between your legs. A few loose strands of hair adorning your enraptured and wanton face. Heavenly pornographic, needy and way too pretty.

Screen blinked and a 404 error before it shut off and restarted.

"Gave you the... the wrong one, sorry." The urgency in his tone and his constant hair pulling had his anxiety shooting for the stars.

He put the usb on his side of the table and you swallowed. Trying to process what just happened

"Uh..."

"You weren't supposed to get that one"

"You've... kept that video this whole time?"

He studied your expression, revealing nothing but curiosity, surprise and embarrassment in tandem of a dash of smugness. In all honesty, you thought he had deleted it right away, turning it into a piece of lost media.

"Can't really blame me for such thing. Not when it was what started it all."

"I'm not. Just surprised you've kept it that long."

Plump lips stretched in a bashful smile, he wasn't one for consuming porn on a regular basis, and if he did, he'd look for the basics, but would always end up re-watching your piece. Nothing could really compare the need it created, the envy he drowned in for not being your hand in that moment.

Two years and a couple months of getting off to that video, the only tangible proof of your presence in his life before you vanished into thin air. He had gotten used to your attention. And now he had it completely, his lids drooped as he hovered over your sitting form. Caging you between his body and the couch.

"What else have you kept from me?"

"Besides that?"

He pecked your lips and you gave a soft bite on his bottom lip, nodding at his inquiry. It was true that it had taken you by surprise, but you couldn't help but feel flattered, it gave your confidence a boost to know he somehow had kept this memento.

"Some lovely pictures I took on my own."

"Oh?" You giggled as his lips kissed yours, hands planting on each side of your thighs. Some of his strands of hair mixing with yours ontop. "Show me."

"Gotta earn that, preciosa" He crooned over your lips.

Your eyes rolled and his kisses toured towards your neck, inhaling your lovely smell. One of his hands left a warm trail over your torso and tummy until it hovered above the junction of your inner thighs.

"How?" you husked in between nervous giggles, breath caught in your throat as his fingers dipped past the elastic band of your sweatpants and panties, but stopped, giving you a last look, searching for permission.

"I told you I'd show you, didn't I?" He smiled while staring, crooked upper row teeth biting at the bottom muscle for a second, "Let me."

And you nodded, granting him permission with a brief kiss.

Pupils went wide blown as the rough pad of his fingertips skimmed over the outer labia, cupping the flesh in a soft and gentle motion. Warm breath fanned over his neck and chin, shaky. His eyes closed as a low gutural growl rumbled in his chest upon feeling you.

His face hid in the crook of your neck, nuzzling the tip of his nose against your pulsating body.

"Brings me so much memories."

A coy laugh escaped your lips as he retrieved his hand back and pulled you up, With a movement he twirled you and pushed you towards the couch, making your digs to kneel in the cushioned surface as he pressed his frame behind yours, engulfing you.

Hands instinctively held on the couch's sturdy frame. Miguel nipped at your shoulder, his fangs grazing the junction of your nape and shoulders. One of his hands snaked underneath your shirt, taking a quick but proper feel of your breast, this made you titter.

"You laugh when you're nervous." he murmured while dipping his hands back inside your panties. One of your hands hovered above you, draping over his nape, this made him pick your shirt and put a piece of the hem on your mouth.

"Hold it."

A shiver electrified your spine, you bit your shirt as your breast were free, big and calloused hand immediately trapped one as the fingers of his other limb, dipped between your folds, caressing the hardening and throbbing bundle of nerves.

Your hips pressed against his, it earned you a kiss on your temple.

"Go on, my hand is yours"

With a gentle push of his hips, he swayed your body forwards, a shy gasp erupted from you as his fingers grazed your clit with a bit more of pressure. Your body sung with a strange yet familiar sensation.

How long had it been without any sort of sexual performance besides your own hands? Certainly alot. Miguel was the last one to bed you. And the only one your body obeyed.

Your eyes closed shut when his fingers played a deft tune with your wetness, ebbing you to move forward, without shame. His gaze studying your pleasured face as he tweaked one of your nipples.

With a deep breath, you sank your hips on his hand, taking a proper feel of his hand. Deliciously warm, rough and providing enough texture to send jolts through your spine.

"There she goes" he crooned while pressing two of his fingers tighter on your moving cunt. A soft and wet thwip

came as he prodded the outside of your hole. He teased enough to have your swaying motion increasing. The holding bite on your shirt long gone.

Heat pooled on his fingers as you rode his hand. Your phalanges held his arm in place. A groan flew out of your lips, and it was the perfect chance for him to kiss you, deeply and just the way you both liked it while slowly, pushing his two fingers inside you, drowning the whimper that had his chest rumble with a groan.

He poked in enough to have your slit teased, and aching for something bigger to take you, like you were meant to.

He knew you liked it rough. And as your crevice parted to exhale, he seized the chance to kiss you.

Hungrily, breathlessly and full of need. Like if your life depended on each other's lips. His fingers prodded deep enough to not make you feel uncomfortable, rather provoke you enough to have you sputtering sensual babbles and blown moans.

"Just like that, mi amor?" His voice dropped an octave lower, a bit of shakiness in it as he moved his hand faster, focused on the gentle yet speedy motions on your clit and nipples, your jaw slacked open .

"Mig-" You gasped upon feeling the tension coiling up in a tight knot, every pore of your body sung in need and delight. Awaiting to fall in the scrumptious abyss of pleasure you had been missing and lacking for so long, because adult life happened.

Chest rose up and down erratically, until your body went taut, finally melting in his arms with a sweet cry it had him smirking, satisfied and proud. He still got it.

"Miguel!" You gasped as the tidal waves of pleasure, drowned you, Consuming every rational thought, except for one. More. You wanted and needed more.

More of him, you wanted it all. How not when he turned your dazed head towards him, making you watch him lick his glistening fingers clean, relishing in your taste.

"Me encantas tanto" Another kiss and you tasted yourself in the process, before he let you ride your high in his arms. You panted and groaned with every spasm your walls did. His hard on pressed in the back of your rear, hips immediately bucking against his.

"Let me help too." You whined

"Are you sure, preciosa?"

"Yes" Voice raspy but sweet, pleading for him.

There was nothing holding you back from taking each other. You were together.

And God, you'd enjoy him like he was enjoying you and your mouth, his hands ready for the second round as he gathered your shirt up, with intention of removing it. However his phone buzzed on the coffee table, interrupting the possibilities with name Burrito Parker on the screen.

The growl he gave, made your clit throb.

"Este pendejo..." He grumbled and his nose flared angrily, he fetched his phone, still holding onto a breathless you. He pressed the green icon, answering the call. Irked and clearly upset at the cock blocking his best friend provided

"The hell you want? "

Your eyes widened at his tone, but his  softened upon hearing Peter and his petition. He let you go with a quick peck and went to the bathroom to wash his hands. He hung up after a minute of speaking.

All the racing thoughts were sapped out your body, replacing them with some self awareness. Cheeks grew warmer at the creeping shame.

"Uhm, everything alright?"

"Yeah. Just Parker being inconvenient. Need to find some of his books."

"Right. Uh... Do you need help?"

No answer. Just him shuffling among his things.

The doorbell rang ten minutes later, a surge of anxiety ran through your body. Miguel was busy in his room, and the ringing turned urgent as it dinged a second and a third time.

"I'll get it!" You gave your clothes a quick fix to then open the door. To your surprise, none other than Mr. Parker stood in your doorframe, the cherry on top was him holding a little girl, lovely and fiery ginger curls ontop of her chubby head, blue eyes looking at you curiously. Just like her father.

"Mr. Parker, hi." You hoped the blood rush in your cheeks had toned down.

"Hey... You." He smiled nervously, while accommodating the diaper bag on his shoulder. Blowing up his cover of not remembering you properly, but in all honesty it was better that way. Things were awkward as they were. Besides, not that you expected him to remember you either.

His daughter waved to you, you smiled and waved back.

"Uh, is Miguel here? I told him I was in my way."

"Oh! Sorry. Yeah, come in."

You closed the door behind him and he remained on the dining room, glad he didn't ventured in the place you were riding Miguel's hand moments ago.

"Would you like some water, Mr. Parker?"

"Uh, sure. Thanks."

You didn't waste time and headed for the kitchen, served him a tall glass of water.

"¿Amor?" Miguel's voice rumbled from the room, heavy steps approached, "Who knocked-"

Miguel stopped upon seeing Peter, dressed up in a button shirt, pants and shoes. The typical to-go college teacher outfit, that seized him with a confused look between him and you. Trying to put two and two together. His eyes widened a bit upon it all clicking in his mind.

Miguel just deadpanned, a look Peter would translate into a 'You used your brain, congrats."

You got Peter his water, he quenched his thirst and held his girl close. Neither of you expected him to get here so quickly. Miguel specially.

"Did you find the books?" Peter asked as you witnessed the exchange between them. Mr. Parker handed his baby to Miguel, which the little girl seemed comfortable enough to the point of giving him an uneven toothy grin while trying to get a hold of his hair, followed by the diaper bag.

Miguel gave a couple of books that undoubtedly were the ones he used for his class back in college

"Sorry to ask you for this out of the sudden, MJ is in a meet and greet, and the nanny cancelled us last minute." Peter mumbled while double checking the insides of the bag. "Mayday just ate, she'll have her nap soon, make sure to not feed her avocados, they make her crap smellier. And-"

"Parker."

Peter rubbed his neck, exhaling, managing his own anxiety.

"Cálmate. It's just a couple of hours. Go to your lecture."

"Right. you're right. She'll be fine. I'll be back as soon as I finish. Call me or MJ if something happens or if she's too uncomfortable."

Peter gave Mayday a quick kiss on the cheek. "Be good with Uncle Miguel, ok?"

Your old teacher left with the books before throwing you a polite smile. Leaving curiosity and confusion behind.

Mayday pointed to the door where Parker had just left.

"Your papa? He'll be back soon. Don't worry, I've got you, Calabacita." His lips arched into a soft yet knowing smile.

His fingers tickled Mayday's tummy, earning a squealing giggle from her. His hands fixed the spider hero themed beanie ontop of her head.

His eyes turned to you, standing on the spot, watching him with unbelieving and curious eyes. He smirked

"What? Never seen a baby before?"

Your lips pursed and your brows puckered softly. "Rude. But I have. Didn't know you were good with them, though, or that Mr. Parker could be quite... responsible."

Miguel just pressed his lips into a tightened expression, but Mayday's giggle had his attention back to her. Her feet kicked enough to make Miguel to put her on the floor, she immediately crawled enthusiastically towards you, but the bright colors of your drives sprawled on the floor diverted her attention towards the trinkets.

Yours and Miguel's alarms flared when she approached them. Miguel quickly picked her up, earning another squealing giggle from her while trying to get a hold of the tech junk.

"I kinda can see it, though..." You mumbled in between a stifled laugh.

"What?"

"She's definitely Mr. Parker's daughter."

Miguel hissed as Mayday, pulled some strands of his hair while climbing ontop of his shoulders. "No me digas. Ow, Mayday, Espérate-" (No shit. Hold on)

His hands tried to grab her only for thw toddler to roll on and fall on his hands.

"Oh my god!" You gasped as he caught her flawlessly. Heart pounding so hard it got him tittering at your panicked reaction.

"Tranquila, she loves trust falling."

"Isn't that dangerous?!"

Miguel beckoned you closer as he cradled Mayday on his arms, an excited beam on the baby's face.

"Hold her for a minute, Need to get the bed done so she can sleep her nap properly."

"What? No, I haven't held a baby ever since I was twelve!"

"It's not rocket science, mi amor. Just make sure to hold her head and support her spine."

"But-"

Miguel shushed as he put Mayday gently on your arms, rearranging your limbs in a secure way to hold her accordingly. Her head rested in your palm, as you supported her spine by holding the rest carefully in your arms.

"See? Now you know."

He disappeared for a moment, the shuffling in his bed echoed through the room, as you stared at Mayday. She definitely had Peter's eyes and behavior, the hair definitely belonged to her mother. It was incredible how time passed by.

Seeing Mr. Parker was quite the surprise, he only looked a bit more roughed up, but was the same gentle soul he met back in your student days. And now you were holding his baby in your arms.

Miguel's head peeked out from the hall, watching you with amusement and fondness. It was clear you didn't know your way around children like he did. And still, you did your best, even though you looked like you'd beat Mayday in a staring contest.

Big and blue round eyes stared at you, tiny hands taking a feel of your already warming face while keeping a gentle hold on her. Exactly like Miguel had left you.

"Hey." You mumbled and Mayday cooed, limbs already on your hair, taking a good feel of your strand's texture.

And that was precisely why Peter asked him to look after Mayday, a little exchange of favours as Peter looked after Gabi back at the hospital when there was an urgent meeting with the lab directors in charge of Gabriella's case. In dire need of good news.

Miguel had been genuinely happy for Peter when he somehow confessed he was also being a father. The latter was mindful of his loss, but Miguel was the only one Peter trusted in at the time.

Your lover retrieved Mayday and accommodated her in his chest, rubbing her back gently in small circles as air flew out of her mouth in the shape of burps and yawns.

"How old is she?" You picked up the diaper bag as Miguel walked back to his room, rocking the baby girl to sleep.

"Two and a half. There's a small plush in the bag. Get it for me, please."

You unzipped said thing open and there was a small plush animal in it. A pig dressed in a Spiderman suit. It was handed to Mayday, which cuddled with it immediately.

"You know her very well."

"I've been her godfather ever since she turned six months."

You sat on the bed's edge, looking at the small nest he had made, a pillow on each side a space he'd put Mayday in.

He was a natural when it came to handle kids, no wonder why teaching came so in handy with this behavior. It also made you wonder about the kid's brush, and other items you had definitely seen but now were gone. What he had done with them? More importantly, what had happened?

But of course, those answers weren't for you yet, despite reaching a whole new level in your relationship. Talking about children was out of the equation, yet there he was, being a temporary father figure to a little girl that needed him. And he delivered, tenfold.

Making your curiosity even harder to keep under the leash. You left the room, letting him to do what he did best, you had no business in there. If anything you were only doing a moral support and watching how to tame a mini human.

Sitting before your computer, you organized a bunch of loose papers sprawled on the table, but your mind was too alive and taking even more consciousness to try and focus on your work. Instead it focused on Miguel and this newly found side of him you had the privilege to witness in it's full glory.

He seemed relaxed, like if parenting was another type of breathing, happy even.

Your guts churned with an emerging question.

What if he wants a family in a future?

You swallowed hard as a bubbling wave of anxiety made your brain juggle with so many questions as time ticked on.

Would he want you the same if a family wasn't in your plans? What if he didn't? What if he found someone else that did? What if-

"Mi niña?"

Your heart nearly busted out of your chest, you blinked the brewing tears away, clearing your throat as you poured your regained focus on your work after what it felt like forever.

"Yeah?" He arched a bushy eyebrow

"What do you mean, yeah? It's, yes, amor?, for you."

You chuckled, almost imperceptibly and this made him frown now.

"Is Mayday asleep?"

He hummed as he sat next to you, his frame swallowing the space right away. It brought you back when you were at your apartment, and he was assembling the shelf while apologizing.

"She gets sleepy easily. Taught that trick to Parker."

"I see..." You mumbled barely a whisper.

"What's wrong?"

"What do you mean what's wrong?"

Miguel reached for one of your hands and squeezed it between his. His elbow rested on his knee.

"To starters, you're not looking at me, something you do when you're conflicted. Secondly, your nose," He poked it softly, "is getting red, meaning you were about to cry, which leads me to think, something must've affected you since you were over thinking." He chuckled.

"You get this... gone look when doing it. And finally, your screen is still locked and you took my share of papers, mi niña."

You groaned while resting your head on his bicep, he kissed your temple.

"Well, you said it. I'm conflicted and over thinking."

"About?"

"I'm not that sure if I can approach this... topic since you said it was out of question."

Miguel just squeezed a bit tighter your hand, and sighed. His other hand removing a stray strand of hair out of your face. Mahogany eyes quizzical and cunning.

"Well, I guess it all will depend on what you're asking."

"No" You blinked, "No. If it makes you uncomfortable even in the slightest, I won't bring it up."

"Took me a while to learn this the bad way, but, awkward talks are part of any relationship and you're clearly upset. If I can, I will fix it. And if it's a too personal question, I will tell you, alright?. Now spit it out before I make you."

He nipped at the tip of your earlobe, earning a bashful giggle from you.

"Okay, okay!" You sighed, nerves eased a level down, and you took his hand while his keen gaze took you in, "Seeing you with that baby made me think..."

His face fell before your pause, and you swallowed, "Would... Would you still want me if... I don't want children?"

His eyes rounded a chip wider as his mouth pursed. "What?"

"You looked... Happy when having Mayday in your arms. I hope it's not a problem or..." You frowned upon seeing his tense reaction, "Sorry... God I'm so dumb. I'm so so sorry."

Hands immediately let his go, to cover your face.

"Hey." He pried your hands away and his heart sunk upon watching you all glossy eyed. "Mírame."

You shook your head.

"Mi amor." His tone as usual, gentle but firm. His thumb and index finger took a hold of your chin to look at him.

"You told me this before, remember? You don't need to explain your reasons to me. You don't owe me anything of that." His thumb moved to wipe away the tears that menaced to escape.

That's the least of things I think about.If honest?... I've..." His Adam's apple, bobbed nervously, unsure of unlocking even superficially that chapter of his life he always skipped and tried to bury, but even so, his shoulders slumped, almost defeated, "Parenting is not for everyone. It's hard and... painful."

You frowned upon feeling his hand squeezing you tighter, as if seeking to ground himself.

"Great... Now I've made you upset because of my-"

"Stop, mi amor" he warned gently, "This... your fear, will not change anything, ok?"

"Promise? I know... it's too soon to be discussing this, and I'm sorry if-"

"God, you do apologize too much. Come here."

He silenced your fears with a sincerity tasting kiss. There wasn't any hidden words or meanings behind what he said, his eyes didn't lie too.

"The only thing you need to worry about is hiding my marks once Peter returns for Mayday"

----

The sterile stench he learned to hate took Miguel by the throat, the beeping machines that dictated a steady pulse echoed louder the more he ventured in the white walls of his second home.

He knew them by heart, but for unknown reasons he kept turning in the apparently wrong direction, and ended up in the beginning of the maze.

No, no, no! Go right again!

His heart pumped almost painfully, his breathings laboured as he now sprinted, through the narrow halls that thinned the more he tried to run, as if they were preventing him to reach the end.

The machine's beeping turned erratic the more he approached, like his breathings.

"Papa?"

He swallowed hard, fist tightened on his sides for a minute, eyes impossibly wide as the door he knew the spots and details of, opened on it's own.

"Papa! Help me!" 

The echo of his heart pulsed through his body, making it tremble as his lungs clenched, hindering his attempt to properly breath.

How?

His throat tightened in a knot. The urge to scream and beg only increased tenfold as he saw the ever familiar staff rushing in his little girl's room.

Gabriella

It was like if one hand, then another one grabbed him, held him back, He thrashed, but the more he fought, the more he was held back. Bound to watch his biggest failure as a scientist and father, play on repeat and 4K resolution.

"Papa!"

Her voice called, demanding for his presence in her thinning existence. But he refused to be an spectator, not this time. He'd do things differently, he had to.

"No! It hurts! Papa!"

Bile rose up his throat upon hearing Gabriella's pleas and cries, she had grown terrified of needles. He had to fight, against the weakening beepings, against the million of hands that held him back, against a diagnose that was now poisoning the little hopes he had left.

He tried, with every fiber of his being, to step forward, but unseen forces retained him, a gravel like voice growled behind him

"No"

He looked behind his shoulder, eyes injected with despair and terror. Bloodshot and crimson eyes stared back at him, his own silhouette hovered over him, like an overgrown shadow, towering over him, menacingly and preventing him to go further.

SHE NEEDS ME!

Miguel begged.

The bleary-eyed scientist, gasped for air, agonizing, grovelling to the door, ignoring the hands that dragged, scratched and pulled his hair back, doing their best to stop him

Please...

The constant pulse in the machine had weakened to the point of giving a wobbly beep every five seconds. His time was wearing off.

"No! Papi! No me dejes!" (Papa don't leave me)

Stop! Please!

The tears rolled, they still worked, Miguel believed them long dry and gone. His jaw clenched, despair gnawing at it's berated mind.

You're useless, O'Hara

The shadow spoke, as the beepings stopped. A deafening and dull monotone sound echoed through.

His eyes could only watch, unbelieving, glossy, shaky the previous doctors abandoning the room, a solemn look in their faces. Like the same day they found out what was wrong with his beloved Solecito's health.

Gabriella!

He cried, begged to enter that room, he'd give everything in his hands to bring her back, to see her one more time, to tell her how sorry he was. But none of that mattered, not when the forces released him, but focused in tearing apart the reality he was set in.

Each tear made his heart clench and race, he was too late when reaching for the door as he fell in the darkness' abyss.

He jerked awake with a doleful beat on his heart, erratic breaths polluted his lungs as his cheeks were soaked. Sweat etched in every pore of himself. Mouth soured and ashy tasting, swallowing hurted, his hair stuck to his face, hands were clammy.

The sterile stench still remained on his nose, like the steps when the doctors rushed in. He rubbed his face in a feeble attempt to wash away the fear

Another nightmare. He forced a deep exhale as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Nausea assaulting his stomach.

"Miguel?"

A hand on his lower back made his perturbed eyes to snap at the person before him. You. Sweet voice that grounded his rampant instability almost right away.

Concern etched in every muscle of your countenance, your hand warm, soothing. Not really caring for the sweat staining his back. Heart sinking upon watching him so distraught and frightened.

His hand traced your features, afraid that you'd slip out too. His breath hitched

"No te vayas..." (Don't go.)

You didn't have to understand that bit of spanish to understand his plea. In return, you cupped his face softly, and he nuzzled his face on your hands, relishing in the contact.

"I'm not going anywhere, Miguel."

You mumbled while combing carefully the unruly and soaked strands off his face, as they took shape in the way he always styled it.

His hands took a proper feel of you, too afraid that it was all part of the assailant nightmare. But you were there, flesh and bones, calling him to surrender into your comfort as you hugged him and cradled his head against your chest.

You're not alone anymore

"Mi amor." you mumbled and he clung to you. Leaning all his weight on your frame, even though he was hefty, you remained strong, for him. You anchored him.

"Do you want me to prepare you a cup of coffee?"

He shook his head, unable to utter properly a word. Throat too constricted and hurting to speak.

"Want to lay down?"

He didn't know what to do or reply. These episodes were usually spent alone, leaving none but himself to deal with his own fucked up psyche's aftermath.

He either stayed up until his alarm went off, or in the worst case scenario he'd knock himself out with sleeping pills or mezcal. Ruining his sober count days progress.

He heaved a deep exhale, as you enveloped him with your body, cradling him closer to you. He complied and rested his head on your chest, listening to the lullaby of your heart. Steady, grounding and very much alive.

You kept running your fingers through the drenched silky strands, easing the tension off his shoulders, and hopefully his mind too.

Peter had come for Mayday a couple of hours later, in the meantime you had to keep her busy and distracted from crying.

You had learned how to prepare a bottle, change a diaper and be more accessible to her, even play with Mayday. It was exhausting. But fun, Miguel had fun.

But now, you weren't that sure if it all had been a facade. His tossing and sleepy mumbles had awakened you, he seemed so distraught and fraught even in his sleep that made you wonder what kind of burden was eating his consciousness away.

There was remorse and pain, that seemed older than his own living years. That only made your heart sunk deeper, aching for him.

"You know you can speak to me, right?"

His eyes closed, giving himself a break from his surroundings.

"I know." He rasped.

"Whenever you're ready, that is."

He hoarded you in his arms and sighed.

He wanted to spill it all out to you, but it hurt too much. Still did, despite ten years passing in between, the wound was too fresh and his mind didn't cooperate with his attempts to make himself right.

But one thing was sure, he was no longer alone. He wasn't much a believer for coincidences, but you had came in a right moment in his life as dark times approached, his guardian angel.

You never judged him, he never felt pointed at whenever you were there. He felt at peace, and what other proof he needed when you gave him space to process everything? You didn't pressure him, but Miguel knew sooner or later he'd have to come completely bare to you.

But this time the thought didn't terrify him. Hopefulness nested within his chest. Slowly he drifted off too sleep, allowing for once, for someone else to watch over him in his sleep.

You draped the sheets over him, despite him being doused in sweat, the weather's cold mood didn't wane. Then kissed his forehead.

He wasn't alone. And you were set into proving him said words. Hopefully one day he'd be ready to explain your biggest concern and doubt.

Who was Gabriella?

------

Taglist:

@jkthinkstoomuch   @katitakenway @amylasagna @rositabluemoon @lyrasdrawer @plumplum2099 @damhanallagorm @chibiiichann @incustellar @vonev @kinkybandages @del-ightfulling @tatatida @queenofroses22 @orangemango7 @migueloharastruelove @ctizu1 @vyxvi

@yeyrpp2 @zaddyskye69 @gejo333 @bigbassbug @daddylorianisastateofmind @namjooningera @d1lf-loverrr @amb3rrz @xantic0101 @niyanispunk

@tsukkie-daisuke @brittney69 @emisprocrastinating @ednaaa-04 @cxmeiloorun7 @juneonhoth @sylveon-of-heart

@maomaimao @m4dyy @miguelbaby @mrs-oharaxx @spiderpapi2099 @ittybxttykxttytxtty @miguelbaby

[lostryu]

i need gay rights because literally not a single self-proclaimed cis/het 'ally' understands the alienating experience that comes with being the only gay person in the workplace.

i am a gnc butch lesbian. i use he/him pronouns. when i came out to my manager regarding my pronouns (i had been an open lesbian since the moment of my hire), she told me that she supported me, but she could not enforce or ask our clients to use the correct pronouns for me. she told me it was something i would have to learn to deal with. she never uses the correct pronouns for me unless a person from a different department (who also happens to be LGBT+) is present. she is our HR in addition to manager.

none of my coworkers in my department ever remember to use my pronouns. if i remind them, they go over the top with the "im sorry's" and the "im still learning" and "you know i try my hardest's!" and "i swear im not homophobic!", it has been over 6 months since i came out. if i say nothing, they continue to use she/her (unless that other lgbt+ person from the other department is present, then they miraculously get it right).

sometimes they call me 'girl'. they always flounder and correct to "man-boy-uh youknowwhatimeanright". they laugh it off. they never bother to ask what terms i am comfortable with, or if i even cared in the first place. they don't care about my gender, they never bother to ask. somehow the subject gets changed every time i try to tell them, or set a boundary.

once in a while in a slow shift, the conversation will hop to our dating lives. somehow, it always jumps to how men suck and how dating a woman must be so much easier. they wish they could be gay and not straight. every time, they'll stare at me expectantly, like i am an animal at the zoo. no matter what i say, positive or negative, i must be lying. i cannot be that happy in my relationship, or if i have any issues, they must be minor. if i say 'why don't you try dating a girl then' to their remarks, they'll laugh, say something like "there is no way i possibly could" with that special tone of disguised disgust.

i am a prop, at work. they tell me about how much they love their kids. how they could bring anyone home and they wouldn't care. "they could be black, brown, or purple," they'll say "it could be a woman or a man! I support gay rights!" Then they will talk about how hungry they are, and how they will be going to Chick Fil a for the 4th time this week. 'as a treat'. it is thursday. they talk about going to Hobby Lobby again for christmas decorations, or another sale. sometimes i think i can taste blood.

its june. they talk about the pride parade and how excited they are to see the queens and their 'funny costumes'. they talk about how fun it is to go and watch, how they like the free things the corporations hand out. they don't want to bring their younger kids though. they're not old enough. they do not know that the first pride was a riot. they do not know what happened during the AIDS crisis, how many died. they don't really care when i try to tell them, they'd rather focus on the fun parts of the parade. the spectacle.

i wear a pronoun pin, to make it easier. still somehow no one can get my pronouns right. a client notices it. commends me for "being brave" and "coming out." she never uses my correct pronouns. i stopped wearing the pin after the 11th person asked me if my name on my name tag was my real one, and after the 45th person went out of their way to use incorrect pronouns every sentence. my manager, the HR, did not care.

i need gay rights, but somehow everything got resolved when they allowed us to marry in 2015. to our allies, the work is done. somehow i am left more alone than when we started.

[blondieeu]

miss u. satoru g.

satoru who leaves his clothes around the house like he was just dragged out or something.

satoru who leaves the tv on when he falls asleep in the living room.

satoru who gets mad at you when he washes the dishes and you leave a fork in the sink without washing it

"cmon i just washed that!"

satoru who will go to sleep mad at you.

"i dont wanna talk to you."

satoru who even if hes mad at you he still doesnt turn his back towards you when sleeping and gets mad at you if you do.

satoru who actually is the one who goes out and buys all the groceries.

"the orange peppers or the yellow ones?"

satoru who will fight for a kiss goodbye and if he doesnt get it he will riot.

satoru who still buys you flowers, opens your car door and opens and holds any door for you.

satoru who uses a million emojis when he texts you.

toru!

miss u ):

toru!

in car omw 😆🥳🥳

satoru who comes behind you when your cooking and sings some song with his hands on your belly.

satoru who really wants you to get pregnant and doesnt care how young ya'll are

"let's start our own little family pretty"

"cmon just look at that family over there!"

"our baby would be so pretty"

satoru who always "accidentally" slips the condom off

"shit sorry babe, didnt know!"

satoru whos over the moon once he finally gets you with a bun in the oven

satoru who makes sure to lay you down and worship you everyday while youre pregnant. (eat you out)

satoru who listens to asmr before bed and falls asleep with the video super loud with no headphones.

satoru whos that proud dad everywhere he goes with you.

"yea thats all me" and he points to your stomach and spins you around so he can showcase your ass

satoru who looks for you even in the biggest crowds of people.

satoru who ties your shoes every day when youre pregnant

satoru who is kinda surprised when everyone he works with doesnt know he has a girlfriend until yuuji makes a joke on how satoru would be single forever

"gojo if you keep that up you'll be single lonely and childless for the rest of your life"

"what? my girl has a bun in the oven like right now, shes almost 9 months. shes getting pretty big!"

"?!?"

satoru who cant stand being away from you for more than 3 days.

"when are you coming home?? . . . thats ridiculous just let me come with you. . . . so what if i have to miss a few days? wanna make sure theyre treating my girl well."

satoru who likes his chest and stomach kissed on, gets him all hot.

satoru who goes all big for every single holiday and invites everyone to christmas at his house and also to meet you.

"your girlfriends pretty hot gojo"

"wow! i thought you were kidding gojo she really is big!"

"excuse me yuuji??"

"i am only 8 months! (,:"

"girl or boy?"

"shes a girl"

"congratulations!"

satoru who loves you.

sorry the text isnt pink guys technical difficulties ):

blondieeu xx

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Subtle-tea (Benedict Bridgerton x Reader)

Summary/Prompt: “You’re only semi-lucid and are sort of reaching for my face, and for various reasons I shouldn’t kiss YOUR face but your hand is right here and I still need to convey affection.”  AKA. You and Benedict drink too much of Colin’s special tea and it spurs you to act upon previously hidden feelings. 

AN: Benedict is the bee’s knees, just a silly lil art guy. I got inspired and I’ve got two more Benedict fics coming out rip. But it’s just so difficult to write for Bridgerton cus you can’t write any gay stuff without it being tragic and/or a secret. Oh well, don’t expect me to write much more female reader content of my own volition/not inspired by my friends.

Content warnings: Reader uses she/her, use of Y/N and L/N, is referred to as “wife” 

Masterlist // AO3 

You had no idea what on Earth was in that tea. But you would have to ask later, because currently you felt as light as a feather and giddy as a giggle, laying on the sofa in the art studio as Benedict was launching himself between two walls, orating about his great desires to create. By far, you were experiencing the greatest emotions on the whim of your artistic associate.

“There’s just so many colours that we are privy to, and we take every single shade for granted!” He declared, his arms wide open to the heavens.

You pointed at him in an accusing manner, “Have you seen purple recently? It’s glorious! No wonder it was the colour of status in the Roman Empire, I too would want it all for myself and my friends.”

“How selfish you are, Miss L/N,” Benedict scolded, “Surely everyone should be given the chance to wear such a colour.”

His anger faded fast. As endearing as it was, it was nothing compared to that grin of his. So naturally you decided to make him smile even more with a ridiculous notion that just jumped into your woozy mind. 

“Do you know what would happen if my mother knew where I was?” You said in a loud whisper. 

Benedict pouted and nodded, riddled with pantomime guilt as he leant over, “You. Me. In a room. Alone.”

“Unchaperoned,” You said then gasped, your hands clapping against your cheeks in shock, “I would be ruined!”

Benedict mimicked your appal by dropping to his knees before you, “We would have to marry to save your reputation!”

“Imagine me, your wife!” You threw your head back as you flashed your bare left hand to him. Somewhere in the back of your mind, an inhibition screamed at you to stop lingering so openly on something your sober self was set on not happening

But your heart grew gleeful as Benedict grasped your hand gently. 

“I shall imagine it!” He declared and lowered his lips, and planted a loud kiss upon your knuckle - right where the engagement and wedding bands would sit. You lowered your chin just in time to see this with your own eyes before Benedict met your gaze again, still beaming with roguish delight, “Oh what a beautiful imagining it is.”

Your legs curled up beneath you on the couch, and you fell over in hysterical giggling. You clasped your hand to your chest and cradled it like a newborn. As you lay sprawled out, Benedict popped into your field of view with his hands either side of your head, tactfully avoiding your hair. 

“Your laugh is like music! As your husband, it would be my purpose to make you sing at least once a day.”

“Then kiss me again, you silly man!” You squealed, offering your hand once more. 

Balancing on one arm, and completely unaware that this compromising position was aiding in your dizzy frenzy, Benedict kissed the same spot then turned the palm against his cheek. He held it there as he said:

“Look, it’s like you were sculpted to hold me.”

Euphoria ran riot across your body, your heart beating so fast you thought you would die from delight. 

“And you were carved to be held by me.” From your vantage point, with newly founded confidence, you tried to pull his lips down to yours, but Benedict resisted. 

“We shall not kiss ‘til we are married.”

Eyes wide, you squeezed the back of his neck to keep him close, “Is this a proposal?”

“I do not think we are in the right state of mind to make rational decisions,” and Benedict bumped his nose to yours, causing a little laughter before continuing: “But marrying you is the sanest idea I’ve had all evening.”

[mimiii-3]

Twst boys react to an insecure reader

Note/warning: gn reader, slight angst, self deprecating language, comfort, fluff

. . .

Ace

You: I’m hoping this scar oil can help fade my stretch marks.

• protests immediately

• probably starts screaming hysterically

• ‘no no no this can’t be!’

• this man love LOVES you

• that includes all of your stretch marks

• he’s always loved your many stretch marks no matter where they are on your body

• your hip, thigh, and butt stretch marks drive him bonkers

• he kept it a secret because he didn’t want you getting creeped out by him

• but now he wishes he had told you every loving thought that crossed his mind about your stretch marks

• he would rather die than ever let you get rid of them

“Babe, I love your tiger stripes. I swear I will tie myself to you if you even THINK about trying to fade them.”

Leona

You: Maybe I should try and find a way to get rid of these love handles…

• this lazy boy is about to start a riot

• he WILL overblot if you even try to get rid of them

• that’s like him saying he wants to try and get rid of his gorgeous mane - it doesn’t make any sense

• he finds your love handles incredibly useful

• whenever y’all cuddle, his hands are glued to your love handles

• gripping and massaging them is his favorite past time

• he is convinced that holding your love handles improves his mental health

• he grabs you and pulls you into bed with him

• he slinks down and starts to kiss your love handles (and occasionally nips them with his teeth)

• he looks up at you and let’s out a light growl

“Nope. I don’t give you permission to get rid of MY love handles. Yes, mine. Every single part of you belongs to me.”

Deuce

You: I’m going to have to toss this shirt. It’s super cute but I hate the way it accentuates my tummy rolls.

• this poor bby is deeply disturbed

• his soulmate hates themself??? (Yes, he knows you’re his soulmate. Y’all are meant to be together forever)

• you legitimately made his heart hurt

• one of his favorite physical features of yours is your tummy rolls

• he shuffles over to you standing in front of the mirror

• he wraps his arm around your torso and rests his hand on your tummy

• kisses the back of your neck while he rubs your tummy rolls

• you’ve grown completely flustered, surprised by Deuce’s sudden onslaught of affection

• you ask him what’s wrong but he just stays quiet

• after a few minutes of begging him to say something, he looks up at you through the reflection in the mirror

• his eyes are watery and his lip trembles as he begins to talk

“Please don’t say stuff like that. I like this shirt and I like your tummy rolls. I’m gonna show you how beautiful you are, no matter how long it takes.”

Ruggie

You: Your teeth are so perfect Ruggie. It’s hard not to compare them to mine. I wish my teeth looked more like yours with no gap whatsoever.

• he’s completely thrown off

• you think his teeth are perfect? Wait. You don’t like your teeth???

• but he loves your cute gap

• starts putting the pieces together and realizes that recently you’ve been covering your mouth when you smile

• how could he not have noticed this sooner?

• mentally hitting himself for letting your negative feelings go unnoticed

• wracks his brain for a temporary solution

• let’s out a disgruntled sigh before pulling you to him by your collar

• maybe a steamy make out sesh will do the trick

• leaves you an out-of-breath mess

• leans back and gives you a mischievous smirk

“You think my teeth are perfect? Well you’re perfect. Which means that your teeth, including my favorite gap, are perfect. If your brain starts producing those negative thoughts again then I guess I’ll have to kiss em out of you.”

Malleus

You: God I hate my cellulite. It makes me look so ugly.

• he has gone completely silent

• the way he’s staring at you is haunting

• he probably doesn’t even know what/where cellulite is

• all he can think about is the fact you said it makes you look ugly

• to find out that the love of his life hates an aspect of themself is numbing

• ‘what do you mean you hate your cellulite? Show me.’

• you show him the cellulite on your legs

• now he’s really confused as to why you don’t like it

• he thinks it makes your legs look like they have dimples

• Malleus proceeds to get down on one knee

• his slender hand grabs you right leg and holds it in place

• he litters kisses all over your cellulite

“I do not appreciate the way you talk about my heart and soul. You look stunning. Always. That includes this cellulite you seem to hate so much.”

. . .

Note: how malleus was staring at you after you said you hate your cellulite:

[watchmegetobsessed]

SNACKS AND SEX

A/N: a little something, because i thought i would be done with the single dadrry fic by now... but im not so i just wrote this quickly bc i felt bad hahahah

WORD COUNT: 1.4k

WARNING: a bit of body issues

SUMMARY: You're three months pregnant, but the world doesn't know. Seeing some pictures of yourself online really get to you.

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Social media has been a weird hole in your life ever since you started dating Harry. You weren’t an obsessive user before, but you spent your fair share of time scrolling on Twitter and Instagram, checking out funny posts.

But then they were about you.

Five years into dating Harry, one year of that spent as husband and wife, you still can’t stop yourself from wandering online and hurting yourself by seeing something mean about a photo or a nasty gossip. You promised yourself a million times before that you wouldn’t even check what complete strangers have to say about you, but it’s hard to keep away from the internet.

It’s a random Thursday evening when you break your promise again and it brings you to tears. Harry is out to get your Sour Patch Kids, because that was your pregnancy craving of the day and you tried to ignore it, but then ended up asking Harry to run to the store and get them for you without a word or complain. He’s been your hero not just since you’ve found out you’re pregnant three months ago, but probably since you met him.

So while you’re waiting for him, you’re munching on some chips, scrolling on Twitter aimlessly.

And then you find a thread about yourself.

Two days ago you went for a walk around the neighborhood, the weather was nice, you felt like you needed to get out of the house so you and Harry walked to your favorite bakery, got some donuts and took a stroll. Paparazzi keep away from the neighborhood where you live, Harry has had a long but successful fight with them in the past so now they keep their distance, so you weren’t worried about getting papped. But you can’t have normal people away every time you’re out on the streets. He has fans everywhere and love taking pictures of him doing literally anything, whether it’s just crossing the street, being on a run or walking around with her pregnant wife eating donuts.

Well, people don’t know you’re pregnant and hopefully they won’t find out for months.

You kind of saw a few girls get worked up when they spotted the two of you, but you were hoping they would be respectful and not take pictures. You were wrong. And now you’re met with a series of photos of you, your face stuffed with donuts like you never ate any before. They caught you in a bad moment, for sure. You haven’t washed your hair in days, you were wearing baggy clothes because one, they hide your growing belly amazingly and two, those are what you feel the most comfortable in. Your body is going through some major changes, comfort is your number one priority these days.

But now you’re watching people tear you apart for looking so slobby and practically just the shadow of yourself compared to what you used to look like five years ago.

She definitely shouldn’t be eating donuts, lol.

Wow, she put on so much weight!

Harry is just getting hotter, while she is turning into… that.

She is twice the size like she was at the Grammy’s omg!

You just can’t stop reading the nasty messages, they seem to be endless, about your look, your clothes and mostly about the size of your body. You immediately stop eating the chips and toss the pack away as you keep scrolling.

Tears start dwelling in your eyes, feeling like all these comments are being thrown at you relentlessly. There’s no doubt you’ve gained weight, pregnancy has been crazy for you, you’ve been constantly hungry, always eating something because whenever you tried to keep yourself out of the kitchen, your body definitely started rioting against you until you gave it what you wanted. So you’ve been putting on extra weight these past months, but you didn’t think much of it until now.

“Fuck,” you mumble, tears rolling down your cheeks as you lock the phone and toss it to the side, staring ahead of you, the comments playing in your mind on repeat.

It gets you so worked up that you don’t even notice when Harry returns.

“Love? I got everything you’ve been craving!” he sings as he walks down the hallway, smiling to himself thinking about all the treats in his tote bag.

You jump at his voice and try to hide your state, but a moment later he walks in and sees you sitting at the dining table, crying.

“Hey, what happened?” he asks, dropping the bag and rushing over to you, kneeling in front of you. “What happened? Talk to me, baby!”

“Nothing,” you breathe out shakily, but even the blind could see that you’re crying. “But… I don’t want the snacks anymore.”

“What? You’ve been craving them all day, I got all your favorites!”

“I don’t…” you shake your head and even though you’re fighting hard to stop crying, it just gets worse.

“Y/N, don’t tell me nothing happened, something clearly upset you! Please, I want to help!” he begs, feeling helpless seeing you like this.

Instead of answering, you just grab your phone, unlock it and hand it over to him and wait as he reads over some of the mean tweets.

“Baby…” he exhales, putting the phone to the side as he pulls out the chair next to yours and sits beside you, his hands never letting go of yours in your lap. “These idiots don’t matter, they have no idea that you’re pregnant!”

“I’m pregnant, yeah, but I also gained a lot of weight and I’m only entering the second trimester! I look horrible!”

“No, you don’t, you look amazing!”

“Don’t bullshit me, I look like shit on those pictures and I have a feeling I look the same now as well!” you snap at him. Your hormones have been all over the place so you’ve been overreacting a lot lately, but you just can’t help it.

“But that’s not what I see. I see my beautiful wife enjoying some great donuts she deserved because she is growing our baby in her belly. Did you put on some weight? Yes, but that’s nothing to be ashamed of. I loved you before pregnancy, I love you now and I will love you forever.”

“How do you not think I look hideous?” you moan, still not convinced.

“Because I’m in love with you and all I care about is that you’re nourished, loved and cared for so you can care for our baby in there,” he says, placing a hand to your growing belly. “People will always have something to say about us, that doesn’t mean it’s true. I was there with you on our walk, I saw you eat those donuts and wanna know what I thought?”

“What?” you ask in a whisper.

“I was so happy that I saw you eat them with those pleased hums, I loved knowing that you have what you want and need. That’s all that mattered to me.”

Harry can tell you’re still not entirely on the same page as him and he is determined to get your mind to the right place.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Y/N. And you’re going through some extreme changes so we can grow our family. Be nice to your body, because it’s gifting us with a baby. I promise you that even on your worst day, when you feel like you don’t want anyone to look at you, I would still think the same thing about you.”

“Are you sure?” you ask as he wipes your tears off of your cheeks.

“I can’t be more sure, I promise. Now why don’t we get comfortable on the couch, I’ll rub your feet and we can eat the snacks I got and then maybe have sex too,” he adds cheekily and it finally makes you laugh.

“Harry!”

“What?” he grins. “I told you, you’re beautiful. Of course I want to have sex with my amazing wife!”

“You don’t mind the weight I’ve put on?”

“No,” he answers confidently. “I love all of you, I love this wonderful body of yours that’s cooking my baby in there,” he smirks and leaning down he kisses your stomach, making you laugh. Then he wraps you in his arms and pulls you into his embrace. “We good?” he hums.

“Yeah,” you nod, holding onto him tight.

“So, snacks?”

“Yes.”

“And sex?” he adds, his hands wondering down to your butt, giving it a nice squeeze.

“Mm… Maybe. After snacks,” you say, making him laugh this time.

“Deal!”

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[based-bobcat]

It's interesting that Ollie does most of the things Jason thinks Bruce doesn't do.

>Killing criminals, specifically avenging someone

As absolutely shit as Cry for Justice was, the fact that Ollie killed Prometheus for maiming Roy and killing Lian was absolutely in-character and Bruce wouldn't have done that. Bruce was dead at the time, but you bet your ass he would've tried to bring Ollie in after.

>Thinking about the little guy

A core aspect of Ollie's character is his leftism, I mean, his stance on looking out for the little guy. JLU isn't the only time he rejected joining the league because it was too far removed from the streets. He's more likely to protect people who loot supermarkets during a crisis than the owner who tries to shoo them out (This happened in 52). As much as bad writers would like you to think otherwise, Bruce would NOT condone rioting or looting of any kind.

>Looser parenting/Showing affection more.

Look, Ollie was a notoriously bad parent back in the day. But we can say that his hands-off approach did help Roy more than Bruce's my way or the highway type parenting with Jason. Both Roy and Jason had the same issues when they were kids (probably one of the reasons they get along so well, eh?), but at least Roy was allowed to go with the Titans. Being with kids his age probably helped immensely with his growth. And while Batman has trouble admitting he loves his Made Found family*, even too himself, Ollie doesn't have that problem. He tells his kids he loves them all the time and the amount of bear hugs he gives them cannot be counted on 4 hands.

Lest we forget that Bruce's way of ebbing Jason's anger issues was either to ignore it or telling him to his face that taking him in was a mistake.

Also Jason liking Ollie over Bruce is funny, because Bruce would fucking HATE it.

-*I know current writers, Tom the fanfic writer Taylor, like to write Bruce as someone who tells his wards he loves them every single opportunity he gets, but i'm sorry but that's just not him. Bruce is a severely emotionally stunted man and has trouble telling anyone he loves him. One might argue that this Alfred's fault, since he kept his distance emotionally until it was to late. a mistake he recognized and vowed to not make again with Dick, but that's a post for a different day.