#more like shattered hah

[torubeth]

degradation taken too far (mature content 18+)

context/warnings : it’s smut, so kids shoo! hell of a lot of degradation. they’re so mean i hate them. (swearing, words used : slut and slutty) angst to i have no idea what. pls do lmk if i missed any tws. and as always, its not proofread :p gojo ver.

ryomen sukuna ‘is that all you can do? all your yapping earlier about ridin’ me was just talks? answer me’ his sudden shift in demeanour has you feeling really small. sure he is a rude ass prick but not to you. never to you.

‘no- i can take it. i really can ryo’ tears sting at your eyes as you struggle to take in his full length. his hands giving your waist a small squeeze.

‘yeah and that’s all you’ve been saying for the past goddamn fifteen minutes. either you take it like a good girl or i’ll just have to find someone who will. trust me, i can’ he eyes held no remorse of the words he just spewed and that’s when you break.

correction, you shatter.

somewhere in the back of your head you knew he’ll never leave you but him wording it out makes it seem like it’s bound to happen.

and so tears stroll down your cheeks, your hands and legs giving out on you, your body going limp against his and you whisper the same thing over and over again.

‘don’t leave me ryo. i’m sorry. didn’t mean to upset you. i’m so sorry. don’t leave’

quickly his arms wrap around your body protectively, your face between his shoulder blade and neck, wetting the area with fresh batch of tears.

‘i could never leave you. you’re-’ you’re it for me. ‘you’re always the one that keeps me sane. there’s no way i’ll ever leave you. i’m sorry baby, forgive me. i didn’t mean a word of what i said’ he says.

when he didn’t get a response from you ‘look at me’ he whispers. slowly you leave the comfort of his neck and meet his eyes.

‘i didn’t mean it. you could leave me on deathbed and i still wouldn’t mean it’

‘i can’t leave you ryo. i love you way too much’ you sniffle, new tears threatening to spill so you go back to huddle against his neck.

god. he knows you mean it. and that’s what makes him feel like a dickhead.

‘me too, i- i lo-’ he struggles, just as your palm reaches up to cover his mouth.

‘i know ryo, i know’ you whisper, placing your forehead against his, both of you basking in the quietness of the surrounding.

geto suguru ‘fuckin-! ah shit! some insane grip you have on me baby. can’t move if you clench and lock me up like that’ he smirks against your neck.

‘and a bit quiet today ain’t ya? you sure had a lot to say to satoru earlier heh’ he remarks.

‘we were just catching up suguru, nothing-! nothing more’ you whine.

‘catching up you say? does catching up require smiles and touches? do they angel baby?’ he raises his eyebrows.

‘no..’ you avert your eyes away from his.

‘that’s what i thought. so for that, now you pay’ he pulls out suddenly, and pushes all the way back in making you yelp out loud.

‘sugu! ah fuck, i don’t think i can go another round baby. s’too much!’ the pressure was starting to get to you and you were starting to lose stability.

‘hah, i know you can baby, this slutty pussy’s all you’re good for anyway. fuck, doesn’t matter whose it is, as long as you’re filled. am i right?’ his words pierced straight through your heart.

since when did he-?

out of reflex, your hands reach out to touch his face to make sure that this was a dream nightmare. otherwise there’s no way he-

‘don’t touch me with those filthy hands’ he spits but makes no effort to push your hand off.

‘do you really think that’s all i’m good for?’ your voice is soft, filled with pain, and suddenly it’s like he’s broken out of his trance.

what the fuck am i doing, he thought.

slowly he pulls out, all whilst holding your hand against his cheek.

‘absolutely not. no. fuck, did not mean it angel. i promise. i- i don’t know what came over me-! didn’t mean it. please i’m sorry. next time if i ever lose my shit with you, i want you to take the nearest sharp object and plunge it into my chest’ he heaves out a guttural sigh.

‘you were really mean you know..’ you wipe your eyes.

‘i know baby, fuck. i didn’t mean it. i did not mean it. i’ll never do it again princess, ever’ he repeats.

his face lands on your chest, thanking all the gods and the stars out there for giving him another chance.

he’ll never screw up again and that’s a promise.

nanami kento ‘you really couldn’t wait for a few hours? just had to go and think with your cunt, right? have you no- ugh! no shame?’ his thrusts were sloppy as his hands were placed around your hips.

‘kento- slow down baby, i- i don’t think i can last’ you whine, hands clutching at the sheets.

‘no. you asked for this you little slut. so shut. the. fuck. up. and take it!’ each syllable was accompanied by a harsh thrust.

the usually composed, sweet and calm nanami was nowhere to be found. he’s never once called you a ‘slut’ and what caused this? you rubbing him through his pants and riling him up at his office dinner earlier tonight.

he warned you off multiple times but did you listen? no.

‘why are you so quiet now? i thought this is what you wanted’ his voice comes out raspy and cold.

a quiet but audible whimper escaped your lips, making him halt his actions.

slowly he pulled out, gently laying you on your back as your body shook with each sob.

‘sweetheart…? why are you…’

you look up at him, eyes puffy and swolllen ‘i’m sorry kento, it’s just that, you’re never home these days and i missed you so much’ a cry that’s sure to crack his heart leaves your lips.

‘i just wanted you all to myself for tonight but i didn’t mean to be a bother-’

his warm body hovers over yours, ‘you’re never a bother baby. always know that. you will always be at the top of every and any list i make. there’s nothing more i want than coming home to you everyday after work. and i didn’t mean to lash out at you. you didn’t deserve that, i’m sorry’ he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.

‘you will always have me sweetheart, never forget that. now let me make it up to you yeah?’

[screampied]

Wait…

Using a vibrator on Choso??? Need this… so bad… 😫

Listened to an audio like this and it gave me the idea

Need a vibrator on his 🍆 asap 🙏 🙏

May vegas, goddess of smut, answer my prayers 🙏

using a vibrator on choso ★

warnings. fem! reader, praise, toy usage, ōrgasm control, whiney choso, mdni.

“y- you wanna use that?” choso gulps with an almost chagrined grin. he didn’t exactly mind, especially whenever you wanted to try new things with him underneath the sheets. you’d just gotten done from riding him and he’s catching a few breaths whilst in the midst of speaking to you. with sable irises pooling into you, he then sighs, “how would you even do it? aren’t you supposed to um rub it against there?”

as he says that, his eyes avert right between your legs before he sits against your lap. his head lowers itself back while he gets comfortable, a low huff withdrawing from his rosé-colored lips.

“like how you use it on me,” you hum, picking up the wireless wand. slender finds of yours wrap around it before swiping a thumb against the button to power it on. he stares in awe, gazing at how it’s on the lowest level. choso inhales shortly afterwards, hearing the tumultuous bzzzzing of the toy, pulses of his heart steadily racing. “i’ll just rub it against your tip. can i do that, baby?”

“y-yes,” he nods immediately, sprawling out his legs a bit. the way he instantly responds was so cute—practically cutting you off, barely giving you a chance to finish your words. if it’s with you, he’d never mind. your touch, choso’s ultimate weakness. out of the countless enemies he’s been in combat with, the simplicity of your touch was his far worst enemy he’d never win a match with. with hitched breaths, strands of his ponytails tickling against your skin, he whines. “use it on me, baby. please, just- just hold my hand, ‘kay?”

you hum in response, intertwining your fingers with his as he relaxes against your chest.

“okay, cho,” and your voice was so smooth. he could listen to it all day, the sweetness underneath it had his heart swooning every time you spoke. he’s breathing softly, awaiting for you to do what you spoke. you’re slow, delicately hovering the vibrator before making it graze gently against his tip. immediately, he lets off a whimper.

the vibrations, it’s enough to make his teeth shatter. his whines, even something as simple as his whines was so mellifluous. a tune you’d never want to stop listening to. “how’s it feel baby?”

“f-fuck, ‘m gonna cum already,” he swallows, you’re barely placing the toy over his cockhead and he’s already a mess. the best way to describe it was that it tickled. he couldn’t help but wonder, whenever you used these things on yourself, did you feel like this too? choso swallows an imaginary creeping lump that’s stuck against the roof of his mouth before he starts to quaver. he’s so cute—within seconds, he was already so vocal. he bites down on his lip before another free hand of his squeezes your inner thigh. “hah, i-it feels good. feels really good, princess.”

you simper to yourself, pressing a kiss near the crown of his head. in a gingerly circular motion, you start to move the vibrator all around his cock. he’s a mess, you’re doing nothing but sending choso into straight convulsions.

“so whiny,” you tease, and he’s always been one to be dramatic with his whines and whimpers but he couldn’t help it. this entire new feeling, it was euphoric. you start to tease a bit further, leaning in to kiss the long slope of choso’s neck. he was gonna melt into your hands. you had him right where you wanted him. “you’re doing so good, baby. hold my hand. i got you.”

“t- turn it up a level please.” he mewls out, darkened brows compressing into a firm furrow. his pouty expression only grows, glancing down at his leaky tip that was smothered with pre-cum.

you inch the toy away from his shaft, kissing more down his neck to hear him moan. his entire body, it was frigid and cold— yet the moment your lips paint against his skin like an empty canvas, he’s suddenly hot everywhere.

“another level, choso? you can handle that?” and oh, your words were so sly and salacious. the particular tone that you spoke, you were gonna be the death of him entirely,

“y-yes, i can take another notch. please just, f-fuck me, feels good. make me feel so good,” and his babbles were adorable. continuously, choso swallows, strained breaths pulling out of his full lungs before he bites his lip—this time, harder. “god, i need it so bad. n-need you, only you c-can make me feel this good, baby.”

“mmm that’s right, ‘cho,” you pepper a plethora of more chaste kisses down his neck. he moans from more of your touch.

he had highly sensitive skin, he craves your lips more than anything. especially whenever you’d be an even bigger tease, nipping a few bites towards his precious collarbone. with a thumb, you press the button to go up a higher level and he starts whining louder. you run the front part of the hitachi all around his throbbing head, near the peeling part of his frenulum and he’s losing it. choso’s mouth dangles opens, only the sounds of sweet whimpers leaving . . nothing else. “you’re such a good boy, my good boy right?”

once he hears those words— his heart flutters, with shaky lips, he moans out a sweet, “all yours, ‘m your g-good boy, fuuuck,” and the grip he has against your hand squeezes much tighter. a thumb of his brushes against your palm before he’s almost going limp against your chest. “not gonna l-last. ‘m gonna cum, can— may i cum? don’t wanna make a mess unless y-you say it’s okay, princess. ‘m not a messy boy.”

“but you are a messy boy, silly,” you tease, starting to suck near the center crevices of his neck. he was so weak for you.

the friction—it was merely worthy enough to make his teeth shatter.

choso’s panting accelerates and his legs start to jitter at a rapid speed. “you wanna cum, baby? wanna make a mess for me ‘n let me clean it up for you?”

his eyelids grew heavy. your lovely voice,

your voice alone was enough to make him shoot out such ropes of white. everything was a blur, his entire body overtook itself with a feverish fervor feeling. he’s so hot, clouds of breath remain to slip past his lips before he nods.

“yeah, yeah y-yeah,” and his voice is cracking. the toy’s right near the side of his dick now, then it travels its way down to his base— then back up towards his beloved head.

“oh, oh my,” he hiccups, and he really loses it once you let go of his hand to stroke him off. “baby, f-fuck, ‘m hard. so hard, gonna c-cum ‘n get your hand all dirty.”

“give it to me baby, ‘s okay.” you purr against the shell of his ear.

one hand of yours gives his cock a few solid pumps whilst another is smearing the vibrating wand against his cum-glossed tip repeatedly.

choso kisses his teeth at your words of encouragement and he feels like he’s floating. in fact, he feels like he’s soaring— it’s in a way he can’t really explain, it scratches such a good itch in his brains that the neurons stored inside couldn’t even fathom his incoming release either.

he loves whenever you stroke him, why— mainly because you always do it better than himself.

the way your hands wrap around his fat length, fisting his cock gently around your fingers. choso’s eyes start to roll back before he cums.

“f-fuck fuuuuck.” he stammers, feeling the spurts shoot out in such creamy volume. it’s so thick, some of it dribbles down from his tip and lands on your hand. still heaving heavily, he’s still slumped back against your chest before he hears you turn off the toy, tossing it aside. he’s trying to catch his breath, eyelids still droopy before he turns around to pull you into a deep, sultry kiss.

you giggle—a smile stretching against your lips as you throw an arm around him, embracing in his savory, sweet taste. he’s still all exposed, tip all sticky and leaky with seed. choso tastes sweet, sweet as in he’s been dying to taste you all day.

a tongue of his rummages through your mouth, briefly sucking on yours before he whines once he feels your hands roam. you go back to stroking him and he melts into your touch, pulling away from your lips and burying his face into your neck.

“awww,” you whisper, bringing both arms to hug him tightly. as big as he was, it was as if you were the big spoon.

he’s vigorously trembling, still sensitive from his recent release. it felt so good he didn’t know just what words to get out. as you play with the cute bows he allowed you to tie on his two ponytails, you move your head to give him a kiss on his cheek. “you did so good, baby. such a good boy.”

“i . . i want more,” he mutters, cupping both sides of your face suddenly. you stare into his eyes, almost giggling again before he presses a wet kiss on your mouth. again, and again, and again until your lips are all plump and swollen.

alas, he was serious though. whenever choso gets that instant feral look in his eyes, that’s it.

“what do you want, choso?” you hum, a thumb stroking against the minuscule bristles that reside against his structured jawline.

“you,” he whimpers, licking underneath your neck. you gnaw your bottom lip, feeling a hand of his pry its way between your legs before his head lowers. you watch, and he gets a face full view of your panties. choso pouts, sliding your underwear to the side before glancing up at you— a single soft kiss goes against your now exposed cunt before he sighs. “i’m s-so thirsty. let me make you feel good too, baby. please.”

[bitchimasnake-sss]

I wanna see how the monster trip would react to their partner begging for round two..

maybe I'm just dirty or smth but I really wanna see Sanji's nose bleed /j

ahaha making sanji nosebleed is kinda my passion /hj

🌙thinkin' about: the monster trio! vs round two!

cw: pussydrunk boys. nsfw thoughts include: cunnilingus, creampie, overstimulation, cocky men, doin' it raw. oh, and pussydrunk men. okay, thats it. MDNI OR ILL HUNT YOUR PETTY ASSES. m.list

monkey d. luffy:

❤️monkey d. luffy knew — from the bottom of his heart — that you were the girl of his dreams. there was no doubt about that. the way you smiled at him, the way you pouted when he would annoy you, the way you happened to lecture him when he would act reckless. you were his, no doubt. ❤️but holy fucking shit. looking at you all bleary-eyed and tongue-tied, he almost felt his heart rip him apart whole. looking up at him with such a desperate look that it almost knocked the wind right of his lungs and replaced the air he breathed with something much more sinister. what did you want of him? he was all yours from the very start. ❤️covered in sheen, strands of jet-black clung to his forehead and his heavy breath fanned over you spent face. his cock had stayed buried within you despite painting your walls white a few minutes prior. despite making you cum twice already. shifting his weight on his elbows, he bent down to press open-mouthed kisses all over your pretty face. and as he felt weak nails breaking the skin of his biceps, his eyes met yours, "what's wrong, peach?" "l-luff," your voice stuttered, and he almost grinned at the the sweet falsetto, "hm?" "'nother round, please?" ❤️and how could monkey d. luffy say no to the girl of his dreams? grinning ear to ear, his larger palm intertwined against your weak ones. bringing you dainty palm up to his lips, he pressed down a messy kiss just as his hips pistoned into your cushiony heat, "ah ah, luffy. fuck—" "shh." a delirious smile on his face, lust-induced haze in his eyes, and your name on his lips, "don't need'ta say twice, baby."

roronoa zoro:

💚as a swordsman, roronoa zoro revered himself to be a man that could mask all emotions, all calculations behind a stoic look-of-stone. but were you so well-versed in him that you could read his mind? seemed like that since you were begging for the very thing he was ready to give. "zo." you looked over your shoulder, a stern twinge in your words despite your trembling lips and teary eyes, "again, please." "ha-hah, again?" his thumb circled your twitching clit, enjoying the way you squirmed under him with every wicked swipe over your overstimulated cunt. faux concern on his tongue, he teased you, "think you can handle it?" "yes. another round, please." bobbing your head up and down so fast, looking back at him with such raw emotion that he felt a lump in his heart where you were. fuck, why did you have to be so pretty? 💚snuggling his face deeper into the crook of your neck, his heady words accompanied the frenzied touches across your swollen clit, "might regret it later when you can't walk." "i don' care, zo— want you." you whined, your sweet voice so close to his ears. and who does he think he is that he can say no to you? nothing. he's a fool at your hands, always. 💚 and you should really be careful what you wished for. because as the swordsman dragged his tip all the way out just to push it right back in all of a sudden jolted you forward. your moans muffled as you bit down the pillow, "s-slow down, zo— ngh fu—" "c'mon," he purred, words strained as he tried to maintain whatever sanity he had, "you asked for this."

vinsmoke sanji:

he has a nosebleed as soon as you call out his name in that weak voice of yours but let's pretend he's got game. 💙vinsmoke sanji treated you like you were glass in battles. scared of out his wits that one wayward shove, one reckless pull and you would shatter. but what a fucking hypocrite he was! becausr right now, he was the one wrecking you. experienced fingers curling within your plushy heat, his tongue toying with your swollen clit as his eyes watched the woman over him fall apart. "hah, fuck." you panted, walls clenching around his fingers dangerously as nectar pooled from your divine body down his greedy throat. he almost felt himself come undone as your feeble voice called out his name. 💙he knew the routine by now. vinsmoke sanji would lap away at you like a man starve as you will try to pry him off by squirming and pulling his hair. in retaliation, he would grab your thighs harder and continue eating you out till you cried out his name loud enough for everyone to hear. simple enough, right? 💙but right now as he looked up at you, he didn't find you clenching your eyes and trying to pry him off. instead, you met his eyes with a hungry glint. reddened, kiss-bitten lips commanding him, "sanji, again." "hm?" his eyes widened, and as he pulled back, your slick shined on his lips and jaw. he looked up, grinning like the devil, "what did you say, my love?" at his sudden inspection, your throat closed up. voice growing weak, feeble, "a-again?" he answered by sinking his face back against your heat. and the last thing you heard before you lost all semblance of sanity was a rough rumble of, "again."

a/n: NOT PROOFREAD, IM LEGIT GOING OUT WITH FRIENDS IN LIKE 2 MINS AND I NEEDED TO POST THIS BEFORE I LEAVE AAAAAH anyways. ahem, ahem. am i ever gonna get tired of these men? no. so, just enjoy. okay, a genuine question: should i add ace, law to my usual roster [i.e. the monster trio]? i love writing ace so i'm just finding excuses lmaoo and with law, i think it'll give me good practice before i transition into long fics for him. let me know what you think lol. credits: @rookthornesartistry for the dividers! tagging: @mist-ixx [let me know if you'd like to be in the taglist!] m.list

[lurochar]

The Shadow will Play

'Behave'? What did that mean?

In which Alastor’s shadow "plays" with you and you find out something very interesting about your lover.

Alastor’s Shadow x Reader

18+ MDNI

Part 2

‐-------------------

“Behave.”

It had been his Master's orders and he was trying so hard to abide by them, but you were just making it so difficult for him!

What exactly did ‘behave’ mean? It's not like his Master gave any examples in which he could follow through.

Did ‘behave’ mean not going out and slaughtering a few unlucky Sinners?

Did ‘behave’ mean not pulling a few pranks on the hotel residents and staff?

Or did ‘behave’ mean not getting amorous with his Master's lover?

(Shouldn't he be able to touch? He was a very part of Master after all).

It seemed that his Master had not told you to behave as you were touching him freely, causing him to shudder from your pleasant warmth.

“You're so cute~” You always did love how affectionate Alastor’s shadow was as it rubbed against you like a giant cat. “Is there anything you want to do today? I don't think Alastor will be back until tonight.”

The shadow tilted its head before its grin widened and it let out a series of chirps. It pushed you back on you and Alastor’s bed, cooing as you let out a surprised noise when it clamored over top of you, “W-what are you doing?”

The shadow's tail wagged as it thought back to the times where he was just a voyeur when you and his Master engaged in intimacy and knew he wanted to draw those pretty sounds from you.

“W-woah!” Your eyes widened when the shadow eagerly began to pull down your pants, probably ripping parts in the process with its claws. “Did Alastor put you up to this?”

The shadow paused for the briefest of seconds before chattering, nodding its head as it finally managed to rip your pants off.

“Well, if he’s okay with it…” You muttered, shivering slightly when you felt the shadow's two cold hands on each thigh, spreading them as you flushed at the… odd situation you found yourself in.

But if this is something Alastor wanted, then…

You jumped when your panties were practically torn off you and cool fingers were parting your folds. You shut your eyes, expecting to feel discomfort or even pain since you weren't prepared in the least and not at all wet.

The shadow tittered, using his thumb to rub circles around that nub of flesh like his Master did and as expected, you let out one of those pretty sounds that had his ears twitching.

“That… feels good.” You sighed, feeling a heat in your lower belly begin to ignite. You glanced down curiously, aching a bit when its thumb left your clit, moving so its face was directly at your cunt.

Before it could dig in, it reached up, catching you by surprise as it took hold of your arms and placed your hands on its ears, pointing at them and chirping.

“You want me to pet them while you do that?” You asked and received a nod in return. “If you're anything like Alastor, and I'm sure you will be, I'm not sure I'll be able to,” you got a sound that sounded like a huff, “but I'll try! I will!”

The shadow seemed satisfied with that.

The shadow parted your slippery folds again, keeping them spread and it was quick to bury its long tongue in your dripping hole, causing you to shudder.

Like Alastor, it could elongate his tongue.

You groaned, feeling its tongue lap at every little crevice of your pussy, slurping up your slick like a mindless animal, “H-hah, yeah. Oh, r-right.”

You squeezed its ears as promised.

You almost shattered when you felt a small vibration in your core and you barely heard something – a sound that you never heard the shadow make before and once more, to be sure, you squeezed the shadow's ears.

Again, there was that sound and that oh-so good vibration and with the absolute tongue fucking you were getting, you were gonna cum with that next one.

But that sound – what was it and why was it familiar?

The shadow ears twitched when you squeezed them again, hearing your moans while your legs spasmed around his cold body and he tried the best he could to lap up your slick as your hole clenched around his tongue.

Your noises were so pretty~♡

(He wanted more).

It took a few moments for you to gather your senses as you slowly sat up, seeing the grinning shadow practically make heart eyes at you.

But before that, you needed an answer to a question (and possibly, another answer to another question).

“That noise you made when I touched your ears, was that a deer bleat?” You asked, causing the shadow to nod and you to be taken back for a second.

 ‘I’ve touched them before, and Alastor or his shadow has never made that sound, so maybe it's just a sex thing?’ 

“If I touch Alastor’s ears during sex, would he bleat too?” You asked, thinking back and you always wondered why your lover seemed dead set on you not touching his ears during intimate times, but you had just respected his wishes and never went beyond that.

The shadow nodded.

“That’s so cute~!” You smiled brightly, bringing the shadow in for a hug and it purred, tail wagging, “Thank you for telling me this! How can I repay you?” You almost regretted asking as the shadow immediately pounced on you, ready for more of you.

His Master wouldn't be back until night, after all.

[l3mtea]

If you want some story behind this comic, it’s just below this lil comic <3

Oh.

His quiet reverie shatters when pieces of odd moments he’s had with the fallen are forming together like a jigsaw puzzle fitting on each other perfectly.

His reckless actions to gain favor of the fallen’s emotion and attention, his unusual chattiness whenever a squabble with the king begins. Disagreeing and debating such nonsensical topics that he wouldn’t even dare to try and win over but becomes possible if it’s against the king.

Such mundane things became a thrill of joy whenever it was with the king.

The fallen has been slowly becoming a reason for his enjoyment, his everything that makes living in hell all the more fun.

He can never get over the expressions the king shows only at him, his fake smiles will always disappear when it comes to him.

It’s truly a joy.

And that brings him down to a revelation he wished he should’ve not known.

He likes Lucifer.

Terrifyingly, maybe even more so than he’d like to admit.

This revelation might change his view on Lucifer, in a lot of ways if he’s being honest.

But he throws this knowledge out of his mind. He’ll get over it someday. He’s sure of it.

Months went on and slowly, he realized he and the king had some similarities— or something they both have in agreement at least.

Lucifer likes his jokes. It was surprising, really. He simply remarked an off-handed pun towards his colleagues with expectations of none showing such enthusiasm on his jokes— except one did.

He hears the fallen snicker and laughs quietly. A sound he’d unexpectedly find lovely to his ears. A music that he can never get rid of even until today.

It became his purpose to make jokes and make the king laugh— and he didn’t regret doing so.

He tells a silly joke and the king laughs loud, his head falling back and smiling brightly at him, a golden blush spreading across his porcelain face.

It’s a beautiful sight.

“You’re not so bad for yourself, Alastor.” It was a first for the fallen to call his name properly. It’s a lovely ring he’d like to hear again.

“Likewise, sire.”

More months went on and— oh. How stupid he was.

He didn’t mean to utter such a silly thing— towards a being powerful than him no less.

“I like your dumb smile.” He didn’t mean to blurt out his thoughts loud for the king to hear. But he simply laughs at it.

“You do? Stop joking bambi.” A joke. He thought of it as a joke.

“Apologies, the mood was slowly going sour and I couldn’t help but jest a bit.”

“Oh shut up.”

‘Would you believe me if I say I like you?’

• • • •

“Lucifer.” He couldn’t help it. He can’t help but be a fool towards the fallen.

“Al? What is it?” He asks, now smiling at him. He wished for more out of this relationship he cultivated for years now.

“I’d like to confess something.” There was an odd trepidation gripping on his chest. He hates this feeling.

“Confess? Wow that’s a pretty deep word,” an awkward chuckle comes out of him, “whaddya want to say?”

“I like you, Lucifer.” A beat of silence.

“.. what?” He watches him back away slightly, an awkward laugh, “You’re joking, right?”

..

“I’m afraid not, sire.”

“Al, I— uh, I’m sorry. I don’t feel the same way.”

“.. I understand.”

“I’m sorry.” And he runs off.

..

Hah..

So this is a feeling that Vox felt when he rejected him?

Did he also think that he’d wish he died at the very moment when he realized that the friendship they’ve had for years were gone in a blink all for a stupid selfish act such as he is right now?

[brynn-lear]

Sugar Pills (Yandere!Capitano/Reader)

Questionable Overview: You're getting real tired of Dottore's theatrics. Which is a great shame, considering how it's only now that Capitano learns the value of surface acting and masking. (from my series: #Capitano's So-Called Liability)

CW/Tags: there is no "real" age gaps since this is a Howl's Moving Castle scenario, slowburn/soft yandere themes, afab!reader, mild violence. While this fic isn't "too dark", the reader isn't mentally stable. Please prioritize your mental health first, you matter.

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When coming up with a proposal, you've learned that it's best to approach a harbinger when they're in the middle of an arms race. It's been ages since you've applied this knowledge, but luckily, dusting off memories of yesteryears isn't challenging.

"Can't even spare me a proper welcome?" You yawned, dropping a beaten and dead fatuus just inches away from an unforgettable metal-laced shoe. The sound of their empty vision clunked on the hard floor. "I might not be as much in the spotlight these days, dear, but isn't it good manners to greet your elders properly when they visit?"

The aforementioned shoe brushed the body away. "Hah. You make a terrible habit of flaunting that cosmetic age of yours."

And yet, there you stood, glaring with a smug head up high. No ordinaire can don the demeanor you flaunt in front of the second-ranked harbinger. You'll always keep the cloak-and-dagger act. Dramatics are second nature to those who earn their keep through blood money. You only saw it right to greet him with a more appropriate entrance. Bold and unfaltering in resolve.

"And you have a great habit of looking younger with each passing day," you feigned a chirpy tone. "Isn't that right, Doctor?"

Behind a crow's mask, crimson eyes bore holes into your very being.

Since you received that "birthday present" from him, he had sent out men to secretly nag you behind the Captain's back. They ask you why you haven't taken the medicine at best and attempt to drug you at worst. This rendezvous had been going on for weeks. Enough times that could manifest anger and murderous intent out of you until it did.

After reaching the limit of your patience, you murdered the last person to spike your perfectly fine water, took his vision and portable waypoint, and teleported to his master harbinger's base. Too much work just to get someone to stop pestering you.

The feeling is mutual. Il Dottore— the last of his perspective— also found your presence troublesome.

The second-ranked harbinger spent his "free" time in a painfully bright, pale room. He likes to dub this phase a "recovery state." Typically, there would be plenty of "him" to go around— but striking a deal for a gnosis always beckons a great deal of self-sacrifice. Or self-sacrifice-s. 

Hence why you pushed to visit him this instance. Despite his placid demeanor, you're confident he's eager to prove that there's a method to his madness. Oneself is always the greatest competitor. 

A proper arms race. 

"You know very well that I do not take youth as a compliment," he retorted, though his tone was considerably friendly. He made repeated tapping motions on his armchair, almost impatiently. "What trivial matter have you dared to interrupt my brainstorming session with? Speak now— I'll let you know I'm engaged with matters of greater significance."

"I've done my due diligence of personally replying to your last letter." You glared down at your last victim. "Consider this my thanks."

Without tearing your gaze away, you fished the medicine from your coat and threw it at his chest with all your might. The bottle shattered on the floor.

Greatly "offended" by your rude antics, Dottore defeatedly abandoned his scrawls and turned to properly look at you.

"You decided to skip the pills. How delightfully reckless of you, Granny (Y/n)." He sardonically smiled.

At least he has the decency to name you correctly.

You rolled your eyes as you approached. Once you were just a foot away, you stabbed the corpse's head once more with your cane's pointed base— the force harsh enough to splatter the livor mortis flesh and brain matter on the floor of his beloved laboratory.

What an unnecessarily extreme scene, befitting of your old title.

"I grow tired of your games, Zandik." You spat back. "Must you constantly send your men to make futile attempts to lace my food with your de-aging concoction? I don't appreciate discarding their bodies— much less some perfectly fine meals."

If Capitano were here, he would've made a vague comment about how your value on human life is concerning.

But he doesn't have to know about this interaction.

"You complain about my work, yet I vaguely recall an era in your life in which you'd routinely wake up screaming like a rooster in the morning." Dottore shrugged and pointed to himself. "And who provided you with a cure-all for those night terrors? Go on. I would be enthused to know."

You crossed your arms. The jaded look in your eyes heightened his interest. Hence, Dottore stood up, his footsteps crunching the shattered glass strewn about.

"Let me wager a proper hypothesis for this ...irrational behavior. A possible psychological or existential leaning toward death may be at the root of the patient's ongoing resistance to the recommended treatment." He craned his head like a bird inspecting its prey. "In simpler terms for meager minds like yours to understand: you're not accepting my charity since you wish to die. Is that right?" 

Dottore is a reasonable man. Disarmingly charming, even.

This particular segment just hates you.

You smiled back, returning the same malice.

"Who knows?" You tapped the beak of his mask. "Doesn't matter. I didn't come here to get psycho-analyzed. I came here because I want to strike a deal."

Dottore paused.

"I had a prediction that you would ensnare me with a gambit. No small wonder that Omega has found you a captivating individual, (Y/n)."

Many miss the fact that the good Doctor has a "seductive" air about him. He has a charisma that people will either dismiss in fear or fall victim to. You're part of the secret third group— the coworkers immune to his antics.

"Yes, well, I do pride myself on hosting the best picnics by the meadows of Ardravi Valley." You spoke, voice oozing with the same playful banter you once reserved for his deceased copy. "I've got no abundance in lifespan like you. I'd dare say I'm selling myself at a very limited-time offer."

However, this Dottore was not the one you befriended. This was his murderer.

"Playing the card of wisdom with that appearance may fool the world, but you can't dissuade me." Dottore clicked his tongue. "Are you mimicking Sohreh?"

What a surprisingly plain question.

You shrugged. "Am I?"

Feigning impassivity while he could, the Doctor placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Talk."

"I've only one wish, which is for you to stop being such a nuisance." You scoffed. "What can I do to get you to stop trying to make me your side experiment, Doctor?"

Intuition rarely fails you. You knew that this was a matter that could be reasoned with. The problem is that you needed to figure out what your bargaining chip would be. But by the look on his face, he had already sorted that out minutes, maybe even months, before you arrived.

His hand that once hovered on your shoulder slowly snaked towards your neck.

"I have a proposal," Dottore spoke softly.

You hardened your expression. "Spill."

"I can assist you in experiencing that honorable death you craved so much— at the right time and place." Using his thumb, he applied mild pressure against your throat. "However, I'll need you to befriend the upcoming tourists in Natlan."

You blinked.

… What a strange request.

"Befriend… The tourists?" You grabbed his intrusive hand, yanking it away. "What are you on about?"

"Under favorable circumstances, I would have had a copy extract these, but the old conventional tools are unavailable."

"But why?" You raised an eyebrow. "Dear, I just can't quite wrap my head around why this is the gamble you're betting your chips on—"

"And that is precisely why The Tsaritsa dubbed you La Ruffiana and not a respectable title," Dottore smirked, chuckling lowly. "Hence, I'll gladly elucidate you with brief guide questions in a language you're sure to comprehend."

"I'd rather we both save time by revealing the answer, pronto."

Since you had forgotten to let go of his wrist, he used your grip to pull you closer to him.

"Tell me, (Y/n), during the Sumeru fiasco…" With faces just inches away from each other, he tilted and teased your ear with his breath. "Who, indeed, served as the paramount subject in my quest to engineer a being that transcends even the might of the archons?"

… Who?

You placed a hand on his chin to create a respectable distance. "Child, I really hate to say this, but the world doesn't just spin around you and your little experiments. I wouldn't know a thing about that poor, nameless puppet you're on about. But if I had to take a wild guess, you're talking about that man you went and turned into a sorry excuse for an All-Knowing God, aren't you?"

Dottore grinned, baring his sharp teeth.

"I perceive that our memories from that period have been tampered with. Nevertheless, your hypothesis remains merely superficial. There exists an individual whom I regard as the genuine subject of this experiment. Would you toss one last conjecture?"

…

You let out a strangled air, unable to properly articulate your disbelief.

It's the traveler. Of course, it's her.

Dottore aspires to transform humans into gods, yet his attempts have thus far been in vain. Save for one young woman who sought refuge in both Mondstadt and Sumeru, all subjects have perished during testing. In your days as a harbinger, you've watched others toil over the vulneraries and prosthetics the Doctor would jam into them. Your visit to certain hospitals by the desert is your testimony to his apathy. He is driven by relentless curiosity, never pausing for the ethical implications of his research, but would spend hours on the feasibility of his experiments.

You were relieved when you heard he used an inorganic lifeform in his last experiment. But if that was a mere dud, then…

"Don't tell me— all this time, your real goal revolved around how the traveler could ascend into Godhood?" You gawked. "So whatever that puppet was, is nothing more than a self-fulfilling prophecy in failure? Your experiments in blasphemy will always find new ways to make me utterly sick."

You flinched as Dottore caressed your cheek. It wasn't the contact that shocked you.

It was the respect in his eyes.

"Hmm... About a year ago, you'd make conscious efforts to bite your tongue. I must remark that I am fascinated with the concerning spike of confidence your senile age brings."

"Things change." You mocked him. "You should try growing older. About a year ago, I wouldn't have this deal with you, too."

With that, the verbal contract was set into motion.

"We'll keep in touch."

He pulled away.

You scoffed. "If I believed in Celestia, I would've prayed you'd become a decent person."

"How unfortunate that you'll need a stronger God to achieve that ambition," Dottore laughed. "And materializing a stronger God is precisely part of my current objectives."

This heretic.

"I see now why you and Capitano are far too different to be colleagues."

You glared.

"Have your glory. You may receive everything— the ego in victory— the spoils of war. Celestia may even watch you steal the blessings of ascension. But you have no honor. You live with no happiness."

You grumbled while you walked away. The erratic sound of your cane reflected the rhythm of your anger and disgust. Before you left, you gave him one high note to end on.

"You dance with no music."

As soon as you were out of the vicinity, Dottore quickly returned to his near-incoherent scrawling.

"I'd rather be a fool who performs for no one," he grinned, his stomach tucking in from stifled laughter. "Than a blabbering grandmother scared of sugar pills."

"(Y/N)!!!"

Upon your supposedly quiet return to the inn, you were greeted by a pair of large hands squeezing your cheeks with trembling worry.

"I told you to call me Granny—"

"Where have you been?!" He tilted your head, inspecting for wounds like an incompetent father. His strength would usually cause grief, but you've grown used to this. It's a sensation that's hard to hate.

His hands are rough but not unkind.

"When I awoke, I realized you were not in your room." He spoke, evident that he was reeling himself from rambling. Been a long while since you saw his long and gorgeous hair this messy. "Had I not instructed you not to wander alone without one of our men at your side."

The inn's staff whispered among themselves while his men stiffly avoided gazing at you two. You cringe at everyone's bloodshot eyes. There's more room to pity the Natlan locals— they didn't ask to be involved. Capitano ordered a search party this late on your behalf when there was zero need for it. The attention was getting embarrassing.

You should've known that he'd notice your absence.

Damn it. You were barely gone for half an hour.

"Steel yourself, child. I don't need your men to coddle me." Months have passed, and he has yet to accept that you do not have a respectable position as a personal assistant. "I can wander around Natlan as safe as I please, kid. Are you seriously doubting my strength?"

That dirty tactic sobered him up.

"You know that isn't so." Capitano sighed, letting you go. "I know you're plenty capable, however..."

"Need I remind you that before the incident, I was originally the Harbinger tasked with retrieving the pyro gnosis?" You shook your head, feigning disappointment. "You should know by now that I've studied this place's typography and wildlife. No encounter could shock and harm me— even with these old bones."

"It's precisely why I worry over you," Capitano glared slightly. "With your curse, you could've been marked by foes out there."

"I didn't go anywhere far. I was just sightseeing."

"That explanation doesn't wash. I saw the glow of a portable waypoint when you came back."

… How observant. That's the first ranked harbinger for ya, you supposed.

"Okay, maybe I went home for a bit, so what?" You pouted. "It's a bit too warm in here for my liking."

The inn's staff immediately froze up.

"N-Not that it's bad, of course!" You laughed nervously. Ah, shit, let's not involve them. "It's my fault 'cause I didn't raise that concern with them. Old ladies such as myself are so stubborn. Hmm, hmm!"

Gradually, Capitano relaxed.

"I understand. At least, I'll choose to understand your fib for now."

"Not quite out of the cage yet, am I?" You joked.

"Not at all." Capitano exhaled softly, a hand barely covering his gentle smile. His voice made it painfully apparent that you're off the hook.

He's such a terrible liar.

Before you could comment on this, Capitano reached out his hand.

"Come with me." He wagged his fingers towards him, beckoning you to come closer. "Let's continue our conversation somewhere private."

Out of the 11 harbingers and those who had come and gone, you know Capitano the most.

"I didn't realize Natlan nights can be cold." You spoke thoughtlessly.

He stared at you blankly. "Cold enough to prevent you from running back home, clearly."

"Ah."

And likewise, he knows you best as well.

You digressed in an instant. "Why did you bring me here, Little Captain?"

You stood by a cliff, staring at the quiet night in the humble town. There's a noticeable increase of guards on patrol since the Fatui arrived in Natlan, but with Capitano as the lead, you saw no reason for their alarm. Obviously, Capitano didn't bring you here to make that observation. Judging from how his stare is on the ground and not the beautiful sight, public perception is pushed at the back of his mind.

"Your cane…" He whispered.

"What about it?"

"You forgot to wash the blood away."

Inspecting the cane without lifting it, you realize what he meant.

"Oh."

"Who was it?" His voice sounded a bit more stern.

Your eyebrows furrowed. "Who was what?"

There was a shift in the air.

"Who attacked you?"

…

You laughed uncontrollably.

"W-What?! Pfft— puh-lease! No one attacked me." You poked his helmet. He stared you down, unamused. "No-bo-dy."

Capitano has yet to let his anger go. He spoke steadily, but he wasn't fooling you. "I'll ask once more: who attacked you?"

"Don't tell me your memory is worse than this old lady's," you clicked your tongue. "I just told you, it's nobody."

Capitano shifted his foot down slightly. "Elena reported that you were assaulting a fatuus with your cane in an isolated dining area."

Curses. You thought you were alone. To be caught by Elena, of all people? Your senses must be dulling.

"Well, one of your men— I suppose— was disrespecting their elders."

"I ordered a headcount. None of my men have gone missing." Capitano crossed his arms. "Besides, they know better than aggravating my most prized assistant."

Should've known that lie won't fly.

"Okay, maybe it wasn't one of your men." Obviously it was Dottore's, but you bit your tongue. "But you should know I'm a polarizing figure in the Fatui. I heard someone say that getting rid of me is a noble act cause they'd be removing your right from employing an absolute loser."

"(Y/n), where did you get those ideas?"

Honestly? Straight out of your 'lovely' imagination. If not inspired by Pantalone's past remarks as well— just cruder.

It’s almost commendable how easy it is to assume everyone is out to get you. The work environment certainly helps. A strange grin or remark is sufficient to validate any doubts. Probably illogical for you to live life this way. You're aware enough that not every whisper is about you and that not every grin hides some hidden agenda, yet the uncertainties still seep in so effortlessly that it almost seems like breathing.

You've yet to find someone who will prove your inherent distrust wrong. That body you hurled at Dottore earlier was no exception.

"Whoever attacked me doesn't matter; I got rid of them."

"I know you did. I don't reserve any doubt whatsoever. That is not the issue at hand." Capitano shook his head, his last words hiding a slight growl. "What I am perturbed by is how you had hidden this from me."

Your eyes widened.

"I-I'm sorry, forgive me, Capitano." You fumbled. "It was genuinely not as big as you think it is. A traitor was in the mist, and I took care of it."

"You were targeted, (Y/n)," Capitano said, nearly whispering as he gently took your hands. No matter how callous he was or how much his skin resembled etched maps, they held yours with great care.

His eyelids drooped slightly, hiding unspoken grief. "You were attacked when I made an oath that I would protect you while you are under my care..."

Capitano's tone softened further, almost withdrawn from hurt.

"I should have been there..."

You've never been one to immediately process emotions in a snap. When you and Capitano share ideas, theories intersect like constellations on Teyvat nights. But that look in his eye? You can't read what he's thinking.

"Why do you fret over it, dearie? Death is but a doorbell away for me." You hummed with a wide smile. "I'll be claimed soon enough. Maybe tonight might even be the night. Oh, honey, it's no skin off the Tsaritsa's back if an old gal like me bites the dust."

…

You have a feeling you said the worst thing imaginable at that moment.

…

Capitano said nothing.

In fact, you'd wager that was on purpose.

There's a glint in his eye. A look that you couldn't place— a dangerous thought you can't hear. It ringed endlessly in his ears, and the slight tremor in his fingertips proved it. His blue eyes stared straight into your soul.

A revelation. An epiphany. A newfound raison d'etre that he refused to let anyone know— you specifically.

Something about him drastically changed.

But that look vanished in an instant.

Capitano's mouth curled upward.

The smile did not reach his eyes. 

"I prefer if it's kind sleep who takes you tonight," Capitano muttered. "Death is far too early for a woman like you."

"A woman like me?" You chuckled. "You meant grandmother, right? And what do you mean by that?"

"A woman like you deserves all the time in the world, not to be taken prematurely. Your spirit is far too bright to be dimmed so soon." He took off his cloak. "Because a woman like you is a woman loved by many."

Capitano wrapped his cloak around you before you realized it. As you looked down, you noticed how much larger his frame was than yours. The cloak reached the floor when you donned it. Though it was night, the cologne he put on reminded you of sun-drenched clothes and steel— but it's possible that this was just Capitano's natural scent.

"I should add cloaks as an interest for your late birthday present." You could practically hear the smile on his face as he said, "It suits you."

Something about the way he sounded was way off now.

The weariness from your conversations with Dottore seemingly washed away. You grabbed a fistful of the cloak and raised it. "I think every tailor in Teyvat would beg to differ."

Capitano chuckled. "Respectfully, they wouldn't know any better."

"And you do?" You raised an eyebrow, but that grin on your face is too difficult to wipe off. "I don't think you know me well, little Captain."

You continued.

"Anyone can learn to like me, but to love me…"

Is devastating.

You trailed off, eyes back on the quiet streets. You've always admired those who teased on the edge of retirement and eternal sleep, their bravery surpassing the young's. They act on reckless abandon, unburdened by the opinions of others. Alice saw this in you, and she knew— deep in her heart— that she'd be more than willing to help you embrace that freedom in whatever form that may take.

Since you became a "grandmother", seemingly everything and nothing has changed. You've pushed away those who pretended to care, only to find that no soul can stand to be with you. Maybe it was a glorious boon or just as the witch said— a desperate cry for help, nothing more. The experience so far taught you things you already knew you hated about yourself that you wondered if this were all for the sake of mastery. Have you destroyed yourself for nothing? Who knows. But you'll continue to take solace that maybe, just maybe, death may end the loneliness you've endured for so long.

But if you so badly chase for death…

"████████."

You looked at him.

"Can I ask for a favor?"

You're going to do it right.

Taglist: @macaronilovingracoon, @lucienbarkbark, @meimeimeirin, @notthefib987, @meowmeowakutagawa

[cupidkyu]

! ALASTOR IN RUT.

sub!reader,gn!reader(as possible),dom!alastor,sub!reader,bunny!reader , mention of blood,praise kink for reader if u kinda squint, alastor is rough in this but he praises u,alastor in rut,alastor owns your soul,dacryphilia if u kinda squint!!!, nicknames (ex.dear, darling),prbly have grammar mistakes, really short+ending lets you imagine the rest,straight to p0rn LMAOO

a/n : help I tried to make this gn reader as possible

MDNI

you were in the hazbin hotel,in your room, doing the paperwork charlie asked you to help with,of course,your 'owner' would check up on you frequently!

this time,he was more late than usual.

realization then kicked you hard,,

he's in a rut

suddenly,you hear a knock on your door,you place your pen on the table and get up from your desk, walking over to the door,,you place your hand on the doorknob and slightly open the door,just enough to peak through.

"why hello,my dearest!" alastor said,his eyebrows furrowed,he looked quite.. distressed? his hair was messier than usual and his ears were twitching, somehow still plastering a huge grin on his face,,

"mind opening the door for me?" he asked, tilting his head,"right-.." you murmured, opening the door like the good pet you are for him. he pushed you aside to get in,his back facing towards the door,,

"lock the door."

♡

,,your face was pressed against the pillow,,sobbing and moaning into it uncontrollably, gosh your noises just made alastor rougher-

"hah—..~ taking me so well,my dear..~ fuck- ah..always so good for me,hm?" he grunted, thrusting inside you, leaning down to leave hickeys on your neck,"always taking me no matter what— ..even if it's for my own pleasure-..~" ,, his praises just made you whimper more,you always get excited when he praises you,you can't help it! ,your fluffy tail just keeps wagging whenever he does,,

pushing inside you,his clawed fingers against your soft skin, drawing blood while you cry so pathetically, gripping onto the sheets,, your tears staining the pillow.

how many rounds has it been? you've lost count,you only know you're filled to the brim, you're absolutely shattered.

"my darling bunny..you feel so good around my cock..~", he said,,he was so animalistic in this state,so rough,but such gentle words,, you're whimpering so helplessly against the sheets,

it's gonna be a long night.

[hxnbi]

⸻ ₊˚Ꮺ ❝ REMEMBER OR FORGET ❞ ﹒﹒wind breaker boys

would they choose to remember or forget your relationship? ft. sakura, umemiya, suo, kaji, sugishita, togame x gn. reader

wanted to try something new and angsty 😅

To FORGET or to REMEMBER. It is a question that haunts our minds from dusk to dawn, from life up to death. It is not simply a choice between black and white. Not when the pain of your existence was ripped away from them…

Would they choose to forget the tenderness of your touch, the affection of your words, the warmth of your embrace on those cold, vulnerable nights? Or would they prefer to remember, to hold onto the bittersweet memories of what you both once were, even as it pains at their chest with every heartbeat?

To remember is to endure the perpetual ache of absence that of the once love that can never be again. But to forget… to forget would be to erase a part of your very soul, to lose the heart of what made him whole.

Each is a double-edged sword—both a blessing and a curse. But what if they had a choice? To chose to either remember or forget.

The clock is ticking. So, what's their answer?

SAKURA would choose to 「 forget 」

Hah... Why would he willingly subject himself to that same pain and loneliness once more? He knew that his life was a story to be made fun of—a game that fate continue to test him time and time again, and you were no different. The memories of you and him, a vivid dream that haunts him. Because, if only you were with someone else, you could’ve been even more happy… A nightmare fuel that persists only with time. Thus, he selfishly chooses to run away. If by some divine mercy was actually on his side this time, for once in this damned life, and allowed him to forget all those memories now that your soul no longer is here—all because of him—why shouldn’t he take it…?

UMEMIYA would choose to 「 remember 」

He's been through so much. Hardships, troubles, and loss, but nothing even came close to the heartbreak when the love of his life became but a fragmented memory. Nothing in his life was given to him, not without a price. But even so, those memories will not and can never ring hollow. To him. Never to him. They are what make him who he is today, and if he has to be the one to shoulder all those burdens alone, stacking them upon his weary shoulders, then so be it. All in the name of his devotion to you, in hopes that one day, someday, just maybe, he might cross paths with you once more.

SUO would choose to 「 remember 」

There is plenty that people don't know the true nature behind that perpetual smile of his, and likely will never know the true extent of what really goes on behind that carefully crafted mask of his. What remains hidden is always prone to resurface, but to Suo, it's only a matter of hiding it—the raw emotions of what makes someone human—all behind the veil of ignorance of those he encounters and his own willingness to tuck it behind closed doors. Through all the charm and snide is someone who harbours an aching pain he chooses to live with by himself and himself only. He chooses to remember all the times you laughed together, May the memory of his love last, even if your physical presence is gone. After all these years, who could possibly know? No one ever has, and never will.

KAJI would choose to 「 forget 」

He was utterly broken when he found out. Silence was all he could muster. Even the once serenity of music—your and his favourite music—his safe haven, became nothing but a horrid curse for him to endure alone in murmured silence. No longer were you there to share in the melody he once cherished with you, and the silence was deafening as it was harrowing. The silence was too much for him to bear. It destroyed him, it shattered him, when he realized the loud truth all along—he could never hear you again. So, without thinking, when given the chance, he chose the easiest way out. Even if that choice meant an erasure of your very existence in his life as he knew it.

SUGISHITA would choose to 「 remember 」

Sugishita is a loyal man, no person could ever doubt that. So, without hesitation, he chose you. To honour your memory and bring it to his grave. Your legacy is what drives him. But he is a loyal man as steel is silent. His remembrance of your life goes unspoken, even to those he truly trusts. Selfishly, Sugishita keeps for him alone to bear your remembrance. It hurts, it hurts so much, But that was never what hurt him the most.

TOGAME would choose to 「 remember 」

As painful as it might be, he chooses to live with it. To him, it is his divine punishment for ever getting close to you. Thus, he decides to suffer the consequences. The pain—a reminder of what he did to lose you. He chooses the route of hell because that is where he belongs. It to be his rightful place, the punishment he deserves. He is a broken soul that you once repaired, and though the cracks have shown once more, those memories will persist, even if he aches.

©hxnbi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of my works.

[sun-snatcher]

♧ ⎯ THE DEVIL YOU KNOW

summ.  Something is wrong with Gambit. Deadpool & Wolverine are attacked— but they aren’t the target.  pairing.  Void!Gambit x f!Anomaly!reader , (established in #WELUCKYFEW) w.count.  3.6k a/n.  Kickstarting a potential storyline?! I’m gonna be so honest I don’t know either but. Maybe not. C’est la vie. Warnings for canon-violence & gore!

CURRENTLY, IN DOWNTOWN NEW YORK:

WADE HAS A BLADE EMBEDDED through his throat. 

He hadn’t expected his Friday night to go like this.

This, by way of meaning: getting glass shards straight to the eyes after some asshole decided not to use the front door, and proceeding to wreak absolute havoc throughout the entirety of Wade’s apartment in an attempt to kill him. 

Which brings us to now.

“Can we— eurgh— please ta— ack—!” Wade retches, gargling in his own blood as he slowly unsheathes the sword out his neck. 

He spits the metal-tang-curdle of saliva to the floor with a hiss. His teeth and the house carpet stains an ugly vermillion. Somewhere amidst the long fight, Dogpool has scampered for cover with the roomba.

“Canwepleasetakeatimeout?!” 

A picture frame shatters above him in reply. Wade dives to the living room, booting the coffeetable onto its side for cover. “Fuck me, this’ll all be a pain in the ass to clean up once we’re done h— ooh, what’s this?”

The tipped over IKEA table Blind Al set up two days ago reveals, stunningly: a concealed Glock 47. And knowing the old lady, these— alongside every weapon she’s likely squirrel-stashed around this house— is probably loaded.

(It’s by no means a gold-plated Desert Eagle from Nicepool— God rest his soul— but Wade makes a mental note to kiss Al on the mouth once she’s back from the laundromat.)

He unholsters the pistol; unclips the magazine; gauges— only 5 bullets. (…Does she kill people in her spare time? He’ll have to ask.) “You couldn’t’ve attacked me in my superhero suit? Would be so much more visually appealing for the audience, y’know.”

The assailant lets out an accented snarl beneath the dark of her hood. “D’ya ever shut th’ fuck up?”

“Uh, no? Wow, it’s like you don’t even know who you’re trying to kill here—” 

Wade slides across the floor and fires. With a sharp dodge, the first bullet narrowly misses, bursting brick and drywall instead; The second clips the assassin’s shoulder as she curses.

“You sure you’re not supposed to be after Elektra instead? I mean, the whole hooded ninja-assassin-lady fit is kinda giving edgy early-2000’s era.”

A scowl. Ninja-lady hurtles a dagger just as he stands, slicing a whistle into the air. Wade only just deflects it with a timed swing from the same sword he’d yanked out his neck. 

“Aw, all out of steel? This is why you shouldn’t bring a gun to a knifefight, beautiful.” He narrows his eyes. “Hold on I said that wr—”

“All this fuckin’ chatter!” she groans, brandishing another sword. Dusklight scatters through the drizzling rain and the window curtains, glimmering against her blade— and for a moment Wade catches it reflecting in her eyes: crescent-like; amused. 

She’s smiling. Purposefully. 

“Where did you even—? Did you pull that out your prison-wallet?”  

“We been fightin’ a while now, Wilson,” the assassin ignores, looming like a living shadow in the dim of the kitchen. There’s blood splattered against her plain mask and the edges of her cowl. Most of it belongs to him. “Y’know y’self that this shoulda ended, say, ten minutes ago, now?”

“Well, that’s why I politely asked for a time-out, genius.”

“Makes y’wonder if this whole fight’s really ‘bout you, non?”

Wade stutter-steps.

His gut twists. 

Logan, he thinks, instinctively. Then: Vanessa, Blind Al, Laura, Gambit, and you— Stray.

This has been… a stall. A fucking distraction.

“Hah! See, now you’ve just pissed me off,” the merc sing-songs, tone falling flat. It’s one thing to come after him; another to come after his family. 

He tamps down the worry, rolls his shoulders. “Right, well.”

Deadpool recalls his rounds. 

Three remain; one already chambered. More than enough. 

“Let’s fucking dance, shall we?”

…ALSO CURRENTLY, SOMEWHERE IN NEW YORK:

“WHO—” 

Stab. 

“THE FUCK.” 

Stab. 

“SENT—” 

Stab. 

“YOU?”

The mountain of a man— if Logan can even call him that anymore after the absolute carnage he’d dealt to him in this seedy back alleyway— cries out a desperate ‘Wait, wait, wait!’ just as he rears back for another strike.

“God, wish they never assigned me to the fuckin’ Wolverine. Goddamn suicide mission,” he coughs out. His curly beard looks near black from the fountain of blood dribbling out his lips, and pooling down his neck where it stains his torn hood with gore.

Thunder rolls in the distance. The flash in the nightsky swaths Logan into cutting edges; paints him menacingly in every sharp crease and divot of his features. Rainwater mix with the streaks of red on his arms, dripping down, down, down to the blade-edge of his claws.

“Tell me what I wanna know and I might just let your sorry ass live.”

“I wasn’t told who sent us, okay—?” The answer has Logan snarling. “—Dude, I said wait, I said wait! You pointy prick— Jesus. None of this is personal, okay?”

A grunt. It’s nigh animalistic in sound. “Holding a gun to my head when I was mindin’ my own business is pretty fuckin’ personal to me.”

And they were Adamantium bullets too. He’d come prepared.

“Chill,” he laughs. “We’re not here for you. Or Wade Wilson, for that matter.”

Logan’s hairs stand on end. “What the fuck did y’just say, bub?”

“I said,” the man heaves, head lolling under its own weight and eyes heavy from the bloodloss. “This ain’t about you, or your cancer-fucked boyfriend.”

The crunch that resounds from between his jaw and Logan’s fist is monstrous. He’s half-sure he may have unhinged something, or dislodged a row of teeth. 

He snatches the assassin by the collar and slams him against a dumpster, hard enough to leave a dent. “How many else of you are there? Who the fuck are you after?”

“Not enough to be honest,” comes his wheezing answer. It’s a laughter churned in derision and obvious resignation. He knows he won’t survive this. The corners of his vision have already begun to vignette.

“Do you really want to measure your pride against my fucking mercy, bub?”

A huff, akin to the flap of a white flag. The behemoth relents. “Four… of us. Too many… and we’d cause an incursion.”

There’s no time to question what the hell that meant. He’s slipping.

“You didn’t come here to kill me,” Logan repeats, grip loosening. “So why’d you bother trying?”

The assassin grins, teeth shining crimson with fresh blood. 

“To buy ‘im time.”

5-ISH MINUTES AGO:

If war had taught you one thing, it’d be that instinct will save your life.

And something is definitely wrong. 

It needles over your skin and nape, makes your insides pace like a caged animal— you feel it whenever you turn the cornerstone down 5th Avenue, when you pass the pour of newsstands at the end of the street; feel it at the cafe just opposite the X-Men’s Academy grounds where you go to mark papers. 

You tell yourself to shake it off. That it’s just you settling into a new Universe, but—

“Rain caught you?” you ask, between the vinyl-croon in your shared downtown apartment, “Dinner’s ready soon. Allons manger.”  *

“Ooh! Smellin’ mighty fine up in here.” The front door is closed shut. Remy slides his coat off and tosses it lazily to the sofa armrest. Your eyebrows shoot up, but you don’t comment. “And oui. Rain caught me out a bit.”

“Them brigands give y’any trouble?” he asks, taking the plates from your hand to set once he’d come up to the kitchen island.  *

You make a noise as you shut the fridge door and turn with two beers in hand. Remy laughs. “Mais, y’been dealt a bad hand today, chèr?”

“How could you tell?” you feign a gasp, sliding a bottle his way and leaning back the counter as you sigh. “Students were restless today. And, my phone’s dead too. Drenched in the rain the second I stepped out the school. Stuffed it in rice and praying it’ll live.”

Then, suddenly— your nose wrinkles. You turn sharply towards the stove to check if anything’s burning. “Smell’s like smoke.”

A pop of his beercap. It clatters as he makes a hum of assent. “Probably me. M’sorry, chèr, I’ll change—”

“You smoke—?” 

Remy colours a little. 

“—Since when?”

There’s blatant surprise in your eyes more than there is confusion. Your gaze flickers to his hand. He has a deck in his palm; Charlier cut. One-handed shuffle. 

Anxious tic. You haven’t seen him do it in a while.

“Mais…” 

Needles, you’re reminded. That reflexive needling at the back of your mind is creeping at the margins again. 

“I, I’m not stopping you,” comes your quick answer. Your hands are raised in surrender; you aren’t here to interrogate or stop him from his will. “Just— I didn’t expect it. Is, Is everything okay?”

“Mais oui,” he nods, trying to reassure you. “S’not often. S’just t’help me blow off some steam. Ain’t gotta worry that pretty lil’ head a’ yours, chèr, I promise.”

Your Remy had been a smoker. You’ve told him this before. Perhaps it’s a Multiversal thing, too. “No smoking indoors, though, deal?”

He purses his lips, looking sheepish. “Deal.”

The topic is dropped; A bated silence falls as he watches you dish dinner for the both of you. His intuition has always been precise, however, and it’d only been a matter of time before he spoke up again after he watched you sidle into your high-chair opposite his and push your food around.

“And you?” he presses, carefully, “Can hear the gears in y’head turnin’ from here, chèr. Talk t’me. Quoi ça dit?”  *

It’d be pointless to lie. You glance at the rain pelting like hellfire at the window, then back at him, shaking your head as if in dismissal. “Nothing. I just feel like there’s someone out there, lately. Like we’re being… I don’t know.”

“Watched?” he offers, gauging your reaction.

Yes, you think to say, but you didn’t want to appear paranoid. You’ve had this conversation with Logan before; the thrown looks over your shoulders, the twitchiness, the habit of sitting with your back against the wall; Unending disquiet that simmers to a slow boil in your marrows. 

(The war in your Universe may not have killed you, but it’d broken you beyond repair.)

“...I feel like something bad’s coming. Like someone’s gonna break through the window or—” You shut your mouth with a click before that thought goes off on a nervous tangent. “My, my body keeps preparing for a fight. Like there’s something out to get me all the time.”

Remy’s eyes are curious. Observing. He’s stopped fidgeting as he listens, deck resting in ready position. 

“Chèr,” he begins, gently taking your hand from across the table and—

You almost yelp.

His touch is cold.

(Needle-like.)

You very nearly pull away.

(Instinct.)

Dread crows like a song; a banshee’s cry in your mind’s eye.

“Easy, hey,” he frowns, worry painting across his face when you slide your hand from his. “Chèr.”

“I—” Panic roars in your chest. Your lungs expand. It’s the beer bottle, you reason, that’s why his touch is cold. Maybe even the rain. Hell, this could just be an anxiety attack.  

“I’m fine. I’m fine, sorry, I’m just— tired. Yeah.”

His gaze softens.

“Hey. Look at me, chèr. Y’home. Y’safe. Y’know that.” 

You nod. Press your eyes shut. Take a gulp of beer, focus on the burn; on the distant New Orleanian croons of the record player just under the window. 

“Gambit ain’t gon’ let anythin’ happen t’you, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree, smiling tightly. It doesn’t reach your eyes; does little to dispel your razor-edged wariness. 

He notices. He always does.

“How ‘bout a game t’clear y’mind, chèr?” he offers, nudging his plate an inch to make way for his deck of cards. “Go fish?”

You laugh. It’s fragile. “You’re gonna let me win, anyway.”

“There’s that smile,” Remy hums under his breath, just enough that you can catch it. “—An’ no, chèr. Cross my heart, Gambit ain’t gon’ let y’win. Mais, y’know how I get wit’ games.”

He does cross his heart, playful, then shuffles his cards. You try to let yourself sink back into familiarity in his flourishes and its sounds; watch his hands work deft to chase away the anxiety still clawing under your skin. 

He deals.

You adjust your cards. 

…ven of Diamonds, Queen of Hearts, Nine—

Your blood runs cold.

“Is…” 

You try to swallow back the horror as you look at the neat fan in your hand. “…Is this a new deck, Remy?”

The next bit of what he says sounded off to your ears; a record scratch, a jerk of a needle. 

“Mais non, this the same deck Gambit been usin’ since the start.” He shoots you a confused look.

(It’s like a muslin-thin veil has been lifted: 

The nerves and paralysing paranoia, his precious brown leather coat thrown carelessly over the couch instead of being hung reverently on the rack, the grotty scent of cigarette smoke beneath the rain, the anxious shuffling of his cards at the table, the uncanny observation and scrutinising— and perhaps, what should’ve been the most damning of all— his ice-cold touch. 

No warmth. To the touch. In his gaze. In his smile. In energy.)

“Chèr? Y’alright?”

No. No, you’re not fucking alright.

Because this deck has a Nine of Hearts. That card has been with you, since the Void; since the start.

This…

This man is not Remy.

“Yes,” you say, and you internally scream at your reply— too quick. Too quick to hide the obvious lie. “Sorry, I just gotta— I think I’m gonna throw up.”

“Chèr—?” he frowns, chair scraping as he stands to try reaching out and steadying you.

Your heartbeat skyrockets. Instinct howls inside you. Everything has been recontextualised, and suddenly every difference about him jumps out: the rough edges, the muss of how his hair falls, the cut at the tip of his ear you never noticed.

“No, stay. Stay, I’m fine—” You teeter your way off the stool. It’s not entirely a lie that you felt like throwing up, but the omission is: there’s a gun you keep under your pillow, and another under the bathroom sink.

Your phone is dead. This will have to be a fight. 

And against a mutant? You have nothing but a slim chance.

“Stray,” he calls. His voice would be soft to anyone else's ears, but you hear it now— the difference, the rasp, the hardness as his heavy footfalls draw close behind you in the hall. Frustration. Not concern. “Talk to me, chèr.”

You slam the bathroom door shut with a resounding click of the lock. You let the sink run and drown out the noise of your hands fumbling underneath the sink, and once the weight of the 9mm pistol is in your palm, there’s faint comfort. 

The rest is muscle memory: confirming a round in the chamber, unclipping to check the remaining 15 in the magazine; recalling the distance to the front door and whether you can even get through this whole thing without firing a single bullet, much less alive.

Remy— or, no, fake Remy? Fake Gambit? —is knocking at the door. His words are muffled. You barely pay attention as you place your pistol by the faucet, and dip your head down to splash water to your face and ready yourself for a scuffle.

“Stray.”

Your head shoots up. 

The door’s unlocked and wide open. Gambit’s loom behind you through the reflection of the mirror is harrowing.

You barely have time to scream.

His hand snarls through your hair— then, like a loaded spring, Remy rams your head against the mirror.

You cry out. Glass shatters in a spray.

“Tell me.” A gruff chirp, right by your ear. “What gave me away, eh? 

“Fuck… you,” you choke out, cringing when a shard cuts into your cheek.

“Baw, why ‘de bobin, Stray?” His accent is heavier now that the guise has been dropped. “Y’know, I ain’t never understood ‘dat nickname. Where’d’ya come from, eh? Y’aint from ‘round here?”  *

“C’mon, Raven,” you rasp, head reeling as red gushes down your face. “Enough games. Drop the skin.”

He laughs. It sounds painfully like the Remy you know. “Mais la, how disappointin’. D’ya really think I’m Mystique? ‘Dat couyon bleue could never nail ‘de Cajun accent even if she trained for it.”  *

You don’t care which Remy this is. The distraction buys enough time. Your hands scramble at the faucet; grasping for your pistol until—

“S’Gambit in ‘de flesh, chèr bébé, jus’ ain’t ‘de one y’used t’cuddlin’ with at ni—”

You fire blindly. A tile bursts. The gunshot booms like a church bell. 

Gambit recoils with a sharp yell, vision searing white from the piercing ring in his ears. You take the chance to book it past him with a gasp, nearly slipping on the floor as he barely misses snagging the hem of your shirt. 

“Son of a bitch,” he grinds out, shaking his head. He springs his collapsible staff, props himself to his feet. “Gotta give it t’you, chèr, y’got bite. Shame ‘de night had t’end ‘dis way. Was hopin’ we coulda’ got on by peacefully.”

Gambit descends like a reaper down the hall. His hand draws a card and you hear the cutting whistle of it in the air.

It’s too quick for you to react. The Ace explodes, and the blast has you rocketing to the floorboards by the record player. The tracks skip from the harsh impact:

 “-- ZZzrt -- I been in the right place! But it must have been the wrong time!” 

Comically perfect. Life sure likes making a joke out of your situations, huh?

You fire two pointed shots as you turn onto your back. One hits the cornice and the other is a near-miss, dodged by Gambit ducking into your room doorway with a curse. It throws him off his rhythm. His growl turns into a sour grimace instead. “Goddammit, woman.” (You’re a sharp shooter, Gambit admits. He had felt the wind on that one.)

Dr. John still croons his ‘70’s Cajun funk in your ransacked home. “---I been in the right world! But it seems like wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong!---”

Pain lances up your leg as you stagger to your feet. You can’t pinpoint where, but nothing feels broken; a small mercy.

You make a break to the front door as you continue firing to keep him back. You’re not out of the woods yet. If you can just get out, dart for the stairs, you’d atleast get a better shot at surviving this insane manhunt—

The front door handle is busted. 

Busted, in which: Gambit must’ve charged the handle and melted the lock into nothing from the inside out when he first arrived. Sly bastard.

“---Refried confusion is making itself clear! Wonder which way do I go to get on out of here?---”

Thinking clearly is out of the question, so you think rapidly instead. Fire escape. Right outside your bedroom window. 

It’s too late, though. Gambit deals another card the moment you swivel on your feet— and the charge detonates just as you raise your gun.

The flash of purple is lightning hot against your fingers. The force sends you careening to the door and sliding down with a strangled hiss. 

Your pistol clatters. You scramble for it—

An aside on all the Gambit’s you have had the (un)fortunate opportunity to come across: all versions of him across the Multiverse are surely relentless. Be it in competition, or charm, or, in this case, pure fucking bloodlust amid combat. 

Some of his feats are impressively frightening.

Like charging his staff— and then spearing it straight from across the room and right between your pistol’s trigger guard.

Disarmed in an instant.

Deadly accuracy.

“---I took a right move! But I made it at the wrong time!---”

You really wanted to break that damn player.

“Nice try, chèr,” Gambit says, voice dark as he saunters over to you. The smile that spread across his face is like blood emerging from a quick, precise slit. (In another time, you might’ve considered it attractive.) “But Remy oughta teach you a t’ing or two ‘bout knowin’ when t’fold y’cards.”

That crisp accent of his almost makes the threat sing out sweet. He picks his coat up along the way and shrugs it back on.

“Yeah, well. Not your call,” you snap, scooting to your back with a visceral glare. “What the hell do you want?”

Another aside of Gambit: Like water in a river, Remy LeBeau always takes the path of least resistance. And yet he hadn’t killed you when he had multiple opportunities to do so, and every card he’d dealt throughout the fight was meticulously controlled, just enough to not do any real damage. 

The signs are clear— he needs you alive.

“Wanna put a damn gris-gris on you for ‘dis, first of all.” He gestures to his bleeding temple with a wince. Your first shot must have burst his right eardrum. “Mais la, I need me a cigarette.” *

A deep sigh. He fishes an odd gadget out his pocket, and you narrow your eyes. It looks familiar. 

“Listen, chèr.” Gambit rips his bō staff off with a grunt, wood splintering out the boards from the force. He lazily kicks the gun away, looming over you with a resigned look on his face. “I ain’t here to kill you, alright? ‘Dat’d make ‘dis a hit, and ‘dat ain’t in the nature of what Remy do.”

“---Head is in a good place, and I wonder what it's bad for!---”

You let out a defeated snort. “So? Is that supposed to make me feel any better?”

“So.” He exhales, triggers his device with a button. 

A TVA Time-door warbles open. 

…What the fuck?

“Don’t be harborin’ any bad feelin’s on me for what I’m gon’ do next.”

Remy re-grips his staff. You pale.

“Ah, shit.”

You’re out like a light before you register the blow.

No one’s home by the time Wade and Logan barge in, late by a matter of seconds.

*Cajun Footnotes

Allons manger — Let’s eat Brigands — Troublemakers Quoi ça dit? — What’s up? (Literally: “What that says.”) Bobin — Frown Couyon bleue — Blue fool Gris-Gris — a curse/bad luck

[sweettofuki]

Someday faraway | "I guess I have to know you, through the time and space"

pairing: Hoshina x afab reader genre: slow burn summary: After another successful mission with minimal casualty, your platoon celebrates the triumph over dinner. As time passes by, you notice Hoshina getting more drunk. How will the night end? warning: unestablished rs status

Laughter and the promise of future challenges filled the restaurant as the Third Division celebrated their latest victory. They had just completed their mission, subjugating a large class kaiju, and were now celebrating their triumph over dinner.

“No way. You’re talking out of your ass, Shinomiya. I was the one who landed the last blow to the kaiju!” you argued, your fist clenched and shaking them threateningly in front of her face.

“If my memory serves me right, you were dreaming. I landed the last blow with my axe!” she retorted, slapping your hand away.

You let out a growl.

“Now, now, ladies. There’s no reason to fight. The main point of this dinner is to celebrate our victory over the kaiju! Just enjoy the win.” Izumo said, his charming smile easing the tension.

“HAHAHAHA, I was hoping for a fight!” your vice-captain exclaimed.

“Vice-Captain Hoshina, you’re drinking too much,” Okonogi sighed. “you should go turn in for the night.”

“C’monnn Konomi, don’t be a party pooper,” he said, sticking out his tongue before taking another gulp of his drink.

Your ears perked up at their conversation. Tilting your head slightly, you took a discreet glance over at Hoshina and Okonogi, bringing the rim of your cup to your mouth as you listened. You took a once over at Hoshina’s flushed face and swaying body and sighed.

Over the past few months, something has been brewing between you and Hoshina. But describing your odd relationship is no easy task.

The day it started was the day you were transferred to his division. After a month of working closely together, you began to notice his lingering glances in your direction when he thought you weren’t looking, the light touches, or a brush of his shoulder whenever you passed each other in the narrow hallways. He always found ways to tease you, striking a nerve every time you talked. You couldn’t be sure if it was what you thought it was so you let time decide for the both of you.

Your last relationship left you shattered. It took a while to piece yourself back together, which is why you haven't confronted Hoshina about whatever this is. Right now, the subtle flirting feels comfortable, a safe haven compared to a full-on committed relationship. At least, that’s what you tell yourself to excuse your evidently growing feelings.

You haven’t told anyone about your relationship yet, and it seems neither has he.

“Hey, L/N. Are you alright?”

A soft voice interrupted your spiraling thoughts. You turned to find the owner of the voice.

“Oh yeah, I’m fine, Reno. Thanks,” you replied, giving a small smile.

“No problem,” he nodded politely.

“You looked like you were in a daze. I thought the alcohol got to you,” he teased, to your surprise.

“Hah, you won’t find me drunk that easily,” you smirked.

Engrossed in the conversation with Reno, you missed the way Hoshina tightened his grip on his mug, his eyes narrowing as he watched you laugh at something Reno said.

Meanwhile, a smile crept onto Okonogi’s face. She couldn’t help but notice the rising jealousy radiating from her colleague. Even though he hasn’t disclosed his feelings for you, Okonogi picked it up quite easily just from reading the tension in the room whenever both of you are present.

“You should just confess already. you’re literally pussyfooting around her,” Okonogi’s sudden voice startled Hoshina, making him jump in his seat.

“Oh, stop yappin’. I know,” he grumbled.

“Then what are you waiting for? Go to her!” Okonogi urged.

Hoshina waved her off before motioning to stand up, his legs trembling under his weight, barely holding him up.

“On second thought, maybe you should wait till tomorrow. It can wait,” Okonogi said, pulling at his sleeves.

“Nope, you called me a pussy, so Imma do it.”

“Pussyfooting! Read a dictionary!”

Reno was deep in conversation with you when he suddenly felt eyes boring into the back of his head. He shuddered, as if a cold, frosty wind had blown directly at him. You noticed his unease. Before you could turn around to confront the anomaly, you caught a glimpse of a hand gripping firmly onto Reno’s shoulder from the corner of your eye, leading your gaze up to Hoshina’s face.

You observed that he’s no longer swaying from side to side. His legs were planted firmly on the ground and his other arm hung loosely at his side. But his eyes…

“Vice-captain! Are you okay?” Reno called out.

“Yep, never been better,” he replied. He smiled down at Reno, but his usual friendly expression didn’t reach his eyes. They were dark and unreadable.

You couldn’t quite place the emotion swirling in his eyes. “Maybe this is how he always is when he’s drunk.” you thought.

"Is there something you need, Vice-captain Hoshina?" you asked.

"You," he replied, his emotionless eyes locking onto yours.

“….huh?”

“I need to talk to you privately regarding your recent performance,” he clarified smoothly.

“Oh-h, sure, Vice-captain,” you stammered, standing up slowly to hide your embarrassment. You felt Reno’s concerned eyes on you as you left with Hoshina. “Save my seat, Reno. I will be back,” you said.

Amid the noisy atmosphere, you didn’t hear the sound of Hoshina clicking his tongue in annoyance. “Tsk.”

As you stepped out of the banquet hall and into the open air, you breathed in a good lungful, your mind clearing as you breathed out, a satisfied smile spreading across your lips.

You were secretly relieved to be out of that stuffy room. Parties were never your thing, especially if it’s a small space cramped with a whole platoon. The combination of drunk people shouting and the unventilated air always gives you a headache.

Silence settled between them as they walked, their eyes glued to the ground, one step after another leading the way. No words exchanged, except for the fast, synchronized beats of their hearts.

After a while, you decided to break the silence.

“erm…Vice-captain Hoshina? Weren't you going to talk to me about my recent progress?”

“Oh, that? I just wanted some company for my walk,” he responded nonchalantly.

"Oh..." You squinted at him.

“Why are you giving me that face for? It’s nice to take a stroll after a big meal. And it was getting stuffy in there, don’t you think?”

“You sound like a grandpa,” you chuckled. “But yeah, it was getting noisy too. I don’t know how much more of Kafka’s drunken singing I can take.”

“Oh god, speaking of that old man, another second of his singing and I would’ve cut my own ears off, voluntarily,” he said, covering his ears dramatically.

Before you could control yourself, you let out a loud snort. Hoshina immediately turned toward you, a smile playing on his lips as you quickly covered your mouth.

You braced yourself for a teasing remark about your outburst…but nothing came. Despite his sharp tongue, you were surprised that he stayed silent.

You both continued walking in silence for the rest of the journey. (A journey you’re not sure where you’re heading.) Surprisingly, walking beside him wasn't as awkward as you'd feared. The silence between you was oddly comforting.

Then, he stopped abruptly, you nearly collided with his back.

“Well, thanks for walking me back to my room, l/n,” he said as he turned around scratching the back of his head.

“Huhhh” you exaggerated a sigh.

“I felt myself drinking too much tonight, so I needed to retire early,” he explained, smiling shyly, revealing his canines.

“Well…in that case, have a good night, Vice-captain Hoshina,” you said, bowing before turning on your heel to head back to the hall. But then you felt his hand clasp around your wrist, pulling you closer to him.

“There’s no one around, L/N. You can just call me Soshiro,” he said, tilting his head. His heavy bangs cast a shadow over half his face, highlighting his half-lidded eyes as they gazed down at you.

There was something about that look that sent a shiver down your spine. It was like an unsatisfied hunger simmering deep in his eyes.

He leaned in close, you could smell the alcohol on his warm breath.

“L/N…I need to ask you something,” he whispered softly, you almost couldn’t hear his words over your pounding heart.

You don’t think about the close proximity between the two of you.

You don’t think about the way he is looking at you right now.

You don’t think about the heat radiating from his larger hand encircling your wrist.

You don’t think about how you could hear his thundering heart, echoing from his firm chest.

“…yes?”

A heartbeat passed by before he spoke again. You prayed it is not what you think it is. It’s too soon to—

“Do I smell?”

You stare at him, dumbfounded, as you take in the smirk playing on his lips.

“Yeah, you reek. I’ve been holding my breath the entire walk here.”

He tilts his head and pouts.

“That’s harsh, l/n. Couldn’t you at least bother to lie?” he whined.

You let out another laugh. You didn’t expect the Vice-Captain of the Third Division to whine.

As your laughter died down, you glanced up at him.

A pool of dark chocolate eyes gazed back at you. Maybe it was the nervousness in your veins, but his gaze felt like it was cutting right through you.

Despite your earlier complaint—a slight exaggeration, perhaps—you inhaled deeply, savoring his scent to revisit later. Despite the lingering alcohol on his breath, he carried a rich aroma of sandalwood with a hint of cedar.

When he leaned in, you couldn’t help but notice how he towered over you, at least a head taller.

You’d never been this close to him before. He was always stationed 10 feet away, barking orders from above or hidden away in a control room. A mere glance if you were lucky to catch him in the corridor.

He gently cupped your cheek and swept your bottom lip with his thumb.

In that moment, you practically melted under his touch.

Your heart beats frantically like it’s jumping out of your chest, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it at this close distance.

Slowly, you reach out to brush his bangs away from his face, resting your palm on his forehead. You felt it heating up like crazy. It must be the alcohol.

From the look of his widened eyes, the way they stared hungrily at your lips, you were so sure that he was leaning closer to kiss you

But instead, his lips flirt past you, not before lightly brushing against your cheek. You hear the door behind you click open.

“Goodnight, officer L/N,” he murmurs softly against your ear, almost like a sigh.

He stepped past you into his room, the ends of his lips curled up delightfully as he noticed your flushed ears.

Once the door clicked shut, you crouched down, resting your forehead against it as you let go of a breath you didn’t realized you were holding.

“That bastard,” you muttered under your breath.

On the other side of the door, Hoshina slumped against it, burying his face in his hands.

“Ah…This is the last time I’m drinking,” he thought.

But as his mind began to clear up, one thought echoed louder than ever:

“I want her so bad.”

[letbludcook]

WARNING: EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT

You pretty much don't know what happened after the first round. You might've drifted away for a while if not hours (you hope it wasn't), but awakened at him peppering you with kisses. When you opened your eyes barely, he gave you a smile.

Why does he keep on smiling sweetly tonight?

"Open your legs wider."

You followed suit. "W-we're still going?"

"Fold it to your chest."

"Do you still have—"

He cut you off with one quick thrust that had you yelping. He didn't even need to ask if you could take it, your mixed-up fluids did the job of making the pace sloppier. And oh god he did—he did so fucking well for you. Every thrust ravaged you in any way it could—momentarily depriving you of rational thinking, literally nothing but the desperation of feeling him more.

"Too fast, I might—hah—I might," you tried to sit up. You don't want him to stop, but still.

"Stay still," he sternly said and you followed quickly. He almost smiled a little too wide, "Good girl. That's it. Lay down and take more." and trapped you by resting his hand just beside your head. He used it as his support.

After a few more thrusts you got the urgency to yelp, "I might let out too much!" but oh, of course, silly you, it was too late.

He felt it again, you tightened so bad and shockwaves gripped your body. What completely took him was when you spurted all over his lower stomach. Your limbs shook for a while and you were too shocked to even mind the mess that you just made. Your orgasm stained his sheets. He froze. It took him quite a while to process that, completely wide-eyed and mouth almost gaping. That felt utterly good.

After clicking another smile, he moved again and endearingly rested his palm on your cheeks as if to coo you for that, "You must love me so much to let me do and see all this, hm?" but his grip on it was a complete contrary. He went faster again. He clung to you just so he could rut deeper and deeper.

Still, you nodded and attempted to answer, "I love—ah—"

"You love what?" he snickered and gritted his teeth. He was too spent already, mind in shambles. He barely heard you, even. He could only comprehend remnants of your phrases.

"You!" you choked on your breath, "I love you. 'm sorry. I should've said s-sooner."

And there he was lost for good. It brought him to the peak of debauchery that he can’t even tease you anymore. Everything's just not enough; not his thrusts, not your smell, and not even your profession of love would ever suffice. The way he gulped down his greed exuded some sort of pity for you but he can't let it go now. You're so good. He lived his life very reluctant to lay his hands on you. Such divinity yet you deliberately let him do this—blurted out how you love him with ease, looked at him full of endearment as if he's not giving you a hard time.

"'m sorry," he finally muttered as he kissed the tears away, "can't stop, need it. Just take more, just a few more."

He followed suit, then. Gave you all of him, spilled himself inside. He was letting out so much that he couldn't help but utter a long moan. He engulfed you with a kiss again in hopes of lowering his voice.

He realized your small sobs so he whispered sweetly, "I'll just make sure it won't drip, yeah? You’re being so good for me.”

So you let him, not like you have any other choice. You want all of it and he's gripping your thigh hardly; he will not let you move until he's finished. With mind shattered and unable to even keep yourself awake, you let him take care of you—just like how he willingly would from hereon.

erwin smith. gojo satoru. toji fushiguro.

[bistaxx]

It won't be but it would be actually super funny if the end of this event is just like "GOTCHA! Hah did you guys rly think we'd actually put any of the eggs at risk- the one thing keeping you all from blowing up the entire island?! No, but now you know who would betray the others and which eggs people value more then others :) You're welcome ^_^ *shoves them all back to the island*"

Like it's all just some sort of awful social experiment to instill seeds of distrust and resentment between the players to shatter their sense of community.

[kingkatsuki]

Anyway, while I was gone I was thinking of this stupid idea with Bakugou (as usual)

Imagine your eighteenth birthday is when you find out who you’re bonded to, and this bond is created via telepathy. A connection opens between two souls, and you’re able to communicate with each other no matter where in the world you are. A connection that only becomes stronger as your relationship with your soulmate grows.

But of course, connections can be broken. The same way those dreamlike fantasies of meeting your perfect soulmate don’t always work— especially when your soulmate is Bakugou Katsuki.

The first time you try to communicate with him, he brushes you off. Telling you to “piss off”, that he doesn’t “need a fuckin’ soulmate”. It’s a time in his life that arguably he needs that connection with someone more than ever. But the feelings of inadequacy and inferiority he holds inside are at an all time high as he pushes everyone away, including you. Shutting the door on any hope you had of ever having a connection with him, of finding your soulmate.

You try again a few times after, watching all your friends develop their love and even meet their soulmates. Hating the green-eyed monster that appears when you realise how bitter you actually are— to be paired with someone that has no interest in you. Cursed to be one of the ones without a soulmate, to try and find a love with another broken person like you.

The conversations are always the same— his irritation for your very existence no match for the conversations you try to start. Making it abundantly clear to you that you’re a distraction, that he doesn’t have time for a soulmate. And yet amongst his complaining that you’ve opened the link at a bad moment, or that he doesn’t need you— he always answers.

So over time you find yourself starting to give up, wondering why you’ve wasted so much time on a man that clearly doesn’t want you. The connection going quiet as neither of you try to open the link.

Radio silence.

And what makes it worse, is your friends who have perfect connections pity you. One of the lost souls without a soulmate— which is why you’re prepared to join a special program. A program that can realign your connection— to tie your soul to another.

It’s unorthodox, an extreme measure that has an endless list of side-effects. You could end up with the more undesirable members of society, who’s connections have been severed before, or the ones that abuse the system for their own benefit— and if the second connection doesn’t work out you’re unable to claim a third. But craving that special bond with someone, picturing the perfect smiles and pickett fences it’s more than worth the risks. So you plan to do it— to sever your connection with your soulmate, and find a new one.

Someone who will actually love you.

But it isn’t until one night that you hear something at the back of your mind, barely a murmur as you shoot up in bed. Squinting as you try desperately to focus on the sound— another whimper. But you can’t seem to make out much else, as you realise that it’s the same connection that you thought was completely shattered all those years ago.

“Hello?” You feel almost stupid calling out, wondering if he even realised that you could hear him again— that you were there.

“Long time no talk, hah sweetheart?” He scoffs, a choked cough spills from his lips after as he winces in pain.

“You sound like shit— is that why you reconnected our bond at four am?”

“Must’ve called the wrong number, sweetheart.” He sneers, but you can almost hear the humour in his tone.

“Well luckily for you I’m going to break our bond.” You bite back as you’re met with silence on the other end, “So you won’t have to make the same mistake again.”

“You can do that?” He whispers.

“Yeah, they can reconnect me with someone else.” You murmur.

“They won’t be as good as me.” He manages to get out before another cough wracks through his body.

“I wouldn’t know, would I?” You scrunch your nose in irritation, “But at least they’ll want me.”

“Who said I don’t want you?”

It’s not until a month later that you find out the real reason he reconnected the bond that night. That it was the night that his heart stopped beating as he almost lost his life, his body shutting down as the only thing he could think to do was to call out for you.

[insomniactic-daydream]

Magma- Bakugo x Reader

Bakugo x Support Course Shoto's Twin Sister Reader (Pt.2)

<- (Previous Pt.1)

Bakugo x Support Course Shoto's Twin Sister Reader

Summary: After taking on the responsibility of fixing Bakugo gauntlets, Y/n Todoroki now has to deal with Bakugo nosy ass questions and remarks.

For Background Info: This is before any major events like the usj or sports festival. I don't think anybody know about Shoto's fire quirk til then. Correct me if I'm wrong but idk

Also for story purposes Y/n has black hair and as well as the infamous blue todoroki eyes.

"So your quirk is Nitroglycerin? Are you constantly sweating, or can you control the output? " Y/n questions Bakugo as they are seated away from their classmates at lunch. Bakugo agitated from so many questions. Why couldn't you just fix his shit.

"Tch. Yes, and I can control it, you idiot. But sometimes, the stupid weather makes it harder to produce sweat." He says, grumbling eating his food.

Y/n nods as she writes down a few words in her notebook.

"Do you know what kind of metal was used to make your gauntlets?" Y/n asks.

"HAH? HOW THE HELL WOULD I KNOW!? You're the damn epxert you tell me!" Bakugo yells but is lost through the volume of the cafeteria. Gauntlets are now thrown out to you on the table.

"Jeez, relax. You'd think you would be more cooperative if you wanted them done quickly." Y/n sighs as she examines the shatter gauntlets.

"I'm tired of your damn questions. Maybe you should've gotten your brother's quirk and become a hero. That way, you'd talk less and actually do more!" Bakugo yell. His words were almost comical to you. Assuming you didn't have an impressive quick cause you're a support student.

Y/n not looking away from gauntlets. "You're totally right, but then I'd still have to deal with you constant yelling. At least I don't have to deal with you longer than I have to." She says as she grabs her notebook again.

" WHY YOU LITTLE-"

"It's the metal." Y/n cuts him off nonchalantly. As if she's dealt with his yelps for a millennia. Surprisingly, stopping Bakugo. After all, he's a man of knowledge. The more he knows about his gauntlets, the less he has to deal with coming to you to fix them.

"Continue Nerd." He says with gritted teeth

"The metal they used, although used for most fire type and explosive quirks, isn't compatible with your quirk chemicals. That's why they broke the second you used too much of your sweat." She says taking a bite of her food out of accomplishment.

"So what then huh?! How are you going to fix it."

"Well, obviously need new material which is good considering this metal is known to be heavier than most. Not that you'd noticed cause you're a 'so strong' hero student." Y/n says sarcastically. Bakugo glares at her, but before he can chew her out she speaks again.

"I can look into a different material to make entirely new gauntlets, but that's going to take a while to make. The best I can do for you right now is fix these for training, but you can't blast another nuclear bomb at someone again." She finishes as she fiddles with her pencil

"That shit sound it's going to take ages!?" He says angrily out of the thought of not receiving new gear for the next few months at least.

"Well, luckily, a lava quirk and ice quirk do pretty well with speeding the progress of mending metal then, huh?" Y/n says with a smirk.

"Relax. If I'm getting a grade for this, then I'll make sure you're first priority." Y/n says with a wave of a hand before taking another spoonful of food.

"You have a fucking lava quirk?" Bakugo asks. Although he isn't much as a nerd as his childhood rival he can't help but be curious.

"Yup. It was my grandmother's quirk before the quirk de-evolved into flames." Y/n says

"What a waste. You can easily be better than your brother's ice quirk." Bakugo states almost if he's complimenting you. That sure is a first, but again, Bakugo can't ignore potential people who can be better heroes than him.

"I'm flattered but I don't really care for heroics. I help the world by helping you all. It's more humble that most of the show boat heroes today." She grumbles out.

"So you think you're dad is some show boat?" Bakugo pushes almost trying to gain information (more like drama) on the number 2 hero. Y/n, catching his trick, glares at him.

Bakugo catches a glimpse of red streaks of lava, appearing in your hair. He smirks as he realizes he has striked a nerve.

"I never said that." She says annoyedly. As if she was going to open up about her family dynamic to him.

"Easy there, magma, or your hair is gonna blow a gasket." He says with his signature smirk. His red eyes meeting Y/n piercing blue glare.

His word hit Y/n as fast as her hair turns back. "Shut up," Y/n mutters. She then touches her hair out of habit

This surprisingly lets out a chuckle from the blonde. "Tch. At least I'm not the one who is a walking volcano. Do you always have to cool that shit down?" He asks, earning an eye roll from Y/n.

"Not that's it's any of your business, but yes." She mumbles.

"Hah. I bet you struggle using product on that rat's nest you call hair." Bakugo jokingly lies.

He thinks your hair is fine. Flawless even. Not one out of place hair. But he won't admit that to you. If anything, he's curious to see how long it would take him to see you're hair completely turned into lava. Red suited you.

However, you didn't take that remark lightly and threw a piece of his broken gauntlets at him. Causing him to snap back to reality and hold his head in pain (and also anger obvi)

"As if I'd listen to you, pomeranian!"

(Next Part 3) ->

What can I say, I love a good harmless enemies to lovers trope. 🤷‍♀️

[scimagic]

Pride and Joy (Mr. Puzzles/Bi! Female! Reader)

───── ⋆ ⋅ ⋆ ⋅ ☆ ⋅ ⋆ ⋅ ⋆ ─────

After a conversation about sexual orientation, you ask Mr. Puzzles a bit of a heavy question about himself and realizations ensue.

Happy Pride Month!! I usually try to keep my content as reader neutral as possible (I don't like to assume things that the reader might not be!) but this is more self-indulgent than usual and I hope you forgive me for that! To celebrate this month, why don't I hit my f/o with the bisexual beam? Hope you enjoy!

"… Puzzles, no offense, like— at all, but do you think maybe you're… gay?"

The TV host sputters in surprise, "I— excuse you?"

"Again, no offense. But to me it kinda sounds like you… haven't really thought about it."

The TV grows silent, no doubt a frown taking the place of his smile. For once—instead of snapping back and waving away such a silly statement—he actually gives it a thought. A sparingly rare one.

He looks away with a nervous hum, shoulders slumping as you walk along the sidewalk. You both keep a slow pace, trying to refrain from tripping as you walk and keep a conversation that is surprisingly much more serious than you anticipated to have.

The leaves of the trees rustle and provide you shadow for your evening walk with your boyfriend, a walk you offered to have as a casual little date. You thought you could stop by stores to shop, or a cafe to sit down, but at the moment— your conversation turned into this. Identity questions, personal preferences, things to better know each other.

But maybe this one was a bit too far...

He was very open about his upbringing, sure, but it sounded like even he didn't know what he liked in people. You suppose that a life like that didn't have much room to explore things about ones self. Let alone explore partner preferences. Hell— you would say you're very lucky to even have had a chance to date him.

Regardless...

You let him gather his thoughts, silently waiting for his response. No use in rushing these type of things, after all. They take time. Otherwise it would be messy for both of you.

Puzzles turns back to the ground below, and like you guessed— with a nervous expression on his screen.

"It's… complicated. I've seen shows about it, but ah… they've never really spoken to me as such. Perhaps some actions… and some… other things— tsk— but! Hah! I mean! Only recently I've been shown the media I consume is not always true to the actual thing so what do I know!?" He sarcastically and painfully exclaims, a view that got shattered to him when you became friends, yet one he's starting to grow out of. He's aware it's for his greater good, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt him still. To be lied to. To know your years of comfort were a lie.

He huffs angrily as he turns away again, shaking his head before glancing back at you.

"Am I..?"

"Are you? Only you can know that for sure, you might know the answer to that already..! You just… haven't realized it yet."

"…"

He grows silent again, nervously fidgeting with the cloth of his gloves.

"Then… maybe?" He shrugs. "I feel… something, yes. But— but I like you too..! As well… If I am— what would that mean for you? For us?" The host frowns, growing even more nervous at the thought of something happening to his first ever real relationship.

"I don't want to let you go just for this!" He waves his hands in front of him, exasperatedly motioning to your situation. You catch one of his arms, hooking it together with your own as you try to gently ground him.

"Hey—! Hey..! No, nothing has to happen to us! You can like both, you know?"

He takes a pause, looking at you as if you just told him the most confusing riddle ever known to man.

"Huh?"

"Yeah! I like both! I like boys and girls. I uh— have a preference for men but I still like pretty girls." You rub the back of your neck, smiling sheepishly at him.

"… Oh."

"Oh…"

The faintest of heartbeats beeps across his screen, tainting it with a light rose color as the line bounces where his cheeks would be.

"Huh… That…" he looks down at the ground with furrowed eyebrows, then looks back up at the horizon, "fits."

"Yeah?"

"Yes… Only— that's not the term, is it?"

"Ah, no. We're bisexual. You and I."

"You and I… Yes… Yes! I like that!" Puzzles beams happily, smiling wide at you as he squeezes your hooked arms.

"I like that very much."

[staycait]

A Never-Ending Punishment.

CW: NSFW

Alhaitham x Fem!Reader.

A/N: Hey guys this is short cuz I didn't wanna make a proper plot and stuff... Plus I wanted to say sorry cuz I made Alhaitham angst yesterday!!!! Here's the smut.. If you haven't checked the story out, you can read the angst here.

Enjoy!! <33

You don't know how long it's been, how many orgasms you've let out, and how many times you've screamed his name. All you know is that you're getting fucked into oblivion. You can't think straight anymore, your body's shaking, getting absolutely ruined by none other than Alhaitham.

You don't know what you did to receive 'punishment'. You think that Alhaitham's had a bad day, and needs to let some emotions out. But you don't think this is letting his emotions out anymore. He's just trying to ruin you more than you already are. He's really trying to push your limits…

Your thought's and body has already been shattered, Alhaitham fucking you stupid, your hands tied to the top of your head, now all you can do is moan, cry, and cum for the 'nth time, trying to handle Alhaitham's energy and speed.

You have yet, another orgasm while moaning his name. Lots of tears streaming down your face, as you still try to beg Alhaitham to stop, or slow down. It was all too much for you to handle. You've been pushed far from your limits, he keeps up his speed again.. Thrusting inside your helpless cunt that can only let sticky liquids out, and Alhaitham's cock in.. There is no sign of him stopping any time soon.

"What?~ You don't like my punishment for you?" He looks down upon you and smirks, his lips curling up to form a cruel smile.

"I guess we should have more punishments for you.." Alhaitham starts fucking you even harder. You're completely helpless in this situation. All you can do is let him do things to you.

He chuckles as you cum again. He continues to thrust in you like this, not having any plans to stop in the near future. You realize that he's not planning on stopping until he thinks you're punished appropriately, even though you have orgasmed multiple times in a row.

"You think you're going to make me slow down, little runt? Hah! We're going to continue this. And you are going to feel every single punishment. Every. Single. One..before you're free..~"