#there’s no one who would stop and wonder if this is a good idea

[dduane]

Hello! Love your work, life-long fan, etc. etc. But I am here today on a mission and wondering if you could help. My nibling (who is unsure if "niece" and other gendered concepts is right for them) is turning 7 this week and is TERRIFIED of black holes. Can't sleep, can't enjoy the night sky, is-getting-picked-on-at-school bad. I'm hoping to introduce her to Fred, but I think if I start at "so there these things called white holes which kind of are "opposite" black holes," I might have a whole new problem to explain to my sister.

So as I dream up what a "nice" black hole would be all about - How was Fred as a black hole? What would such an entropically-interesting entity like a black hole even look like as a wizard? Have people with melanoheliophobia reached out to you before/Do you have any expert advice?

Thanks for all that you do to help change the landscape for anxious, nerdy people!!

Let me go talk to Fred.

***

"It was a good while ago, you know?" he says.

("He" is an approximation of the most extreme kind, here. Most astronomical entities above the Planetary level have no idea whatsoever what gender is about, or what it's good for. And even at the Planetary level they're often none too sure what it means for biologicals.)

Anyway. When you're in Timeheart, even when only visiting, it's hard to avoid the sense of everything you're discussing being in the nature of a game you won; or a test you passed and don't have to deal with further except as an amused memory. But then, on the other side of physicality, all games are won. All tests are passed. This is where you choose the next challenge. As for past ones...?

"It seems straightforward," Fred says, "when you're a black hole. More and more stuff accretes to you. At first, it's just your job, right? But then it starts to become more, and you slowly start getting aware of it. Mass = consciousness, possibly? I don't know. But you start noticing it. More, and more, and more, till you just can't bear it! Gravity, right? What can you do about gravity? Or mass? Honestly. ...But then, finally!—all of a sudden, the pressure releases. There's room. You have somewhere for it to go."

"The Schwarzchild radius," I say.

"Is that what it's called?" Fred says. "...Was he nice?"

"I, uh... couldn't say. Didn't know him personally."

"Pity," Fred says. "It was such a relief! Please thank him for me." A pause. "...'Him?'"

"Insofar as it matters," I say, "apparently so."

"All right," he says. "But anyway, it's such a simple thing. All your life you've been gathering stuff in. More and more, all the time. And you start saying to yourself, "This can't go on, it's just wrong, what happens if I eat everything? I don't want to eat everything!' You know? It's scary."

"I hear you, cuz," I say.

"But it doesn't matter what you think or feel; it just gets worse and worse. You swell on the inside but you can't swell on the outside, and you can't stop stuff from swirling in and in and in. You think, 'This is all wrong, it's going to be the end of me! And if it is, what else is there? What was this all about? Why am I not big enough?' And 'Why can't I be the same kind of "big enough" on both sides?' And the inside and the outside start fighting over which should be bigger—"

"I think I may know where this is going," I say.

"Yes! And then, all of a sudden, when you think you can't bear it another second longer, something happens and you just... evert!"

"Go inside out, you mean."

He laughs out loud. "Yeah, well, that's maybe a little simplistic...? I mean, when you're dealing with six dimensions and above, you sort of go inside out, and upside down, and sideways, and, you know, more ways than that."

"I'm sorry to say that I don't know," I say, "but I suspect it's memorable."

"Please!" he says. "My poor gnaester! You have no idea."

"Um... perhaps that's for the best."

"But the inside gets bigger than the outside," Fred says. And then adds, a bit abashed but also amused, "I was kind of late to the party on this, apparently. I'm told it's a trope."

"So it is," I said. "...For a lot of us, though. Takes a while to realize what's happened. But you're in good company."

"Oh good. Anyway, so then after that you start emitting all the stuff you earlier absorbed," Fred says. "You're a gateway. It's like... recycling, you know? Takes a while sometimes: some people have trouble emitting, after absorbing and absorbing for so long." He laughs. "Habit, yeah?"

"Yes it is," I say. "Habit is such a problem."

"Anyway," Fred says, "tell everybody it's okay. Black holes are about taking in what's over with, what's done. But when we shift, it's about letting whatever we ingested go out to be something new. Has to go through our insides first, though! That's what we're for."

"Recycling?" I say.

"Recycling. You're starstuff, sure!" And Fred laughs. "But sometimes even starstuff needs to go through the wash."

***

HTH!

[rey-129-fan]

Gotham-Amity Co-op AU Part 3

Part 1 | Previous | Next

“Hola beauties, and welcome back to Fashionable History, I’m Paulina,”

“And I’m Star, and on this channel, we teach you how to be at the height of fashion, no matter what time period you find yourself in.”

“Now for our long-time viewers who missed our community posts, you might be wondering about the change in location.  Well, we are moving up in the world.  That’s right, fam, we are officially-

“College girlies!” The two shouted into the camera.

“Ah, such a big step,” ‘Star’ sighed.

“Indeed it is.  And to celebrate, let us dress up like we’re going to meet the queen of fashion herself: Marie Antoinette!”

***

“So you would think it would be hard to demonstrate Amity Park’s weirdness while no longer living there, but you would be wrong,” a black man said into the camera while walking down a hallway, his glasses fallen ever so slightly down his nose.  There were voices in the background progressively getting louder.  “You see, Danny’s mentor popped by this morning, and apparently, he decided that the perfect way to tutor Danny and piss off his bosses at the same time was to allow a bunch of college kids to summon a historical figure of their choosing to discuss their area of expertise.  Once a week.

“Jazz got to go first.”

The black man stopped in a doorway.  Much clearer in the background was a woman’s even voice.  “And Jazz, being the future psychologist that she is, picked the most sex-obsessed man in history.”

The camera flipped to show a young red-head sitting across an older man with a white beard in a blue three piece suit.  In the background was a younger man, his blue eyes glazed over as he sat there sipping from his mug, his head of black hair bobbing as he fought to stay awake.  Really, it wouldn’t gather a second glance, except for the tiny detail that the older man’s skin was as green as a sunburnt person’s was red.

“-indeed homosexuality is not an illness, and in fact the only link between it and mental health has been observed to be caused by familial and community reactions.”

“That is good to hear.  Indeed, many people throughout history were homosexual, and a lot of them did not show any other signs of mental illnesses.”

“It is.  However, with the recent pushes for public acceptance of those not heterosexual, many have come forward with sexual orientations beyond just hetero and homosexuality, including those that are attracted to both men and women at the same time, as well as those who experience no sexual attraction or are completely repulsed by the idea of anything sexual.”

The camera flipped back to the first man.  “She is explaining how psychology has developed in the last 100 years without trying to rip apart Freud’s work.

“This isn’t even the first time something like this has happened.  Occasionally, we’d get guest speakers that would turn out to be some famous author or pioneer in their field.  It’s how our English teacher got his copy of the Tempest signed by the original author.  I think this might be the first one that won’t end in a raid by government idiots in white, though.

“So yeah, we occasionally get to talk to dead celebrities and don’t bat an eye at it.  Amity Park is very weird.”

***

“Danny!  You left your cups in the sink again!”

“How can you tell it’s mine?”

“They’re glowing green and you’re the only one that drinks ectoplasm!  Now take care of them before you bring the food to life again!”

“Fine…”

The camera pans over to a goth woman giving the camera a flat look.  On screen, there’s some text that reads: ‘When your boyfriend forgets to clean off his dishes after his mildly radioactive smoothies.’

***

“Urgh!” Just die you stupid, lazy skeleton!”

“How long is this attack going to be!”

“I don’t care, because when it’s finally my turn, I am going to stab the dust out of this depressed sack of bones!”

On screen was a couch, and on that couch sat 3 young adults, two women and one man.  One of the women was Valarie Gray, US National Taekwondo Silver Medalist, was jabbing her thumb down on the d-pad of her controller, lips pulled back in a snarl.  The other was Samantha Manson, more known for the TikTok channel Our Strange Lives.  The man was a muscular blond.  All three were focusing on the screen, their eyes emitting faint light and Valarie’s teeth seemed to be getting sharper.

Quietly a blond woman walked on screen, a backpack slung over her shoulder.  The woman was Star Strong from Fashionable History.

“You guys are still streaming?”

“This boss is stupid difficult and Manson and Gray are the only ones willing to play.”

“What happened to the guys?”

“Fowley, Wes, Singh all had work.  Fenton got to the first boss and then lost it because ‘Goat Mom just wanted to protect us’ before getting a call from his lil sis asking for help.  Kwan is working on a lab with a guy from his chem class, and Kyle passed out a couple hours ago.”

“Stop dodging!”

“Wanna play?”

“Can’t.  Going to the library to study for a calc exam I have coming up.  See you guys later.”

“Later.”

“FUC-”

***

“And so, with this polaroid image, we have evidence to prove that-”

“Hey, Wes, do you have something I can use for a collage?  Oh sweet, thanks bro!”

“What?  No!  Kyle!  Get back with that! That was the proof I was going to use to prove the existence of Yetis!”

“Oh damn.  This is some nice creature work!  Danny, your friend has an incredible costume, man!”

“Thanks, Kyle!  I’ll pass it on!”

***

Tim paused the video right as Wesley Weston stood to chase his older brother.

There.

The red-head’s eyes had a slight glow to them.  Tim clicked over to the other images he had gathered of the Amity Park teens, all with their eyes glowing or other signs of something inhuman.

Tim had been introduced to this group by Stephanie when she found a martial arts demonstration Gray did that involved breaking multiple boards, all several feet above her head.  Stephanie had meant it as a ‘check out his cool person doing what we’re doing,’ but Tim noticed something.  All the boards were being held by seemingly the same person- or at least people dressed very similarly.  And not in a way where they’re sitting on a ledge above Gray and are switching out the board each time she broke one.  More that there were multiple companies of the same white glove all holding a board and all floating several feet above where they should have been.  That was already a little weird, but it could’ve been some special effects or just a uniform.

No, what caught Tim’s attention was the quick glimpse of the face of one of the board holders.  It was youthful- late teens- but with paper white hair that showed no signs of bleaching.  Now these features would have been a thing to cement the mysterious person in Tim’s mind.  But it wasn’t that.

No, what got Tim to do some digging to find out about a previously unknown supposed hero from a small town that has been blacked-out by the US government, was his eyes.

His calm, glowing Lazarus green eyes.

***

So we finally get a taste for the shenanigans our liminals are up to. Sam, Tucker, and Danny all share a TikTok where they show off how weird the other two are and how weird their town is. Wes is trying to prove cryptids exist, which Kyle ruins. Dash has a gaming stream that most often Kwan joins in on, and Paulina and Star do dress history. Oh, and Valarie is a national taekwondo because karate has only been an event for one Olympic games, but taekwondo has been an event since 2000 and Val seems more like a kicker than a thrower. Plus, I actually took taekwondo when I was younger.

We do get another Bat showing up at the end. There is absolutely no plot, however, so who knows where this is going. Certainly not me!

I'm still looking for names (please, I need them). As for majors:

Jazz-Psych (obviously)

Kyle- Liberal Arts (I wanna put him in accounting, but Liberal Arts works for now)

Tuck- Comp Sci

Danny- Poly Sci, minor in Astronomy

Sam- Double Poly Sci and Environmental Science

Val- Criminal Justice

Dash- Undecided (both me and him)

Kwan- Pre-Med for now, though he wants to do Child Development/Education

Paulina- Fashion Marketing

Star- Sports Science

Mikey- Music

Wes- Journalism

[six-eyed-samurai]

Yo I think something glitched when I was making the header...didn't crop properly. Anyway, enjoy this trash and I'm sorry if it's not up to my usual standard but I just got the random idea in the middle of the night!

Note: Reader is pregnant, so therefore fem and if it makes you uncomfortable I apologise but don't read

Everyone was convinced Tomioka Giyuu hated you right from the start.

You were first introduced to the Hashira when Oyakata-sama called them all for a meeting on the latest reports of demon activity, but requested them all to stay a little longer before being dismissed. Amane gestured for you to come forward with a gentle smile and you shuffled out of the shadows with your hands clasped together in nervousness but with a bright bream upon your face. The Hashira’s eyes caught yours in surprise, wondering if you were perhaps a new Kakushi since you weren’t wearing a slayer uniform, but instead a traditional (f/c) yukata.

Then their eyes strayed downwards and changed their minds about that, but nonetheless still remained in confusion.

“This is our newest member, (y/n) (y/l/n), the (b/f) Hashira. She was supposed to join our ranks quite some months ago but due to her sudden pregnancy she will for now be an honorary member.”

The only sign of your anxiety was the blush on your cheeks and the hand rubbing at your swollen abdomen. “Hi everyone! I’m so happy to meet you all! I won’t be on the battlefield for some time and I’m sorry I can’t fight alongside you for now, but I look forward to getting to know you all. If you need anything, I’m always at the (e/n) Estate.”

The ice was broken and you were immediately approached by many of the Hashira. Himejima-san cried and wished you and your child good health, making you feel a little embarrassed but thanked him anyway. The Mist Pillar Tokito simply stared at you, then at the sky, then at you again before asking what were you doing here again (later on, he startled you by appearing behind and questioning you in that airheaded manner of his if he could talk to the baby).

You were also tackled by the Love Pillar who introduced herself as Kanroji Mitsuri and your new best friend as well as the calmer Insect Pillar, Kocho Shinobu, who despite slightly unnerving you with her smile touched you greatly when she said you could always stop by the Butterfly Mansion for checkups or simply a visit.

“How far along are you?”

“About five months, I think!”

“KYAAAAAAAAAAH! Your baby is going to be so cute! What’s it’s name? Do you know if it’s a he or a she yet? I can’t wait to be an aunt!”

“Heh, I’m not too sure yet, but I have a feeling it’s going to be a boy!”

Mitsuri squealed again, causing you to laugh at her genuine happiness. She whipped her head behind her and called out to the silently glowering Snake Pillar. “Iguro-san, don’t you think the baby will be cute? I really wish I’ll have some of my own one day!”

You and Shinobu shared a smirk as the Wind Pillar grumpily slapped his friend’s back and dragged the furiously red Iguro away, muttering viciously about not wasting any more time in hunting a Twelve Kizuki.

“Oh look, there's Tomioka-san. Why hasn't he come and said hello yet?”

“Ah well, a lone friendless wolf as always.” Shinobu didn't see you originally visibly brighten at Mitsuri’s words and turn surprised at hers.

Indeed Tomioka was standing awkwardly as always a little - long, actually - way off. What was not as always was that horrified, slack jawed look on his face instead of his usual blank, emotionless one.

“Tomioka-san? Are you alright? You've been making that face for a long time already…” Shinobu's eye twitched, but you didn't notice, suddenly preoccupied with Muichiro’s intense questioning of whether he could play with the baby when it was born.

“She shouldn't be a Hashira.”

The remaining Hashira found themselves narrowing their eyes at the Water Pillar's blunt, if not rude, words.

That would be just one of the many events that further convinced them of his intense dislike of you.

***

You started going over a lot to the Butterfly Mansion over then next few months, becoming a fast favorite among the girls for your cheerful attitude and your baby; even Kanao cracked a smile at you when you came around. When the other Hashira arrived to be healed you always made it a point to go pay them a visit and in turn you pretty soon had every one of them in your back pocket, including the harsh, loudmouthed Wind Pillar Shinazugawa who constantly gave you a jolt with the complete 360 with his attitude around you, to the point you could call him a good friend.

Being friends with him usually meant hearing him grumble about the stupid waterboy.

“Why doesn’t he ever look at you anyway, turning away like that. So rude, that little (beep) (beep) (beep)-”

“Eheh, Shinazugawa-san, don’t swear so loudly, he’ll hear you!”

You had stopped by to Sanemi’s room when Shinobu had mentioned he was there to be patched up after a mission and knowing how busy she was, had offered to go help change his bandages with the basic medical knowledge you had picked up over the years of being a slayer. Reluctantly she had agreed and so here you were, chatting away with him until he spotted Tomioka passing by (he poked his head in actually, otherwise Sanemi would never have noticed him) and started complaining about him once more, especially when you had called out to him and Tomioka had simply whipped his head to the side to stare into the distance.

Really, Sanemi wasn’t the only one to notice how Tomioka avoided you like the plague with that stupid, vacant, red expression of his.

“He’s just shy, he doesn’t mean to be rude!” You defended the poor Pillar, continuing with rewinding the new wrappings.

“Tch, you should see how he acts at the meetings, like he’s better than us or something,” was the growling reply. “(beep) doesn’t know how to (beep) talk with anyone with his (beep) attitude.”

“I don’t think he thinks he’s better than all of you, maybe it’s just something else,” You hum, finishing up. “That’s all! I’m glad the demon didn’t go any further than a scratch.”

Shinazugawa grunted, then his gaze caught yours and softened. “By the way, who’s the dad?”

“Oh, it’s -”

“(y/n)-san!” Three heads peeked in from the door shyly. “Can you come and play with us?”

“Of course! Bye, Shinazugawa!”

Like always the reply was only a “tch”.

***

Another thing was that he never stopped repeating what he said at the first time everyone met you: “She shouldn’t be a Hashira”, going as far as to attempt to prevent you from wielding a sword, although this was only noticed by Tanjiro.

You had agreed to the Kamaboko Squad’s requests (aka demands by Inosuke and begging from Zenitsu) to train together, despite Tanjiro’s worries which you brushed off. The boys were very rambunctious and did tire you out quite a bit, but you were having so much fun and they were so eager you just went on sparring with them until even Inosuke muttered a plead for a quick break, unable to beat your incredible swordsmanship.

“(y/n)-chan!!! Who’s the lucky guy you married?! You never told us and I want to know how he managed to score someone so beautiful like you so I can do it with Nezuko-chan!” Zenitsu simpered, scooting closer, ignoring Tanjiro’s scandalized look.

“What’s married?” Inosuke’s voice was muffled underneath his boar mask and the mountain of onigiri you had brought he was stuffing into his mouth, so none of you heard him.

You giggle, placing a hand on your stomach. “He’s very sweet, although he’s honestly very shy and doesn’t talk much. I’m sure you’ve met him before! Can you guess?”

“Woah, really?” Tanjiro brightened, wondering who it could be, but his next question was interrupted by an interrogative monotone.

“What are you doing? You shouldn’t be training.” Tomioka stood in front of them, the first time anyone had seen him interact with you without just staring at the ground. His face was as empty as the void but there was a tiny crease between his eyebrows and Tanjiro didn’t have to inhale to smell the worry reeking off him.

“I didn’t know you were so concerned about (y/n)-chan, Tomioka-san.” Zenitsu’s eyebrows shot up, disappearing under his hair while he glowered judgmentally.

Tomioka made no reply, only swiftly grabbing and removing the sword from your hand. “She shouldn’t be a Hashira, much less train. You nearly died fighting a demon not too long ago, you’re in no shape to be doing this.”

With that he abruptly walked off and left Zenitsu and Inosuke to scream at him for being such an un-gentleman and for not fighting with them while you looked away sadly.

Tanjiro wondered why he didn’t once smell dislike on Tomioka. Only fear.

***

“What’s he got against (l/n)?” Obanai joined in on the conversation from his perch on the tree. He’d look for reasons to hate against the Water Pillar all the time, but unlike the others this time round his hatred was justified.

Tengen rolled his eyes flamboyantly. “I know! He’s constantly acting like she’s a pest to be around, but she doesn’t seem to have beef with him. What’s wrong with that bland creature?”

“Oh come on! We don’t actually know if he hates her,” Rengoku protested mildly.

“Then why does he keep refusing to even make eye contact with her?”

“I mean, Iguro, you can’t talk, you only ever look at Kanroji” - Obanai turned away, blushing furiously as Tengen cackled - “but I get your point. The other day I walked in on them arguing. I can’t believe he would keep reminding her of past failures without keeping her current state in mind!”

“Perhaps he only wants to try and convince her to stay safe during this time and discourage her from slaying for now?”

“Rengoku, my best buddy, you’re too optimistic.”

“There’s no other reason he’d give her the cold shoulder 24/7.”

Soon the conversation drifted to other topics, but little would they know Rengoku was the closest to the truth…

***

Shinobu already had enough on her hands with all the screaming, panic and blood, but of course Tomioka just had to show up at the most inopportune moment.

It had been a relatively quiet day as the two of you sat on the engawa, exchanging war stories over tea when with a sudden cry you had doubled over in pain. Your water had broken and you were heading into labour - quickly.

Just barely the Insect Pillar had managed to get you to a bed and sent the Butterfly Girls scurrying for the necessities, hiding her uneasiness at the slight earliness of your boy’s arrival to keep you calm and help you through it. You were doing well under her coaxing to use Total Concentration Breathing, and thankfully Shinazugawa was still around to help you relax with a familiar face.

Then Aoi had burst in with a frantic expression and thundering footsteps from behind that certainly weren’t hers.

“Shinobu-san, Tomioka is demanding to be let in-”

“Keep him out!” Shinobu grimaced, returning her attention to you. She’s heard and seen what he’s like around you, and other than the fact he has no business to be here she didn’t want to send you into a further state of panic. “He doesn’t like her, and if he opens that mouth of his to say anything more I might be responsible for two deaths.”

You dug your nails into Sanemi’s proffered hand, screaming in pain. He winced but said nothing, only looking up with a determined look in his eyes at Shinobu. “I’ll go keep Tomioka out, just make sure she delivers safely.”

Without waiting for a reply Sanemi rushed out to bar the doorway, leaving Shinobu to assure and handle your birthing with the anxious assistance of the Butterfly Girls. The pain in your stomach was surely abominable, intolerable, and Shinobu found herself growing more alarmed with every minute the baby wasn’t coming out.

“(y/n), I need you to push harder, alright? Can you do that for me?”

“N-no - where is he?”

“Your husband? I’ll get someone to call him, don’t worry,” Shinobu lied with dawning horror that in the entire time she had known you…she had no actual idea who you were married to. “But he wouldn’t like you see you like this, right? You can do it. Just keep your breathing under control.”

“JUST (beep) OFF, TOMIOKA!” Shinazugawa’s voice bellowed through the Mansion. His stocky form soon appeared, stubbornly acting as an indomitable barrier against the equally stubborn Tomioka who was desperately trying to barge his way through.

“Tomioka, we don’t need unnecessary people here to worry (y/n) more-”

”THAT’S MY WIFE!”

Whether it was because Tomioka had never raised his voice before or the sheer shock of it all or the fact you reached out for his hand, Shinobu and Sanemi let him through.

“I thought I was going to lose you when I heard you screaming like that from outside.” Giyuu nuzzled deeper into your neck, absently stroking your baby’s tiny hand. “Don’t scare me like that again.”

You played with the strands of his hair with a teasing smirk. “You did to, banging into the room like that, with the “That’s my wife!”. It was very romantic of you, Giyuu~”

“I was in a rush.” Giyuu smacked his face into the pillow, embarrassed while you laugh.

“Ara ara~ Are you both done cuddling? I want to perform a quick checkup on your baby now, if you don’t mind, and all the Hashira are here to ask you a lot of things, Tomioka.” Shinobu stood at the doorway with her customary smile, a twitching eye and crossed arms. Behind her were the shadows of the others trying to peek over her shoulder or head into the room to congratulate you on your baby or beat up Tomioka (both for some).

“Ask about what?” Giyuu lifted up his head in confusion. You snort at his obliviousness, cooing at your precious sleeping baby before gently passing him to Shinobu.

“MAYBE ABOUT HOW (Y/N) IS YOUR WIFE AND YOU NEVER TOLD US?”

“KYAAAAAAAAAH! That’s so cute of you, Tomioka!”

“Do you hate us all or something?!”

“No…? No one asked and I thought (y/n) would have told you,” Giyuu said blankly, glancing at you with wide blue eyes. You sheepishly raised your shoulders.

“I tried to tell them but we kept getting interrupted or had no chance.”

“You did make us all think you hated (y/n) with your behaviour, Tomioka.” Shinobu raised an eyebrow. “After all, you rarely spoke to her and when you did it was only to reprimand her, but I can see now it was probably out of worry for your child and her…although rather harshly.”

“Oh!” You burst out laughing, shaking so hard you nearly couldn’t take back your awakening baby Shinobu was handing over. “Giyuu’s just very shy! See-”

You pressed a quick peck to his cheek.

giyuu.exe has stopped working.

[qu1cks1lversb1tch]

Hi! You wrote Lucifer so beautifully I was wondering if you'd do a request? I keep wanting to see a really cute fic where either reader or Lucifer is nervous to make a move on the other because it's Charlie's friend or dad (depending whose perspective it was written from) and she finds out somehow and gives her blessing wanting them to be happy together. Thanks for hearing me out regardless and have a great day! :D

A/N — Oh you have no idea how much I love this request! Your kind words on my post made me so happy! Sorry it took so long, it's been a hectic week. I hope this is okay for being written in my half awake state :)

Nervousness | Lucifer x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, slight angsty theme, Luci being Luci (aka babygirl)

Word Count: 1,024

You were going to lose your mind.

If it wasn't from the knowing glances he sent you from across the room at any event, it would be the way he made it his mission to talk to you whenever he came to the hotel to make sure the place was still standing.

You did your best to ignore the way you had felt because that was your friend's dad — your best friend's dad at that.

You hated the way you were reduced to a blushing and stuttering mess in his presence, something that no doubt made Lucifer puff his chest out like a prideful peacock.

You hoped Charlie was too occupied with the hotel to notice any exchange.

Even if she did somehow notice, there was only so much that you could do, so you did what you do best: you avoided him. You avoided him like the fucking plague.

Not because you hated him, no. . . You just wanted to keep some shred of dignity. If Charlie told you he was coming (she always did), you found something to do literally anywhere else; grocery shopping, visiting your family, dragging Angel out for lunch — anything.

And then things began showing up.

At first it was your favorite flowers on a random Wednesday with a note attached, delivered right to the receptionist desk that you spent most of your days at.

Heard you've been feeling down, hope these can lift you up :) — L.M.

Then it became notes with cheesy pick-up lines that you'd randomly find between stacks of papers or in your purse.

Even when he wasn't physically there to make you blush, he somehow managed to, just by writing silly little notes and signing his name.

I don’t know much about astrology, but I do know how the universe started. It started with u n i ;) — L.M.

Are you a magician? ‘Cause every time I look at you, everyone else disappears! — L.M.

Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again and again until you do? — L.M.

If you were a fruit, you’d be a fine-apple. — L.M.

You'd be a liar if you tried to tell yourself that you hated it — you didn't hate the notes or him, you enjoyed both the notes and his presence (when he wasn't staring at you so intensely that you became a stuttering mess).

Then one day, the notes stopped.

Instead, they were replaced by lunch from your favorite restaurant in the Pride Ring and the King of Hell himself, sitting in your chair when you returned from the bathroom.

Charlie hadn't told you he would be coming. . . Maybe she didn't know?

"You can't avoid me forever, you know?" Lucifer questioned in a low tone, a lazy smirk adorning his face as you reached for the bag of goods.

"I'm not avoiding you." You stated as if it were the absolute truth.

"You're avoiding eye contact with me right now, [Y/N]. . . You know she wouldn't care, right? Well, she would care, but she wouldn't be mad."

You shook your head and laughed slightly. Charlie was unbelievably understanding, especially for someone who grew up in Hell, but even understanding people had their limits.

You had your limits.

"I can't." You whispered, momentarily glancing towards the doors. "She's my best friend and you love Lilith."

The words made your heart hurt, but you had to say them.

Someone had to.

"Is it the ring? Because I can lose the ring!" He stood from the chair and placed his hand in front of your face, making a small show of removing the singular piece of jewelry that bound him to his past lover.

It wasn't just the ring.

You were scared of the worst that could happen, the unspoken boundaries that dating your best friend's dad would inevitably cross. It didn't help that nervousness was eating away at your being with every note or longing glance from across the room.

What helped even less was the effect his voice had on you. Not only his voice but his general presence, his aura, his ethereal beauty that seemed to be only reserved for his pleasure.

"I can't." You repeated once more.

It had been a week since the conversation took place and you were flooded with more notes and flowers than before.

The pick-up lines increased in cheesiness, which ironically enough, only made you want him more.

You were in the middle of working when Charlie walked in carrying a vase full of your favorite flowers. You hadn't noticed until she spoke.

"My dad sent another one for you. . . You should give him a chance [Y/N]. I think it's nice that he's trying to get out there after my mom."

You paused, looking up at Charlie. Did you hear her correctly?

"What?" You asked.

"Well, my dad's been sending you flowers for a while now and he seems to really like you. I think you'd be good for each other — I mean, he looks at you like you put the stars in the sky! Which is soooooooo sweet! I know you feel the same way about him, so you should go for it!"

You gaped at your best friend.

"What — how?"

"I have my ways. . . Besides, he only met you six months ago and I'd rather him date you than someone who only cares about his status. I want you both to be happy, and if you're happy with each other, I'm happy for you!"

"I mean, are you sure? There has to be someone —"

"He loves you!" Charlie blurted out, immediately covering her mouth with wide eyes.

You only stared with wide eyes and uncertainty gnawing at you.

"It's true, and I'm taking you out tonight, [Y/N]." Lucifer's voice said from behind you.

You turned around and before you could utter those four words in return, or even anything to question what just happened, he kissed your cheek and disappeared, leaving a note where he had just previously been.

Hey, tie your shoelaces. I don’t want you falling for anyone else. — Lucifer

When had he stopped signing L.M.?

[livingformintyoongi]

can i make a request with yoongi and song numb to the feeling by chase atlantic? write however you want

Numb The Feeling

a/n: I'm sorry for the delay, I've been a little busy these days. Honestly I had a hard time understanding the lyrics of the song, so I wasn't sure what to write, I hope you liked the final result. warnings: MDNI, drug mentions (very little and at the beginning mostly), cowgirl, not much warning honestly, somehow ended up a little fluffy at the end, I swear it was unconsciously. wc: 882 taglist: @thunderg @minjianhyung @queenv1997 @yoongtism @lizzymizzy-blogg @superbbananananana @drpepperobsessed @themwordsblog

You knew that what you were doing wasn't really a good idea, and you really wanted to find another solution, but you had both already tried absolutely everything to stop Yoongi's addiction, and nothing seemed to work for him. Or so you thought until one day you both had too much to drink and ended up fucking in Yoongi's living room. 

Who knew sex would be such a useful thing to kick an addiction?

You really weren't sure if it was just in Yoongi's case or worked that way with everyone, but, from what he explained to you, the feeling of climax made him feel quite similar to that moment when he was high enough to lose himself completely. It was only then that he brought up the idea of repeating that night, obviously with the sole purpose of reducing his addiction, and you were more than willing to help him, he was your best friend and you would do anything to see him clean of drugs.

You never imagined that you would end up enjoying this kind of relationship so much. 

Yoongi never imagined it would work, but it did, and with each passing day the feeling grew even stronger.

"Go faster" Yoongi growled, taking your hips and moving them up and down against his, trying to increase the speed and force of the thrusts.

You just nodded awkwardly, wrapping your arms around his neck and trying to jump on his cock at increased speed. It was times like these that you wished you were in better physical condition. 

"Feels good, so fucking good," he leaned his head against your shoulder, pushing his hips against yours hard. A smile took over his face as he heard a high pitched moan leave your lips, "Did I touch a tender spot?" he whispered against your skin, leaving a trail of marks and bites on your shoulder.

"What do you think?" you laughed between gasps, clinging to his hair and pulling on it with all your strength. As soon as his face was in front of yours you kissed him deeply, moving your hips in circles. You both moaned as you felt your walls tighten around him.

You noticed how Yoongi's pupils looked quite dilated, to the point where you could barely see the brown in his eyes. You knew that was a sign that he was enjoying it as much as you were. Well, the fact that his cock was throbbing inside you also gave you an idea of how he was feeling.

"Are you feeling okay?" you whispered against his lips, brushing away the loose strands of hair that stuck to his forehead. Your gaze drifted down to his lips, watching as they remained half-open, swollen and glossy. You loved his lips.

"Fuck yeah, of course I do" he nodded quickly, pulling you closer by the neck and kissing you again.

If there was one thing you didn't understand, but didn't complain about, it was that always, no matter how fast and brutish you were at fucking, Yoongi would never take his lips off you, and if he could have it over your mouth for hours, he would.

His hand slowly moved down your abdomen until it stopped on your clit, and almost the instant he touched it, your whole body trembled. It was hard not to feel like you were in fucking heaven when Yoongi had fingers this wonderful.

"Shit" you gasped, holding his wrist with one of your hands, burying your nails into his delicate skin.

"You're so sensitive" he said with a chuckle, putting your clit between his fingers, squeezing and tugging on it, causing your hips to start moving unevenly over his. "I love it."

"Yoongi" you said in a loud moan, shuddering violently on top of him. You felt him grunt against your ear the moment you released yourself onto his cock. Even though you couldn't move because of how sensitive you were, Yoongi had no problem with that.

He grabbed your waist and turned you over, leaving you lying on your back as he ground his hips against yours, trying to find his own release.

You felt his rhythm alter more and more until it was left in hard but long thrusts. That was the only way you had to know if he had come. He rested his head against your shoulder, breathing heavily, trying to regulate his breathing.

It was only when he was a little calmer that he let out a breathy chuckle. It was just for those few seconds of release that he was doing all this. It felt so fucking good. He really felt like there was no drug that could match that moment of euphoria that made him fly so high.

"Did it work?" you whispered between gasps, tangling your hand in his hair and scratching it gently.

"Like every time" he nodded slowly, lifting his face a little, just enough to be facing you, "Today marks five months since I last got high, shouldn't you be rewarding me?"

You laughed softly, kissing him softly and long. You brought your hands to his cheeks and squeezed them gently, "I will, I promise."

"Okay" he smiled slightly, resting his forehead against yours.

All in all, this was your moment of ultimate elation.

Masterlist.

[blurredcolour]

Undone Before You

[One-shot]

John Brady x Female!Reader

John Brady's wedding day with his sweetheart has arrived at last, but the war and events back home have certainly left their mark upon him. After years of waiting, he cannot help but wonder if love is really enough to build a life on? All you have to do is take him into your arms and prove that it is.

Warnings: Grieving, Death, Graveyard, Wedding, Alcohol Consumption, Catholicism (light), Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes [fingering - f receiving, oral sex - f receiving, virginity loss - m/f, premature ejaculation, multiple orgasms, cum play] - 18+ ONLY.

Author's Note: Technically a sequel to Parting Gifts but can be read as a standalone. Special shoutout to @precious-little-scoundrel for helping foster this from day one - this is truly a product of countless DMs.

Word Count: 3728

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

John Brady’s wedding day began in a graveyard, which was certainly not how he had imagined the start to one of the happiest days of his life. Yet he had also not imagined spending over a year-and-a-half as a prisoner of war, nor his own father dying back home in his absence. All told, the last four years of his life had been entirely constructed of the unimaginable, most of it horrific and unspeakable, but there had also been meeting you. Asking you for directions, insisting on escorting you home, only to become even more hopelessly lost on the cold January streets of Sioux City, Iowa. Falling in love with you over those short months the 100th trained there, the letters which you sent to sustain him throughout his time at Thorpe Abbots and later in prison camp.

The war had torn the world apart and obliterated much of the life he had known and yet it had brought him you. A woman beyond compare, who had not only waited for him, but had made the journey to New York harbor to await his return on board one of the many ships of men recently freed from German captivity. He must have imagined proposing to you a thousand times – the style of ring he would buy you, the words of devotion he would speak as he sank to one knee as he slid it onto your finger. As it was, he had barely wrapped his arms around you before the plea for you to be his bride had flown from his mouth into your sweet-smelling hair.

You were even prettier than his memory had been able to maintain.

To his immense relief, you had agreed without hesitation, pulling his lips to yours, the softest sensation he had encountered in months. It was not easy to secure a date at the local cathedral. With the war in Europe over, marriage seemed to be on everyone’s mind, and so the pair of you had opted for the first available date near the end of August. It had worked well enough, meant your family could make the trip, allowed him to make the short journey to see the family of the waist gunner, Clanton, they had lost in the Munster raid. But the agony of waiting was made all the more acute with you so close at hand, just in the guestroom. While the paid of you had committed a great deal of sneaking around to satiate your need for one another previously, something about the idea of doing so under his mother’s roof had turned his stomach and had kept his hands very respectfully to himself.

It did nothing to stop the looks of longing across the dinner table or lingering kisses good night, however. And when your parents arrived and bundled you off to a local hotel for the last few nights before the wedding, he had felt your absence like a hole in the foundation of his childhood home. The very size and depth of his feelings for you was honestly terrifying at times, leaving him feeling lost, adrift in the churning expanse of them. It was the desire for a grounding conversation that had taken him to the graveside of his father, before his mother had even risen to make breakfast. Setting a simple bouquet of cheerful, hand-picked daisies, collected during his walk over, against the headstone, he crouched down to try and initiate a facsimile of the conversation he ought to be having with the man who raised him.

“I’m getting married today, father.” John murmured in the hush of the church yard, the birds only just beginning their morning song. “Wish you could have met your daughter-in-law, she’s something else.”

He exhaled deeply at the awkward silence that ensued, driving home how truly one-sided an endeavor this was. About to give up, to straighten and make his way back to the house to put on his nicest suit, he blurted out the question that he wished he could get an answer to.

“Were you terrified? I’ve flown into combat, marched across all of Germany through ice and snow, but I feel ready to jump out of my skin. Not of marrying her – god no, would’ve done that the first day back if I could, but…of disappointing her. I love her so much, I just want to make her happy and what if I’m not…” He trailed off, birdsong quickly filling the vacuum left by his silence.

“John?”

He straightened quickly and turned towards the sight of Father Hastings making his way through the rows of headstones.

“Morning, Father.”

“Thought that might be you, you’re up with the birds this morning.” His green eyes glittered beneath bushy grey eyebrows though the rest of his hair had gone stark white. John could not help but smile a little with a sheepish shrug. “Can hardly blame you I suppose, it’s the big day after all. Nice of you to visit your father.”

John nodded as the pair of them turned to look at the headstone, a little less lonely looking courtesy of his posy of daisies.

“Suppose today would be a day to sit you down for a talk about manly responsibilities and all that. Sorry this old, unmarried man is such a poor substitute – the only advice I can offer you is to love that woman with all your heart and soul. I’ve seen the way she looks at you, I’d say you two will be just fine.”

With a rough gulp, John took a shaky breath and offered the priest a nod of thanks. Somehow the answer had still managed to make its way to him, the very words he needed to hear. “Thank you very much, Father.”

With a warm grin, Father Hastings glanced at his watch. “You’d best go home and get some breakfast in you, don’t want you fainting on me at the altar. I’ll see you at one o’clock, John.”

He huffed a short laugh. “That you will, Father.” He replied before turning to make his way home.

Time took on a hazy, hastened quality, breakfast blurring into setting up the borrowed chairs and tables in the backyard for the homespun reception before he took his shower and shaved, then carefully dressed in his suit. His thoughts strayed often to you, pondering the lengths of your preparations as well, certain you were being subjected to all manner of womanly things that were utterly unnecessary as you were already stunning, in his opinion.

Stepping into the sanctuary, bedecked with flowers by your family that very morning, stretched an undeniable grin across his face. The blooms brought the familiar space to life with beauty and fragrance, gave him something to focus on as he and his brother took their places at the front of the church along with several of his schoolmates. None of the boys of the 100th had been able to make the trip, unfortunately, though the pair of you had extensive invitations to visit on your honeymoon. Kansas, Wisconsin, New York City, Wyoming. Perhaps not conventional destinations but certainly fitting for the connections made during his time in the service.

His perception of time seemed to inverse as the doors to the sanctuary opened and you followed behind your bridal party, everything slowing to a crawl as his vision narrowed in on you. For someone who was gorgeous every day to become so breathtakingly stunning…John was briefly worried he might faint on Father Hastings after all as he struggled to take in a sufficient amount of oxygen. And yet the moment your hand landed in his, balance was suddenly restored. The pace of the clock, and of his breath, returned to normal and he found his feet by focusing on the faint shimmer of happy tears in your eyes.

Vows were spoken, rings exchanged, and your union was blessed before everything was sealed with a ceremonial kiss – much to the delight of your gathered guests. Photos followed before the entire crowd descended upon the festooned backyard of the Brady family home for champagne, sandwiches, and cake. For the cobbled-together nature of it all, it felt like utter perfection. His hand rarely surrendered its hold on yours until you demanded freedom to change into your going away dress so the pair of you might make your escape to the Canandaigua Hotel where your families had booked you several days of privacy as a wedding gift.

“For that, I suppose I can let you go, Mrs. Brady.” He murmured with a small smile, which promptly widened as your lips pressed against his, to the nigh-obnoxious tinkling of cutlery against glassware. “Get me out of here.” He tacked on, basking in your responding giggle and releasing your hand so the pair of you might flee as soon as possible.

Packed into the car with much fanfare as the sun began to set, the sudden silence inside the vehicle was striking, your gaze meeting his as he navigated his way out of town, sending you both into a short fit of laughter.

“We did it, Johnny.” You breathed, your hand coming to rest on his shoulder, making him swallow thickly as the skin well-hidden beneath the layers of his suit jacket and dress shirt still came alive at your touch.

“We sure did, sweetheart.”

He set his hand, palm-up, upon his thigh and you promptly laced your fingers with his. The feel of the bands on your ring finger immediately drew his attention, his thumb shifting to trace along them as he glanced at your brilliant smile. It was difficult to maintain his focus on the road as you lifted his hand to brush your lips against the back of it, shifting along the bench seat to press against him, laying your head on his shoulder and setting your entwined hands in your lap.

John was acutely aware of the warmth of you, the faint scent of your shampoo and hint of icing combined with champagne on your breath. His lower belly ached with the need to taste that on your tongue.

“Just ten minutes.” He breathed, perhaps more for himself than for you.

You hummed against his shoulder in response, squeezing his captive hand but making no move to release your hold on him. As you neared the westernmost of the Finger Lakes, it was his turn to lift your hand, placing a kiss of apology to the back of it before gently releasing it, navigating his way to the modest four-story hotel that had become a main-stay of the area in the 1920s. Check-in was smooth, with your small amount of luggage, and the suite your families had booked was spacious enough to include a sitting area in addition to the bedroom.

“I’m going to freshen up, I’ll be right back.” You said with an enigmatic grin that had him swallowing again, his trousers feeling slightly too tight as he pulled you in to indulge in one thorough kiss before acquiescing to your request.

Licking his lips absently, he set about slipping his suit jacket from his shoulders and hanging it in the closet, unpacking the rest of his suitcase with well-trained, military precision. The sudden appearance of your bare arms slinking around his waist from behind halted his movements, his hands dropping to your elbows to palm along the soft skin of your forearms before unentangling himself. Stepping back and turning, his breath stuttered in his throat at the vision of you in the most ineffective underclothes ever produced – truly they left very little to the imagination, practically see-through and utterly tantalizing.

“Sweetheart…” He exhaled roughly, faintly registering the way your mouth ticked up in delight before his lips descended upon yours ravenously, grasping your waist to pull you flush against him.

Feeling you arch against him, pressing closer, he shuddered slightly and quickly began to manoeuvre you towards the well-appointed bed in the middle of the room, determined to take his time and please you in an appropriate place at last. No more bathrooms or closets or whatever locked door you could hide behind. You were his wife, and he would lay you out upon the bedding and worship your body accordingly. You let out a faint squeak as the backs of your calves found the mattress and he pulled his lips from yours to guide you to lay upon the pillows, shucking off his dress pants and shirt to remain only in his singlet and boxers.

Taking a moment to drink in the sight of you, laid out on the bed like some kind of offering, he took a deep breath before crawling onto the duvet beside you, trailing hot kisses down your neck as the hand not supporting his body began kneading at each of your breasts in turn, teasing the fabric of your lingerie against your nipples. Soft noises of pleasure echoed from your throat, sealed between bitten lips, swallowed down.

“No need to hide it now, Mrs. Brady, let me hear how good you feel.” He whispered into your ear, shuddering at the intensity of the moan his statement earned him, the sound of it sending a rush of blood straight to his cock.

“Mmm, Johnny!” You whimpered as his mouth dampened the lacy fabric over one nipple and then the other, leaving his fingers to toy with the taught bud he left in his wake.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Feels good…don’t stop…” The obvious difficulty you were having forming words stroked some egotistical part of his brain and brought a smirk to his face, eased some of the nerves that had been plaguing him for quite some time at the thought of bedding you fully.

“Good.” He murmured, quite pleased, and removed the fabric from the top half of your body, revealing an expanse of skin to be tasted and conquered by his greedy mouth.

Lips curling against the warmth of your sternum as he slid his hand between your thighs to find a generous accumulation of warm slick, he began to tease your folds until your chest was heaving beneath him, fingers digging into his shoulders, pleas falling from your lips.

“I’ve got you.” He placated with a kiss to your side, sliding from your grip to remove your underwear and settle on the bed between your thighs, the pressure against his throbbing length requiring he take a moment to steady his breath and regain his focus.

Draping your legs over his shoulders, he craned his neck forward to seal his mouth over your core and deliver a devastatingly thorough kiss to your folds. He could feel your thighs tremble against him, your fingers threading into his hair as a high-pitched moan floated down to him. It took all his self-control not to grind his hips into the mattress self-indulgently in response. As you began to buck and writhe in response to his ministrations, his hands slid beneath your buttocks to grip at your fleshy globes, both holding you still and angling you closer to his mouth, making it that much easier for him to dole out his pleasure to you.

Once again memory had failed him here, failed to capture and retain the erotic nuances of your sweet musk, and particularly combined with your newfound vocal liberty, John found himself in a new struggle for self-control. One that had him only doubling his efforts to obtain your release, wanting nothing more than to satisfy you before he attempted anything further. Plunging his tongue deep inside the alluringly plush warmth of you, and relentlessly nudging his nose against your clit, seemed to be the key to driving you over the edge as it did not take long of that combination until you were shaking and crying his name while flooding his tongue with still more sweetness.

Charting a course up your body with sporadic kisses, he smiled at you softly as he smoothed some errant hair from your face. “How’re you feeling?”

“Greedy.” Your murmur following by the sight of your teeth sinking into your lip punched the air from his lungs, gave him little warning before you pulled him down for a kiss and tugged at his undershirt.

“Yeah?” He puffed against your lips, feeling your eager nod in reply before straightening to efficiently strip himself completely, hissing a little at just how sensitive he was in his current state of arousal.

The look on your face as your eyes raked him over gave him pause, made him raise his eyebrow to confirm yet again, to which you nodded and opened your arms. Easing into them carefully, he settled his hips between yours, shivering almost violently at the smear of your slick across his length.

“Tell me if it hurts…” He ground out, throat wanting to clench up on him as he took his cock in hand, slowly pressing forward into your entrance.

While John was no stranger to the feel of your wet heat, the way it seemed to grab at his length and pull him in, wrapping around him so snuggly, had his eyes rolling back in their sockets. Pressing his face tightly against your neck, he bit off a string of curses, gritting his teeth against the prehistoric urge to slam home. Somehow prevailing upon himself to be a gentleman, he waited for your nod until moving again, the friction unlike any earthly feeling he had ever experienced, forcing an agonized moan from his throat and quickly driving his hips back into the warmth of you. Sweat beading along his hairline, he could feel his balls growing dangerously heavy and tight, the imminence of release not obeying his usual iron grip of self control in the face of the pleasure of you.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart…” He rasped in warning, in apology, before his hips seemed to take over, snapping into yours in quick succession as his orgasm overcame him.

Briefly disconnected from reality, there was only mind-numbing, blinding pleasure, until he returned to full consciousness, panting against your collarbone. Your hands were stroking lovingly across his shoulders, down his back, as you craned your neck to kiss at his temple.

“Mmmm Johnny.” You purred, not sounding the least bit annoyed with him and he slowly raised his head, eyes widening as you ducked in for a kiss. “Good?” You murmured against his lips, and he huffed a laugh.

“You are heaven itself, Mrs. Brady. I definitely didn’t intend for that to be over so quickly…”

A soft tut sounded before you were kissing him again. “How much pleasure have you given me, Mr. Brady? Thank you for letting me return the favor, though I hardly did a thing.” You smiled warmly, your fingers carding through his hair so very soothingly. “Regardless, we have our whole lives to practice.” You added with a mischievous grin that sent a molten flash of desire through his abdomen.

“Why Mrs. Brady…” He smirked slowly and nipped at your lower lip, fingers seeking out your still weeping core, determined to finish what he had started with his cock. “…that sounds an awful lot like a proposition.”

Your gasp as he found his target had his tongue dragging across his lower lip.

“Is it a proposition when you’re my husband?” Your voice took on a deliciously breathless quality as he sunk two fingers into you, but he was immediately distracted by the extra slickness he found there, suddenly recognizing that you were full of his cum.

Yet another jolt of desire rocketed to the apex of his thighs, and he found himself sinking lower down the bed, driven by deep curiosity as he continued to work you towards released. The sight of his white, sticky mess dripping from you as you once again began to climb towards climax, his thumb circling at your begging clit – it was all having an unexpectedly powerful effect on him.

“Uhn, Johnny s’good…please…” You whined and he pressed his lips to your quaking inner thigh in acknowledgement.

He could feel you beginning to tighten around his fingers, a sure sign you were not far off, and one subtle pump of his cock confirmed he was fully hard, by some miracle. That miracle being the sheer eroticism of you, surely. Pulling his fingers from you earned him a pitiful cry of protest and he quickly pressed his lips to yours.

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” He soothed, taking a deep, steadying breath before thrusting into the sinful heat of you.

The mixture of your cries was practically pornographic, the fingers of his left hand lacing through yours, his wedding band pressing tightly to your skin, as the thumb of his right kept up the pressure on your clit as he managed twice as many thrusts this time. Combined with the thorough groundwork he had lain, it was enough. Enough to push you first into orgasm, clenching around him so tightly he forgot how to breathe, vision going white as he followed quickly behind with a cry so intense it erupted silently against your shoulder.

Laying on your backs, shoulder to shoulder with your fingers still semi-intertwined, panting weakly, John turned his head to find you already smiling at him adoringly.

“I love you, Mr. Brady.”

“Good thing too, can’t return me now, Mrs. Brady.” He smirked and kissed the scoff right off your face, caressing your neck warmly. “C’mon let me run you a bath.”

“Mmm, we sure made a mess didn’t we…” You remarked, shifting to stand.

“Sure we will again, too.” He chuckled, knowing full well he had a lot of practice ahead to perfect his technique. It was something he found himself very much looking forward to. Following your lead, he slid to his feet, retrieving your lingerie from the floor. “We also should get you new underwear, sweetheart. These really do absolutely nothing to cover you up…” He remarked, holding out the flimsy garment hooked on his fingertips with a raised eyebrow.

“They were a gift for you, Johnny…seeing as you stole my last pair.” You raised a pointed eyebrow in return, and he feigned complete innocence.

“Have no idea what you mean sweetheart, c’mon now, bath.” He slid his arm around your waist, kissing your temple as he guided you into the ensuite, knowing full well those pilfered panties were still hidden in the bottom of his footlocker back home.

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

Masters of the Air Masterlist

[winedarkthoughts]

house of addams (3)

— 🌖 pairing: ot7 x fem.reader

— 🕷️ genre: mystery, angst + fluff + smut

— 🗝️ word count: 4k

— 🍄 summary: the coroner of Farrow's End finally invites you into his kingdom, and you can feel more than one set of watching eyes as you continue your investigation.

— ☕ content warnings: coroner!taehyung, assistant!jungkook, mentions of murder/death/suicide

— 🕸️ a/n: meeting more of the boys!!

previous chapter ← series m.list → next chapter

chpt. 3: into the morgue

"Have her come in," Taehyung says over dinner.

There's a collective clang as several sets of silverware are put down.

"I don't know if that's a good idea, hyung," Jungkook replies. He's nervous around you, especially because you can see more than you let on.

"We're going to have to eventually," Namjoon adds, and Jimin sends him a mischievous, knowing look. He knows how Joon likes to watch you in the bookshop, offering his assistance at his earliest convenience, asking if you need help finding anything specific.

"It's obvious she was hired by the mayor," Yoongi says. "Though, I'm not entirely sure why."

They all know that Mayor Summerbee runs in some of the same circles that they do, but they wonder if you're aware of that fact too. How much did she tell you?

"At the very least, it'll tell us what she already knows," Yoongi says.

"And if she scares easily," Taehyung adds, suppressing a smirk.

What kind of private investigator are you? Are you motivated by self interests? Are you just here to get the job done, bare minimum? Or are you the morbidly curious type? The kind that can't stop until a mystery is solved, even if it leads you to dangerous places.

Yoongi and Namjoon already have a guess at which type you are.

"She has some kind of sight," Jungkook says, biting his nails. The real question is how sharp is that sight?

"I don't think she knows that she has it," Jin pipes in.

They exchange glances, thinking.

"Well," Hoseok says, and they all turn to look at him. "I suppose we'll just have to test it."

september 27, 2004

You've seen your fair share of coroners. Good ones, even excellent ones, and the ones who never should've been appointed to the job in the first place. Most people aren't aware that there is no national standard for coroners, some don't even have medical training.

You remember a case not too long ago when a family mourning the loss of their son hired you to investigate the circumstances of his death, which was ruled "accidental" at the time. The coroner had not had any prior forensic training, he was an OBGYN turned politician. Elected by the small-town voters (nearly 80% of coroners in the U.S. are elected, by the way), he was cushy with the local police force.

And being your naturally suspicious self, or maybe it's a side effect of your job, you pressed for a second autopsy by an examiner actually worth his salt.

The external examination alone proved that it was far from accidental. His wounds suggested severe beating, and his cause of death was suffocation from being choked, homicide not accident.

Further investigation revealed police brutality. You pushed and pushed and pushed, and after being enough of a pain in the ass (and threatening several lawsuits), they finally convicted the officers responsible.

The family still sends you a Christmas card every year, and it more than makes up for being a pain in the ass for living.

So yeah, you don't trust coroners, or their reports, until you get the chance to evaluate their level of competence for yourself. And the fact that the coroner of Farrow's End has been so resistant to your attempts to contact him doesn't bode well.

But today, the Monday following your little expedition up to the Addam's House, he's finally available to see you. Last night you received a call at around midnight, seemingly from the same young man you saw on the other side of the gate the other day.

Of course you were awake, but you wondered why the coroner's office would be up and running at such an hour. Maybe a late night emergency autopsy? It wasn't unheard of, sometimes a Sheriff will request an autopsy to be completed as soon as possible when the press are particularly bothersome and the cause of death is unclear.

You didn't get the chance to ask, because the man started rattling off about how the coroner would be able to see you tomorrow morning, and he advised that you bring any notes you might have.

Good sign, it suggests that the coroner is willing to work with you.

It's early, maybe a little too early. The fog is blanket-thick and the clouds are sprinkling down a fine mist of rain.

You take your car as far as the rocky dirt road allows, park it at the base of the hill, and trudge on through the mud, the umbrella over your head immediately collecting dew.

You reach the gate, closed like last time. When you reach for it, you're expecting to find it locked, but just as your fingers are about to touch the cold metal, the gate swings open with a long creak.

You stand there for a moment, searching for some kind of mechanism that would make it open by itself, but you find nothing but old iron forged in intricate patterns.

Whatever, you've seen weirder. You slip through the parted gates and close them behind you.

Gigantic trees, pines it looks like, envelop the perimeter of the surrounding gates, with twisting, leafless trees in abundance nearer to the house, even though fall is just beginning to dawn and most leaves haven't even begun to change color yet.

You didn't notice it before, but these leafless trees are full of crows, black tufts perched on the reaching branches. No, crows and ravens. They call out as you pass by, and you get the odd sense that every single one of them is looking at you.

The cobblestone path leading up to the front door is overgrown with weeds. The exterior of the house, now that you can see it up close, is almost decrepit. The wood is rotting, the roof is sagging, the windows are dirty and smudged.

They rent this place out?

"Ma'am!" a voice calls out.

You search for the owner of the voice, finally finding it at the side of the house. It's the young man from the other day, peeking around a brick corner. He gestures you over and swiftly disappears again.

When you turn the corner, the man is standing by a double hatch door in the ground. Not a good sign for a supposed "morgue."

He seems to read as much on your face, because then he's saying, "I would take you down the elevator inside, but everyone is still asleep."

There's a childish nervousness in his voice, and it makes you send an uncharacteristic smile his way as you step through the door and down a spiral staircase.

Distracted, you don't see the curtains twitch, and the several faces in the windows above, watching.

The passage runs deep. You emerge in a wide hallway, lined with carved wooden walls and old portraits. The foundation is clearly old, but there are newly installed fluorescent lights that don't do the original craftsmanship justice.

"How old is this house?" you blurt out, and the young man can't suppress a high, boyish laugh.

"I'm not sure, around a century, I think," he says.

Wow hard to believe it's gone untouched for so long, you think as he leads you down the extensive hallway, passing several branching doorways.

Your eyes drink everything in, curious and scrutinous. Again, the man seems to read your mind.

"It might not look it, but we have a state of the art facility here," he begins.

"Crematorium," he gestures to one door. "Viewing room. Embalming room. Autopsy room. And the largest refrigeration unit in five counties."

This place is extensive, and the further you go, the cleaner and more modern it gets.

You notice that the man is wearing similar clothing from before: a large coat (broad shoulders) and big, thick boots. Black, laced up over his ankles it appears, it makes the thud of his footsteps echo against the walls.

You wonder if they are corpse-handling boots, or merely a style choice.

"Here's the office," he says, leading you into a small but cozy room fit with a cluttered desk and a few dusty but comfortable-looking armchairs.

"You can have a seat if you like," he says, nervousness creeping back into his voice.

You take him up on the offer, sinking into one of the armchairs despite the fact that you're a little damp from the rain. But judging by the state of the chairs, you doubt it would bother them.

It's then than you realize how chilly it is down here, in this basement maze tucked under an ancient house. Damn, you're so—

"Cold?" the man says suddenly. "I'm sorry, we get quite the chill down here. Would you like some coffee or tea?"

You perk up almost instantly.

"Coffee, please," you reply maybe a little too perkily, because it makes him smile at you, exposing those bunny teeth again. Very cute.

He disappears through another doorway, into some sort of kitchenette judging by the sounds coming from it (metal banging, water running, porcelain clanking).

You take a look around. The office walls are lined with framed photos and plaques all boasting the same name: Kim Taehyung. Bachelor of Science in Biology, Bachelor of Science in Chemistry, Master of Forensic Science, Embalmer's License, Medical Examiner Certification, Doctor of Medicine.

Got it, this man is learned. Good sign.

The young man returns with a silver tray in his hands. He sets it down on the ottoman between the two armchairs, grasping the black teapot and pouring fresh steaming coffee into a matching black teacup. You notice that the sugar cubes are in the shape of skulls and bones, and a part of you admires the dedication to the aesthetic.

You prepare your cup and sip greedily. The coffee is rich and strongly-brewed. Another good sign. It may not contribute to your investigation, but at least you can respect him as a person.

The young man takes the seat next to you and prepares his own cup.

For the first time since you arrived, you aren't distracted by your surroundings, and you're realizing just how strange this young man looks.

His skin is a dull shade of gray, with slight red blemishes and spots of dark purple flesh that look like deep bruises. His lips are simultaneously pale yet also tinged red, like there's blood inside his mouth. And his eyes, they look like—

The man seems to notice you staring at him, because he shifts uncomfortably in his chair and coughs awkwardly.

You blink, and his form seems to blur at the edges, becoming fuzzier and harder to latch onto. Maybe he has some sort of skin condition. But that wouldn't explain the feeling that something isn't quite right about him, something uncanny.

"I'll go see if Dr. Kim is ready for you," he says, practically sprinting out of his seat and out of the room. You hear his footsteps pounding through the halls, then hushed voices.

You being you, the debate over whether to slip through the hall to eavesdrop on their conversation does cross your mind. But you figured that even with your silent feet, they would probably still hear you rustling around in the quiet of the morgue.

A few moments later, and you hear one set of footsteps returning to the office. The young man pops his head into the doorway.

"He'll see you now," he says, vanishing just as fast. The way he appears and disappears like a ghost is starting to give you whiplash.

You follow him down the hall, entering a fluorescent-lit room fit with chrome features. The walls are lined with little doors, drawer openings, and there are several gurneys scattered throughout the room. The chill is even stronger here, this must be part of that state of the art refrigeration system.

The man standing in the center of it all is wearing a white medical gown and black latex gloves. He looks up as you enter, and—

Oh. He's young, startlingly young, early thirties max. His skin is golden tan over strong, handsome features. Dark tiger eyes, sharp and perceptive. The only indicator of his age is several tendrils of silver hair growing from the crown of his head.

"Good morning," he greets in a deep, charming voice. "Miss ______?"

"Yes, Dr. Kim?" you reply, holding out a hand.

"Just Taehyung, please," he says, taking off his gloves to shake your hand firmly, and jesus his hands are large and very pretty.

Ah, so he's not a pretentious asshole who insists on being addressed as "doctor" constantly. Another good sign. Though, judging from his extensive education, in this case it would be justified.

"I'm so sorry we couldn't see you sooner. It can get quite busy with just the two of us down here," Taehyung says.

You can't help but take another glance around the room. Only two people running this whole facility?

"I understand that you're working with the mayor?" Taehyung inquires, his casual voice good at hiding his burning curiosity.

You, in turn, are good at hiding the slight suspicion from hearing the mayor mentioned yet again. You're not sure who you're suspicious of though, him or the mayor herself.

"Yes, I was hoping I could get copies of the autopsy reports for Michael Bradley, Jarvis Laplan, and Sharon Mason."

You say it matter-of-factly, curious if they will bend at the slight flex of authority in your voice. Or, if being associated with the mayor yields certain results.

The two of them glance at each other.

"Access to Laplan and Mason aren't a problem, but Mary Bradley has requested that no further information on her husband's death be released," Dr. Kim replies, cool as a cucumber.

Your eyes widen just a bit, unable to hide your surprise. Wait...what? He would just give you the reports for Laplan and Mason, just like that? No request for credentials? No questions asked?

Truth be told, you've never gotten hold of an autopsy report after the first ask. You've always had to jump through hoops to get the right permissions and authorizations, as is the case for private investigators since they are not real police. And rightly so, the fine details of people's violent deaths is not something to be made light of, in your opinion.

Clearly your confusion is evident on your face, because then Taehyung is saying, "Laplan's wife and Sharon Mason's parents are quite eager for further investigation."

Ah, so they suspect something unusual too. Hopefully they'll be more than willing for an interview.

"And Bradley...?" your voice trails off with the question.

Taehyung furrows his brows like he isn't sure how exactly to put it.

"Mrs. Bradley has had a bad experience with the press," is all he says.

You can feel your eyebrow raise.

"Is she still a suspect?" you ask, deadpan.

Taehyung is quick to correct himself.

"No, god no!" he says, eyes wide and head shaking. "His death was purely accidental, a tragedy that could've been avoided."

Your attention catches on that last part like a snagged thread on a nailhead.

"Oh? Why do you say that?" you ask, unconsciously taking a step forward.

Jungkook, who's silently watching the whole exchange, can't help but think it makes you look predatory, a hunter locked onto their target with frightening accuracy.

But Dr. Kim doesn't bend. He tilts his head ever so slightly as the corner of his mouth curves up, like he respects your drive.

"Well, Michael Bradley exhibited signs of extreme mental distress, many of them suggestive of suicide."

"But you don't think it was suicide, do you?" you say, before you can help it really, because your mind is running a hundred miles a minute right now.

Jungkook can sense it too, his eyes Bambi-wide and watching in fascination as the cogs turn in your analytical brain.

"No, I don't." It comes from Taehyung's mouth like a sigh. You don't see it (Jungkook does), but he's impressed.

"That's all I can say really," Taehyung says suddenly, sounding apologetic. "You'll have to speak with Mrs. Bradley about getting access, but talking about her husband is painful for her. And she's been through enough."

He cares about people, the ones he works on are not just bodies to him. Very good sign. You're coming to the conclusion than Dr. Kim is definitely a coroner worth his salt.

"I'll be sure to proceed delicately, then," you reply softly. You're trying to say it back. I care about these victims, this isn't just a case to me. Everyone has a story.

He seems to get it, nodding his head with a gentle smile. Something very small, almost ghostly, clicks between you.

Jungkook observes it all in a slight state of awe. He can already tell that the rest of them, his "family," are going to like you.

Taehyung gives you the copies of the autopsy reports, a sizable stack of folders and papers and photos. He even gives you a copy of the autopsy transcript.

You realize that he was prepared to give you this information before you even got here. Either Mayor Summerbee is a very persuasive person, or Dr. Kim is eager to work with you. Maybe both.

Your point is proven seconds later when Taehyung hands you a business card (with his personal number scrawled on the back), as he tells you that you're free to contact him with any questions you might have.

You profess your thanks with an armful of documents, making a point to shake Dr. Kim's and Jungkook's hand firmly.

Jungkook leads you back, his boots softly thudding with every step, and you can feel Taehyung's eyes on your back as you walk through down the long hallway.

Jungkook is kind. He offers to help you with the massive stack of documents in your arms, but you politely refuse. You've got liquid gold in your possession.

He holds the gate open for you, even offering to walk you to your car, but again, you decline and thank him for his offer.

The gate shuts behind you with a resonate clang. As you turn away from the house to begin the trek down the muddy hill, you feel an odd sensation, like tingling insects down your back.

Looking over your shoulder, you see the curtains of several windows suddenly fall back into place. Someone, several someone's, are watching you.

You can't find it in you to be creeped out, though. Something about this house, despite its run-down appearance, is welcoming. Beckoning, even.

It's dark and old and practically falling apart, but many things that you love also happen to have those same traits.

A slight smile tugs at your lips as you turn and make your way down the path. You'll have to find out more about this place.

"Again. She saw through my glamour again," Jungkook announces to the room, sounding slightly defeated.

"Don't worry, Kook. It's a solid spell, I checked it myself," Yoongi replies as he waters one of the endless houseplants adorning their home. Thanks to Yoongi himself, of course.

"She saw through mine too," Taehyung says, resolute. He's staring at the black and white checkered floor, deep in thought.

Everyone looks up at that.

"That proves it then," Namjoon says. "She has a heightened degree of sight."

"I wanna know why though," Yoongi interrupts in a sudden bout of passion. "She's human. Why is she able to see everything?"

"Not the house though," Jungkook blurts out. "The glamour on the house held up."

"Of course it did, the house magick is stronger than any of us," Jin quips from the kitchen, standing over a sizzling stove.

"Lots of humans have the sight," Jimin says lazily, sprawled out in one of the lounge chairs.

"Yeah, but it's the type of humans who turn it into a cheap gimmick," Jungkook replies, pacing around the room now.

Taehyung crosses the distance between them in a few strides, putting a large hand on Jungkook's shoulder. The younger man looks up at him, then lets out a breath and returns the smile.

"You're safe, Kook," Taehyung says softly. "No one's gonna put up a fuss."

Jimin chuckles. "She might."

Taehyung throws a scolding glance over his shoulder. "A real fuss, I mean. Everything's been kept under wraps so far."

"And she's not a phony, or a leech. The mayor made sure of that," Yoongi says.

"In any case," Jin begins, an authoritative edge to his voice. "Hoseok said to keep an eye on her, so that's just what we'll do."

september 28, 2004

You may be a damn good investigator, but you're no med student. So the next day you set out to the bookstore, determined to understand every last term and phrase in the autopsy reports.

The same man is behind the desk, but this time he's bent over a typewriter, clacking away. You can't help but observe him for a moment, watching as his dark eyes dart over the page, the way his glasses rest at the edge of his nose like a wizened old man.

"Welcome in," he calls out at the chime of the bell on the door, like an instinct.

You take a few steps into the ever-crowded space, your eyes shifting over all the things you missed the last time you were here. Because that's what kind of place this is, somewhere you could go a hundred times and find something new each visit. Places like this are quite dear to you.

You're about to examine a shelf full of perfectly preserved beetles, when you sense the man look up at you.

"Oh," he says, like he's pleasantly surprised. "It's you."

And you would be lying if you said it didn't make your gut feel something warm squirming inside it.

"Need help finding anything?" he asks, like he has every time you've visited this place.

"Yes, please," you reply, barely hiding your smile.

He leads you through the maze of shelves like it's a map of his own brain. Several times you have to hurry to catch up to him in his excitement.

Soon your arms are occupied by an impressive stack. Anatomy, general medical knowledge, crime scene identification, even a few textbooks on post-mortem examinations.

To you, it's more liquid gold. You profess your thanks to the bookshop keeper, dropping a generous tip into the jar when you go to checkout. Again, the books are almost too reasonably priced. Not that it matters, since research purchases are an easy business expense ride-off.

Just as you turn to leave, the man clears his throat awkwardly, like he's building himself up to speak.

"There's plenty of places to sit here," he almost blurts out. "Lots of cozy nooks. Perfect for...research."

You pause at the door to glance back at him. You find him watching you closely, his expression somewhere between innocently curious and suggestive of hidden knowledge on his part.

"I'll keep that in mind," you reply, a little teasing lilt to your voice. Because clearly he enjoys your company too.

Then you turn on your heel and let the door swing shut behind you, leaving him wanting more.

a/n: thanks so much for reading!! i would combust with joy if you'd tell me any of your thoughts :D

NEXT UPDATE: 05/25/24

[plussizefantasia]

Horrible People

Tony Stark x Plus Size!f!Reader

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: Cyberbullying, allusions to a panic attack

Request: i just noticed you wrote for marvel and better off you wrote for tony. I was hoping you could write me a story about tony meeting a bigger girl and starting to date her and he finds out someone made fun of her in the tabloids and she gets insecure but he makes her feel positive again? it would mean alot really.

@lilacprincessofrecovery Happy Birthday! I wrote this really fast for you so I hope you enjoy it! Have a great day lovely!

Never in your life did you think you’d be walking the carpet at the MET Gala. Never mind the fact that tickets were 75k each and that was more than you made in a year, you weren’t on any kind of list that might’ve warranted an invitation. But Tony was.

Your wonderful and loving boyfriend of a year, Tony Stark, was definitely the kind of person that got an invite to the most exclusive event of the year. And because he loved you and knew that this was something you’d enjoy, he’d told his assistant to send an RSVP to Anna and to reach out to any designers who wanted to work with him. 

The process of getting fitted for your dress was a unique one, Tony wanted you to be comfortable so he had asked the designer to meet with the two of you at his home in Malibu. That meant that you were wildly uncomfortable, standing in a mockup of a dress that was more luxurious and ostentatious than anything you owned, but at least you were doing it in your living room. The entire process from consultation to fitting to actually getting ready the day of was about six months, you had no idea that it took that long to get this kind of thing ready but you weren’t exactly surprised.

Tony had insisted that the two of you get ready in the same hotel room, mostly so that he could shower you in compliments all day.

“Look at you Pretty Girl, you look gorgeous.”

“Damn Baby, that color looks really good on you.”

“Are you sure we have to go? I could spend all night staring at you and have way more fun.” That one earned him a glare from you followed by, “Tony… I’ve been getting ready for three hours already. We’re going.” 

Tony’s compliments really worked though, you felt amazing and the nerves that you had woken up with had dissipated at his relentless teasing and flirting throughout the day. Alas, they came back with a vengeance when it was time to actually leave for the carpet. Tony had escorted you down to the lobby where the two of you were told to wait while Happy and the rest of the security team established a path through the mix of fans and paparazzi that were crowded in front of the hotel entrance. When you were given the go-ahead, Tony placed his hand in the middle of your back and curled you into his side. He took measured but quick steps to get you into the car as soon as possible, not stopping for a picture or autographs even if the crowd was yelling for his attention.

Once you were seated in the back of the black town car, Tony kissed the back of your hand. 

“That was the worst of it, Darling, from now everything will be smooth sailing.”

You didn’t know how he thought that walking up a long ass flight of stairs in the most elaborate dress you’ve ever worn while being blinded by flashes of cameras could be considered ‘smooth sailing’ but you knew that with Tony by your side nothing could really go that wrong. 

Stepping out of the car and into the entrance of the event was like stepping into another world, people a lot more famous than you were everywhere, all dressed to the nines and laughing while talking to each other.

Tony’s hand in yours was grounding, and so was the little kiss that he gently placed on the side of your head, being mindful of the time and energy that went into your hair and makeup for the evening.

Eventually, it was your turn to walk the carpet. You were being lectured by a woman in a simpler black dress with a headset. Telling you that you had to walk fast enough to keep pace but not too fast that you run into the person ahead of you. She told you that everyone had time to stop for one interview and no time to dilly dally or you’d throw off the rhythm of the whole event.

You tried your best to make sure that no terror was showing on your face when you and Tony took your first steps out of the corral and onto the carpet. Immediately you were blinded by flashes and had to stop yourself from flinching. Meanwhile Tony looked like he was in his element, posing effortlessly in his themed suit all while never removing his hand from your body. 

He subtly pushed you forward and made eye contact with you the man you didn’t move forward. He raised an eyebrow at you, “you okay?” His expression asked.

He leaned closer to you and whispered with his face turned away from the cameras, “One word and we go home, no questions asked.” 

The warmth that spread across your face was thankfully covered thanks to the masterful makeup that had been applied. Tony’s words did the trick though. And with much more confidence than you had just moments before you stepped forward and saunter to the next spot that you had been told to go stand at.

A smirk spread across Tony’s face and he followed your lead, strutting along behind you and cheesing for the cameras. 

After that, it really was smooth sailing. You and Tony took pictures together and apart, you walked the carpet flawlessly and he couldn’t have been prouder. You had a great evening, and you met some people that you five years ago would’ve screamed cried, and thrown up at the prospect of meeting let alone having an actual conversation with. 

Once the main event had died down and most of the attendees were either heading home or to some after-party or another you and Tony had decided to call it quits as well, after all, he might’ve been a billionaire genius ex-playboy philanthropist but you were a normal human being and needed to be at work the day after. 

The two of you were still immaculately dressed when he leaned over in the car with his signature mischievous grin, “Hey Pretty Girl, are you hungry?”

“What?” You laughed in reply

“Are you hungry?” He asked again his smirk not faltering.

“We can order room services when we get back to the hotel, Tony.”

“Or Sweetheart, hear me out. We could go get burgers. I know this great hole-in-the-wall spot and it’s only five minutes away.”

“Tony, neither of us is exactly dressed for hole-in-the-wall right now.”

“Who cares? I don’t, I’m hungry and I want to share a burger with my amazing and sexy girlfriend and a great place that I know. The only thing keeping me from doing that is her being hesitant.”

“You're being pushy you know that? But sure, let’s go get burgers.”

“Happy, change the course please, let’s go to Mc’Rory’s for a burger and a drink,” Tony called up to his forehead of security who had assigned himself and your driver for the evening.

“Want to stop at the hotel first boss?” Happy raised a single brow and made eye contact with Tony through the rearview mirror.

“Nope, just head straight there we’re hungry.”

“Oh-Kay.” Happy replied. 

The place was a literal hole in the wall, after the space needed for the kitchen where there was only room for two tables, and You and Tony took up one while you waited for your orders to be done, Happy was sitting at the other, also waiting for his food but wanting to give the two of you some space.

“So Honey, did you have fun?” Tony asked

“I don’t know if fun is the word but I had a good time, I definitely don’t want to come back though.”

“Why not? I get invited every year I just have never had a reason to go before now.”

“What new and compelling reason did you have for this year?” You chuckled.

“I had a gorgeous date to go with who I wanted to show off.” He looked into your eyes and you were once again struck with how much love you had for this man and how much love he had for you. The world had not been kind to Tony Stark but you would spend the rest of your life trying to make it up to him.

“Well shucks, I guess I had a pretty swell date too.” 

“You sound like you’ve been spending too much time with Mr. Righteous and his Boy Wonder.”

“I wouldn’t say that Bucky is Boy Wonder more like a broodier and more cyborg version of Steve.”

“And why are we talking about those dinosaurs?”

“You brought them up!”

“And now I’m changing the topic, did you get a chance to read through the article I sent you the other day?” 

The two of you continued talking until your orders were placed at the table between the two of you. At which point both of you realized that it had been something like nine hours since either of you had anything decent or filling to eat and the conversation ended while you both pretty much inhaled your dinner.

You must’ve looked like quite the pair. Both of you dressed the way you were, in corresponding outfits covered in flora and fauna motifs while devoting a burger in a red booth. It was defined top ten on your surrealist moments' lists which has gotten significantly longer since you started dating Tony, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Your night ended very similarly to how it started. With Tony showering you with compliments in a hotel room, only this time you weren’t getting all dolled up. This time you were barefaced with your hair mussed up and comfy pjs covering your body. It made your heart flutter that Tony still thought you were beautiful even when you were dressed down to your most basic. There was no makeup trickery or shapewear smoothing your body at that moment, just you and all your imperfections, and Tony looked at them and saw nothing but beauty. 

You crawled into the large bed and waited for him to turn off the lights and join you. He played down only seconds after you and pulled you so that you were halfway on top of him, your head tucked nicely into the dip of his neck.

“I really love you, you know that?” You whispered into the dark of the room.

“I love you too, so much Angel.”

The two of you fell asleep within minutes.

The next morning you were awoken to the buzzing of your phone against the wood of the nightstand, Tony’s phone vibrating just as viciously on his side of the bed. 

You figured that it was pictures of the two of you groom last night and opened your phone to see all the high-quality images that were being posted everywhere of the two of you on the carpet. And you weren’t wrong, the images blowing up were of the two of you and they were from last night but they weren’t on the carpet. Apparently you and Tony had been pretty lax in your observation skills last night or you would’ve noticed the person taking your pictures outside of the burger joint. Because there it was, all over your phone. Pictures of you and Tony still in your fancy outfits pigging out on burgers with various captions, each more vicious than the last. 

The one that really caught you off guard was on some celeb gossip page, “Tony Stark takes unknown to Met Gala: he can do better” It wasn’t the worst one there was by far. There were all kinds of ribs being made about your size, about the way you ate, about everything. It wasn’t until someone said the words that were always floating around in the back of your mind out loud that you really began to fall apart. 

It was your gasping breaths that woke Tony up. He noticed you sitting upright in the bed next to him, phone in hand and tears streaming down your face.

“Woah, woah baby what’s going on? What’s wrong?!” He shot up too, getting on your level. You only handed him the phone unable to get any words out.

He looked briefly at the images across the screen at first not seeing the problem. It was a cute picture, very ‘the two of you’ to be dressed up and eating burgers in a dive like that but when he read the caption he saw red. 

Your choked sob brought him back from the brink of rage but he filed the feeling away for later, he’d track down whoever had written the nasty words, the cameraman, the publisher. Anyone and everyone involved in making you cry would be paying for it later.

He pulled you into his arms and winced when you started to cry harder. As much as he wanted to get to the bottom of it you weren’t in a place to talk yet. He just had to take care of you until you were. 

It was difficult marching the two of you out of bed without letting go of you but he managed, all the while smoothing a hand up and down your back and whispering praises into your head.

“Doing so good Pretty Girl, breathe, yeah just like that.”

“It’s gonna be okay, we’ll talk in a little bit.”

“Thats it, you’re doing so well.”

He guided you to the shower and turned the water to a warm temperature, not wanting to force you to feel anything too harsh at the moment.

Slowly and step by step he walked through your morning routine, washing your hair for you and helping you with your face routine. 

When he looked into your eyes and saw a daft tenderness he knew that you were going to be okay, the both of you. 

Even if he knew that it would make you upset he knew that the two of you needed to talk about everything, getting it out into the open was the only way that it wouldn’t come back to bite you later. 

“Okay, Darling. I’m going to go get breakfast for us, you take your time getting dressed and when I come back we can eat and talk okay?”

You nodded, “Okay.” He hated how he could still hear the sadness in your voice but he pushed a kiss to your lips and grabbed his phone before making his exit. All you heard as he left was Tony on the phone, “Hap- I got a job for you” and the door was closed.

You let yourself breathe for just a moment longer before moving to do as Tony said, and getting dressed before sitting back down in the middle of the bed. You didn’t dare pick your phone back up, just sitting in silence until he walked back through the door holding a brown bag.

“I got breakfast burritos from that brunch place down the street okay?”

“Yeah. Sounds good.” You didn’t think you’d actually be able to eat anything.  

There was a slightly tense silence between the two of you for a few moments as Tony gave you your food and then sat down across from you with his.

“I’m sorry” you both blurted out at the same time.

“Woah, sweetheart what are you sorry for?”

“I don’t know… for not being enough, for being too much. Take your pick.” 

“Okay none of that pretty girl, you are none of those things you are just right, you are absolutely perfect let’s get that straight right now.”

“But- you saw-“

“Nug-uh what I saw was some random person who doesn’t know either of us, spewing hate behind a screen. I saw horrible people being horrible for no reason and that is not your fault Baby.”

“I’m still sorry, I saw how mad you were, I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“You didn’t make me upset at all Babe, none of how I was feeling this morning was your fault okay? None of it.”

“Well- wait. Did you say you were sorry? Why the hell are you sorry?”

“I should’ve been watching better last night. I was just so focused on you and how relaxed I was feeling with you that I didn’t notice that asshole following us or taking our picture.”

“Tony. Thousands of people took our picture yesterday, you couldn’t have protected me even if you wanted to. I wanted to go remember?”

“You said you had a good time last night. Do you feel any different now?” The question caught you off guard. 

“Well-no. I still had a really good time. I always have a good time when we’re together.”

“Then why does it matter what strangers on the internet think of us?”

“I mean- don’t you care that people think-“

“I’m gonna stop you right there. The answer is no. I don’t care what people think, not anymore. Not since I met you. You have this uncanny ability to make me feel like nobody in the world but us matters.”

“What if they’re right though?” You asked in a quiet voice.

“Right about what Baby?”

“What if you can do better? What if one day you wake up and realize that you’re settling.”

“There is not a universe out there where me being with you is settling. You’re it for me Sweetheart. You're all I’ve got, the light of my life. The yin to my yang, the peanut butter to my jelly, the wasabi to my peas.”

“You made that last one up.” You let out a soft laugh.

“Doesn’t make it any less true.”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

You both smiled stupidly at each other.

“Hey Tony?” You asked.

“Yeah, Pretty Girl?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, and so do they.”

You’re face adopted a look of confusion as Tony handed you his phone. On his screen was a couple of pictures he had posted of the two of you from yesterday. Pictures of you getting ready. Of you making stupid faces at him while getting your hair done, of the two of you in the back of the car on the way to the Gala, and one of the most beautiful pictures you’ve ever seen of yourself. 

It’s a wide shot of the two of you, you’d just started walking up the stairs and Tony is two steps below you. In the photo, you’re looking back at him and have this gorgeous smile spread across your lips. Tony stands underneath you, adoration clear in his eyes as he reaches a hand up to meet your outstretched one.

It isn’t the beautiful pictures that catch your eyes though, it’s the millions of comments that the post has.

“Omg slay.”

“Get you someone who looks at you the way Tony looks at this goddess right here.”

“She looks so happy.

“They look so good together.”

“I can’t tell if I want to be here or want to be with her.”

That last one makes you laugh and you look up from the phone to see Tony looking at you with a soft smile on his face.

“So. Are we going back next year, if so I need to start looking for a designer that can one up this.”

“I’ll go anywhere with you as long as you keep looking at me like that.” You toss his phone back to him.

“I’ll look at you like that until the day I die, Gorgeous. You deserve it.”

“Yeah, I kinda do.” 

[2deadkat]

If you've read them, thoughts on the Geronimo Stilton Kingdom of Fantasy books?

Okay I have a bit of a weird but fond history with that series, I’ve only seen the first two books so I’m not all that qualified to talk about it in-depth.

But I’ll tell you my history first, I used to carry the first kingdom of fantasy book everywhere I went on family trips. I treated that thing like the holy grail and just speed through every page imaginable, I’ll tell you this I really like the presentation of the series.

Especially with its own script and all the doors to the different kingdoms. That’s one thing the franchise in general is good at. Also I had an old friend of an older sibling of mine who used to share that book with me…and I vividly remember her telling me the pages with each world door being scented so while I carried that book everywhere I was practically a book sniffer 💀. To this very day I still don’t know if it’s true each door was scented or if it was merely a childhood lie…

Now my thoughts on it despite only officially “reading” two and skimming through the rest of it with a friend at a bookstore (bestie shout out if you’re reading this ✌️), the whole idea of it is really interesting and it’s fitting for someone like Geronimo. I like the world building of the series, and it’s basically a collection of every fantasy world trope ever in an endearing way. I can’t get over the fact that he enters the world illegally every time by drugging himself on chamomile tea and getting knocked out while his sister of the seven roses just gets actual passes 😭 but power to him for capitalising on his drug trips because I was actually so shocked when I found there were 14 of them…I’m not implying that they’re bad but it’s not just a series for me and I’m just shocked that there’s this many of them, I’d personally stop at three books but I can respect the fact that it has its own lore going on.

Geronimo gets more power and respect as a character but I’ll never get over the fact that there are actual humanoids existing in another plane…also I heard it’s more batshit insane in the untranslated Italian books which is…wow, respect.

I was really obsessed with the dragon king and the whole dragon world and I would keep rereading that section every time <3 I swear I used to read that Beowulf part specifically with all the dragon facts. I was a huge dragon kid back then.

Okay a bit of gross trivia: Going through my old copy of the book, it literally has the sweat stains of kid me’s hand on the exact page of that illustration because I admire his whole design and deal so much…to this very day it is still the coolest dragon design I’ve ever seen.

So overall, it’s really interesting, I like the whole world they’re going for, but it’s not for me to consume as a full series entirely. And even if I do start again with the other books I don’t have the childhood wonder anymore to dive into it like kid me used to…so unfortunately I don’t have the same attachment a bunch of other people might’ve grew up with…

Sorry, guess I’m more interested in a mouse version of the Office…or parks and recreation 😔 but the first book holds dear to me with its immersive world building and recently I just found it lying in one of my family’s house’s many book shelves so I am thankful for that.

Also man I forgot how some of these spreads go hard…

[thebibliomancer]

A thumbprint, some scrap, Odin’s Destroyer, testimony from those god struck down, scripture, and Tony Stark.

Apparently that’s what Celestials can be made of.

[charlesemersonwinchesteriii]

TOP 5 SONGS DAVID OGDEN STIERS COULD HAVE WON A TONY AWARD FOR IN THE GOOD TIMELINE WHERE HE BECAME A BIG SUPERSTAR BROADWAY ACTOR AND SINGER LIKE HE DESERVED

 Music of the Night from Phantom. Obviously.

 Stars from Les Mis. Sadly he never got the chance to play Javert in a stage production and was forced to play him on a sitcom for six years instead. Think of what we could have had!

 Not The Boy Next Door from The Boy From Oz / I Am What I Am from La Cage aux Folles. Sorry I couldn’t choose a single gay anthem song so he gets to perform both. As a treat. On an unrelated note I am crying now 

 Edelweiss from The Sound of Music. Many casting directors don’t know this but it’s actually animal abuse not to allow a DOS to inhabit his proper ecological niche (repressed sexual tension filled ballroom dancing while wearing a fancy little outfit).

 Aquarius/Let The Sunshine In from Hair. You! Gay hippie! Aren’t you tired of being typecast as a wealthy conservative stuffed shirt asshole. Don’t you just want to go ape shit.

 In The Dark Of The Night from Anastasia. Also belongs to a separate list entitled Top 10 Animated Movies They Should Have Given Him A Role In Instead Of P*cah*ntas. The way he would have killed this………. Would’ve had a little accent all ready to go………. Wailing lamenting mourning etc.

 OH! WELL I NEVER! WAS THERE EVER! A CAT SO CLEVER AS MAGICAL! MISTER! MISTOFFELEES! HIS MANNER IS VAGUE AND ALOOF! YOU WOULD THINK THERE WAS NOBODY SHYER! BUT HIS VOICE HAS BEEN HEARD ON THE ROOF! WHEN HE WAS CURLED UP BY THE FIIIIIIIRE—

[redstrewn]

Sometimes i wish we could just have a clown route where we could just do everything to piss off the LIs until they kill you

[evilminji]

"DO BETTER!" Says Now Televised Fanboy

He, Dash Baxter is a Phan-Stan!! It's kinda his thing. See, he's a fancy ass talk show host now. Married Paulie, moved out of Amity, actually DID something with his life. His parents? Did not approve. Long n short of it? He got kicked out.

Paulie's parents were PISSED.

Retaliated by giving him all the help he needed getting EVERY scholarship he qualified for. He went to a really nice college. Missed his girlfriend like mad. But she was off in Metropolis, terrifying weaker men. Conquering the fashion scene.

And SOMEHOW? Thanks to that long talk he had with Phantom (*incoherent fanboy gibbering noises* SO COOL!) he's worked to be... more of a LEADER, you know? Less of an asshole. Cause he's popular. People copy him. He can't be an asshole.

So, somehow, when he's punching out some try-hard that thinks he's hot shit for bullying a Nerd? He and the nerd get talking, right? Cause the guy got his glasses completely fucked up. And it's what Phantom would do.

But GET THIS? Guy's never HEARD of Phantom! Is super curious, cause he runs a small time Hero's show on the web. And, Dude? Is it your LUCKY DAY! Cause you just met THE number 1 fan of Phantom, hands down!! He makes his VERY spirited case, about why Phantom is THE best Hero to ever have lived. And this guy?

Entranced.

In AWE.

Just straight up BEGS him to join his show. Cause apparently? He was BORN for it. Which? Yeah. He HAS been giving speechs to the team for YEARS now. And Talking at fan meet ups. Leading fan meet ups. Hosting parties... actually, now that he thinks about it? He DOES do a lot of public speaking? Huh.

But still, he's about to say "no", when?

Dude mentions? He'll get to talk about Phantom.

SOLD!

It. Blows. Up. Absolutely EVERYONE is in love with his pretty face, hot bod, and STRONG opinions. But they ALSO have no idea who Phantom is! Paulie! This is CRIMINAL! Horrifying! What is going ON!?

Some bullshit information black out, apparently. At least according to her... friendly Nemesis? The Goth Dweeb. Who's engaged, apparently? So good for her. Unsurprisingly, it's too the OTHER Dweebs, but still. Bout time she started planning to drag them to a court house. She's the only one with any spine in that group! If she waited for THEM to propose?

Not even as Ghosts, man.

They'd get distracted by shiny nerd shit and whimp out.

Still... a world where NO ONE knows how Awesome, Phantom is? Not on HIS watch!

So he works it in. To every segment. It becomes "his thing". Oh? Super man saved a kitten from a tree? Cute. Well PHANTOM saved a bus full of Ghost Puppies from a shady, rouge, Goverment agency. Do BETTER, Superman!

The Flash, who is a cheap knock-off and stole his name, took down an Ice Villian? Adorable! PHANTOM stopped a Rouge WINTER SPIRIT with the help of YETI WARRIORS then assisted in giving FREE medical care for anyone who needed it! Here's a picture of him making GHOST ICE SNOWMEN for small children! Do BETTER, Knock-off!

What's THAT you say? Wonder Woman fought a GOD in down town paris?

Excellent work Wonder Woman. Flawless as always. But YOU, god-boy, are a disappointment! All that power! And WHAT do you use it for? Are you even supposed to BE here?? PHANTOM uses his power to HELP people! Is awesome and knows TONS of better gods! You're just salty you didn't make the cut!

DO BETTER!

And obviously? No one believes him. There's no record of this "Phantom" guy. The pictures look fantastical and vaguely glitchy/glowy. Not quite right. They GOTTA be photo shopped. Manipulated somehow. But? As a shtick? A fake "perfect Superhero" is kinda funny and unique.

And it's one hell of Fake Hero!

A Dead Champion? Who fights gods and monsters? Rouge agencies? Sassy and tragic? With a mysterious past? Pretty cool! There's even an Offical Comic from some guy that went to the same high-school as Baxter!

Of course, as Baxter get more and more popular? The "meme" hero, Phantom, get more well known? People get more interested in where Dash grew up. You know, just a bored Google. Maybe see if the hero was based off a local legend or something. But... huh...

The Town website?

Weirdly? Sanitized.

Like... like aggressively sanitized. All smooth edges and no details. Very "move along, citizen". Ha ha... it's part of the joke right? They get it! They'll just look up local restaurants or som-....

Wait...

Hey, guuuuys?

Are you finding ANYTHING?

And! Nothing. And I do mean NOTHING! Triggers the "oh? Secrets???" Instincts of a Hacker, like finding a hard blank wall of "KEEP OUT". Especially when it's somewhere it rightfully shouldn't BE.

All it would take? Is ONE person, of decent skills and an account on Certain Forums, getting bored enough to Google the Dude On The TV(TM)? For the GIW's lil walls to come crashing down. Because yeah, you can stop ONE hacker. Even two. Probably five or six.

But how about thousands?

Hundreds of thousands?

From every time zone. Competing. Just to see what you HAVE and don't want them to see. Maybe they do something with it, maybe they don't. But fuck it, you're being RUDE and now they're CURIOUS. And THEN? Oh. Oh holy shit.

Not a meme.

Very real.

Not a joke.

The walls come crumbling down, down, down. Ripped apart by hundreds of hands. Emails sent to every sort of agency. The JLU line inundated with emergency tips. Not a joke. Not A Joke. Holy Shit, IT WASN'T A JOKE!

Phantom is REAL!

And there, on TV, stands the Man. The signal FINALLY breaching containment. Fighting off the invading God of the week. Built like statue, hair like an aurora borealis of white fire held almost delicately in place by a CROWN of ice, a suit made of void and starlight. Inhuman. Beyond human.

Here to help.

A laugh that crackles like ice and the snap of winter, rolls through the air like coming storms, rich and somehow warm. A smile that bares teeth, yet turns so KIND when he looks upon humanity, as though we are precious and worth fighting for. A living star.

A... a once living star.

And in the center of it all? Wearing his BESPOKE, custome made, Number 1 Phan full body outfit? That's right. Dash Baxter. Ha! You fuckers doubted him! Behold his blorbo and WEEP, ya fuckin casuals! The BESTEST of boys! The FINEST of Heros! Superman? Could NEVER.

And now? The weather!

@babbling-babull @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @ailithnight @hypewinter @hdgnj @mutable-manifestation

[screampied]

i have an idea :]

ok so i always see people asking for gentle/needy/desperate choso. and i love it, but…

what about unassumingly ruthless choso? reader doesn’t know what she’s getting into? reader is cocky and gets humbled FAST? idk i just…

👉👈

❤︎ ໋𓈒 choso who puts his cute bratty gf in her place

warnings. fem! reader, attempted brat taming, doggystyle, big dick choso, unprotected.

you’ve always been one to push his buttons, mainly because he always made it so easy.

choso was as intimidating as a kitten, whenever you’d tease him he’d always keep composure or restrain himself.

briefly smiling nervously, kissing your wrist and telling you to be a good girl and wait until you each return home.

but one day, he kind of just snaps…

he takes you home from shopping nearly all day with you, and you were enthusiastically ecstatic. you wondered what he’d do this time, but your thoughts were no match for what he had initially planned. to put it brief, choso had you laid on the bed on all fours. he’s drilling ruthlessly into your pussy and you’re just…speechless. choso’s so handsy, every few seconds he’d spank your ass to hear you whine out his name—in such two slutty syllables.

“c-choso..” you’d moan, the left side of your cheek attached practically to the silk bed sheets as if it was velcro.

“shh, no talkin, princess,” he grunts, and you could hear the slight whine picking up his voice before he stops himself. “i-i have to be more stern with you it seems. can’t always be so nice, gotta humble you just a little bit, fuck.”

if it was a word to perfectly describe you right now, at this particular moment…it would for sure be…dumbfounded.

you couldn’t see yourself but you’d bet money you looked stupid.

choso’s dick was so lengthy, appetizing and hitting every spot with just the tiniest amount of pressures his thrusts had you gnawing on the inside of your cheek with your toes curling tightly.

“what’s the matter? no more attitude?” he huffs, tilting his head to move some remaining strands that were starting to occlude his vision.

“i-if you’re gonna be rough, at least go h—”

“…oh, baby, you’re jus’ asking for it by this point.” he murmurs, wiping his forehead with the back of his palm.

your eyes rolls at feeling the very tips the curve of choso’s cock kiss against your folds. so deep, his thrusts were sloppy. purely responsible for the squelched that continuously sang throughout the room.

choso grabs onto both of your waist, and you moan once he’s just dragging your hips back and forth against him, making sure you feel every thick inch of his.

“do me a favor ‘n arch your back more,” immensely, you do—your body responds to choso with such a quickness it was simply humiliating. “good girl….now,” and you barely recognize choso’s voice. usually it’s so sweet and tender, now it was rough and a bit husky, a rasp hidden underneath each sentence he spoke.

needless to say, you found this version of choso to be quite hot.

“wait,” he pauses, pausing the mood with his own cute stammer in his voice, back to normal. “not goin' to rough, am i? i want you to be comfortable and-”

“baby, ‘m fine. keep fucking me please.” you pleaded, feeling his hips stutter as he was in the middle of talking. even trying to keep up a act, he still wanted to make sure you were okay—choso simpers to himself, caressing your ass before spanking it yet another time.

“okay okay,” he hums. his hips pick up again and you’re basically being pounded into the bed. the grip he had on your hips wasn’t too rough but just the perfect amount.

choso’s breathing starts to pick up, and he enjoys the view of you more than he thought he would. his head goes back, along with his let down hair before he pivots his hips a certain way. your pussy clamped down against him and you hear his jaw clench in pleasure. “…shit.”

your legs quavered beneath him, and he then used a hand to bring both of your wrists behind your back. “j-just like that choso, please, please.”

“baby, you’re not supposed to be praising me,” he pouts, and you giggle before moaning again — a sudden moment occurs where you thickly swallow, only to continue your sweet whimpers. “this was s-supposed to be a punishment.”

“so punish me then.” you mewled, your cunt easily hugs him like a vice, the noise it makes, a wet pop and you’re just soaked. choso’s ears grows hot from the feeling and he knows you can feel it too.

he sighs, shoving you further into the bed. “you’re something else.” and his voice grows low and pitched again—yet choso does the unexpected. he leans right into you, and you instantaneously feel the heel of his foot press against the very back of your head.

he wore socks, the soft padded wool brushes against your neck, and he’s roughly driving into your pussy now to where you can’t even saying anything.

all that came out of your dumb mouth was a squeal, this angle…

“let me have you,” he grunts, balls deep, his base was thick and repeatedly thwacked against your entrance. you were dizzy…drunk, but not that kind of drunk. the good kind where all you could think about was how good you were getting stuffed by your boyfriend’s hefty cock. “yeah, just lie down and let me—fuck.”

you’re panting, and it felt so good.

choso was always used to being gentle and tender with you, although if you wanted him to be a little rougher, he was more than happy to oblige.

“i-i’m gonna cum, choso… gonna make me cum.”

“don’t think you deserve it, he utters, and your lips part, jaw dropping, plethora of sweetened moans only escaping as a subtle response. “you’ve been teasing me all day. even started to stroke me in the dressing room.”

“s-sorry.” you moaned.

choso remains with his foot near the back of your head before pursing his eyebrows together. “you’re not sorry are you, baby? be honest.”

“n—no,” you whined, the thickness of his shaft twitching inside of you felt so heavenly. you could have sworn you felt a vein that ran down his length pulse inside of your tight cunt. “you’re right, you’re right, ‘m not s-sorry.”

he chuckles. “you could have just lied, you know?”

choso’s angle and thrusts against you were so pivotal inside you, so astonishingly deep that not even moments later you end up cumming hard. leaving a ring around his base. your breathing was irregular and heavy, eyes half-lidded and just convulsing underneath him.

“messy girl,” he whispers, pulling out, not even caring that he didn’t finish, all that matters was that you did. choso turns you over before planting a kiss on your lips—you pull him in for another, and another, before you make him trample onto you. “did you learn your lesson?”

“no,” you moaned, sitting up before lightly shoving him down on his back, straddling his lap now. “i want more.”

choso smirks, sliding a hand down your waist, fully disregarding his flustered face at seeing you attempt to take control. “of course you do, brat.”

[casiia]

༉‧₊˚. — simon 'GHOST' riley; newlyweds.

warnings .: x reader, smut, mdni 18+, afab! reader, v! penetration, heavily unedited

.: masterlist.

simon was not thrilled when you told him you didn’t want to sleep with him before the wedding, something about it being “bad luck”. at first he didn’t understand but he was willing to oblige, sleeping in the guest room didn’t sound too bad; although he didn’t like the idea of sleeping in a cold bed while you were just a room away — but fighting with you was never a battle he won. 

except, when you clarified that you didn’t want to ‘fuck’ before your wedding, he was not having it. he couldn’t stop the baffled laugh that slipped from his lips. it didn’t make sense, you weren’t a virgin; he had the pleasure of stuffing you full of his cock many times while dating. to say he was confused was an understatement. 

but, what the bride wants, the bride gets. so weeks go by where simon has to take care of his growing problem by himself; just to tease you, and hopefully make you regret your decision, he’ll get off in bed, right before you go to sleep. 

simon will have you watch the way he tugs at his cock with need, his head tilted back with grunts and an uneven breath. his chest heaving as thick ropes of his cum spurt onto his exposed abdomen. he’ll give you a sly smirk before climbing out of bed, his boxers tugged up but hanging too low revealing his v-line. 

it takes everything in you to stick to your word, watch every night as simon adds the lewd task into his daily routine. eventually, he’s the one that breaks, the way he stumbles into your shared bedroom and finds you with a hand between your thighs – his name spewing from your lips when you catch sight of him.

he wishes he could say ‘i told you so’ when you’re begging for him, needing to relieve the ache that’s been dwelling in your tummy for so long. he takes one look at your sopping cunt and wonders how long you’ve been trying to stuff your fingers inside of you knowing that they couldn’t reach that gummy spot only he could. 

simon shakes his head with a chuckle, taking his time to settle himself between your legs. he kisses your knees, hiking them over his shoulder and winding his arms around your thighs to keep you still. with his thumbs, he’s spreading your folds – a teasing tut and tilt of the head are all you need from him to know that he’ll never let you hear the end of it. 

he has to swallow a groan, hard eyes glued to your leaking hole. your juices dribbling from your cunt and dripping onto the bedsheets. “you sure you wanna keep up with your stupid idea? i can make you feel good, take care of you the way you need.” simon asks, almost begging for you to quit being stubborn this once and let him relieve you – to let him fuck you stupid so he can spill his cum deep inside of you instead of wasting it and wiping it off of his chest with a towel. 

he just wants to feel your tight cunt wrapped around him, hear your moans as his fat tip nudges against that one spot that makes your walls flutter around his cock. simon’s rutting his hips into the mattress, too lost in his lewd thoughts to hear you reject his suggestion. when he does he’s dropping his head with a low growl. 

he never thought he would hate your friends, but he could kill the person who told you about this stupid suspicion. simon is a good boyfriend, he’ll show you how good of a husband he will be too. reluctantly accommodating to your wishes, he stuffs his fingers inside of you instead of his throbbing cock.

oddly enough, he finds himself loving this more. the way your slick coats his hand – his engagement ring. simon is moaning at the sight, his simple soon-to-be wedding band glistening in the dim light as he finger fucks your tight hole. 

“aw, honey. s’too much?” he coos, curling his fingers inside of you and pressing his thumb to your clit. he nips at the inside of your thigh and grins at the way your legs tremble, your back arched off the mattress. with his free hand he wraps it around your wrist, squeezing it lightly so you’d loosen your tight grip on the bedsheets below. intertwining your fingers with his, he works you up to another orgasm, talking you through it.

“just like that, baby.” “cum all over my fingers, soak this pretty lil’ ring.” 

as much as he enjoys fingering you with his ring on, he loves it when you take a bit of control and take care of him the same way. rubbing over his clothed erection with your left hand, the big diamond on your engagement band looking small next to his sore, hard cock. 

simon’s eyes flutter when you squeeze his shaft, precum leaking from his slit and slowly dribbling over your fingers – over your ring, coating the big diamond. he’ll guide your hand up and down his shaft urging you to go quicker, he loves the way your soft hands feel compared to his calloused ones.

 he’s bucking his hips upwards into your hand, his head tilted back while he’s whining desperately. simon normally keeps his noises under control but he hasn’t felt your touch in so long.

“fuck, a-ah. can’t wait to marry you and fuck you right.” 

his breath hitches when you squeeze his angry red tip, the cool metal of your ring rubbing against his slit. with a deep groan he’s cumming all over your hand; watching with wide eyes, the way your fingers play with his hot, sticky cum. 

after your wedding ceremony, simon drags the both of you into the bathroom. shamelessly, he’s bending you over the sink, unzipping his trousers, and hiking your wedding dress up. 

“si, we can’t. people are waiting for us.” you squeal when he snaps the garter against your thigh, his rough hands squeezing your hips and pulling your thong down. simon only rolls his eyes, leaning down and spitting on your exposed pussy. he rubs his cock between your folds, using his spit as a lubricant.

“they can wait, m’gonna take care of my wife first.”

how could you say no, especially to your husband?

AN: i know nothing about weddings or marriage, but i heart hubby si

[jaysgirlx]

"Need help sweetheart?" Bookstore Customer!Jason Todd helps you reach the books on the higher shelves. You were his favorite employee and he wanted to make your day easier. He'd been coming here for a while but you always forgot how tall he was and how good his body felt pressed against yours. You only knew how to mumble out a couple words because you didn't know what else to say to a man like that. "Uh sir, you don't need to-"

"Please call me anything but sir sweetheart, you know I'm not new here"

Bookstore Customer!Jason enjoyed teasing his favorite employee aka you of course. He teases you about working at the bookstore even though he's constantly there and he'll always be flirting with you even if you're working the counter that day. He knows he's holding up the line but he's a paying customer so he doesn't care.

"How's my favorite pretty girl doing?"

"M'tired today Jay, I can't handle your nonsense right now"

"Okay that was mean- wait, Jay? that's a first"

"Buy a book or get out Jason"

You could easily tell Jason liked classics and poetry but for some reason he was willing to read your favorites even if they were a smut-filled mess. One time, he backed you up into a corner, after reading one of those books you liked, "Hmm, you like this kind of shit baby? cause I can do all that to you and so much more"

Over time, you learned that Jason also likes to follow you to the store, whispering to you about all the things he could do to you if you'd let him. His hand is always on your hips, pressing his body fully into you. He knows you like it especially when you roll your hips into his when nobody's looking. He wishes you'd use your words and just say you were his but he knew he wasn't even close to getting that, at least not yet.

Jason tried to buy a new book every week, sometimes not even to read. He needed an excuse to be there since your boss has never been fond of him ever since he had caught him feeling you up near the back shelves once. He learned his lesso so now he purposefully buys the books you like, just so he can watch you ramble on and on about them without getting kicked out of the store.

Bookstore Customer!Jason thrived on the feeling he got from watching you go from being so nonchalant around him to the most talkative girl in the world. he wants you comfortable if he's going to fuck you. You find yourself shutting up one time because you thought you had bored him but he quickly gets rid of that thought for you, "Keep talking sweetheart, I'm just wondering how pretty your mouth would look with my cock stuffed down your throat"

"Jay I don't- I can't- I haven't-"

"Don't worry, you will and I'm sure you're a fast learner"

It wasn't that hard for you to notice that Jason got a little jealous when his brother Dick hits on you the first and last time he brings him to the bookstore. Dick easily chats you up and Jason watches the two become a bit too friendly for his liking but it wasn't his place to speak, "Now I see why my little brother brings home so many books"

"It's good he does, I like guys who read"

"I actually quite the fan of classic literature-"

"Oh shut up Dick"

Bookstore Customer!Jason had all your coworkers wondering if you'll ever let the poor guy hit. They weren't sure if Jason was interested in you or your body, regardless they couldn't ignore the smile you got whenever he walk in. Or the way you'd laugh at his dumb jokes. You had him on a leash and you didn't even know what to do with him. He's begging to take you out or just even spent a night with you. He didn't just want you, he needed you. "C'mon I promise to take care of you princess, I'll even take you to that little coffee shop in Bludhaven"

"Who told you about that?!"

"…Dick"

When he finally manages to convince you to let him kiss you, you're nervous as fuck. You thought this was just another one of his antics but no, this was real. He'd promised to stop hitting on you if you felt nothing and you should've know it was bad idea when you could hear your own heartbeat still your let his lips touch yours. It was such a bad idea because before you knew it, he's got you pushed up against the wall, leg parting your thighs with your hands gripping at his shirt. "Jay, more please" Suddenly after all this time, you're pleading for him. Oh how the tables have turned. You're begging for all he's got, and you know he has so much more to give.

"Just give me a moment baby, got be patient" Within a matter of minutes your pants are discarded on the floor, and your panties are still on but being pushed aside while two fingers are being pumped in and out of your pussy. He's got one hand on your hips holding you down while one of your legs is wrapped around his waist. "Didn't I tell you I could do some much for you baby?"

You nod quickly while he's sucking on your poor neck, that would definitely be red all tomorrow. you feel his teeth sink into your skin, not too hard but rough enough to leave a mark. "Now keep quiet, I don't want any of your coworkers hearing us back here" The next thing you know you're cumming on the boy's fingers and he wants you to do it again. and again. and possibly 50 more times if you're willing.

The next time Jason comes, he's holding what you think is flowers and you know he'll be your victim today.

"So I thought real flowers would be cheesy and you'd probably not want to take care of em, so my brothers taught me how to make these paper flowers and…here just take them"

"Wow, I'm getting hand-crafted flowers from THE Jason Todd? Someone must have a really big crush on me huh? Are those bandaids on your fingers? Want me to kiss your boo-boos? "

"Are you going to finally go out with me or do I have to make you cum-"

"Yes yes! Just do not finish that sentence out loud"

"You are soooooooooo in love me"

"Jay, get out"