#what fear would they even suit

[hehehehehenrik]

Another one bunch of sketches and not really, some of this planned as the full art but nah I’m lazy

[michyeosseo]

At least one bite? You must be hungry. I know you hate me but–

Yoon Hae Young and Choi Myung Gil as JANG SE-MI & BAEK DO-YI LADY DURIAN (2023) 1.07

[todayisafridaynight]

So considering the Persona 5 X Yakuza Collab with the outfits, I kept wondering in who Akechi and Sumire would be cosplaying as, I decided that Akechi should be thrown into Daigo’s suit and Sumire, maybe have her cosplay as Akame from Yakuza Gaiden.

sumire can be akame this is acceptable but i dont know how you could overlook the suit of the dead brunette orphan that starts off disliking the protagonist only to sacrifice himself to protect the protagonist and his ally/allies akechi could steal

[dullahandyke]

Tfw two issues in your brain click together and you're like omg I understand now. These are still issues tho

[hella1975]

I AM NOT BRAVE I COULD SO EASILY BE UNABASHEDLY MYSELF IN EVERY WEIRD CRINGEY WAY AND SURROUND MYSELF WITH SIMILAR PEOPLE BUT I JUST DONT IM SO SCARED OF WHAT PEOPLE THINK AND I DONT EVEN KNOW WHY LIKE IVE NEVER KNOWN ANYTHING BAD TO COME OF BEING MYSELF SO WHY AM I SO TERRIFIED OF IT IM SO SICK OF WAITING FOR LIKE-MINDED PEOPLE TO COME MY WAY BECAUSE THAT'S NOT FAIR WE ARE ALL SO DISGUSTED BY OURSELVES AND I WANT TO BE THE PERSON THAT CAN BE THEMSELF SO SHAMELESSLY THAT OTHER PEOPLE CAN TOO BUT I JUST CANT BECAUSE IM NOT BRAVE AND I FEAR I NEVER WILL BE anyway im going grocery shopping does anyone want anything

[risingsunresistance]

need a fanfic writer to take interest in hypixel limbo... there's so much you could do with it, so many ways to take the little bit of worldbuilding it has

[magioffire]

i just saw a really good post talking about how its kinda unfair to expect everyone to cow down to your muse just because they are powerful and roleplay has never worked like that where everyone is just expected to be submissive towards another muse just because they are evil/powerful/whatever. or they will purposely misinterpret aspects of your muse to make theirs look better or?? something. like. fucking earn the respect and fear.

[sysig]

Doug started it, naturally (Patreon)

[m1d-45]

AHHHHHH UR WANDERER PULLING FIC MADE MY HEART ACHE SO GOOD </3 POOR BB IS SO CONFLICTED I JUST WANT TO HOLD HIM!!!!!

and re: your tags, on the contrary, i think reader pulling for scara while calling him a bitch and a rat fuck the entire time would make for a great fic gjkdhkhl ALSO VERY ME. as an extremely non-f2p my characters come home whether they want to or not >:( but this little asshole made me spend $200 because of course i lost my 50/50 (NOT EVEN TO TIGHNARI I WAS ON MY KNEES BEGGING FOR HIM AND I GOT C1 KEQING INSTEAD WHY!!!!) so ofc the first thing i said to him when he showed up on his splash screen was "I HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY YOU PIECE OF SHIT"

hopefully he doesn't take it too personally <3 he's so cute ugh i keep cooing at his idles and voice lines and i love how much fun he sounds like he's having when he attacks...

now i have a dilemma bc 3/4 of my favorite characters are anemo but i love seeing pretty colors and colorful numbers on screen when i'm in combat so i want elemental reactions too. rip.

are you me??? just from an alternate dimension where you (i? we?) have bank???

every time i sprint and his “quit following me” voiceline triggers i stop to swap to another character and yet here i am, farming the cursed aeonblight drake for him(even though my collei has been begging me to build her for like 5 weeks but shhh). i will make fun of him for his idles and then immediately fret over the fact that i have zero artifacts for him. duality of man and all that.

also as a tighnari haver: i may not have built him right but he is damn good at his job. he and my kuki make for a lovely team <3 his skill doesn’t really need to be leveled (it only increases damage) and isn’t the highest priority in his kit. in theory you could solely run him for his wreath arrows using his normal attacks, though i ran him as burst support for like 3 weeks and was happy. main stat is em im pretty sure so that sucks a bit, esp considering how rude the gilded domain has been recently... also his passive is INCREDIBLY useful so if nothing else he helps you get scarabs / henna berries / rukkhashava mushrooms faster. can confirm since i needed the last one for scara

[snowshinobi]

still not over the time i told a recent friend (now recent bf) i liked his shirt (pale blue-grey polo w narrow white horizontal stripes, compliments his fluffy light brown hair + hazel eyes) and several lunch walks later he said he can’t remember the last time someone complimented him on his outfit. i think my heart audibly cracked

[ttsukiimi]

───〃★ C’MERE, BRING THAT D⍣CK HERE .ᐟ

〃★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ⎯ You’ve been a good wife—you really have! But when your husband’s boss confronts you about him cheating with his secretary, you just can’t help but take up his offer to get back at him.

〃★ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 ⎯ nanami x fem!reader, gojo x fem!reader, Sukuna x fem!reader, geto x fem!reader, cheating (not reader), smut (mdni), exhibitionism (sukuna, gojo), slight n⍣pple play, slight cl⍣t play, slight creamp⍣e (geto), full Nelson (gojo), office s⍣x.

〃★ 𝐚/𝐧 ⎯ I was gonna add toji but realized his broke assss not the boss of anyone🤧

────〃ଘ 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 - NICE ‘N SLOW

The wooden legs of his desk scrapped against the floor with every deep thrust, important paperwork scattered all over from how much he had you squirming from his slow, calculated movements. Your nails dug into the wood, scratching and latching onto the edge as your back arched, a cry of pleasure bubbling from your throat.

Was this wrong somehow? No. Your cheating scum of a husband should receive the treatment he’s given you. And you almost wished he’d walk in on the sight of his boss balls deep in his wife. Well, ex-wife, anyway.

Nanami leaned in to your ear and you shivered, feeling his breath fan past your neck, smelling his cologne and—fuck, you could feel his muscles through this suit against your back. “Hope you’ve finally found your worth. He never deserved you.”

His words entered one ear and came out the other with how hazy he had you feeling, cock penetrating you over and over in a cycle that had you feeling delirious. Your head spun, and the world seemed to blur from existence—except for Nanami; his hands, his words, his voice.

“I’ll make you feel better—cum better than he ever has.”

────〃ଘ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 - I’LL DO IT INSTEAD

Now, Satoru had always had his eyes on you. From the very first moment you came into the office, bringing your husband his forgotten lunch, he knew he had to have you. The whole interaction left him feeling bitter anyway—he only waved you off after he grabbed his lunch and refused to kiss you in front of his colleagues.

What kind of man was he?

Satoru had no problem fucking you in front of him, though.

You watched your husband’s wide eyes, embarrassed but basking in your sweet revenge. A smirk graced Satoru’s lips, his own focused on your husband’s flickering gaze from how he split your cunt open so lewdly to your bouncing tits as if in a trance.

“‘S how’s it feel? Watching your pretty little wife get ruined?” He breathed, strong arms folding you further into the full Nelson position he had you locked in. “You turned on, hm? Seein’ her lil’ cunt get fucked?”

Your eyes closed and your tongue lolled out, head thrown back onto Satoru’s shoulder as your hand came down to pinch your pulsing clit in circles.

Satoru peppered kisses upon your jawline and stopped by your ear. “Why don’t you tell him how good ‘m making you feel?”

────〃ଘ 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 - DO IT BETTER!

You’d always had your eye out for your husband’s particularly hot and intimidating boss, though you’d always stray your gaze away from him out of respect and loyalty. Respect and loyalty that your husband never seemed to reciprocate.

And when his boss finally confirmed that he was cheating on you—you’d finally given into your fantasy of fucking him.

But this isn’t how you imagined your fantasy would go.

Everyone’s eyes were glued to you, either out of fear of what Sukuna would do or out of pure infatuation from how wet your cunt was. You sat on Sukuna’s lap, legs spread open for anyone and everyone to see—even your spouse whose face was a mix of anger and confusion.

He didn’t have the right to be mad right now.

You were almost about to curse him out when Sukuna slid in with one swift thrust. Your breath caught in your throat, tears already welling in your eyes as he began to move without giving you even a second to adjust to his abnormal size.

He bounced you on his lap, heavy balls smacking against your ass so loudly it resonated throughout the meeting room. His big hands groped your chest though your blouse, practically ripping it off you.

“I’ll show you fuckers how to properly fuck a pretty lil’ thing like her.”

────〃ଘ 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 - LIKE YOU DESERVE

Heat creeped up into your face. You hadn’t expected your day to amount to anything—considering your husband’s boss had told you about his affair just a day before—but there you were, sat on the same man’s lap as he fucked up into your cunt.

I’ll fuck you like you deserve. Those were his words—the words that got you here in the first place.

Suguru’s fingers toyed with the hood of your clit, pinching the nub of nerves in such a gentle yet pleasurable way that had shocks of electricity rocking through you. Your legs shook and quivered with how wide he had you spread them, muscles beginning to feel sore after some amount of time.

But Suguru hadn’t had his fill yet, he had to show you—make you feel what your husband couldn’t do to your body. So, with his cock still pumping in and out of you recklessly, two fingers entered your mouth while his unoccupied hand pinched and twisted your hardened nipples.

“Suck,” he ordered, and you did. It was almost embarrassing how fast you complied, wrapping your tongue around his thick digits as you suckled on them, excess saliva dribbling down your chin.

And it was all so lewd. The ring of cum coating his cock from both your multiple orgasms, your red and pulsing clit, your moans—and shit. If Suguru knew one thing it was one thing only; he would keep his promise and fuck you like you deserve.

[explanationpoint]

..

[ceilidho]

prompt: forced throuple au; Ghost decides that you and Johnny are his (part 1; ghoap x reader)

-

Johnny’s been bragging about a pretty bird lately.

Ghost listens because the periods between missions are long and colourless—he fills the time with paperwork, PT, exhausting his muscles in the gym, and dissociating in a booth at the only good pub on base when Johnny drags him along—and it’s better to tune out the thoughts in his head and replace them with something else. Besides, for as much as he gripes about poorly trained dogs barking too much, he enjoys the sound of Johnny’s voice. It quiets the faint ringing that follows him wherever he goes, an agitated humming that leaves him, on his best days, on the brink of rage.

“Tinnitus,” a doctor says when he brings it up during a routine check-up. Can you shut that fucking noise up?

“Best we can do is get you hearing aids.” Apologetic, sincere even. Stained, as always though, by a trembling, noxious unease. It emanates off the doctor in waves. 

Hard not to feel uneasy around a man in a mask, Ghost assumes. That’s all part of it though. He doesn’t cultivate comfort, doesn’t attempt to engender soft feelings or put the mind at ease. His body and persona are designed to put the body and mind on the knife’s edge of fear, and then tip it over. He leaves the sweet talking and charming to men like Johnny, who babbles red language in a tongue like larkspur. 

Ghost’s first language is oil slick. It stains and it covers and it darkens everything it touches. 

And now, Johnny’s talking about a bird.

A couple months after Las Almas, the first picture comes out. Not a folded up keepsake tucked away in the pocket of a bag or a wallet or the inside of his jacket, but right on Johnny’s lockscreen on his phone. He disapproves at first glance. Not of the girl, but at the thought of keeping something so valuable on display for anyone to see. It’s not how he functions. Everything sacred is burned, destroyed, or—if precious enough—buried so deep underground that salt miners might greet it on the way down.

“Pretty, eh?” Johnny goads, nudging Ghost with his shoulder. He’s all wide grin, eyes electric-blue like the flames of Kawah Ijen. 

She is pretty. Pretty as pie. Not a speck of grit or blood on her; if there’s any edge to her at all, it’s tempered by her smile in the photo on Johnny’s phone. A sugar sweet cunt, by the looks of it, sure it’d taste like candy if he got his mouth on it. He angles his eyes with Johnny’s lips and wonders how many times he’s eaten her out, if hers was the last cunt he ate. Likely. His boy’s the loyal kind, hard to shake off once he’s got his teeth in. Swapping spit or blood, he doesn’t leave once he’s got a taste. 

“Where’d you find her?” he asks instead of agreeing, and takes a swig from the bottle in front of him. The bar’s hardly filled out yet; the two of them come early because Ghost’s an old man—that’s what Johnny would say—and doesn’t like to be around people once the sun’s set. It’s a burnished gold now, sun hovering low in the sky when Ghost turns an eye to it. 

“Florist. Met her when I picked up flowers for mam’s birthday.”

Nearly a month then. “And I’m just hearin’ about this now?”

Not in this same pub three times a week since then. Not on the tarmac, suited up and sweating already beneath two layers of gear. Not in the shower beside Ghost’s, fingers reaching over the side for a bar of soap because Johnny can’t be arsed to get his own. Not with his head slumped to let Ghost shave the sides of his head nice and neat, thick fingers splayed over the delicate bone of his skull that Ghost knows would take nothing to break. 

It rankles him until he looks back down at the phone in his hands—the one he’d plucked from Johnny’s fingers even while he whined about Ghost always stealing his shit—and feels his heartbeat slow. It levels out like staring into the scope of a rifle, the molecules of his breath melding with the molecules of the air until even the sound of his heartbeat dulls to the insects around him. 

Johnny purses his lips. “…Wasn’t sure then. Am now.”

“Cunt’s a cunt. What’s there to be sure about?”

“No.” Johnny shakes his head vehemently. “She’s no’ like that. She’s special—I’m telling ye, Lt—” he stresses when Ghost snorts, the sound thick with scepticism, “—she’s a good egg. Smart one. Sweet as pie.”

Sweet as pie. Mutt half-shares his thoughts these days. They must have brought more home than just shellshock and keloids. 

Johnny squawks when Ghost unlocks his phone and thumbs through his photos, trying to wrench it out of Ghost’s hand to no avail. He’s easy to hold back. All he has to do is put down his beer for a second and get a handful of hair and jerk, and there it is. Peace and quiet. A wince bleeding into his peripheral vision while Johnny mumbles something under his breath about him being a mean bastard. 

He snorts again. Even from Johnny, he’s heard worse. 

There isn’t much left of him these days. A tired husk and a taste for Guinness. He bleeds and shaves and wipes it off, smells the viscera still staining his mask that he hardly ever washes, can’t bear to honestly. Waste of fucking time, as far as he’s concerned. Just going to get dirtied again, soaked in blood again within the week. Shaves his head too just to have less to deal with, less to distract him from the single-minded intensity he brings to the job. He’d dematerialize if he could, become a ghost in name and shape, if only the laws of physics allowed. 

Instead he’s saddled with a body that echoes back his age in creaking joints and low back pain. Scar tissue that aches when it gets cold. 

In the months he’s known Johnny, he’s never let himself think about the world outside their bubble. His rank demands a certain level of socialising, and while he doesn’t schmooze with the brass like other lieutenants might, Ghost hardly has the privilege of isolating himself all the time, but still he can count the people he considers close on one hand. 

Not family, but close. The thought of family is sheathed within him; he knows to leave the knife in lest he bleed. Still, Johnny’s fought his way onto the list and now he has to pay with his pound of flesh. 

There’s a switch that’s been off for years, closer to a couple decades, and it flips back on when he finds this man that trusts him without question, that follows his orders and looks up at him with these big, puppy blue eyes. It twists something in his chest. It turns him into a thing that says maybe it’s better to take than just covet. 

There are other photos of the girl in Johnny’s phone, some likely not meant for present company (Johnny flushes red when Ghost flips to a picture of his bird in a pretty little number, lace cupping her tits and ass, sitting on Johnny’s bed back home and looking back at him over her shoulder with a little grin). Still, it interests him to see this side of his boy; he’s maybe thought of it before in abstract terms. He knows that Johnny’s no stranger to a wandering eye, not with the way he’s built and his pretty boy face. He’s well acquainted with Johnny’s dick, hard not to be in such close quarters; it’s a nice, pretty thing, just like him, a good handful. Nothing like the ruddy battering ram in between Ghost’s legs. The one Johnny once got a glimpse of in the showers after a two week long stint in Kyrgyzstan and paled, mouth gaping open while he stared until he could finally laugh it off. 

Ghost remembers thinking detachedly about how lovely that little gaped open mouth would feel around his cock. 

Surprising that it took this long for him to cotton on to his own desires. 

“Bring ‘er around then. I’ll see for myself how sweet she is.”

Johnny scowls at the sudden uproar from a nearby table. “No’ a chance in hell. Dinnae trust any of these fuckers to behave around her.”

Ghost hums. He’s not wrong to be wary; under the table, Ghost runs a hand over his bulge and gives it a squeeze, lifting his thigh to readjust. She has a lovely mouth too. 

He’s been breathing fire and brimstone recently. Hungering to hear something break. It takes Johnny’s hand on his arm to hold him back, every cigarette puffed down to the filter. The pictures on Johnny’s phone make it seem easy though. 

Johnny’s been bragging about a pretty bird lately, preening at every opportunity to show her off. He doesn’t know that it takes approximately eight seconds for Ghost’s brain to file the girl in Johnny’s phone under mine, slotting her right under Johnny in that category and isn’t that just perfect because it also takes approximately eight seconds for Ghost to imagine what she might look like under Johnny. 

He hands Johnny back the phone, face down. “You get one week. Then I wanna meet your bird.”

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Okay but imagine sex pollen with Miguel fucking you on your back and then even when he cums he just keeps going and it’s spilling out and refractory period who and you’re overstimulated and he’s like no no you’re not allowed to tap out and he — and he —!!!!!

Sorry

MONA. You put me in a fucking MOOD LMFAO This is way longer than I intended. And its pure filth 🫣

Word Count: 2k+

NSFW below the cut.

Part 2

...

Earth 703- A post-apocalyptic world in which New York was nothing more than a ferocious jungle.

You stared off into the distance, the familiar city skyline overrun by wild flora and thick green vines sneaking in through broken windows and cracked concrete. 

“What the fuck.” You whispered to yourself, eyes now trained on the massive dragonfly that whizzed by you. Miguel grunted, punching a large finger over the screen of his watch.

The mission was supposed to be simple: Catch the anomaly—send them back to their own universe—go home. That’s it. No detours, no distractions. In and out.

“Are we close?” You questioned, pressing up against Miguel’s side at the sight of another massive insect, “I wanna get the hell outta here.”

“We just missed him.” He sucked his teeth. His mask disappeared in a flash of digital pixels to reveal his scowling face, narrowed red eyes and brows furrowed in frustration.

You’ve been wandering around the city for forty-five minutes, trekking through the godforsaken jungle with no luck. The anomaly, a Prowler from some random universe (you couldn’t remember, you weren’t paying attention at the meeting), was clever, quickwitted, and inconspicuous. You’d wished Miguel had chosen Jess for this one, but he’d refused. He’d used the excuse of her pregnancy but really, she’d already complained to you beforehand that the humidity would do her hair no favors. 

“What now?” You questioned, plopping down at the base of a bulky tree trunk a few feet away. The trees were so massive that the branches seemed to kiss the sky, monstrous green leaves blocking out most of the morning sunlight.

“Keep lookin’,” he huffed, running his fingers through his hair, “we’re getting close.”

“Miguel,” you whined, your head thumping back against the trunk, “you said that forty-five minutes ago.”

“Get up,” he demanded, shooting out a web of electric red to swiftly pull you toward him. You yelped, crossing the distance within seconds, crashing into Miguel's sturdy body.

“I hate when you do that.” Your words were muffled by his broad chest, peeling your sweaty cheek away from the synthetic material of his suit. The tiniest smile ghosted over his lips. 

“I know.” 

… 

You’d left Miguel on his own for a few minutes. 

You’d gotten distracted, swinging up into one of the treetops to observe one of the colorful parrots squawking in the distance. It’d looked just like the ones back home, except this one was enormous, probably bigger than a medium-sized dog. 

“Fuck!” You’d heard Miguel yell from down below, spitting out curses in Spanish, choking on the words as coughs racked his body. He’d been waving his hands in front of his face to clear his vision to no avail. You watched as his body reacted immediately to whatever it was that ailed him, his body hunching over as if in pain.

“Miguel!” You dropped to your feet in front of him and attempted to reach for him, but he recoiled, fearing your touch. 

“Stay back!” he wheezed, crouching down and holding his head in his hands.

“What’s wrong?”

“It hurts,” he groaned, his eyes screwed shut as his body trembled, his fingers weaving through his thick hair strands to violently tug from the root.

“Stop,” you scolded, getting on your knees in front of him to pry his hands away, “tell me what’s wrong so that I can help you.” You shoved him down by the shoulders so that he was sitting with his knees out, bringing a hand to his face and yanking it up by his chin. His eyes, normally a mahogany shade glowed a disturbing red, his pupils dilated. 

“Ran into a plant,” he forced the words from his throat, his skin gleaming with sweat, “s-some flower, I don’t know, some kind of pollen.” He groaned again, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Shit, ok, ok, ok, we can fix this,” you panicked, placing the back of your hand against his forehead. He was burning, skin blistering hot. “Where does it hurt.”

Miguel remained silent, breathing harshly through his nostrils as beads of sweat began to trickle down his face. He looked down between his legs and you followed his line of vision. Oh. OH.

His bulge was tenting through his suit, fighting against the restraints of the digital fabric. The area glimmered brightly before his cock burst through the pixels, flopping out and twitching with need.

Miguel was big. 

His cock stood tall and proud, bobbing against his stomach, the tip leaking a thin bead of precum that ran down his length. 

You stared for a moment, transfixed on the angry red tip before you found your voice. “Miguel—”

“You need to go,” he spat viciously, his fangs protruding as if to scare you away, “if you don't I’ll—” He stopped himself, lips pressed into a tight line as his chest began to heave. You could hear his heart rate accelerate with every passing second.

“Let me help you,” you whispered, your hand hovering over his cock. He looked away from you, his skin flushed from his cheekbones to the tips of his ears. “Miguel, please, let me help you.”

“I don’t want to force—”

“You’re not forcing me,” you breathed, letting the pad of your finger tap against his tip, smearing his precum over the surface. Your cunt throbbed, squeezing tight with an overwhelming desire to be filled. “I want to.” You cooed, your tone causing his eyes to flutter. 

Miguel grunted, grabbing your hand and placing it over his throbbing cock.

“Then help me.” He hissed.

…

You needed a new suit. Immediately.

Miguel had torn into it, ripping the seams apart from the crotch, all the way up to your neck, revealing your chest and glistening pussy. You had no time to complain, mewling when he spread your thighs apart with his large hands, his eyes trained on the heat between your legs before diving in to eat from you.

You squealed, your hands flying to his head as he kissed and licked and spit over your cunt, his nose pressing against your clit. His tongue dipped into your hole a few times before licking one long stripe up to your bundle of nerves, swirling his tongue around it before sucking it into his mouth.

Okay—you’ve had your pussy eaten before, but goddamn never like this, never like it was a matter of life or death, as if your pussy alone was the answer to all things.

Miguel continued his ministrations, releasing a growl every few moments, licking to oblivion until you thought his jaw would lock. 

He made you see stars, groaning loudly as you gushed into his mouth. He savored your tangy taste as he lapped at your wet folds, making sure to lick up every drop he could find. 

His mouth and chin were soaked in your juices when he came back up, and it shot a fresh wave of arousal through your veins. His hand reached out to cup your face, his thumb smearing over the traces of his cum dotting across your cheek when you’d sucked him off earlier, catching some of it in your mouth before he'd pulled out, wanting to paint your face with it at the last moment. 

He dipped his thumb into your mouth, forcing you to clean it as he slid his cock over your messy pussy, smearing the underside in your juices. His body shook with need, his eyes glazed and lidded, teeth sinking into his lower lip as he whimpered something about you being so wet.

He pulled out his thumb from your mouth with a pop and watched how you panted underneath him, your exposed skin now covered in a sheen of sweat.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, positioning your legs over his shoulders before draping himself over you, folding you in half, “I’m sorry if I’m not gentle.”

Gentle? You were a big girl, you didn’t need him to be—

You cried out as soon as he pressed his fat head into your tiny hole, forcing your pussy to open up for him as he pushed in deeper without giving you much time to adjust.

“Fuck,” you sobbed, your hands scrambling to grip his arms as he began to thrust his hips, dragging his cock in and out of you at a bruising pace. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Miguel began to babble, grunting when your cunt squeezed the life from him, the slick noises of your drenched pussy egging him on. 

Maybe…gentle would have been nice knowing now how big he was, but you understood the circumstances of the situation. This was meant to be anything but gentle.

He had you coming again, your back arching and your bare chest pressing against his clothed one before he filled you with his own spend, pushing it as deep as he could into you. He pulled out harshly causing you to moan, watching his cum leak from your swollen pussy before slapping his length over your folds a few times and dipping back in.

He fucked you harder this time until your pussy throbbed and burned from the size of him, filling you up with so much of his cum, and delighting in the way it dripped out of you. 

“Again.” He grunted, pushing his cock into your convulsing walls, slamming in deep as he licked and sucked on your nipples, leaving red love marks over your skin. You sobbed from the pleasure, feeling his weight push you into the ground.

“I can’t!” You cried, pushing weakly against his shoulders.

“You can and you will.” Miguel commanded. He couldn’t stop, barely giving you a minute to catch your breath after making you both cum again before sinking into your searing heat, stretching you beyond your limits.

You were lightheaded and spent, losing count of the number of orgasms he’d given you. Miguel growled, pulling out his cock from your abused hole and shooting his load over your body. He pressed it into your skin, smearing it over your breasts and tender nipples, down your abdomen, and finally, over your burning pussy. 

He paused, his eyes tracing over your fucked out form before reaching down to pump himself with the leftover cum in his hand.

“I’m sorry, Hermosa,” he whispered, draping himself over you again, “I can’t stop, you feel too good. So fucking tight.” He slurped your nipple into his hot mouth, sucking the taste of him from your skin as he pushed his large cock into you. 

Your eyes fluttered and you cried out, your fingers digging into the earth, focusing on nothing but Miguel's rich voice:

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m—

…

It was nightfall by the time Miguel was satiated.

You felt weak, eyes heavy with sleep and body limp. Miguel sat against a tree and had you cradled in his arms, your body nestled comfortably between his legs. He rested his head over yours, inhaling the scent of sweat and dirt trapped in your hair. 

“See that flower?” He muttered, pointing straight ahead at a few giant white daisies clustering around a tree. They were massive, like everything else in that universe, the stems taller than Miguel when he was standing at his full height. You nodded sleepily, ignoring the ache in your still exposed cunt. “Don’t go near it.”

“Got it.” You absentmindedly played with the frayed pieces of your suit, letting Miguel shield your exposed skin from the elements.

You probably should’ve left already, should’ve gone back to HQ for a much-needed shower and rest, probably schedule another meeting, but Miguel wouldn’t budge, his grip on you tightening whenever you so much as shifted against him.

“Quèdate quieta.” He grunted.

“Miguel,” you protested, “we have to go home. The anomaly—”

“I know, hermosa,” he murmured softly, “I know.” You never seen him this soft before, nor speak in such a gentle way, not with anyone and least of all, not with you.

You both sat there in silence, processing what happened while listening to the sounds of the jungle, the birds chirping in the distance, the leaves rustling in the gentle wind. You sighed, playing with his interlocked fingers over your stomach. It was strangely intimate (despite everything else that happened), having him coddle you. 

“Miguel?”

“Mm?” 

“You better get me a suit like yours.” 

“What’s wrong with the fabric ones from HQ?”

“It’s a waste if you’re just gonna rip it off again.” You heard him snort out a breath, just the tiniest thing that implied he understood your meaning. You were hoping this wouldn’t be the first nor last time you’d be under him. “We got a deal?” 

Miguel chuckled, his hand leaving the safety of your abdomen to venture down into your sopping-wet folds. You bit your lip, spreading your tired thighs, whimpering as his thick fingers swirled inside.

“Deal, Hermosa.”

...

Quèdate quieta- Keep still

[flamingpudding]

Danny, the 'twig' Bouncer

The job was just a temporary solution. It was a means to an end. To help him handle his obsession until things were better. Until it was safe to be out again. Until he could roam around freely without fear. Until he no longer needed to lay low or be on the run. Until he could return to being Phantom.

This job helped keep his obsession somewhat sedated. Sure, it was a shady bar, but it beat working out in the open in some other way or becoming a non-ghost vigilante and risking his human persona too.

Besides people tented to underestimate him because he was a 'twig' in their eyes. The bar owner nearly didn't hire him until he easily flipped a human truck over his shoulder and threw the guy out the back door on his interview day.

But again this was just meant to be temporary. He got to fight the trouble makers and protect customers from the rowdy crowd.

At some point, the people even started cheering whenever Danny was on the clock, his coworkers even leaving the heavy hitters to him. It was kind of fun always seeing the sound looks of the big guys that didn't think Danny could throw them out the door with one hand. The owner had said something about getting more customers ever since Danny started working for him.

Danny even recognized regulars now. Tho there was this one guy with a red helmet that gave him a weird feeling. But the guy wasn't making trouble so Danny left him alone.

Besides the Bar Owner always pet his shoulder after he threw someone out. That meant he did a good job right?

Though Danny did wonder how long this temporary job would last.

.

.

.

Yea his Fenton luck struck again. Danny didn't know faces. The bar was a shady place but neutral zone according to the owner but there was the golden rule of not messing with Joker. Danny had agreed even tho he didn't know who that guy was.

Soo the day came a clown made trouble in the bar and no one else appeared to want to do something. So what did Danny do? His job. He punched the guy, knocked him out and threw him right out the door a little too hard into a brick wall. He might have broken a couple of that clown guys bones. Hello trauma, Freakshow greets you.

The bar was dead silent right after, everyone staring at him like he had just signed a death sentence. The owner had then pushed him out the door and muttered something about sending Danny on vacation and to return in a month if he was still alive by then.

Did that mean he was fired or got a weird kind of promotion?

Why was that guy in a furry suit staring him down now?

Also why was the red helmet regular suddenly trying to hire him for his gang?

Really Danny just wanted a simple job that sedated his obsession, this was not what he expected to happen for a job well done.

[hxzbinwrites]

Hey!! Saw that u were taking request <3 I was thinking that an Alestor x wife!reader being a power (but absolutely terrifying) couple would be soooo cool, like maybe they already knew each other from when they were humans, and Alestor is just 10000% a simp for his wifey lol. Hope u like it!

Alastor x Wife! Overlord! Reader | Forgiveness |

Warnings ⚠️: Cussing, Death, Killing, Mentions of Alastor being a Cannibal, Reader makes STUPID DECISIONS

In the Pride Ring is where all of the sinners and Overlords alike mingle. The uppermost ring of Hell and the closest to Heaven. That’s where some of the most feared and powerful beings live. Two of those entities being Alastor, the Radio Demon, and (Y/n), the Jazz Demon.

Together, they rule their districts with an iron grip. While some Overlords team up, like the Vees, Alastor and (Y/n) were the first to do it. Well, it makes sense really, especially because they were close during their respective times alive on Earth.

——————

Three gunshots were heard that fateful night. One ending a mans life by his hand, one ending the witness’s life by his hand, and one ending his by justice’s hand. No more Bayou Killer, but he took two more lives before he went. Awful, sick man. Good thing he’s in Hell now…

Alastor hissed as his back hit the pavement. His squinted eyes took in his surroundings, he was in Hell. Hmm, no shocker there. What was a shock was seeing the body next to his.

“Ugghh” They groaned, sitting upright on the pavement next to him. They locked eyes. It was (Y/n). Before Alastor could even speak, she pounced on him, pushing him back into the pavement.

“You sick son of a BITCH!! YOU KILLED ME!! SHOT ME LIKE I WAS AN ANIMAL FOR YA NEXT MEAL!!” She yelled, shaking him back and forth by gripping his collar. His collar looked identical to hers, and he tuned out her yelling, he noticed her attire. She was now wearing a black suit with red and white accents, one that looked like a reverse image of his. Except a few details weren’t the same, hers looked more feminine, but also had less harsh edges to it. She looked more elegant while he looked more harsh.

He then looked up to her face, she had red eyes and long, silky black hair, with red underneath. He looked to the top of her head and noticed two fluffy, black ears. They were currently pressed to her scalp, a clear indicator of her unhappiness at the current moment.

“AND TO THINK, AFTER ALL OF THAT BEGGIN, YOU WAS JUST DYING TO GET ME ON YOUR RADIO SHOW!! WELL LOOK AT US NOW, MR. ALASTOR. LOOK. AT. US. NOW. WHAT EVEN ARE YOU, YOU SICK FREAK. EVERYONE KNEW THE BAYOU KILLER ATE FOLKS. IF YOU WERENT SHOT, WERE YOU GONNA EAT ME?? WAS I GONNA NOT EVEN BE ABLE TO HAVE A BURIAL NEXT TO MY PA, CAUSE YOU ATE ME!? OH LORD HELP ME!!”

Alastor rolled his eyes, feeling no remorse for the doe that whined above him. (Y/n) was a famous musician in Louisiana, particularly in Jazz. Alastor had begged her to come onto his radio show, play some tunes for his devoted fans. She agreed, but that night Alastor didn’t show to the studio. She heard shouting in the woods across the street from the building, stupidly she went to investigate. She saw the oh so famous radio host, and with a bang of a shotgun the other man was dead. Probably in Heaven now. Trying to stay silent, (Y/n) tried to back away before a branch snapped, like a doe her eyes widened before she darted away, only to be shot right in the heart and drop down to the ground. She heard another shot faintly in the distance before she felt the wind brush past her as she fell.

“My dear, I apologize.” Alastor said, gently grabbing (Y/n)‘s hand. “It was never my intention to make you my target. I knew that if word got out about my….hobbies….that my reputation would be ruined. No more radio show.”

“You can apologize for the rest of eternity” She scowled, smacking his hand away before standing up,” You’re a MONSTER. Leave me ALONE. Hopefully someone down here will be nice, but I’m not taking no help from you”. (Y/n) finally walked away, leaving a very annoyed Alastor sitting there.

———————

About 20 years later

Alastor was a feared Overlord now, rising the ranks out of seemingly nowhere. Even with this newfound power and respect, (Y/n) still wanted nothing to do with him. She was famous in her own way. Music was not very abundant in Hell, and she profited off of that. She had little to no competition in the music industry. Becoming an icon of Hell, her name was in everyone’s mouth, making Alastor yesterday’s news, which irked him to no end.

‘I need her.’ Alastor initially thought,’ with someone as influential as her now, having her on my side will make my power increase tenfold.’ But after many times of asking over the years, he just yearned for her admiration. Not only to be on his side, but by his side. He didn’t know where the newfound obsession came from, but Alastor knew he wouldn’t stop until he brought her to him.

Alastor made his way to her huge studio, basically a small turf at this point. Without ever fighting, she’d managed to become a little bit of an Overlord, just not to the extent she could be called one. He made his way up to her penthouse, knowing the way by heart since this is not the first time he’s made a visit for an alliance.

“What Alastor.” (Y/n) asked, not even looking up from her sheet music she was writing.

“Hello my dear!” Alastor said,”lovely to see you again! I just miss you so much darling!”

“Miss me from what?” She said, turning around to meet his eyes,” we were aquatinted when we were alive, and then you killed me. What exactly do you miss me from?”

“I just miss seeing you.” He said in a softer tone,”Please (Y/n), you must realize that your death was an accident. I was never planning to hurt you. I was never planning to do anything to you.”

(Y/n)’s head tipped down, her ears pressed to her scalp,”but you did, Alastor. You killed me.”

“My dear….” He said, getting closer slowly, like she’d dart off at any given moment, just for him to not see her ever again. “My dear, I cannot imagine the pain you’ve gone through. I know it’s been a few years now, but that’s a few years you could’ve still been alive. Found a husband, had a better music career, just lived. I took that from you, and I’m…..I’m sorry.”

“I know Alastor.” She said, hugging him. Even though he hated when people touched him, she did not know this, so he internally decided to let this one time be the exception. “You know I can never fully forgive you….but after all of these years, I think I can at least try to have you in my life….but if you screw up ANY, I’m gonna kill you. I don’t care if you’re an Overlord or whatever the hell you’re doing, I will kill you like you killed me.”

“Hmm, fair enough” He shrugged, breaking off the hug as he sat down in the chair across from hers.

———————

Present Day

“So hold up” Angel said, looking at the two powerful Overlords,”He literally killed you and you were like, ‘oh well, I forgive you’. What the hell (Y/n)?”

(Y/n) was a true Overlord know. Once she let Alastor back into her life, he taught her the ways of toppling Overlords. She didn’t posses near the amount of power that he had, so he did the gruesome part for her. Building her musical empire (and later on having to shoo of Vox who begged her to join his up and coming ‘Television’ idea after Alastor shot him down).

“Oh I’d hardly call it forgiving.” Alastor said,”I get constantly reminded about it every day, multiple times a day. You wonder why it took us 60 years to even get engaged.”

(Y/n) just rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. Alastor smirked, looking over at his wife.

“Well, what else was I supposed to do? The man kept coming by begging me every week for TWENTY YEARS!! Lovesick puppy if you ask me.”

Charlie squealed, hugging onto Vaggie. “Look Vaggie! That could be us one day!!”

“I hope not” Vaggie said,” A freaky cannibalistic overlord and his delusional companion. I’m fine with staying as us.”

“No Vaggie! I meant married! Wouldn’t that be fun!! Married for a long time!! Forever!!”

While Charlie was helping Vaggie stop short circuiting, (Y/n) and Alastor just looked at one another with a knowing glance. Alastor took her hand and kissed her knuckles, smiling up at her.

“Thank you again my dear, for letting me back into your life. I’m eternally sorry for what I did.”

“I know you are Alastor, plus I’d be dead already now regardless.” (Y/n) giggled,”I still don’t know what overcame me that day. I mean, who lets someone back into their life after doing that!! I am glad I did though. It’s like you said in that apology, I have a husband, I have a huge music career, but I’m not living, technically, but it feels like it!!”

Alastor chuckled,”that’s right, my precious doe. Now, I am off to go grab lunch for the both of us! If you excuse me, I shall make a trip down to the Cannibal District, and then over to the grocery store for your food!”

———————

Word Count: 1,560