#with a bloody nose too huh..

[surunoita]

finally got around to drawing my little eldritch meow meow austin newman (they/them)

@the-passenger-if was so fun 🔥❤️🔥

[charliemwrites]

Woof woof grrrrrr

Content: Dub-Con, Dirty Talk, Oral Sex (reader giving)

The bar is exactly as busy as you’re hoping for when you get there. Quiet and intimate, low lights, a hum of conversation but not overwhelmingly loud. The bar is mostly full but not crowded. As luck would have it, you instantly spot a couple empty stools towards the back.

You glide across the establishment, head held high and shoulders back. Pick a seat and smooth your skirt under you to perch. The bartender comes to you instantly; you pick something sweet and fruity (delighted that it’ll match your outfit.)

It takes up until they slide it across to you — a tab opened with your card — that the insecurity starts to set in. What if no one is interested? What if Soap doesn’t show up?

You sip at your drink and pull out your phone, reading your latest book. If nothing else… at least you’re getting out? God.

“This isn’t your usual scene.”

Oh. Oh this is worse than being ignored all night and going home alone. So much worse. Just barely manage not to curse aloud as you turn to your ex.

“Justin…” you start, realize you don’t know where to go from there. “Hi.”

“It’s been a minute, huh?”

You look him up and down. Designer everything, of course, brands printed all over him. No taste, though, none of it is cohesive. You wouldn’t be caught dead at his side ever again.

“How’s your arm?”

His expression flickers, hand unconsciously going to the spot where Johnny tried to tear it off.

“Fine. Thanks.” He gives you a long look. Unfriendly. “You know people have had dogs put down for less.”

You run your tongue over your teeth, fear and anger twisting up in your stomach like hot lava. How dare he threaten your boy like that?! Wish Johnny was here now to take another chunk out of him.

“Not when people trespass on private property,” you reply coldly, eyes narrowing.

He puts his hands up, laughing awkwardly. “Well, now. I wouldn’t call it — let’s just say we’re even, yeah?”

“For that at least.”

You take another big sip of your drink. Find it empty. Make hopeful eye contact with the bartender and nod for another when they gesture questioningly. There’s a reason you love this bar.

“Right… listen, about that, luv…”

“There you are, bonnie!”

You perk up despite yourself. Says something that the creep who sexually harasses you in public is better company than your ex-fiancé. Something zings through you when you realize Soap is bigger than your Justin (hopefully in every aspect). Taller, wider, more muscular. Better jawline and prettier eyes, too.

“Tucked up back here like this,” Soap mock scolds, shouldering past Justin. You let out a little squeak as he scoops you off your barstool, hand just under your ass for a hold. “Almost didn’t see you, hen.”

“H-Hi,” you say, arms going around his neck automatically. He presses his nose to your collarbone and audibly inhales. You shiver.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he continues, voice dropping lower.

He sets you down on your stool again with a wink, then takes the stool next to yours.

“Oi, do you mind?” Justin snaps, bumped out of the way by Soap’s bulk.

“I do, actually.” The look Soap levels him is sharp, cold. Bloody killer. Instantly reminds you of all the alarm bells that normally play in your head when he’s around. “Don’t like puffed up knobs like you around my girl.”

You bite your tongue on a protest that you’re not his girl. Wouldn’t be particularly helpful right about now. You’ll correct him later.

“Your girl,” Justin scoffs. “She was mine before she was ever — hey!”

Soap’s got his fist in the front of Justin’s shirt, jerking him nearly off his feet. A few heads turn. You feel hot with embarrassment, skin prickling at so many eyes on your little trio of stupidity.

“Woah!” You yelp. “Soap!”

You grab his forearm (remind yourself not to get distracted by the muscles cording it) and lean into his line of sight. The near-murderous glint in his blue eyes softens, though there’s still an unnatural sheen to them. Something that makes the hair on the back of your head stand on end.

“Soap, let him go,” you say, quiet. “I like this bar, don’t get us kicked out… please?”

He hums, instantly drops Justin to cup his hand around the back of your neck, fingers edging into your hair. His palm feels so big and harm, a little rough with callouses. You try not to think about how easy it would be for him to manipulate your head however he wants…

“Like when you say ‘please,’ hen,” Soap purrs.

You swallow, feel your cheeks flushing as you say, “Then… you should sit down and have a drink with me. Please?”

He grins, crooked and a little mean. “Anythin’ fer you.”

He drops into his stool again like a king on his throne. You perch gingerly on your own, waving Justin away like an annoying fly. Don’t even look as he slinks off, too busy staring at Soap. Who’s… busy staring at you. As always.

“You never called,” he drawls after ordering. Whiskey, neat. The bartender sets your new drink in front of you; you start sipping to gather your thoughts and nerve. “Lucky I happened to stop in here, eh? Imagine if I’d walked past…”

You grimace a bit. A fantastic bit of luck, that. Thought you’re still not sure what type of luck.

Definitely not going to admit to him that you didn’t call on purpose, wanting plausible deniability if you did see him. As if trying to get him under your skirt by happenstance is better than calling him to do it.

“Why did you stop in here?” You ask, looking to change the subject.

“Could smell you,” he answers, eyes twinkling.

You wrinkle your nose, kick at his shin. Want to blame it on the alcohol, but you drink red wine most nights of the week. This is just… placebo and desperation.

“You’re so nasty, you know that?” You huff.

He arches his eyebrows, grins wolfishly. “Could show you how nasty I can be,” he offers.

You wrinkle your nose even as your cheeks burn. That’s exactly what you’re hoping for.

“You can’t keep talking to me like that,” you complain.

He snorts in amusement, hooking his fingers beneath your stool and tugging you closer. Until your knees are between both of his, jeans brushing against your thighs.

“Here’s the thing, darlin’,” he murmurs, low and private. “I think you like when I talk to you like that.”

You swallow audibly, hands dropping down to twist nervously in your lap.

“I think it makes your pretty pussy all wet and swollen when I get all mean like this,” he continues. You shake your head; his palm clamps down on your thigh beneath your skirt, thumb sweeping back and forth over the sensitive skin. “Think she’s fuckin’ aching fer me to make good on all my promises. And you can get all shy and sweet here, but I bet all your cunt wants is to be mounted and bred like a bitch in heat.”

And he’s right. Of course he’s fucking right. That goddamn bad guy fantasy and your shallow, needy pussy, and Soap’s stupid fucking everything.

You feel like you’re about to explode when the bartender sets his whiskey down, snapping the tension like a rubber band. Feel dizzy as you lean away, sipping desperately at your own drink in an attempt to cool off. He gives you all over maybe fifteen second before opening that sinful mouth again.

“So how about it, bonnie? Did I hit the mark?”

You feel frustrated tears pricking at your eyes. Blink and look away at your nervous hands.

“I-I don’t even know you,” you mutter. “You could be dangerous.”

“I am dangerous, baby,” he replies, “just not to you.”

You shake your head. “You’re awful.”

“Mm and you want me to do awful things to you.”

You sigh through your nose, that little logical voice blaring again. He’s going to hurt you. He’s going to use you.

(Would that be so bad, if you go in knowing it?)

A tug at your necklace startles you out of your thoughts, his finger hooked beneath the pendant. You lean in with a noise of protest, afraid he’s going to break it. Gasp as your lips brush his.

“Whatever’s goin’ on in that pretty head, let me fuck it out of you.”

You shudder, hand balanced on his thick, muscular thigh. Can feel a twitch near your thumb. Holy shit.

“I’ll be so good to you, princess,” he promises. “Let me be good to you.”

You suck in a breath. Now or never.

Well, if nothing else, maybe you’ll let Johnny eat him if he’s turns out to be a bastard.

“Prove it,” you breathe.

He guides your chin up, eyes blazing with hunger.

“Yeah?” He asks.

You blink, muster up your courage. “You heard me. Or are you back out?”

His expression goes deliciously dark. “Oh, I’ll prove it, lass. You just sit right here and I’ll get us sorted.”

His fingers slip just that last little bit up and start teasing at the lace of your panties. You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to sip at your cocktail while he flags down the bartender. His nails scrape lightly across the fabric over your clit as gets your card and throws down enough cash to cover all three drinks.

When he pulls his hand away, you have to bite back a whimper.

“If you don’t get up right now, I’m haulin’ you out of here over my shoulder,” he growls in your ear.

You’re up in an instant, smoothing down your skirt. His hand stays glued to your lower back as he ushers you out to the lot. Sits you down in the passenger seat of a black pickup, barely waits for you to buckle yourself in before peeling out of the lot.

You’re about to tell him your address when you hear the clink of a belt, a zipper. Eyes wide as they drop to his pants, to him fishing a huge, hard cock out of jeans.

“C’mere,” he near snarls.

“Soap, that’s not— mph!”

The head of his cock catches on your teeth, but that only seems to spur him on, hips twitching.

“Gonna ruin that pretty makeup, your pretty hair. Gettin’ all dolled up like that for any fucking wanker to see.”

He twists his fingers in your hair and presses you down, your cheek rubbing against the shaft. He feels huge and unnaturally hot. You press your thighs together as you imagine how it’s going to feel inside of you.

“This isn’t safe,” you complain, mouth open as you gasp against the flushed skin.

He curses, tugs you up so that your lips press against the head, already dripping. Your eyes widen in the darkness, shocked and flattered that you’ve already worked him up this much.

“Not gonnae let anything happen,” he promises, “but you need to convince me not to spank this pretty ass black and blue.”

You squeal as he releases you hair just to deliver a harsh smack to one ass cheek, the sting making you clench up.

“H-hey!”

“You want me to slap that pretty pussy too? Bet I could make you cum just tapping that little clit over and over again. That what you want, slag?”

“N-no!”

“Then show me.”

You seal your mouth around the head, sucking and licking at the precum beading at the tip. Try to brace yourself, nearly gag as he hits a pothole and shoves into your throat. It’s noisy and messy, eyes watering from how thick and deep he is already, not letting you up for more than brief gasps of air.

“Fuck, that’s it baby. Work your tongue just like that…” he groans.

You lose track of everything but trying not to gag, his threat lingering with each obscene slurp and twist of your tongue. He tastes better than you expected, and the scent of him surrounds you. Musk and pine, something familiar that niggles at your cock-drunk brain. Can’t be bothered to work it out though, not when he’s tugging your hair. Not when he comes to an abrupt stop and you deepthroat him.

He yanks you off with a near-animal growl. You whine, scrambling to brace yourself and panting. Your head feels foggy. Know your panties are soaked through; shocked you’re not dripping down your leg. If you were sitting properly, you’d probably leave a wet mark on the seat.

You moan as his mouth crashes into yours, tongue sweeping inside like he owns it. He licks the taste of himself off your tongue, hands fumbling your seatbelt off, dragging you over the center console to straddle his lap.

You gasp at the sight of his rock hard, angry cock next to your pretty dress, pressed up against your stomach. Show just how deep he’ll be inside your guts.

“Fuck, look’it that,” he groans rutting against your stomach. “Oh you were made to be mine.”

You scream as he scoops you up, stepping out of the truck with you over his shoulder.

“Soap!” You shout. “Soap, put me down, my dog—”

“I’m your fuckin’ dog,” he replies.

“No, seriously, he’s protective—”

He grabs the spare out of its hiding place and shoves the door open. You brace for angry barking and growls, but hear nothing. Soap doesn’t even pause. He just kicks the door shut and storms down the hall to your room, like he knows exactly where he’s going.

He drops you onto the bed, watches your breasts bounce as you settle on the mattress. He strips off int he blink of any eyes while you’re still catching your breath.

“W-wait, wait, my—”

He flips you onto your stomach, hikes your ass up high in the air. You squirm, try to crawl away, but he slaps your ass so hard you see stars. He places his palm flat between your shoulder blades to bin you still.

“S-Soap,” you whine as he shoves your skirt up over your ass, palms a cheek. Spreads you open just to let the flesh jiggle back into place.

“Fuck,” he growls. It sounds off. Sounds deeper, rougher now.

“Just-just slow down…!”

He yanks your panties aside, plunges two thick fingers into you. You squeal, legs kicking uselessly against the mattress.

“Oh, you’re plenty ready,” he says, dark, almost to himself. “All ready to be mated and bred. All mine.”

That finally starts to break the lust-drunk haze. Open your mouth to tell him absolutely not, it’s been way to long and your need to be stretched—

He forces his entire cock into you with one brutal thrust. You scream, cry, try to flatten yourself against the bed but he won’t even let you do that, muttering about “presenting” properly. It hurts but it feels good, know that’s it’s just too much.

“Soap,” you sob, “y-you can’t— you have to… I’m-I’m gonna break.”

“Shhhh, no you’re not,” he soothes, grinding a bit deeper. Your eyes roll back, keening through your teeth. “You were made for me. You’re all for me.”

You shake your head, but he just chuckles.

“Yes, baby, yes. You let me in, you kept me. Now we belong to each other.”

“Soap, w-what are you talking about…?” you manage, fists tight in the sheets. He draws back once and slams into you, hard, mean.

Leans down so he’s rumbling directly in your ear.“‘S Johnny, hen.”

You blink, confused and overwhelmed. “W-what… n-no. No, Johnny is my….”

“Woof.”

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Masterlist

[mokulule]

Meet Cult

Dead on MAYn - Day 2

Prompt: Jason and Danny abducted by the same cult. No warnings apply.

This was a bad day, was Jason’s first thought as he became aware.

“Oh you’re awake, how are you feeling? That’s a nasty gash on your head,” a voice told him worried.

Jason slowly blinked his eyes into focus. He had the worst headache and when he grimaced he felt something stiff and crusty pull at his skin - dried blood. His arms were tied to a metal pole of sorts behind him which is what had kept him in a kneeling position while unconscious.

A young man slowly came into focus in the dim light. He had dark hair and light eyes, but actual color wasn’t possible to really tell. He was wearing just a simple light t-shirt and shorts, sitting similarly tied to Jason. If he’d been there for any length of time he had to be chilled from the concrete. Jason at least wore sturdy pants which added a bit of insulation.

What had happened?

Jason had been… shopping? Yeah that sounded about right. And then- nothing.

“Hey, please tell me they didn’t knock you entirely senseless?”

Jason focused back on the other… hostage? “What do you know?”

There was a flash of white as he grinned. “I know they came back with you sporting bloodied noses and mr stick up his ass probably have a broken wrist.”

“Who are they?” Jason spoke lowly, looking around, but the room they were in was a basement room only way in was a heavy metal door. Only the barest of light shone through the cracks of an otherwise barred window. There was no one but the two of them.

“Some weirdo cultists.”

Jason must have shown his surprise on his face, because he continued.

“Didn’t expect that, huh?”

“I thought it was just a normal kidnapping.”

“You get kidnapped enough for there to be normal kidnappings?” The man asked eyebrows raising up past his messy bangs.

“Not as such, but my adoptive father is something of a big deal in Gotham so there’s a risk.”

The other thought that over for a moment with a worried frown, before speaking, “I’m sorry you got caught up in this weirdness.”

“And what about you?” Jason asked.

“Me?” He tilted his head.

“You seem remarkably calm about this?”

That earned Jason a chuckle.

“Yeah well you could say it’s not my first rodeo either. I get involved in a shocking amount of weirdness for someone who’s just trying to get a degree.”

He had the sort of smile that invited Jason to share in the joke. Jason gave him a smirk of his own.

“Actually with a degree in Gotham chances are high of becoming a supervillain.”His smile fell as he stared at Jason in shock.

“You’re shitting me.”

Jason shook his head and leaned back against his metal pole, unfolding his legs to get a modicum of comfort.

“Shockingly high amount of PhD’s amongst the rogues,” Jason explained.

That startled a laugh out of the man. He had a nice laugh. “Should have picked another city then I guess.”

“And miss meeting me in some cult’s basement?” The words escaped Jason before he’d even had a chance to consider them, it was just too tempting to banter with this man. Only the sudden silence made him realize he was flirting.

The man tilted his head slightly and gave Jason a thoughtful look. Jason found himself tensing, holding his breath, but then a smile spread slowly over the man’s lips, and Jason could breathe again.

“You know what, you’re right. I’m Danny.”

“Jason.”

“Nice to meet you, Jason.” It was said so honestly, with no hint of joking, words soft like a caress, that Jason’s breath hitched. He scrambled to get his thoughts in order. He didn’t know how to respond.

Thankfully Danny, didn’t seem to need a response.

“Urgh, you know what? Let’s get out of here. I usually stick around to see what nonsense they’re trying to do, but I’m not feeling charitable today.” With that Danny pulled his hands in front of him and pushed himself to his feet - as if nobody had bothered tying him up at all.

The action thankfully pushed Jason back into an analytical mindset. He either had training or- “Powers?”

“A few.” Danny winked at him and to his embarrassment he felt his cheeks heating - so much for the analytical mindset. Danny moved over to start to untie Jason. His hands were cold and Jason’s earlier assumption that he was chilled from the floor seemed proved. He needed to keep his mind on track and not think of the way cool fingers brushed against the insides of his wrists. Without using his powers, as he’d clearly done to get himself free, Danny was not fast.

“You shouldn’t show them off, Gotham has a real problem with traffickers.”

“Not to mention death-cults, which somehow nobody warns you about.” Danny shot right back with a put-upon sigh.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I,” Danny ducked back in front of Jason, “if I had known the amount of supernatural shit going on- well,” Danny shrugged, “I would have probably still taken that scholarship, because beggars can’t be choosers, but I would have had warning.”

Danny went back to untying with a cursed, “idiots really mad at you fighting them, what’s up with all these fucking knots! This might feel weird.”

There was a strange liquid sensation in his wrists and forearms and then he was free. He brought his arms back to his front to inspect the damage. His fingers tingled and throbbed as he flexed them, and he had a bad case of rope burn running from wrists up his forearms. They really hadn’t liked him fighting them indeed. He’d been no where near loosing his hands or fingers, but it had been a risk if he’d been tied up too long.

Not that he’d have let it get that far, he’d have slipped out way beforehand.

Cool hands laid themselves on top of his wrists and gripped him gently. A soothing sort of cool energy seemed to seep into his skin chasing away the pain and numbness and Jason was forced to reevaluate his “chilled” theory. The cold might have to do with his powers.

Jason looked up and Danny’s face was very close. The tips of their noses were inches apart. Danny’s eyes were very blue, the light had to hit them just right right now, it was almost like the glowed.

“You really shouldn’t use your powers so obviously,” he cautioned absently, as his eyes traced the thin barely visible white scars on the left side of Danny’s face; they grew over his skin, organic like vines on a trellis - or like lightning. As if the thought had summoned it, he could suddenly smell ozone, wild, like power rippling under the surface barely held back.

“Are you going to traffic me, Jason?”

For a moment the words didn’t register. He was too busy watching Danny’s lips move. Too caught up in that power he felt. What had Danny said? This wasn’t the first time a cult went for him? A death cult? He didn’t want to stick around to be charitable today? He’d never really been a captive.

What was he?

Danny let go of him as if burned and stepped back. The sense of power disappeared just as suddenly, leaving Jason reeling with the sudden emptiness. He felt as if he’d been dropped into a desert with emptiness stretching for miles in every direction.

“I’m sorry,” Danny said, “I didn’t mean to scare you. Most people don’t-“ He cut himself off.

Jason swallowed, realizing he had been scared, and pushed himself to his feet. He felt wobbly and disoriented, disconnected.

“Most people what?” He demanded, when he finally felt stable on his feet.

Danny looked at him with a worried frown. “Most people don’t feel my power at all. You’re either magic…”

There was an “or” clearly missing. Jason didn’t know why, but he knew he had to know. “Or?”

“This is really not the best place for this,” Danny hedged looking around them with a grimace.

Jason stepped forward and grabbed his arms. The power was back, though more muted than before, like it was hiding behind layers of fabric.

“Or?” He demanded.

Danny looked up at him a strange expression on his face. “Or, you have more than a passing familiarity with death.”

It felt like the ground dropped out from under Jason’s feet, that first rush of air of a fall. Yet, somehow he was still standing. Danny’s hands gripping his arms hard in return was the reason. He gave Jason a small shake and when Jason sorta focused on him, he said, “This is not an empty stomach sort of conversation. Least I know why they grabbed you too. Come on.”

And with those words suddenly they were flying up through the ceiling and the next ceiling and the next, it became a blur until suddenly they were outside in fresh air high above the city. Jason moved his legs in a startled motion, but nothing happened. He was weightless, Danny’s hold on him was light. That cool energy was flowing through him again, but this time it was his whole body.

The view of Gotham stretched out below them, behind them was the harbor, they’d been in one of the many more or less abandoned buildings that dotted the area between harbor and city proper. Too many gun fights broke out in the area over shipments of various illegal items for any legal businesses to want to rent those buildings for any substantial amount of time, which explained how a (death?) cult had set up shop.

Jason was very carefully ignoring the fact that he was flying. It wasn’t the first time he’d flown with someone - those other times however he’d still been able to feel gravity, now he was weightless. The air might as well have been water, though it didn’t press on him.

The view of Gotham was breathtaking from up here. Evening was closing in on a rare day with few clouds for Gotham which meant blue actually peeked through in spots.

Danny sent him a grin and Jason’s stomach did a flip. When Danny moved so he only held Jason’s hand, Jason noticed they were both somewhat see-through.

“Are we invisible?” He asked.

“Sure are, don’t wanna catch unwanted attention.”

With those words Danny flew them through the city until they came to a flat topped roof in view of the Gotham U campus. He set Jason down and held his hand until he was steady on his feet as gravity reasserted itself on his body, like a heavy blanket.

“I know a good burger place nearby.” Danny had said he was a student, with Gotham U in view that supported the claim. Danny continued speaking, “I will return with food, but if you want to leave in the mean time-“ He nodded towards the roof access and gave a shrug- “otherwise I will explain things once we have eaten. Any allergies or dislikes?”

Jason numbly shook his head. Danny faded away like a mirage, leaving Jason with just the view of the old campus buildings.

Jason sat down to wait. Danny had given him an out, but there was no way Jason could let this go. Not just because of his training, but because he needed to know. If Danny knew anything of what had brought Jason back…

Of course it occurred to him that Danny might have just fled himself, it would have been the smart thing to do. He had no obligation to tell Jason anything, Jason was a stranger. But somehow Jason knew Danny wouldn’t have said he’d be coming back if he wasn’t.

Jason’s gut feeling was ratified when Danny returned about 20 minutes later, brandishing a large paper bag and two milkshakes as he turned visible. Somehow Jason had felt he was there just a moment before he turned into visibility, like a prickle on his skin - it was something to examine later.

Danny had brought them both cheeseburgers and fries. The burgers were juicy and the fries crisp and spiced. Jason felt more real, more himself with hot food in his belly. Danny had given him the choice between the cherry or the pistachio milkshake as he set down beside Jason. He had chosen the cherry - it was good. With those flavor options he had to wonder what more options they had.

When their impromptu rooftop picnic was done, aside from the last of their milkshakes. Jason’s eye were drawn to Danny’s calloused hands, where they fiddled nervously with the straw.

Something was building, there was a grim set to Danny mouth and Jason was suddenly uncertain if he really wanted an explanation at all. Danny had powers that Jason could feel because they were death related, so what? That was an explanation of a sort already.

“I died when I was fourteen.”

The statement was like a punch to the gut, and Jason felt just as breathless. He snapped his head to Danny, about to tell him that he really didn’t have to tell him that, but Danny held up a hand. He met Jason’s eyes squarely, somehow conveying that it was okay, that he wanted to share this.

“An interdimensional portal opened up right on top of me, killing me, but all that energy also revived me, killed me again and revived me over an over…” His eyes slid from Jason to the skyline haunted and empty. He clenched his fists and took a deep breath, then looked to Jason again. “It left me somewhere in the middle, both dead and alive and neither all at the same time.”

Jason didn’t know what to say. The weight of the trust Danny was showing him by telling him about his death, was heavy like an anchor rooting him to the spot.

“These days,” Danny continued in a lighter tone, “I consider myself something of a bridge between the spirit and the living world. I help where I can in between trying to live and I get to be kidnapped by death cults because of my energy.” Danny shrugged carelessly, but the pinched eyebrows gave away how anxious he was about Jason’s reaction.

It was honestly not the strangest story Jason had ever heard. The world was a strange place what was one more addition to the tapestry that was Jason’s life? A thought occured to him. He carefully looked out over the city - the sunset painted the sky red in between the skyscrapers - and steeled his voice neutral.

“A bridge huh? Between the physical and the spirit world…”

“Yeah.”

“Do you also master all four elements?”

“No, mostly just ice- wait a moment,” Danny’s head snapped to face him as he caught on to the Avatar joke and he promptly punched his shoulder.

Jason laughed.

“It is not funny!” Danny insisted, yet he had to cover his mouth to muffle the laughter that wanted to escape. For a moment his shoulders quaked in silence but then he gave in and laughed.

“Fuck you, Jason, I was trying to handle this conversation respectful of the heavy subject.” Then almost as afterthought he muttered, “Ancients, I never thought of it like that.”

He leaned all the way back until he was lying on the roof, looking up to the sky. Jason followed suit.

“I don’t want to talk about my death,” Jason admitted.

“That’s alright. It’s not the sort of thing you ask a spirit to share, it has to be freely given.”

Jason turned his head to look at Danny.

“Is that what I am? A spirit?”

“I’m not entirely sure, I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

Jason should probably ask him to elaborate, milk him for all the information he had. Danny was a being with still unknown powers in Gotham, Bruce would be unbearable if he learned. But Danny didn’t feel like a threat to him and Jason was tired of asking questions.

From next to him he heard a sigh.

“For a moment back there,” Danny started a wistful note in his voice, “I actually thought I might be getting lucky tonight.”

Jason snorted at the unexpected subject change. He hesitated for a moment, but then threw caution to the wind. “Who says you aren’t?”

Danny sat up so fast he jumped a foot off the ground - he didn’t even seem to notice the fact he was still hovering as he turned around in the air to face him hovering above him. “You gotta be yanking my tail! After all this?”

Jason shrugged, deliberately moving his arms a bit higher where they pillowed his head. He smirked, delighted at the way Danny’s eyes were drawn to the sliver of skin revealed as his shirt drew up.

“I, uh-“

Something occurred to Jason. “Do you have a tail to yank?”

This time it was Danny’s turn to smirk, his teeth were distinctly sharper than they had been a moment ago. Jason’s mouth went dry.

“Sometimes, when I want to.”

Jason had almost forgotten what question he had asked. When it sunk in he blushed at the implication he could change his shape. Trying to regain his composure, he teased, “So it’s a deliberate choice to be a skinny twink?”

Danny flicked his nose for that. “No, this is just me. My low energy state if you want.” He paused for a moment considering then added teasingly, “I can’t change my shape much in human form.”

“Human form?” Jason asked curiously.

Danny hummed, and reached out slowly, leaving plenty of time for Jason to move away. He didn’t. He did shudder though, when cold fingers brushed his cheek and trailed down his throat. He could feel the power held in check, a tsunami behind a dam. Holding Danny’s eyes he tilted his head back to give him more room.

Danny sucked in a breath. His eyes darkened and Jason felt the power ripple.

“Maybe I’ll show you,” Danny said slowly, “if you’re very good.”

Jason swallowed. Yeah, he could be good. He could be very good.

When Danny kissed him, Jason thought this hadn’t been too bad a day after all. Even despite the weirdness, Jason would take it. And the night? The night was shaping up to be all the better.

Bonus:

“What the Hell, Jason!”Jason startled awake at Dick’s outburst from behind him.

“You couldn’t have called us to say you were alright? I know you have more than the one phone!” Dick continued his tirade.

Danny was as awake as Jason and looked up at him with wide eyes from where he was conveniently hidden by Jason’s larger frame. Jason resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Wing,” he said tiredly as he worked to disentangle himself from Danny and turn around, but Dick didn’t even hear. He was pacing back and forth, very much not done with his rant.

“Nooooo, you get grabbed on open street and we get to find some weird cult, with a huge magic circle and strange bubbling liquids, and they have your wallet and phone - and your tracker. I can’t believe you didn’t bother to get it when you escaped!”

“Wing,” Jason tried again.

“Of all the-“

“Nightwing!” Jason said firmly with great emphasis on the call sign.

Dick spun to look at him finally. He did a double take when he saw Danny peeking over Jason’s shoulder with wide eyes.

“Danny, meet my friend Nightwing, we go back a long time. Like I mentioned, my dad being who he is, kidnapping is a risk and you meet people this way.” Jason gave Dick a telling glare and his mouth clicked shut, message obviously delivered: Jason was not compromised but he sure would be if Dick kept blabbering.

“Wing, this is Danny, my co-would-be-sacrifice. He’s a regular Houdini with rope and locked doors, he got us out.”

“Hi,” Danny said hesitantly raising a hand in a little wave.

Dick rubbed his face. “You could have called.”

“I was busy.”

“I can see that! Just-” Dick threw up his hands and walked to the window he’d entered through, “call your dad before you get busy again, he’s worried.”

He left through the window and didn’t even bother to close it, dick. Jason turned to look at Danny, he was beet red.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, “I didn’t even consider they might have taken your things.”

“They didn’t take yours?” They mustn’t have, Danny had gotten them food.

“I- um,” Danny grimaced then admitted, “I store my phone and wallet in my thigh for the most part.”

For a moment Jason stared, then he burst out laughing. Danny slapped his chest.

“It’s not that funny!”

But really it was, especially because of the way Danny pouted. He leaned down to kiss the pout away but Danny stopped him with a hand over his mouth.

“No, you go call your dad so we don’t get more surprise visitors.”

- Hope you enjoyed! If I get the time I want to write a small sequel for one of the last days, but I haven't started yet so we'll see.

[rosedom]

AHHHH HELLOOO sorry i usually dont request much, haha this is actually my second request in all of my tumblr story ever but...i saw you decided to write for gaming and i just couldnt resist, i love your writing a lot and i just think its so immaculate hahaa. Could you write an scenario where male reader is stressed from work (imagine he has an important job like a doctor or something whatever you want is fine :)) because he has been working days nonstop, so much that his boyfriend is all worked up and horny for him so when reader comes back he finds himself straddled by him while hes begging for fucking? With cockwarming, breeding kink and cowgirl position. Could that be with Gaming, Lyney and Gorou? SORRY IF IM ASKING MUCH I DONT WANT TO BE A BOTHER😭😭 i just dont know how to request but thanks for reading all of rant. And again, thank you and sorry for bothering😔 have a nice day/afternoon/night!

"an unnamed player has invited GA-MING, LYNEY, and GOROU to play . . . an apple a day

✦ㅤㅤ 【 CW 】 dom!top!male!reader, sub!bottom!ftm!characters, vaginal sex & riding, breeding kink + creampies, creaming (lyney), gratuitous praise + petnames .

A/N : aa u are never a bother !! i am SO SORRY this took so long for me to get to, omg . . . but i had sm fun with this (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

"do you want to watch, [PLAYER]? press KEEP READING to spectate the match."

Patient after patient after patient, each one with a more downright stupid trouble than the last. Your day had started with a young man, clearly fresh out of Millelith training, complaining of a tummy ache, of all things! He had clutched his stomach and moaned and groaned, and all you could prescribe him was bedrest. It’s not like you were going to waste medicine—medicine that some people needed—on someone who ached because he didn't eat fucking breakfast. 

The next patient was an older woman, here only for her biannual check up. You'd greeted her, said a sweet, “Good morning, madame,” but all she did was turn her snobby nose up at you and demand you not waste her time.

“Madame, you have a serious—” 

“I know, young man.” You had heaved a sigh, letting her boss you around for the length of her appointment before sending her off with the exact same specifications as last time: take vitamins, get ample rest, stop talking back to people just doing their jobs. (Though, that last one there was merely something you wished you had said.

Too bad the customer—in this case, patient—is always right, huh?)

But, by the end of the day, you wish, instead, that you had simply elderly after elderly; their disrespect pales to the absolute headache that the rest of your patients put behind your eyes, pounding at your skull—bam, bam, bam.

Wham bam-thank-you-ma'am, all throbbing incessantly behind your eyes and making you wanna hurl—except, god, you’re the fucking doctor, and who’s there to take care of him when he’s a little under the weather? You’ve got your boyfriend, of course—your perfect boyfriend, light of your life, apple of your eye, yet he’s home, and you’re here, and you’re bloody exhausted. 

“I need to go home,” you murmur—quiet, lest your own voice make you lose the last of your thin-threaded sanity—, already stripping yourself of the itchy scrubs you wear during the long days. 

“But sir—” the nurse asks, meak, but her voice is still too loud, too shrill for right now. 

You huff. “I’ve worked for fourteen hours.” The tired gruff to your own voice makes you cringe. You can feel the way it tumbles from your chest, rattling you, your overly sensitive eyes and brain and head and fuckin’ everything, at this point. “Refer to the doc on duty, now.” 

The nurse nods, once. “Have a good night, doctor.”

You bid farewell—a kind apology with a promise to make it up to them, to bring them coffee, maybe, or some cookies—, and you take the slow walk home. The sky is dark and the fireflies are out, the gentle glow illuminating the path. With nothing but your own thoughts and the night to accompany you, you feel your headache gradually ease. It throbs, still; but each bump in your skull is gentler, now: it’s easier to ignore. 

Although the porch light is too strong—the lantern bright and attracting the nighttime bugs and moths—, the foyer of your home is dark. Your aching head is grateful for the reprieve—for the silence that envelops you in totality the second the door clicks quietly shut behind you—, but something other than tiredness pulls at your heartstrings: your sweet boyfriend, clad in only a shirt of yours, toeing into the entryway. 

“Honey?” He wipes the sleep from his eyes, softly smiling at you. “Hi.”

“Ga-ming, honey—” honey, because Ga-ming unabashedly stole the pet name from you, first, “—you didn’t have to stay up for me.” 

As if on cue, his jaw cracks open in a yawn: this, you do not need the lights on to see. Your heart aches with your head, knowing that he had stayed up just for you. “Honey,” you repeat, sliding off your jacket and stepping up to him. You take his waist in your hands, bunching up the shirt he stole from your closet.

“Quit with that,” he murmurs, tilting up his head for a soft kiss. You grant it; but when you go to pull back, to keep the kiss gentle and chaste, Ga-ming presses forward, darting that little tongue out to lick at the seam of your lips; his hips, too, come bumping against yours, pressing into your thigh, pant to skin—

“Ga-ming?” you repeat, breath leaving you in a low huff. “You’re—” bare. 

Utterly, wholly bare: an expanse of warm, slick skin against your clothed leg. “‘m ready,” he mumbles while he takes to mouthing at your throat. His lips soothe you, somehow; it’s a reprieve, a stark contrast, to the pounding at your skull. 

“Ready?” you whisper, tilting your head back, letting your hands guide the steady roll of his hips onto your lap. 

He nods. “Ready for you,” he enunciates as he softly whines. 

Ga-ming—your Ga-ming—, your boyfriend, your love and light of your life: right here in front of you, on you, all needy for you, offering himself to you, wholly ready for the taking. 

“So please,” he continues, his cock dragging heavy across the seam of your pant; “fuck me.”

“Oh, honey,” you murmur; then again, an “oh, honey,” because you’re still half-dressed up in your clothes—though they’re only soft and bland, made to fit under the rough scrubs you had abandoned at the office—, and Ga-ming is naked save for the shirt draping across him, the low hemline covering the absolutely sinful way he grinds down. It’s a dirty move, a down, down, down that gives his sensitive cock friction against your pelvis. 

“Please, please, ‘m ready, I said—” his words abruptly drop off, a high cry in his throat that sends him to hide his overly-warm face in your neck. His skin burns against you, a feverish-hot that makes you chuckle, makes the throb in your head go away, just-so. “I said I-I was ready, so, please!”

You coo, quiet, bumping your hips up once. The jerking motion makes him cry out, but he manages to keep himself upright, right-side up but entirely unmoored on your cock. “Go on then, little lion. Take what you need, yeah?”

Whimpering a quiet, “Y-yeah,” he begins riding you, slow, steady—but slightly off-balanced—rolls of his hips that makes him whine, makes you groan low n’ deep in your chest. You let your hands rest on his hips, the fabric of his shirt falling over your wrists, and gently guide his motions. Once you’ve helped him establish himself, he begins riding you harder, more desperate.

Silent tears—though, are they truly silent, loud as he is moaning out for you?—dribble down his cheeks, falling to his shirt and soaking the collar of it in salty evidence of his abject pleasure. His abdomen is tensing and relaxing and tensing and relaxing again, all in a rapid loop, in and out and in n’ out, and then there’s a fucking bulge right below his navel when he sinks down hard n’ deep on your cock; and you’re sent over the edge at the sight, moaning through your teeth as you fill Ga-ming up with hot, sticky cum.

“Oh, oh—” he cries, grinding down harsh to get all your cum in as deep as possible, deep ‘nuff to breed him— “bred me, bred me so well, oh—” You groan at his desperate babbling as his thighs jerk around your hips, just before they give out on him entirely. He falls bodily into your chest, heaving through his own orgasm as weak mewls tumble from his prettily parted lips. Each sound is smeared into your throat while you laugh, light and breathless, jostling his overly-sensitized body and making him flinch. 

“Sorry, honey.” You kiss at his temple, and, the whole while, his small cunt is left to unconsciously milk your cock, left to assure that loud, insecure part of his brain that he’s wanted, that he’s bred all nice n’ full because he is loved. You’re long done, now, but the undulations make your body warm, soft, safe—just like Ga-ming is, comfy in your lap and wholly protected. “Thank you.”

He shakes his head against you, nuzzling into your throat with a heavy sigh. “You don’t have—hafta thank me,” he mumbles, a lick at your Adam’s apple to seal the deal. “I wanted ta.”

Tucking up the blankets around him, you grin. “Then can you warm my cock, lil’ dragon? Just for me?” You run your fingers lightly up his clothed spine, delighting in the shiver you can feel, one that runs the length of your cock as he’s snug on it. “Since earlier was all about you?” You raise the end of your sentence in a lilting tone, meant to tease, and Ga-ming huffs at you. 

And, n further retaliation, he clenches around you; the soft squeeze—all wet n’ warm, smearing your own cum across the base of your cock and leaving the mess of both of yours to dribble down the minute space between your bodies—forces you to calm your breathing, to take in the delicate scent of what is undeniably Ga-ming mixed with the smell of your own shirt, your own cologne. 

You laugh, then. “‘m sorry,” you say again amidst giggles, ones you’re careful you confine only to your upper chest lest the movement be too uncomfortable on both of your oversensitive groins. 

He doesn't reply, snuggled up comfy on your lap and stuffed full of your cock n’ cum both. Instead, he only noses into your neck further before his breathing steadies, lulling you to sleep, too.

It’s in your final moments of consciousness that you realize your head no longer hurts. 

(You suppose you now have the evidence that, yes, an orgasm is sufficient enough a cure for headaches.)

Under Lyney’s palm, a small floor lamp clicks silently on. The light is admittedly dim, but, to your sensitive eyes, the bulb is blinding. You cringe and cover your eyes; but it only serves to shield you slightly, because you’re still upright in the foyer, and your body is rather weak. “Lyney,” you tiredly murmur, lifting your palm just enough to see the ground lest you trip. 

You bump into him, laughing lightly, but his worried hands jump to your arm. “Hey—”

“I’m okay.” You’re quick to calm him, placing your free hand on his in a tender gesture as you make way to the living room. “Just a headache, ‘s all. Ya shouldn't have stayed up f’r me.” Earlier, it hurt to even think; but here, with him, the pain is easy to ignore, in the face of his own self destruction.

He grumbles at you, though, says something you can’t quite catch and drops his hands, pads over to the lamp to flick it off. The return of darkness is soothing. 

He smiles at you, then; or, at least, you think he does. It’s difficult to see in the dark, and you can’t strain your eyes without hurting yourself. “I wanted to!” He takes three long strides before he’s standing in front of you, draping his arms across your shoulders. The position makes his (your) shirt ride up on his belly, and— ”I missed you, y’know,” he murmurs, suddenly all soft n’ deep, looking up at you and bumping his forehead against your chin. “A lot, really.” 

“Lyn—” 

He quickly silences you with a kiss. Against your lips, he pulls back, murmurs, “I missed your cock, especially.”

Laughing against him, you lean up ‘til he can no longer reach you. He pouts at you when you reply, faux-snark, “only my cock, huh?” Your bottom lip juts out—a mirror of Lyney’s own, a magic trick of his you took for your own; it’s a devilish trick, one you play right alongside puppy-dog eyes you know he’s soft to. “How cruel.” 

He huffs at you, pulling you down by the collar of your shirt to kiss the mirth off your lips. “I was tryin’ to be seductive,” he grumbles, knocking against your chin and beginning to push you backwards into the living room. “But nevermind!”

You want to say, “Hey, now:” disagree with him and keep on pouting and go, “hey, hey, hey,” all offended, but the backs of your knees come into contact with the edge of the sofa, and you’re well and sufficiently distracted from that idea.

“Sit,” he gently commands you—merely the illusion of choice—, giving you no choice in the matter with the way he’s pressing you down into the cushions. You go easily; you sigh in relief when the softness begins enveloping you—a pillow’s snug right in the middle of your back, and you briefly wonder if Lyney had planned this. He murmurs, “there you go,” quiet n’ soft, and you’re taken by the way this man gives to you. 

He wears his heart on his sleeve, truly; except, right now, the sleeve is yours (just like his heart belongs to you and yours to him in turn), and it's bare, and so is the expanse of his long, pale thighs, the hem of his boxers peeking out beneath the shirt. He stands in front of you, between your legs, makes sure you’re down and that you’re gonna stay down, but your eyes aren’t really tired, not anymore, staring at Luney—your Lyney—before he huffs and sits bodily onto you, straddling your lap with his knees sinking into the cushions on either side of you.

“Lyney,” you murmur, reaching out to take hold of his thighs. The position makes the shirt rise up on his belly, exposing the soft, rippling muscles there; but, in the dark, all you can go by is what you feel against your own stomach, his bare skin pressed to your thin shirt. “I was kiddin’, sweetheart.”

“I know you were,” he snaps at you, mean-like, but he brings his arms around your shoulders all sweetly and nuzzles into the side of your head. “But I wasn’t. I—I really did miss you; and your cock. If you—if you wanna, of course.” 

“Of course I want to, Lyn,” you mutter, tilting your head up to kiss beneath his chin. “I’m just a little tired.”

“A little?” He huffs, again, before sighing. “Just—let me do the work, alright? I’m already...” he pauses, tilts his head to the side, breathes in and out sharply.

You hum at him to go on. 

“‘m already prepped.” Oh. 

“Oh?” You grin, bringing your tired arm up to cup his cheek. He leans into your palm and his eyelashes flutter, brushing against your skin. “Go ahead then, sweet thing.”

And go ahead he does, smiling into you before he abruptly leans back ‘nuff to chuck off the shirt. You whine, say, “hey!” but there isn’t any bite left on your tongue when Lyney starts tugging his boxers down, too. He’s impatient, pulling at the seam and groaning curses at the fabric—as if it’s the damn boxers’ fault that he’s in a position that prevents him from taking them off. 

He relents, tilting this way and that and finally—after painstaking minutes later, ones that, under no circumstance, should be arousing, but the anticipation, the wait: it all makes your dick chub up in your own pants—Lyney’s left naked in your lap. The fabric hangs off his foot, and you reach down to tug it the rest of the way off for your sweet boyfriend as he busies himself unbuckling your own belt, loosening the tough leather enough for your pants to droop and enough for him to reach a hot hand into your briefs. 

“Eager, huh?” you tease, lifting your hips—and, subsequently, him—to let him get your dick out of your pants. Neither of you bother pulling down your own pants, not after Lyney spent so long on his boxers alone. He doesn’t dally. “My sweet Lyney.”

He sighs, again—he’s rather dramatic tonight; but, then again, when isn’t he? It wouldn’t quite be your Lyney without some theatrics—, spitting into his palm and lathering up your cock with it while he makes to straddle you more fully. “Thought you were tired,” he grumbles, hovering his, indeed, wet n’ slicked up and entirely prepped cunt over your thick cockhead.

“Mhm.” You set your hands on his plush thighs once he hooks the head of you into his loosened hole, groaning low and pleased in your throat while he softly whimpers at the barely-there stretch. He prepared himself well. “But when you’re lookin’ so pretty for me, I can’t help being wide awake. Wouldn’t wanna miss this sight for the world.”

With your eyes now adjusted to the light—and, oh, you consider how the throb of your head is a bygone memory now—, you can see the way his cheeks darken just-so, puffed up in exertion as his groin meets yours. You’ve got your cock stuffed up balls-deep in him, and he leans into you once he’s fully settled. 

He moans, less out of outright pleasure and more out of total contentment, comfy and warm on your lap as your arms knead at his thighs. His arms squeeze around your shoulders, and he quietly asks, “Gimme a minute.”

Nodding, you simply bask in the steady heat of him, letting him adjust and recognize that, yes, you’re home, now, and you hadn’t really left him at all. “I missed you,” you murmur rather suddenly, your voice quiet but still stark in the silence of the night. “Thought about you durin’ my shift.”

“You did?” His voice is rough but wispy, a little out-there and entirely gone. He’s slipping into that mindset he always does when he’s left to warm your cock—regardless of if it were by his volition or your own—, but he begins to subtly grind his hips against you, mewling at the hot sparks of rapture from his cock rubbing just right against you. 

“‘Course I did,” you continue, moving your hands to his hips instead to help move him along. His arms tighten around you and he moans directly into your ear.

From then on, it’s quiet: quiet, that is, save from the obscene slick noises of the lube Lyney used to prep himself earlier with his own slick, your pre-cum mixing up and making a mess of thick liquid between both of your thighs. His moans are barely audible, these soft, gentle lil’ uh, uh, uh’s punched out of him with each tender grind down. 

You think, even, that you’ll both cum like this: quiet, nothing but the sounds of your connection and heavy breaths, moans, groans as you fall over the edge. But then Lyney starts bumping his groin against yours even harder, grinding down deep on your cock and rubbing against your full balls, and he starts babbling for you to “breed me! Please—”

“I-I’ll breed you,” you groan, leaning your head back into the sofa cushions and chasing your release, chasing the release you both want, the one he wants so desperately stuffed up deep inside him. “Gonna fill you right up, just like you want, sweetheart.” 

He babbles more—a mix of syllables and words, more pleas for you to breed him—until he’s silenced by his own high-pitched whine, cumming around you and slathering you in creamy-white. The steady clench and release of his cunt forces you to your own end, thick cum slowly leaking out from the edges of his cunt and your cock. (You can hardly tell what’s your leaking cum and what is his own.)

“Thank you,” he mumbles, already beginning to doze. “Th’nk you:” quieter, more muddled against your ear.

You grab the throw you have across the sofa’s armrest, rucking it up around the two of you; you cocoon Lyney safe in your arms and on your softened cock. He’s nodded off, now, and he misses your words: “You don’t have to thank me,” you say anyway, even if he doesn’t hear you, “I love you.”

The cum’ll be sticky, later, when you wake up; but for now, it’s perfect. It’s perfectly warm and entirely cozy, wholly snuggled up with the love of your life. Your headache, the stressors of the day—they’re all forgotten in his presence. 

You’re so, so glad to love him. 

“Hi, puppy,” you coo. The sound of your own voice grates you, but you ignore it to sweetly smile at your beloved. He stands there, motionless for a moment right there at the threshold before the foyer, until he shakes his head with a barely-there laugh. “Gorou?” 

He tilts his head to the side—this you can see, the silhouette of him in the moonlight—before he takes a tentative step forward. 

Then another. And another. Another, another, another, ‘till he’s standing in front of you and leans up to kiss your jaw. “Hi,” he repeats, voice ruff (hah!) and hoarse, a little too much so. “Missed ya.”

You tilt your head back to let him mouth at you, and your hands subconsciously come to clutch at his hips, and— “Oh, Gorou,” you mumble, pleasantly aghast, because your hands come into contact with bare, slick skin. “Pent up?”

With a quiet whimper, he tilts his hips forward, into you, pressing against the contact of your fingers on him. You slowly slide your one hand around, sneaking a large handful of his ass before you dip into his cleft, shuddering when your fingertip easily glides across his slicked, open cunt. 

“I-I wanted you, so bad,” he starts to mumble, shy, tucking his head into the meat where your shoulder meets your neck. Without any prompting, you adjust your stance, pressing your knee into his cock and making him jerk forward with another whimper high in his throat. “Oh!”

Slowly, his hips begin grinding—it’s a weak movement, testing, making sure you're really okay with this, right now. He moves unsure against you until you begin bumping your knee, letting his slick make a mess of your pant leg. “Go on,” you goad him on, soft, holding him snug against you. You can feel his cunt clench even through the fabric of your pants, a rapid rat-a-tat-tat against you that is oddly reminiscent of the headache you can feel begin to dissipate. “Take your pleasure, pup.”

He nods vehemently against you, beginning to hump as his tail swishes side to side, side to side, hypnotizing you just slightly. It’s hard to parse it out in the dark, but the shadow of it is undeniable behind him. Each bounce of your leg makes Gorou whimper, and he’s quick to crane his neck up for a kiss to muffle himself. You grant his request easily, but only for a minute; after, you gently part from him to murmur, so quiet that only he could possibly hear, those big, soft ears of his twitching as he strains, “What else do you want, honey?” 

“Want you,” he whines, grinding harshly once, twice. “Want you inside me, want you to breed me.” 

You didn’t expect that, but you’re a doctor, after all; it’s kinda in the job description to roll with the punches, so you do. “You wanna get fucked full of pups?” you ask, teasing and light, but Gorou’s mouth parts as a loud whine crawls out of his chest.

“Yes! Please.” Thick tears begin to drop from his eyes, saltwater dribbling onto the bare skin of your throat. “Now, now—breed me now,” he begs, and you coo at him, bringing your hands to curl into his hair, rubbing soothing circles into the base of one puppydog ear. 

“Patience, pup.” 

And, because he’s Gorou, and Gorou is nothing but a good boy, he nods, rapid-quick movements of his head, and begins to slow on your thigh. Heat shimmers low in your belly as he steps back from you on shaky legs, a wet splotch across your leg from his cunt. You bring a hand down, meaning to scoop it up off your pant, but your finger brushes two distinctly different textures: his natural slick, and fuckin’ lube. “Did you prepare yourself for me?”

“Y-yeah,” he mutters, tail tucking itself between his legs. You almost cringe at that, knowing he’s smearing himself into his own fur, but if he doesn’t mind, then you won’t either; besides, it’s hard to truly care when your boyfriend is so bashful in front of you. “I—I missed you, ‘nd wanted to be ready for you.”

The image of Gorou, ass up on the bed with four of his fingers stuffed up inside of himself flitters across your mind, makes your cock throb in your britches. Your erection was easy to ignore, earlier; but now it’s abject torture. 

However, it’s not nearly as torturous as it was for your boyfriend, and you know this. You know he didn’t cum, know his fingers are far too short to truly reach in deep and press against his g-spot, know his wrist can’t comfortably bend to jerk himself off and finger himself at the same time. So you coo, soft, “Sweet boy. Where’s your toy?”

“Charging,” he mutters. 

You grin at that: it’s perfect. “Can you go get it then, puppy?” 

With an audible swallow, he nods, rushing for your bedroom. You follow behind him, lethargic but so, so turned on; and while he’s grabbing the vibrator from the corner, you shuck off the rest of your clothes and plop yourself down on the edge of your bed. 

He must not expect you to have followed him, however, because once he turns around, he jumps, ears flattening to his head in embarrassment. You only laugh and pat your lap. “C’mere.”

Quickly—and toy in tow—, he shuffles over to you. He stands awkwardly in front of you for a moment before you murmur, “I said c’mere,” and tug him to straddle your lap. The position immediately forces his cock—slick n’ thick, out of its hood and throbbing incessantly—against yours, and he mewls helplessly for a moment, grinds once, twice again, before he grabs the lube to the side of you. 

You hadn’t even noticed it there, but now that he’s grabbed it, pointed it out, you feel other wet spots beneath you. He fuckin’ masturbated here, right on the duvet you both sleep under, thinkin’ about you and only you. You’re taking out of your musings when he slathers up your cock in lube, messy and sloppy, and then he’s rising, positioning you, and sinking right on down.

“Mm!” he cries out, swiveling his hips to take you in deeper, deeper, deeper. You groan at the lube-slick combination that smothers your cock in Gorou, Gorou, Gorou. “Breed me, breed me!” Each meak plea makes your cock pulse inside him, and he mewls at each throb inside him. “Please!”

“I got you, pup,” you murmur, your edge so close you can taste it on the tip of your tongue. “Just make yourself feel good, and I’ll breed you, okay? Okay, puppy?”

“Okay, okay—” 

You grin. “Good boy,” you say, and then he’s tumbling over the edge and bringing you right down with him. You groan into his throat, feeling the vibrations of his whimpers n’ whining moans as he’s getting thoroughly bred. Your hands ruck up his shirt to hold his sides and soothe him down from his high. “You did so good for me, sweetheart. Bred you just like I promised I would, hm?”

He weakly nods. “Thank you,” he mumbles, nosing at your throat. 

And, well. You’re bloody exhausted, and you promised to breed him, and he can’t keep on being bred if you pull out. You tell yourself you’re only upholding your promise as Gorou falls asleep on your cock, breathing deep on your lap: tell yourself that it’s the lingering tiredness that suddenly seems to hit you in full-force that keeps him warm and snug on you. 

Really, clean-up can wait. 

i got a lil' carried away on lyney's part ,, o(*^＠^*)o also, none of these were really cowgirl 'cos reader was sitting up for it . . . i couldn't think of how to have him lay flat in these scenarios LOLL

13 MAR. 2024, @rosedom, rosey .

[kirbyskisses]

a thing i wrote in @14thcommander’s dms. no warnings; fem!reader + fluff. i’m in love with the emo boy/cutesy girl aesthetic.

i am once again thinking of childhood friends to lovers with megumi fushiguro

you’re a pudgy little thing at your kindergarten where everyone else is ignoring the spiky black haired boy sitting by himself on the bench with an uncaring expression.

your interest is piqued as he’s picked up by a lanky, white-haired man who carries a goofier, more youthful energy than any of the other parents.

you bravely trot up, little pastel boots splashing in the rain at the odd duo and call.

“hey wait! uhm… what was your name! fu…fushi-?” you try to remember his name from roll call and his dark eyes widen at your approach momentarily before drooping again.

“i’m fushiguro.”

“fu-shi-gu-ro, right!” you laugh, a bright gentle sound despite the gray day. “i like your doggy, fushiguro!”

that causes him and his guardian to pause, the white haired man crouching to you, incredibly blue eyes peering amicably over pitch black glasses.

“well now… you can see it huh? you’ve certainly got a lot of cursed energy for a kid so small. you know, you’re very special to see those?” he smiles and you grin back.

“yeah! i can see ‘im!” your bright eyes turn back to megumi, delighted. “can i pet him them?? pretty please!!”

megumi looks to gojo’s approving grin, then to you with a soft nod as your tiny form pats the white devil dog’s snout, a mess of giggles at its curious nose and teeth.

and then “fushiguro” becomes “megumin” and then “min-chan.”

min-chan who you have play dates with that evolve into study dates and training where he can never bring himself to actually lay a hit on you.

min-chan who frowns when you go home from school early with a cold, but blushes a subtle pink when he walks into his house and sees you getting your hair braided by his sister.

min-chan whose cheeks dust a light pink at the bright, ever-excited warmth of your smile as you explain - “your house was closer, so tsumiki-nee said to stay here rather than walk home sick!”

min-chan who’s a bit more of a hormonal tween now. his blush darkens when he sees you wearing his extra shirt to sleep in and hears you using his shower.

min-chan who finds out you’re being mocked or bullied for your interests in middle school and comes to you with bloodied knuckles as he walks you to the train station. he always walks you, every day.

“it’s not my blood.” he looks at the red staining his hands. “don’t look so worried. next time they bother you, just tell me…”

min-chan who is devoted to cheering you up.

min-chan who listens you talk about whatever manga boy it is your simping over or whatever new album you’ve torrented onto your ipod. he only gives soft nods and the occasional smile but you know he’s listening diligently.

and min-chan who bites his lips and mutters “it’s not a big deal” anytime you congratulate him on taming a new shadow curse.

min-chan who mumbles “hold on tight,” red in the face when you wrap around him to ride nue for the first time.

min-chan who hides that his new phone has you – cradling one of his smaller shadow frogs – as his wallpaper.

min-chan who frowns his gojo perpetually pokes his cheek - teasing that his “girlfriend” really is getting stronger and he needs to catch up if he wants to keep the “tough emo boyfie” act up.

min-chan whose eyes widen when you call him “megumi” - thanking him for everything and handing him a box of cookies for gojo-san, the day you move away. you’re strong enough to master your family’s technique back in their home country.

so now he’s megumi.

megumi who nods tersely as your cute voice chides “don’t get into too many fights okay? and hug the puppies twice as much for me!”

megumi who doesn’t stop thinking about how your lips feel against his cheek for days.

megumi who wants to text, but his head nags that he’d only be an annoyance to your training - maybe it’s better he just leaves you alone. besides, curses are getting stronger and tsumiki has fallen ill - he has enough to worry about.

megumi fushiguro, high school student, who bites the inside of his cheek in annoyance as gojo drags him, nobara and itadori along to pick up the last first year of the bunch.

fushiguro who rolls his eyes as the two question what the new addition will be like.

and his breath hitches, seeing a form in a familiar blue uniform. a form dripping in a controlled yet powerful cursed aura, down the street.

with cute cartoon dog pins and a handful of shojo manga, the teen rushes up and calls out. the voice is deeper given the passing years but no less exuberant and familiar.

“gojo-san!! over here!!”

megumi, who feels like a kid again, flushed cheeks and surprised eyes as gojo swings you around with a laugh and you attentively compliment nobara’s lipstick and listen to itadori’s ever-goofy introduction.

“i’m into girls like jennifer lawrence.” he says with not an ounce of shame, megumi still reeling at hearing you say your name with the same friendly laugh you did all those years ago.

“… and i’m into guys like — min-chan!!”

your eyes land on him and the rest of you soon follows, swallowing his taller form whole in a tight hug that knocks him to the sidewalk.

you don’t pay a single iota of attention to the onlookers or to the surprised expressions on each of your classmates instead just letting them watch as you cup his cheeks and squeal.

“it’s been sooooo long! you got bigger - did the puppies get bigger too?! got any new animals? gojo-san got a new blindfold isn’t it cool? hey, how come you didn’t call me or tell me tsumiki-nee is sick - i would have come sooner to help! did you hear i might become a first grade sorcerer this year? how come you never called or wrote?! you’re so rude… but i forgive because i missed you so much!! doesn’t my uniform look cute?!”

you spit out in rapid succession, pinching his cheeks.

megumi who doesn’t have time nor evidence to deny it this time when gojo calls you his “girlfriend” in front of an utterly shocked yuuji and nobara. who only takes a deep, shaky breath to regain his normal deadpan expression.

his other two classmates’ jaws drop farther when he replies without a hitch.

“i’m 175 centimeters now. yes the dogs are bigger. i have rabbits, a serpent and an elephant now. his new blindfold is fine but it makes him no less annoying. i didn’t want to bother you, i’m proud of you for you raise in grade…” he pauses and only then looks away with another deep breath, red on his cheeks.

“thank you for forgiving me…i missed you too…and you do look very cute in your uniform.”

because he’s megumi - the one who acts disinterested to everyone but as always hears every word you say.

megumi, your childhood friend, who doesn’t so much as blink, expression bored at yuuji and nobara’s horrified surprise or gojo’s teasing grin.

he just keeps holding you, sat there on the sidewalk as you nuzzle your cheeks to his like an overly-affectionate kitten happy to have your “min-chan” back. <3

[urfavlarry]

now... can we get that jealous Aiden but with Tyler?

Thank you❤

Jealous!Tyler Hernández x gn!reader

warnings: swearing, bad grammar, kinda short

summary: you got to a basketball court with Tyler, his teammates coming along as well when one of them decides to be a bit too touchy

A/N: i know he plays baseball but I made him play basketball for this fic haha

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You sat in the shade on the bleachers, watching Tyler and his teammates practice for an upcoming match with another school. You believed in them since they played with that school before and to say they were kinda bad was an understatement. You take some photos of Tyler in secret, and smile down at your phone. “How is he always so effortlessly pretty?” You think to yourself and put your phone away and decide to draw. You weren’t half bad at drawing, mostly drawing backgrounds and clothing designs. You were in your own world, lost in your thought when you feel a presence next to you. You look up to see one of Tylers teammates who was watching you with a smile. You smile awkwardly and wave; “Hey..?” You say hesitantly and close your sketchbook. “Hey, you’re Y/N right?” You nod and pray for this awkward interaction to end. “Yep, that’s.. uh.. that’s me.” You say and fiddle with your fingers, eying Tyler who was on the other side of the court.

The guy inches closer to you, putting an arm around your waist and your whole body stiffens. Your mind goes blank and every muscle in your body is as stiff as a rock. “Why are you here all alone? Why not come and play with us?” He asks and smiles at you, this fake, eerie smile. “Oh, I don’t really know how to play.” You quickly answer and try to keep distance between you but this guy really didn’t know what personal space is. “I could teach you..” He grabs your wrists and puts his chin on your shoulder. “When you wanna shoot for the hoop you put one arm here.” He guides your arm down and puts the other higher than the other. “Then when you want to throw it you do..” He gets cut off by someone yelling his name and he lifts his chin up to look in that direction. He doesn’t let go of your wrists and you just look down, feeling humiliated. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, huh?” You hear an oh so familiar voice that you love so much and thank the gods that sent this angel to your rescue aka Tyler. “Hey, I was just teaching them how to play man, what are you so mad about hm? You’re acting like they’re your partner.” Tyler looks at him with a pissed of expression, pushing him off of you.

“Hey the fuck?!” The guy yells as you quickly gather your things and get off the bleachers. The guy was quite aggressive and pushed Tyler back, earning another push from Tyler. That seemed to even worsen the situation and the guy punched Tyler right in the nose. “Oh hell no.” Tyler says and throws the guy down, punching him repeatedly. There was blood everywhere, Tyler finally stopping after he heard a satisfying crack from the guys nose.

Tyler rubs the blood off his nose and grabs your wrist and leaves the court. You walk with him, staying quiet the whole way to his house. He unlocks the door and walks upstairs into the bathroom. “Sit.” You tell him and he looks at you and softens his expression, still kinda annoyed. You grab the first aid kit and grab bandages and some rubbing alcohol. You clean his bruised knuckles and wrap them in some bandages and clean his bloody nose, handing him a tissue to stop the bleeding.

You sit on the counter where the sink is and just quietly stay there, letting him collect his thoughts. It was an awkward silence so you finally decide to say something; “Hey i’m—” “Are you—” You both say at the same time and you shut your mouth so he can tell what he wants to say. He rubs his neck and waves you over so you come over, standing between his legs as he looks up at you. “Hey, I’m sorry for lashing out, I didn’t mean to make a scene.” He says and frowns a bit. You smile and kiss his forehead, bringing him into an embrace. You breath in his scent and relax under his touch. “No, it’s fine really, i’m grateful that you protected me. Another second with him and I swear he would be dead.” You say and hear a low chuckle escape his lips as he plays with your hair. You stay like that for a bit until he picks you up and walks with you to his room. He closes the door behind him and lays you down on the bed, laying down on top of you. He mumbles sweet nothings into your ear, kissing your neck. You rub his back look up at the ceiling, lost in thought. Tyler notices that you were a bit too quiet and looks up; “Hey you okay amor?” You nod and simply smile, still not looking at him. “I’m fine, just thinking about how lucky I am to have you as a boyfriend.” He smiles and peppers your face with kisses, making you giggle. “And I’m lucky to have the best partner in the world.”

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[shmalk]

Part 3 for immortal!reader? Can be last chapter, just wanna see Ghost and Soap reaction. Price just explaining or still laughing his off or Gaz just passing out from too much shock.

"sorry for getting shot guys"

"how- what- huh?" Soap stammering.

Ghost still has his hands around Price's collar, Price was still chuckling, cigar on the floor, never belly-laughing this hard before.

Gaz staring at the reader, face paling before his does the cartoon faint, his legs going in the air while his hat flipped before falling.

Reader just staring like it was the norm (probably because it was for her/him)

no one reacts. its quiet, you can't help but awkwardly swallow and rub your throat slightly.

you can hear price sighing, obviously he knew you weren't going to stay dead, but it was still something you weren't overly fond of experiencing.

you felt some pain- but it was mostly none, after all, it wasn't as though you didn't die, you just didn't stay dead.

gaz swallows before his eyes roll into the back of his head, falling backwards and landing on his back, staring up at the sun. you give him a worried glance, but your muscles are still stiff, so you opt for just slightly calling out to him.

you don't get to, however, as someone's gloved hands grasp your face in their hands. you can hear soap as he slams price against the post once more, but your attention is taken away by ghost.

"what the fuck was that," he all but growls, his voice low and gravely, sending still shocks through your chest. "you didn't think to tell us about yer' little fuckin' stunt, huh?"

you swallow, reaching up to grab his wrist. soap moves from wherever he's standing and you vaguely see a figure attending to gaz. "look at me."

ghost isn't happy, the bile that threatened to rise out of his throat had setteld, but now theres steam practically flowing from his ears, theres a ringing he can't shake and his heart is pounding so hard he wonders if you could hear it.

"lighten up, lieutenant." price speaks as ghost loosens his grip on your head, letting out a puff of air through his nose. "they were given strict orders not to reveal anything until told otherwise, or during an emergency."

"captain, i don't think being upset with me counts as an emergency-"

"when i make a decision, you're supposed to trust that i'm making the right one," price isn't mad, but you're not interested in listening to him after he basically tried to kill you.

"Ye cannae ask us tae trust ye when ye've jist shot someone in the heid, cap'n."

"i'll ask whatever i bloody please, soap." price fixes his vest before turning away, not storming, but definitely walking somewhere with slightly more anger than usual.

"yer aight, pet?" soap gives you a once over, not able to look you in the eyes, before he gets shiver up his spine and has to walk away to cool himself down.

gaz - in the middle of the commotion - had been picked up and taken to the infirmary, leaving you.

and ghost.

h u h ?? im so sorry for the horrible scottish accent soap has I DO NOT KNOW HOW TO WRITE IT VERY WELL.

do we like? do we not like?? what will ghost do?? HMM??

[beforeimdeceased]

CRYBABY! - (E.W) PT3

pairing: mean/cruel ellie x sensitive/emotional reader.

synopsis: she’s the same ellie she’s always been.

a/n: am i building up tension so they can be genuine enemies to lovers? maybe…

why’d you have to make a record ‘bout me?

masterlist.

“what the actual fuck ellie?” you storm into the dressing room, startling jesse and dina, who’d been sitting on the couch. jesse jolts up to walk over to you but you jerk your body away and rush at the laughing girl. “you wrote a fucking song about me?”

“why are you so pissed?” she rolls her eyes. you take a deep breath before turning around to face jesse and dina. “can you guys tell her why i’m pissed? if i do she’ll be leaving with a disfigured face.”

“i’d love to see you try to fuck me up.” ellie chimes in. you’re about to turn and yell at her when jesse grabs your arms and leads you outside. dina shakes her head, walking towards ellie, looking displeased. the last thing you hear before jesse closes the door is ellie’s crude laughter.

“did you know she was gonna do that?” you furrow your brows. he shakes his head rapidly while pulling you in for a hug. “no, i’m so sorry. if i did i would’ve never let her onstage.”

you’re sobbing now. tears of embarrassment pooling from your eyes and onto his shirt. memories of the moment flash before your eyes. her ridiculous and crude lyricism. the smirk on her face as yours fell. her making it painfully obvious that she was singing to you. about you. and not in a good way.

jesse pats your back while shushing you, repeated apologies falling from his lips. he catches their manager walking by and calls out to him. “hold on i’ll be right back. i’m gonna talk to jace about this.”

you nod, slumping down on the floor as he walks away. it takes you several deep breaths to not burst through the door and bash her head in. then you hear her talking nonchalantly on the other side. “dina it’s not that big of a deal. seriously. she’s such a fucking crybaby.”

you’re reminded of the night you’d cried into ellie’s lap. the next day you showed up apologizing profusely with a new pair of pants for her. her telling you that it’s fine. inviting you in. offering you a snack. a bottle of water. asking if you wanted to watch videos with her about space.

how could such a sweet person be such a fucking asshole and barely show any remorse? how were you meant to just get over everything she’d done? how could you let that person kiss you? see you in your most vulnerable state? call you a crybaby?

before you know it, you’ve stormed back into the room. ignoring dina’s calm and soothing voice, to punch ellie in the face. you’re hyped on adrenaline until the pain settles in. your knuckles burning and her nose bloody. what had you done?

“i’m gonna fucking kill you. so you better choose your last words carefully.” blood was spilling into her mouth. the overflow of iron settling thick in her throat. dina steps between the two of you holding her hands up. “ellie, why do you always do this shit? your nose should be permanently broken from all the fights you get into. just let it go.”

“not too good to fight with me now, huh?” ellie talks over dina’s back. her words are muffled by her hand over her face. you hit her hard as fuck, and a secret part of you hoped it knocked some sense into her. the rest of you felt an overbearing sense of guilt. lashing out was her thing. fighting was her thing. blood was her thing. you had been trying so hard not to get caught up in all that. you even had hope that she was really changing for the better.

it seems you were wrong.

“i’m so-“

jesse bursts into the door, anger all over his face. he whispers something under his breath before looking up and taking in the scene. “fucking hell, what happened?”

you lower your face in embarrassment. “i don’t know what came over me. i’m so sorry ellie-“

jesse throws up his hands. “you know what, let’s not worry about this right now. we have to perform in five minutes.”

dina scrambles to grab her leather jacket off the couch and follows a frantic jesse out of the dressing room. you shake your head as you hear ellie burst into laughter. she’s hysterical, damn near falling out of her chair.

“jesus williams, what’s so fucking funny?”

“nothing—“ she chokes back more laughter attempting to speak. “it’s just— you know how to throw a fucking punch.”

[un-lawliet]

“Rough Day?”

— In which Gojo cares quietly.

(or i’m having a bad day and wrote this on a whim)

The slamming of the front door was enough of a warning for Gojo, a warning that today’s mission was bad.

The small sniffles that was heard after only confirmed this, and Gojo found his usually boisterous greeting die in his throat immediately.

You were hunched over, wiping furiously at the tears that fell pathetically from your eyes, determined to keep the remains of your composure as the events of today hit you.

You were bruised, battered and bloody. You felt disgusting and probably looked it too, and all you want to do is cry.

You felt him before you saw him, his hands coaxing yours away from your face, a tiny smile dancing across his lips.

“What’s got my pretty girl all upset like this huh?” Gojo’s head tilted forward, kissing the area under your eye softly, gently. Treating you as if you were made of the finest glass, breakable at any rough handling.

“So fucking tired Toru.” You mumbled back, lying your head unceremoniously on his shoulder in defeat, closing your eyes and embracing the feeling of his gentle hand rubbing your back. Your eyes burning with unshed tears.

A kiss on the top of your head, and your clutching the material of his shirt, pleading with yourself not to start sobbing on your doorstep in the arms of the strongest.

But the tiny hitch in your throat made his eye narrow in concern, his movements becoming daintier, feeling you start to shake in his hold.

You were losing a battle of wills and you could only let out a tiny whimper before you began to weep like a child.

“I know baby, I know.” Gojo whispers, his hands finds your face and he separates from you slightly, his blue eyes finding your watery, bloodshot ones.

His heart clenched at the exhaustion seeping from your frame, faltige plaguing your every movement. There was cuts on your face, tiny but plenty, Gojo didn’t like that, his eye brows furrowed and he made a mental note to clean them and kiss them better.

He kisses your forehead, and then the tip of your nose, a silent reassurance that he is there and that he understands.

Because Satoru Gojo, is loud and unabashedly himself, but he loves in silence, in the quiet shadows behind a large grin and a forgoing of common courtesy.

He wipes your tears away, whispering tiny words of praise, telling you stories of how endlessly proud he is of you, and even causing you to giggle as he tickles under your chin cheekily.

He smiles again at you, cooing at your miserable little pout, before he leans forward and captures your lips on his, a tender kiss that tells you that’s everything is going to be alright.

And you’re holding him tightly, as if afraid he’s going to vanish, the very cusp of your sanity seemingly dependent on him in this moment.

Gojo just chuckles, pulling away and leaving one final peck on your lips again, still cradling your face in his hands.

“Silly girl.” He taps your nose with his own, his eyes soft, “I’m not going anywhere.”

end.

( feel free to leave a request <3 )

masterlist here <3

authors note: omfg the toji and gojo fight animated was absolutely brutal.. it was so much worse that the manga ???? my heart was SHAKING - anyway i love u thank u for reading :)))

[running-with-kn1ves]

Can you do a yandere killer clown that has been following you all night on Halloween

A/N:I wrote this a long time ago and hated it at the time but it really wasn't as bad as I thought! Hope you all are having a wonderful 2024 :>

Synopsis: A suspicious "killer clown" has been stalking you on Halloween to your dismay. Is it really just a costume?

CW: murderous clown, clownery, slight in-depth stabbing(death), stalking, intimidation, general fear 

Word count: 2.7k

“Nice costume, man!” The echoed memory rang hollow inside your bobbing head. “I bet the black helps hide all the blood, huh?” 

At the time you mischievously brought a hand to your mouth, shielding it from the eyes of curious and terrified children who mersmerisingly watched you joke to the killer clown. The masked figure hovered in front of you, staring blankly from behind the blur of white and red. The figure didn’t move, didn’t alter to his dominant hand with the bloody knife that rested in his palm. 

You were met with silence as your comment passed; dark, invisible eyes watched you through the small eye-slits of the clown’s mask. Its elaborate makeup donned diamonds under and above each eye hole, a spongy red nose covering the mask’s nostrils. Though, you could still hear whoever was underneath, breathing-- the air pushing against the silicone. Painted black lips covered the faint outline on the masks mouth, detailed to almost look feminine. However, the broad shoulders underneath the harlequin patterned suit made you think otherwise. 

You gave an amused smile, letting the figure keep in-character as he watched you slowly pass. A whiff of reeking gore and thick blood came across you as you walked away; a thought of ‘maybe you should have honked the clown’s nose for good measure’ crossed your mind, but the smell made you think otherwise. If he was dedicated enough to cover himself in pigs blood, who knew what else he’d do to you to stay in character.

Your mind ran in circles as the heels of your feet ached, your subconscious desperate to know what you said that made it all go wrong, or what made it go too right with this costumed killer clown. 

Because here you were, walking down your neighborhood’s sidewalk with flickering light posts barely brightening the road in front of you as you sped passed your front door for the third time. With a dirty hand mirror gripped in your sweaty palm, you faced it slightly below your shoulder, hoping it was low enough that the shadow behind you couldn’t see it. You caught a glimpse of the red-speckled plastic mask and dazzling crimson hair of the clown behind you. Shutting the pocket mirror immediately, you picked up your pace again for whatever time again that night-- you've lost count. But it didn’t matter, the masked freak always seemed to be just a lamp post away, gradually getting closer with a joyful pep in his step.

After your first interaction with him at a lame Halloween festival, you then saw him again at the gas station right across your friends’ street, and once more at that same friend's costume party. You thought it must've been a coincidence to see him inside the gas station, only witnessing the back of his crazy dyed hair that looked too attached to be a wig; talk about being dedicated to the bit. Maybe he gets paid for being a scare actor? You didn't know, you didn't get the chance to ask before he ran out at the sight of a police officer perusing the candy aisle. Too bad for him, it was only a prominent gay dressed up in a sexy uniform. 

But there he was again that night, peeking behind your friend's bedroom window that you sat across from. Seeing him there nearly made you shriek, jumping up enough to spill your drink all over the guy next to you. When you tried to explain, the clown had disappeared, only to show up mere minutes later from the bathroom window while you tried to rub beer out of your costume. 

Seeing him the second time was nearly as startling, but you managed to keep your reaction to a minimum, merely glaring at the bloodied clown from behind dark glass. You threw your cup at the window, hoping to scare him off or show that you weren’t worth fucking around with, but he… didn’t move. Through the tiny hole in the mouth of the mask, breath came through, just slightly fogging up the glass. How the hell did he get up here in the first place, weren’t you on the second floor?? 

You turned away, hoping to just turn the light off and that’d be the last you’d see of him; but a thump on the glass told you otherwise. Another thump, this time almost with a clinking crack. Your hand still resting on the lightswitch; you nonchalantly looked back to see a familiar knife jabbed against the window pane, small cracks growing as he twisted it further into the window. Your hope of giving an apathetic reaction to deter him did nothing, gloved hands coming up to squeakily draw a dark red line on the window. 

A threat? Maybe he's trying to apologize? What was he going to write-- you wondered if it was worth even sticking around for. But instead of words, the red line was finished with another, creating a small, dripping misshapen heart on the bathroom window. You slammed down on the lightswitch and shut the door quickly at the sight, making your way down the stairs. 

He had to be one of your friend’s frat-guy pals, someone who went out of their way to terrorize on the nights of halloween in unassuming grocery stores or parties like this one. Someone here at this party who was just fucking with you-- that’s just what it was. 

But now, hours later on the dark pavement of a street that looked so unfamiliar at night, you were starting to second guess yourself. The sweet whistling of what could only be from the clown behind you grew louder, squeaky shoes mimicking your steps and seeming to pick up in pace. You did the same, nearly jogging as you saw something moving in the distance. It was oddly pale and hunched over, going faster than you could run. 

It was a biker! Some random fucking guy on his bike at 2 in the morning! You assumed this was what people meant when miracles roamed the earth, waiting to be found. 

“Hey!” You shouted, running towards the speedy white demon as you blocked the middle of the sidewalk, hoping the guy would see you waving at him. But his stare was blank, not focusing on you nor the sidewalk in front of him. All he did, was bike. 

“HEY! Can you please help me--” a pair of white wireless earbuds were nestled deep in his ears, immune to your shouting. Once he came cycling up close, almost too close, you realized he wasn’t stopping. His eyes completely looked past you, swatting you away with a sweaty arm as you stumbled into the street after narrowly avoiding his bike.

“What the fuck!” You yelled, watching him ride away as you threw your hands in frustration. You stopped to watch as the clown stepped to the side to give the incoming biker a clear path. This guy was just going to go past like everything was fine, not paying attention to the person in distress right in front of him, OR the creepy ass harlequin clown he was approaching. You gave a heavy, exasperated sigh and turned around, beginning to walk again as you hoped maybe the new distraction would stop your bloody walking partner. 

But a sudden thud against the sidewalk caught you off guard. 

Did he really ride into the clown?

 No, from behind you, the man’s bike laid twisted with spinning wheels in front of your hunched clown stalker. The man was grasping his side with one arm, having fallen on top of his bike as his hand shielded from above. 

Well, that's kind of what he gets for biking at the witching hour. And for not helping someone in distress! Karma's a bitch. 

You hadn't noticed where the gore-striken clown's weapon had landed during the whole ordeal, not even thinking of it until a wet 'shlink!' and violent howl was released. The biker held his raised wrist with a shaking cradle, looking up at the knife that was just pulled out of him.

And just as the knife was removed, it was slammed back in with great inertia and skilled positioning on the clown's part. A wretched sound left the biker's throat, along with the odd crunching that came with him being pushed farther down onto his minimalistic bike. 

A great red gash split onto his forehead, leading to the knife's metal stem that seemed to make peace with its new home inside the biker's skull. One of his earbuds popped out, crashing onto the sidewalk as blood flecked into his left eye. He seemed to look at the fallen earpiece, no longer acknowledging the knife now pushed as far as it could stab.  

The clown seemed to stand back, watching the creation of his short few motions. He let out a whistle similar to an animated sigh. Comically, he wiped invisible sweat from his brow, looking over at you. 

Your feet began to shuffle backward, grating against the rubble on the road as your hands flew to your mouth with an intensity that made you lose breath. 

The mask seemed to look at you with no emotion, blankly watching with a sad smile as the clown stood simply. With the silence of the street, the stillness of the wind, you could hear faint breaths from across the street. They were soon replaced by a muffled whistle beneath the plastic, the clown's eyes dark and unseeable behind it. But the tiniest speck of light, a teensy reflection from the streetlight showed the human eyes of someone…unpredictable. 

He stopped, only to give a high-pitched whistle as he pulled his steel weapon out of its created hole and rammed the knife back into the cowering biker, this time his chest receiving the treatment. The clown pulled it out again, only to prepare in the same position, raking up the bikers chest with the blade once more. Each time, he whistled and heightened it to mimic the sound of the knife flying through the air, only to crash down into a body of meat. He stopped once the knife made a connection to the skin, only to begin again. 

You stood in grotesque awe, mouth ajar as you tripped over the sidewalk's curb. If it wasnt clear already to your record-broken mind, you needed to leave, now. You knew the guy was a creep, someone wayy to into the “murderous killer clown” trope but now, shit was a little too real. You began to run, making your way around the rest of the block without a care of whether or not he chased after you, finding your home. You needed to get inside, somewhere with locked doors that would be a barrier too thick for him to cut down. 

Sweat and tears blinded you as black road filled your vision, along with your dim phone screen. you pressed the all too familiar three numbers on your phone. A nine, and two ones. 

You waited for the shrill gurgles and distant whistling to stop from behind you, to hear a human voice pickup from the screen against your ear; which thankfully came after about two consecutive rings. 

“Hello!?” You unknowingly interrupted, hearing the end of an “your emergency?” 

“Hi-- uh, some freak has been following me and,” You were cut off by a grating voice, one slightly deadened and distant. 

"Now that's just being mean." 

Your heart jumped as you ran, dread settling inside you as the voice hummed in disappointment.

In the distance you could see the familiar front porch of your home, only about five houses down.

"You've got..to be…kidding," you huffed out of breath, elongating your stride to look like a wild runner as you sprinted to your driveway. 

"Clowns are universally beloved; maybe you're the freak; considering you picked me I'd say you already had questionable taste."

"How'd you-- but I called--" You huffed, yet the clown cut you off. 

"You really shouldn't leave your phone unattended in a room full of people…who knows when a devious comic of a murderer might strike! Especially one so handy in manipulating technology." You could practically hear the animated pose he struck along with the words. "So, having fun yet?"

You didn't answer, or rather couldn't from the lack of oxygen in your throat. All you could do was focus on running; but that's alright, because the freakshow on the other side talked enough for the both of you. 

"We'll I hope so; in fact, you know I've chosen you to be my last man standing. My final girl," He paused for dramatic effect "My, surviving victim of tonight's excursion… you'll be a grand commemorating prize to bring back home, to be sure. You're just lucky that buddy boy back here took your place-- if he hadn't, I can't say I'd have been able to restrain myself enough to keep you alive until we got back home."

What the fuck was he going on about? What did it matter anyway, your sides were cramping so twistedly that it and your upcoming mailbox were all you could manage to concentrate on.

An infectious laugh cracked over the line, running from one ear through the other as you ran with your phone gripped tight. Looking down at your smudged screen, the caller ID read a simple “Unknown number.” You tried pressing the end call button, only for your screen to remain frozen. The caller screen almost looked like a screenshot, holding your phone captive as none of the buttons managed to work. The on/off button clicked and clicked, not altering the white screen. 

“Ahh I can still see you running down there… trying to hang up on me while sprinting is hard, huh? Just make this easier and stop where you are, save me the trouble of having to play this hide and seek game for tonight. I promise if you make me play, I'll win."

You stop for a moment to catch your breath, turning around to see neon red hair in the distance and a black outline, the red diamonds on the clown's suit blending in.  He still stood next to the fallen biker, holding something to his ear. 

You wheezed out a laugh, throat beginning to close up.

"Oh yeah?... I'm halfway down the road, bitch! Once I get inside it's.. gonna be over for you. I don't, I don't know what the fuck this is-- but you're not gettin away with--with anything!" You held onto your knees, heaving into the phone as your chest burned. The silence on the other line was hardly noticeable as the sound of blood rushing through your ears and your heartbeat drowned everything else out. 

"...Don't say I didn't warn you, doll."

The phone without warning went dark, line cutting off as the caller screen went missing.

Through blurry eyes you saw the clown lower his hand that was once at his ear. With a short moment of stillness, he stared at you. That stillness, morphed almost automatically into a full-on run. The pitter patter of squeaky rubber shoes on the gravel was adrenaline-inducing, filling the silence of the dark street besides the heaving of yours and the clown's breath. 

"Oh fuck…" you murmured, turning around to begin your sprint once more. 

As long as you could reach the house first, open the door with your keys in time, lock the door-- you'd be fine. You didn't have another phone in the house, but you'd be fine-- you'd just, at least be safe. From him.

 But speaking of keys, where were yours?

You ran your hands over and over the pockets in your clothes, feeling nothing but the scraps of empty candy wrappers in your pockets. Where the fuck were your keys?!?

Finally, the grace of your front door made its way directly in front of you, your exhausted legs running up the short porch steps. You hadn't given even one second to looking back at your fellow runner, panic of losing your keys and the upcoming door occupying your mind. You jiggled the door handle, banging against the door with your shoulder as you let out a panicked exhale. 

You could hear him getting closer, hear the labored breathing and chaotic deep giggling muffled by silicone. 

The sound of heavy shrill footsteps stopped-- but beside your rapid heaving, hot breath covered the side of your shoulder. Wet red locks touched your ear, a deep inhale came to grace the top of your matted hair.

Four fingers covered in a frilly, harlequin-patterned glove were thrusted in front of your face, jingling your precious keys in their grip. 

"Looking for these?"

[theemporium]

Max ready to destroy the earth if someone so much as disrespects or pisses Trouble off

it’s low-key giving will smith🤠anyways thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

Max was always very blunt and honest in conferences and interviews, it was just the way he was.

And it wasn’t uncommon for him to defend himself and his friends in said interviews. He did it countless times when journalists tried to push stories about him being too aggressive, too angry, too competitive on track.

He did it countless times when they would come for Charles and blame he was taking for his team’s mistakes. He did it countless times when people questioned Daniel’s performance and his right to have the Red Bull seat. He did it countless times when they tried to drag Lando for not achieving highly when McLaren weren’t giving him the car he needed to be proving he could do as much.

And he would be damned if he didn’t do it for you too.

It was after a race. He was tired, exhausted even, and all he wanted to do was wrap up the rest of his duties so he could maybe sneak a nap in with you before you both joined the rest of the team for a night out to celebrate his win.

He was approaching the last interviewers, a name he vaguely recognised and his nose scrunched up when he remembered most of the man’s questions were tasteless and dry. But he shrugged it off, keeping a passive face as he approached the journalist with his PR manager lingering behind him with a tape recorder in hand.

“Max Verstappen, how does it feel to be a winner again?”

He gave the man a tight-lipped smile and hoped it was enough to hide his exhaustion as he continued the interview.

And it was going fine, in retrospect. The man’s questions were similar to the countless ones he had been asked before. But he couldn’t complain because they were easy to answer, and easy to mostly zone out until he knew he had to answer.

Until he asked something that caught Max’s attention right away.

“Any plans to celebrate with your side piece after your race win? Maybe get her on her knees?”

Max blinked, and for a short moment he wondered if he just completely mistranslated what the man said.

“What?”

But the man repeated the question again, a slimy smirk on his face and your name was rolling off his tongue. And truthfully, Max didn’t even remember moving or reacting or even breathing in that moment.

One second the man was holding a microphone to his face, awaiting his answer. And the next, he was on the floor as he clutched his bloody nose and screamed Bloody Mary.

He was vaguely aware of other drivers and journalists and PR managers looking over, trying to understand the scene in front of them. He was vaguely aware of security being called and someone mentioning Christian or Helmut. He was vaguely aware of someone trying to tug him back, but he just shrugged them off.

“She’s my girlfriend, you moronic dickhead,” Max spat at the crying journalist. “Put some fucking respect on her name.”

“Alright, let’s go before you break any more noses,” he heard Daniel mutter behind him, and this time he let himself be pulled back.

But then his eyes caught the wide, scared gaze of the cameraman who was recording the whole thing, and he glared. “I hope that bullshit was live. Because next time, I’m breaking more than a fucking nose if anyone ever disrespects her again.”

Despite the commotion being sudden, news spread very quickly around the paddock so it was no surprise to Max that you knew by the time he made it to his driver’s room.

“Playing the knight in shining armour now, huh?” You teased as he entered, still sprawled on the couch without a bother in the world.

“He deserved it,” Max stated simply as he made his way towards you. No matter what happened, no matter what put him in a shitty mood, just being near you always helped.

“He did,” you hummed as you opened your arms and let your boy settle on top of you, his face pressed into the crook of your neck. “Thank you for defending me.”

“Always, Trouble,” he murmured in reply.

A few beats passed.

“You know, I wouldn’t mind seeing you do it again,” you said, trying to keep your voice as casual as possible as you ran your fingers through his hair. “It was kinda hot.”

You could feel his smirk against your neck. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Max lifted his head, his eyes a little darker and his mood significantly different to when he entered minutes ago. “Hot enough for me to fuck you over this couch?”

“Hot enough for you to have me any way you want me,” you confessed, your words a little breathier than usual as you felt his hands graze down your side.

Max’s smile was almost sadistic. “Bend over the couch, Trouble.”

.

[charliemwrites]

Part 2 of Woof Woof Konig

Content: Animal Injury (Non-Descriptive)

The walk back to your home is slow. Johnny stays glued to the new pup’s side - as much as he can given how the other towers over him. Ghost pulls ahead to patrol the path, always circling back to press his nose to your hand.

The new dog is so big that his head nearly reaches yours. He keeps his chin down, though, almost ducked, eyes flicking shyly to you. His eyes are big, one sky blue and the other deep brown.

When you reach the house, you nearly have to push his big butt in the door as he hesitates on the porch. Ghost stands watch behind you while Johnny tip-taps on the other side, and you pat at flanks breathing like bellows.

Finally, he inches far enough inside that Ghost can squeeze in and you can close (and lock) the door. You take a deep breath once you do, feeling the last hour crashing over you.

“Jeez, bud,” you sigh, offering your hand to your newest charge. “What a day, huh?”

A quiet, almost shy “snarf”. You grin and scritch gently at his chin, then flick your eyes to the bloody cut over his eyebrow. You click your tongue sadly.

“Alright, baby. We gotta take care of that. Then you can be done for the day, okay?”

You should probably take him to the vet - big fuckoff sized dog with an injury. But you can’t imagine trying to bundle him into your reasonably sized car. Even getting Ghost in there is a struggle the two times you’ve had to do it.

So you leave the pup awkwardly standing, trembling, by the door and collect the dog first aid. You also grab the jar of dog-safe peanut butter. Even Ghost loves that shit.

When you come back, the dog seems to droop when he sees the kit in your hands.

“I know baby, it’ll be okay. I got something that’ll make it better.”

You approach slowly, carefully, watching for any signs of fear aggression. Issue is, there’s every chance he could snap without warning, but you’re praying he’s not one of those. Your boys would go ballistic.

Thankfully, he lets himself be bribed with globs of peanut butter while you clean up the cuts around his head. There’s a chip taken out of his ear that nearly brings you to tears. And the poor boy only whines every once in a while, pressing his face into your chest while you work as quickly and gently as you can. No aggression, no lashing out.

In the end, you press your face to his neck and scratch gently at his shoulders.

“No one is ever going to hurt you again, honey. Not here, not with me.” You press a gentle kiss to his muzzle. “I take care of everyone.”

You get him settled with some blankets and a fresh bowl of food while you check on your boys. Ghost leans into your side while you cry a bit, whispering that you love him and he’s been so good.

Johnny whines and licks the tears away (smelling a bit like peanut butter of course) when you turn to him, pressing his face up under your chin.

“Such good boys,” you sniffle. “Dunno what I’d do without you.”

They practically baby you for the rest of the evening. One with you, one with the new pup, who’s resting and warming up by the heater, bowl empty. They don’t even bark too much when you decide to order food and the delivery comes - perhaps sensing that you’re too drained for their overprotective antics.

When it’s time for bed, you cross over to your new boy and scratch at his hind leg.

“You wanna come to bed, sweetie? You don’t have to, but I don’t want you to be alone out here.”

He stares at you, mismatched eyes way too big. You make one last kissy noise at him and then head to your room, Ghost and Johnny following as usual. Just as you’re about to turn off the light, a big form lumbers into your doorway.

“Hi bud!” you call softly, patting the mattress. “You wanna try coming up?”

He seems to consider it, eyeing the bed and the space available between you and the other two dogs, before politely walking to the dog bed. It’s technically Ghost’s bed, though he only uses it when you’re getting ready to go out.

“You can sleep there, sweetie. I’m sure Ghostie boy doesn’t mind.”

You glance at him as if to confirm, but Ghost is predictably pretending that you’re not talking. Grumpy boy hardly ever responds once he’s tucked into bed.

You smile as the new dog carefully climbs onto the cushion.

“Alright, good night boys. I love you.” You pause, make eye contact with your new pup. “Even you, bud.”

Late in the night, you could swear you hear voices. The low rumble of men talking. Even dream of someone kissing your forehead.

Main Story | Konig pt. 1 | Happy Birthday!

Masterlist

[lixzey]

monster among men

“It's only two to three times a week, Y/n. It's not that bad, I mean would you rather patrol with Snape? He's a greasy git, unlike Regulus Black, have you even looked at him? He's bloody fit!” One of Y/n's friends, Mary MacDonald, gushed as she looked over at the Slytherin table. 

Y/n rolled her eyes at the brunette, “He is not fit, Mary.” 

Marlene McKinnon scoffed, “Are you daft? Or are you just blind?”

“What do you two even see in that git? He's annoying, self-centered, pompous, and arrogant.”

“Well, yeah, but look at his face!” Marlene jerked her head towards the Slytherin table. Y/n rolled her eyes, “No thanks, I'd rather gouge my eyes out.” 

“So stuck up, Y/n.” Mary chuckled, shoveling a spoonful of mashed potatoes in her mouth, making Y/n scrunch her nose. 

“He just looks like Sirius, what's so special about him?” Y/n grumbled, taking a glance at the Slytherin table. 

“Sirius looks like a bad boy, while Regulus, he looks like he was carved by the gods. Yeah, they look alike, but Regulus has much more defined facial structures. Have you seen that jawline? Merlin, I think it could cut my finger if I touched it.” Marlene explained, eyeing Y/n as if she was a first year.

“That is if he'd let you touch him.” Y/n chuckled, “That git's more sensitive than Sirius.” 

“Speaking of Sirius,” Mary started, her voice lower than what it was before, “Do you think he's okay that you're partnered with his brother? I mean, Sirius is like your brother too at this point.” 

“You think he can persuade Professor McGonagall to pair me up with someone else? No, he can't, making his opinion invalid. Even if he isn't okay with it, he doesn't really have a say in it.” Y/n sighed, reaching for a treacle tart, “But if he could, it would be absolutely amazing, but I wouldn't get my hopes up.” 

After the little incident in the Prefect's compartments, Y/n stormed off, dragging Remus behind her. The Head Boy and Girl, allowed her to take patrols with Remus on the train, on the condition that she will comply with the partnering situations. As soon as Y/n stepped off of the train, she avoided Regulus as much as possible. Being both Prefects, they had the privilege of riding in separate carriages up to the school. Y/n decided to run off and find her friends instead, much to the amusement of her brother and Lily. 

Throughout the sorting ceremony, Y/n's mind wandered to the possible things that could happen on patrols with Regulus Black. The possibilities were endless. Regulus could hex her, Y/n could punch him, Regulus could push her down the stairs, or maybe, just maybe, Y/n could push in the Black Lake and feed him to the giant squid. Just thinking of his smug face made Y/n's blood boil to a temperature she didn't know was even possible. 

“Hey, Y/n, look!” Marlene said, tapping her on the shoulder, snapping her out of her thoughts. She glanced at the direction her friend was pointing to, only to see Regulus Black, being dragged out of the Great Hall by a grinning Sirius Black, a laughing James Potter, an annoyed Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew stumbling after them.

Y/n knitted her brows together, “What in Merlin's name are they doing?”

“They're going to give him the protective brother's speech.” Lily chimed in, sitting beside Y/n, making her jump. “Bloody hell, Lily! You gave me a fright!” 

Lily grinned, “Jumpy, are we?” 

Y/n rolled her eyes at the redhead, “I hate you.”

Lily chuckled, “You love me.” 

“So, a big brother's speech, huh?” Mary laughed, “Aren't they protective?”

“Oh please, Sirius probably just wants an excuse to bother his brother.” Y/n shrugged. She wouldn't put it past her brother and Sirius, knowing that they were absolutely protective when it comes to her, their 'baby sister'. Y/n sighed, eyeing her friends, “You want me to follow them, don't you?”

Marlene and Mary nodded enthusiastically. Y/n groaned, “Really?” 

“Yes, really!” Marlene grinned, “And you need to tell us everything!” 

“Yeah, we need all the details!” Mary insisted. 

Y/n groaned again, lightly hitting her head on the table. “Bloody gossiping shits.” Y/n murmured. 

“What was that, Y/n/n? Speak up, love.” Marlene teased. 

Y/n lifted her head up, glaring at Marlene, and gripping the fork in her hand. “I am this close to stabbing you with this fork.” 

“Just go! Go and eavesdrop on them!” Mary pushed, “Come on, don't you want to hear what your brother and Sirius have to say? Don't you want to hear what Regulus has to say?”

“Ugh, fine!” Y/n huffed, giving into her friends' pushing. She glanced at Lily, who just shrugged, “I mean, it would be interesting.” 

Y/n sighed, “You three better save me some chocolate muffins for later.” She grabbed her bag, slinging it over her shoulder before standing up and taking one last glance at her friends. “And, you three owe me a butterbeer and some sugar quills on the next Hogsmeade trip.” 

“Fine, fine, now go!” Marlene grinned, jerking her head towards the door. Y/nbrolled her eyes and shook her head, before walking away from the Gryffindor table, making her way out of the Great Hall. 

“Don't forget your patrols with Black in the seventh floor corridor from eight to midnight!” Lily yelled after her. Y/n glanced back, and stuck her tongue out at Lily. She then walked out of the bustling hall and went to find the Marauders. 

It didn't take long for Y/n to find her brother and the rest of the boys. She could hear whimpering and Sirius' voice loud and clear in a nearby alcove. Y/n walked closer, casting a disillusionment charm over herself. Y/n peered over, and saw Sirius pinning his brother into the wall behind him. 

“-if you as much as hurt a hair on her head, I will hunt you down and throw you off of the astronomy tower, Reggie.” Sirius threatened in a low voice, which is a known trait in the Black family. They could be intimidating when they wanted to, and Sirius wasn't an exception to that. His grey eyes were dark and it was clear what his intentions were. Y/n's eyes then darted to Regulus, his face was calm—as if unfazed of what his brother told him. Though, there was a hint of fear in his eyes. 

“I w-won't h-hurt her, I won't. I p-promise.” Regulus whimpered, his eyes meeting with his brother's as he struggled in his grip. 

“Just know, if you hurt my sister, I will be known from then on as James Potter, the one who killed Regulus Black, the heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.” James spat, his hazel eyes flashing. At the sight of hazel eyes flashing at him, Regulus was reminded of another pair of hazel eyes—who was often too angry with him too. 

“I-I won't hurt her, I-I won't hurt Y/n.” 

James' eyes softened for a bit. “You can let him go now, Padfoot.” 

Regulus let out a breath of relief as soon as he felt his brother's hands were off of him. His eyes trailed up, meeting the eyes of Remus Lupin. “I know you know what I am,” He started, “If I see that girl hurt at your expense, I'll have your brother tie you up on a full moon.” Remus ended in a low voice, and Regulus could've sworn his eyes turned gold for a split second. Regulus felt his eyes boring into his soul, as if Remus could see his deepest darkest secrets. He stood up taller, composing his thoughts, before meeting James, Sirius, and Remus eye to eye. “Y-you h-have my w-word. I will n-never hurt Y/N Potter.”

Though he hates the girl, Regulus does not want to hurt Y/n. For the past five years that they had each other's wands in their throats, Regulus never hexed her. He would send jinxes her way, but never hexes. He was more of the victim of her hexes—the bat bogey hex and stinging hexes were her specialties—and he had scars to prove it. Y/n Potter was a powerful witch, and there was no doubt about that. But even without a wand, she can hurt him. At the memory, Regulus tasted blood in his mouth, though there wasn't. “That girl can hurt me before I can even grab my wand.” Regulus mumbled softly, nearly a whisper. 

Remus, having heard him with his enhanced senses, “Oh, we know. But Y/n, she has her moments, and in those moments you could strike her, and we don't want that.” 

Regulus rolled his eyes, “Alright, fine. I won't do anything to your little witch.” 

“You better.” James reminded, “If my sister-”

“I said I won't, Merlin, Potter! How many times am I going to say it?” Regulus snapped, his temper overtaking him. 

“Just making it clear.” 

Regulus rolled his eyes, “It's crystal clear.”

Y/n chuckled softly. Seeing Regulus Black getting annoyed at her brother while he couldn't do anything because of Sirius was the first time Y/n has seen him not get what he wanted. She took off her disillusionment charm, and silently crept behind her brother.

Y/n cleared her throat loudly. “What are you guys doing?” 

“Mother of Merlin!” Sirius shrieked, jumping into James' arms. Y/n burst out laughing, clutching her stomach. “Scaredy cat!” 

Regulus fought hard not to crack a smile, the sight of Y/n Potter laughing, wasn't a sight he gets to see everyday. The way her hair falls over her shoulders, the way her eyes sparkle in the moonlight, the way her laugh sounded like angels singing. 

What? Moonlight? Angels? What the bloody fuck is wrong with you, Regulus!? 

“Oi, Black!” The sound of Y/n's voice snapped him out of his trance. “Huh? What?” 

Y/n rolled her eyes, “Are you deaf? I said we have patrols in the seventh floor corridor from eight until midnight.”

Regulus glanced at James, who was mouthing: I got my eyes on you, Regulus. Don't do anything stupid. Regulus silently cursed him, before turning back to the girl in front of him. “Alright. I'll meet you there in an hour.”

Y/n gave him a curt nod, before turning her back and walking to her brother. She linked arms with James, and the four walked away. Before they got out of sight, Y/n shot a glance back at Regulus and stuck her tongue out. 

Regulus chuckled softly, shaking his head, before turning away, a small smile gracing his lips.  

@helens3amstuff @gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @tchalamss @lilmaymayy @ashlynnmalfoy @crazycat-ladys-blog @michakune @mxltifxnd0m @spencerr3idd @dangelnleif @sthkate @ferrjulie @imnotoverlyobsessive

[eggtartz]

✧ 22th October ✧

Izana Kukorawa // Dumb Girl (f! wife reader)

kinktober masterlist

warnings : degradation, slapping, mention of blood, implied aftercare, izana is a good husband

you sat quietly beside kakucho as you watched your husband has a basically brawl with the newer members of his gang. he was giving punches with fury despite his bloody nose. you wince at times, clutching to his right hand's jacket too tightly without realizing. he wasn't in a shirt, fists wrapped with boxer's gloves and his white hair tied up at the front. "fucker! you're fucked after two punches! what kind of gang member are you if you can't handle that?!" his voice was raised as he stomped his feet on the guy's face, probably giving him fractures.

"you're a pathetic waste of space, how dare you waste my time like this" he hissed, using his feet to kick on their guts. "i took you in! trained you! and this is what's supposed to be your best?" he swung a punch. "don't fucking come at my face again, ya hear me?" he spat blood on the ring and came out.

you immediately chased after him as kakucho snapped his fingers, telling them to clean after themselves. "izana!" you called out to him. he turned around and you smiled "hmph, you have a bloody nose" you commented, swiping away the blood. "this? it's just a scratch babe, no worries" he said, squeezing your butt while doing so and walked ahead "wanna patch me up?" he asked, entering the lockers room with his clothes on the bench.

"yeah! i'll do it" you already took the medical kit and when he patted his lap, you straddled him and gently wiped away the blood. "what did you think?" he gently asked all the while his hands are squeezing on your butt tenderly, a habit he has grown used to. "i liked it" you bit your lip.

here's the thing. izana did those things for two primary reasons, one is to of course get some senses into the newer members head if they get too sloppy and two? because you're a freak for degradation. while izana was at the ring earlier, you had to cross your legs beneath your long skirt to stop your pussy from pulsating too loud, a part of your head didn't wanted to taint kakucho beside you. under your skirt, you wore nothing and just parade all around with no panties. izana was reluctant because he was worried he'll go too far so he did these every single day, every day asking if it was okay or no and maybe, maybe today he'll finally initiate it.

"i'm really wet" you frowned "won't you fuck me, izana? please? i promise, i'll stop the moment i hate it! promise!" you whined, bouncing on his lap "baby, are you sure? absolute sure? i can be pretty mean, you know?" he tilted his head but your face, angelic yet tainted was difficult for him to refuse.

"please? just this once?" you battled your pretty eyelashes as he chuckled. "alright, on your knees" he said, defeated again by his own wife.

not that he minded.

eager, you went quickly to your knees as izana bought his shorts down, his dick already half hard. you gave teasing licks on the tip as izana hissed, already tempted to shove your mouth on it. "suck it, c'mon i don't have time you know?" he raised his eyebrow as you giggled, spitting on his cock and bought him deep in your throat. your gag reflex was already long gone as you always had him in your throat so you smiled while bobbing your head againts his pubic hair. "fuck, that's it. you like this, slut? bet you do, can't live without this cock can you?" he taunted, pulling your hair back as he slapped your face.

"answer me, whore. has my cock got your brain mushy again you can't fucking speak?" he hissed as you smiled "no! it hasn't, please put it back.. need it.. it's empty in me.. please.." he grinned, opening your mouth with his fingers as he shoved inside. "damn it! good thing you're my wife, huh? i'm damned lucky to get to use this throat all night" he thrusted inside, gripping your hair in one hand while the other choked you.

"c'mon, whore. that's the best you can do? fucking work on that dick" you bobbed your head faster, using your tongue swirl around the head and your hands squeezed his balls making him groan. "oh fuck! stand up, i'm gonna your pussy mold into the shape of my cock you hear me sweetheart?" he pulled you and kissed your lips, immediately plunging his tongue inside as his fingers worked inside your wet cunt, pushing you to lean on the locker.

"look at that. your pussy is soaked!" he mocked, bringing his fingers for you to see as you moaned "please! put it in me! can't do it anymore!" izana slapped your clothed tit as you whimpered "shut the fuck up, slut. you don't get to order things here." he thrusted his cock inside you.

"i do"

his hard, veiny dick was thrusting inside and out and you were out of breath. it blew your mind at how harsh izana's word was but his movements are still gentle and sloppy. he calls you names but his tone and his eyes are endearing. he's doing this because he loves his wife. you fall apart on his dick as love filled up your heart and cock filled up your weeping pussy.

"fuck! harder, izana!" he grunted "of course you do. you whores never learn patience" he bought his hand under your right knee, spreading you wide and vulnerable as he penetrated inside vigorously "yeah, that's it. clench on my fucking cock. fuck!" izana felt sweat on his forehead as he looked at how your pussy swallowed him so easily.

"o-oh! i'm gonna cum! aahh!" you squealed as he spat on your clit, rubbing it harshly "then fucking do it. gush all over my cock!" he groaned as he felt your insides got warm, clenching on his aching dick. he spread your legs, yelling profanities with his lungs. "gonna cum, princess. where do you want it?" he broke character but you roll your hips "inside please.. use me please" you begged so sweetly it invited a laugh in izana. "whore."

he spurted inside, making sure to drop every last bit of cum, tapping the tip on your clit as um oozed out. "you good princess?" he still asked as you drooled on him while he was wiping your thighs. "shoo good" you giggled. looks like izana would do this often for his wife.

[iluvvpaige]

Bloody Nose | PB x female reader

Warnings: mentions of blood, language

Summary: Paige and her secret girlfriend Victoria accidentally go public at a game after an incident on the court 🤭.

Me and Paige had been secretly dating for 6 months. The only people who knew were her team, my siblings and parents, her siblings and parents, and my best friend. Me and Paige were planning to keep it private until our 1 year anniversary.

Paige had a very tough game right now with a good college. Paige is the number 1 scorer of the night. Every point the other team makes, she goes right back and makes a point, tying the game. The game was tied right now, 39 to 39.

The game had started to get really heated. Like really heated. Smart remarks were made from girls on the other team and paige just brushed them off because she didn’t want to get into trouble, but i knew she was cursing them out in her head.

One of the girls from the other team had the ball and was going to the basket. Paige went to steal the ball and the girl elbowed her in the nose and made a three pointer. Paige’s nose had started to bleed really bad which caused me to stand up, looking at her in worry.

And when i mean really bad, I mean really bad. The team and medics ran over to her to check on her but she pushed them out the way walking off, cursing. She wouldn’t listen to anyone. She was so mad.

“Tori! come down here please!” Azzi yelled at me. It was no secret to everyone that i was a friend of the teams, but it sure was a secret of who i was dating. I immediately ran down the bleachers, excusing myself.

I walked down to see Paige yelling and pushing the medic away. “Thats bullshit!” I heard her yell before she walked off. “Paige!” I called out, following behind her. I called the medic over and asked for the tissue. “Let me do it” I told the medic, grabbing the tissue. She nodded and stepped out of my way.

“Paige come here.” I said. She walked over to me, shaking her head. “Bro, you seen that shit, right? i mean that was obviously a foul! they had to pay those shitty ass refs off” She rambled. “I know, baby, I know.” I replied, holding the tissue up to her nose.

I knew my choice of words were risky as there were cameras everywhere - but i really didn’t give a fuck. She needed to calm her ass down before she got in trouble and sweet talking was the only way to get her calm.

She shook her head and put her hands on her hips as if wiped off the dripping blood. “Calm down, P” I said as held the tissue to her nose. It felt like everyone there had their eyes on us, watching intently as she didn’t listen to anyone else but me.

“Bro those refs are paid off. I mean, that was clearly a fucking foul.” She stated. “I know. Just leave it, okay? you’ll get in trouble, paige. I don’t want you to get in trouble.” I said, removing the bloody tissue to her nose to replace it with a clean one. I watched her closely as she licked her lips, still shaking her head slightly.

I removed the tissue from her nose when it finally stopped bleeding. Her ass was still rambling on about the refs not calling that a foul. At this point the game had went on and Uconn was currently winning by 5.

“Go let the medics check your nose and make sure it’s not broken, ma.” I said. I knew she liked it when i called her ma and she needed to calm down. She smirked at me and nodded before she started walking off. “Wait, P” I called her back. “Huh?” she replied, turning around to make eye con with me.

“C’mere” I said as i motioned her over to me. She walked over to me, confused, and looked at me. I pulled her into a soft, short kiss and a tight hug, not noticing that the camera was pointing at us.

“I love you.” I said, pulling away. “Love you too, baby.” She replied. I gave her a quick smack on the ass before she walked off and i went to go sit back down.

The clip of me and paige was released and needless to say, the editors had a field day with that one 30 second clip.

•

Tysm for reading!

[scribblesofagoonerr]

Ice cream might as well cure my depression | Inner Demons

⟫ Alphabet Challenge, I - Ice cream might as well cure my depression

Pairings: leah williamson x teen reader, arsenal wfc x teen reader

"There you are," Leah exhales a sigh of relief as she walks into the medical room where she found you lay on the one of the medical beds with Katie sat beside you, as one of the medical staff accessed the damage on your bloody and bruised hands. "Oh my God, what happened?!" she questions, horrified as she sets her eyes on the scene in front of her.

"Found the kiddo taking her anger out on the wall," Katie chuckles slightly and shaking her head.

"Spoiler alert, the wall won," You murmer sarcastically from where you lay on the bed, trying to inject a bit of humour into the tense atmosphere, although the pain in your voice was still evident.

"What?" Leah repeats in atonishment at the news of what happened before she crouches down to kneel in front of you. "Oh bubs, why would you do that?" she questions, her initial shock turning into concern.

"Don't know, guess I just felt angry about everything. I feel like I'm not even allowed to make my own decisions now," You admitted your true feelings about things. "I guess I just didn't think and just lashed out."

Leah exhales another sigh and lightly brushes her thumb over your broken skin, "That must hurt a fair bit, huh?" she wonders.

Trying to not flinch at the contact, you bite your bottom lip and shake your head, "Nah, it barely hurts at all," You mumble, gritting your teeth.

"Liar," Katie chimes in amusedly, moving her hand to try and poke your hand to get your reaction.

"Okay, alright. I lied, it hurts like a mother--" You start to say as you're cut off.

"Don't even think about finishing that sentence the way I think you're about to do, Y/F/N!" Leah tells you in a stern tone of voice, but its' one that you're all too used to now.

"Trucker," You playfully grin at the older blonde.

The blonde pinches the bridge of her nose and shakes her head, "You really are insufferable sometimes, bubs," she mutters before she turns her attention to the medic in the room. "So, do we know what's the damage then?" she questions, her voice sounding more serious than previously.

"Well, the x-ray shows it's not broken, but just bruised instead," The medic reports to Leah. "My recommendations are ice and elevation to reduce the swelling." They add on.

"Great, now I really can't play football after all, can I?" You question, sighing in frustration but you know you only have yourself to blame for this happening now.

"Guess not, I'm afraid bubs," Leah replies sympathetically in agreement.

"Wonderful," You mumble under your breath, now you really didn't have any choice but to not be able to play football.

"I'm sorry, I know this isn't what you wanted kiddo," Katie sympathsises with you, gently resting her hand on your shoulder.

"My own fault though, weren't it?" You ask rhetorically, although you still can't help but huff in annoyance about the situation.

Leah's gaze softens, "You know we're gonna need to go back in there and speak to Jonas, Kim and the rest of the staff still, don't you?" she reminds you.

"Yeah, I sorta guessed that," You mumble, exhaling a sigh.

"And you need to apologise for running out of there, as well, please?" Leah requests gently.

"Seriously?" You raise an eyebrow and resist the urge to scoff, however, seeing the look that Leah had on her face, it made you back down. "Fine, alright, whatever. Can we still get ice cream after this though?"

The blonde rolls her eyes at the mention of food, "Just as long as you don't go back in the meeting and blow up, then yes we can still go and get ice cream" she tells you in agreement, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Relax, I won't. I'm much more calmer now," You reassure her, shrugging her shoulders carelessly.

"Really? Cos' you just take your anger out on a wall. That doesn't really scream out 'fine' to me," Katie snickers, reminding you ever so kindly about the disagreement you had with the wall.

"I had my reasons!" You defend yourself over what happened.

"Right, come on. Lets' just head back in there and see what else needs to be said," Leah steers the conversation back on track with a firm but supportive tone of voice.

"No chance to escape out the side door?" You attempt to crack a joke with the blonde.

"Nope, not a chance. Come on bubs, it'll be fine," Leah reassures you, sending you a gentle and warm smile as you both head back to the room where you previously bolted before.

"We're back, sorry about that," Leah is the first to speak up and address the room of people that are awaiting your return.

You feel awkward walking into the room, you really hadn't mean to storm out in the way that you did.

Completely forgetting that you needed to apologise, you feel a slight nudge in your ribs, "Ow. What the--" Seeing the stern look from the blonde makes you remember what needed to be said. "Oh yeah, uh... I... I uh, I'm sorry for storming out like that. It weren't right and I apologise," You muster up the courage to apologise to them all sat around the large table.

"That's okay, Y/N. We can understand it's a lot to take in so far," Jonas nods in understanding, motioning to an empty chair. "Please, take a seat and we can continue with the meeting." he states.

Kim's eyes immediately are drawn to your knuckles as she furrows her eyebrows in concern, "Kid, what happened to your knuckles?" she questions.

"Oh uh that was just a disagreement with the wall," You give your captain a wry smile as you hold up your bruised hand. "Let's just say that the wall won this round."

"Y/N, we can understand what you're going through must be difficult and we want you to have the time to step back and focus on that," Jonas speaks up with a gentle tone of voice, his concern being evident.

You wonder if Leah can sense your uneasiness about the topic of conversation as she reaches out to gently take a hold of your hand, "It's okay, bubs. I've got you." she whispers quietly to reassure you that she's still there.

"What you've been through-- What you're going through is a lot to deal with, a challange, especially at your age." Jonas continues to speak his thoughts aloud. "As a club, we want to be able to help you in way that we can. So we have brought in a therapist, someone that you will be able to talk too--"

"Whoa, whoa, hold up!" You hold up your hand to cut your coach off from his concerned speel of speech. "A shrink... You want me to talk to a shrink?" You stutter in disbelief.

"Y/N--" Kim attempts to speak.

You whip your head round as you stare at the unfamiliar women in the room, "Wait, is this who this woman is?" You question, looking between all of the adults in the room.

"Bubs, just calm down," Leah chimes in, sensing your upset feelings very clearly right now.

"I'm a therapist actually," The unfamiliar women cuts in the conversation. "My name is Helen, it's nice to meet you properly, Y/N." she introduces herself.

You can't help but scoff lightly and shake your head, "You can call yourself whatever you want, I'm not talking to you," You state stubbornly, a bad trait of yours but who were you to just open up your feelings to this women? You didn't even know her, and now everyone thinks they have an opinion of what to do, who you should speak too?

It's your life, why can't people just let you live it the way that you want?

"It's bad enough that I already had to go through this talking to someone bullshit when I was on my spontaneous holiday," You snap in anger, you really didn't like this one bit.

"Holiday?" Jonas questions, confusion evident in his voice.

"She means when she was detained," Leah deadpans, shooting you a look.

"Yeah, sure, whatever, I was held in a psych ward against my own will, call it whatever the hell you want!" You fling your arms around in the air, feeling yourself getting worked up and you really fight hard against the idea of bolting out the room again. "I don't care who you are, shrink or therapist, I'm not talking to you."

"Y/N, come on. Please at least try and be open with Helen," Kim tries to reason with you. "You know that we just want to help you."

"Bubs, it might be good for you to talk to her," Leah chimes in with a gentle but still firm tone of voice.

"I'm only here for you to talk too," Helen, your new therapist pipes in with her ever so cheerful voice and that's something you are definitely not a fan off.

"I guess I don't have much choice, either way, do I?" You slump your shoulders in realisation about the whole situation.

"Well..." Jonas hesitates to speak.

"Cut the bullshit, Jonas," You cut him off as the frustration begins to bubble up to the surface.

"Y/N!" Kim chides you.

"Language, Y/N!" Leah adds in.

"Geesh, calm down, Captain America," You mutter, rolling your eyes as you slump back against the chair you're sitting on.

"Y/N," Leah reprimands, shooting you a stern look.

"In order for you to return to the pitch, we as a club believe it's important that you attend these therapy sessions," Jonas continues his explanation, giving you all of his attention. "Until you have attended them, we think it might be best if you step back from training and games until you're in a better place."

"Right, so I really don't have much of a choice then after all," You mutter, the realisation hitting you clear on. "How many?"

"How many?" Kim repeats, confused.

"How many sessions of therapy do I need to partake in before I'm cleared to take part in training and games again?" You wonder, curiously.

If that's what it took to get you back on the pitch, then you'd fake a smile and spill whatever words that this so call shrink wanted to hear you tell her, if it meant getting back on the pitch then what's you would do.

"As many as it takes, Y/N. Healing has no time limit," The ever so annoying therapist in your opinion spoke up at the moment. "Once you attend the first session, we can begin to work and create a plan with set goals for your future." she explains in a irritating perky voice.

"Yep, so I really don't have much choice at all, that's wonderful," You murmer under your breath as you try and slump down further in your seat if that's at all possible.

Kim pinches the bridge of her nose and shakes her head, "Your sass is too much right now," she states.

"Haven't you missed me? I'm a delight to be around!" You cheekily grin at your captain, trying to mask your true feelings about it all.

"We get that you may not be happy with the decisions, Y/N, but as a club, we all believe this is what will help you the most," Jonas explains to you, trying to defuse the tension in the room.

"What would help me would be allowing me to play football," You remark, letting your frustration show.

"Anything apart from that," Another member of the staff chimes in, amusedly.

"I think when I preffered in I was in the pysch ward after all," You can't help but make the sarcastic comment about things, like your usual way to cope with things head on.

"Y/N!" Leah exclaims in disbelief, scowling at you.

"What? I like dark humour, sue me," Shrugging your shoulders carelessly, you turn and look at the blonde women. "So, can we go and get ice cream now? Cos' you promised after all."

Leah let's out a small laugh and shakes her head, ""Seriously, bubs? You and your obsession with ice cream." She states in amusement.

"You can't go back on a promise, Le," You remind her, having the blonde wrapped around your finger.

You were happy enough to sit in a small shop, enjoying the ice cream as promised, although your attempt to lighten the mood with a joke didn't go a miss with Leah, she noted the pain behind your eyes straight away.

The blonde frowns in concern as she sits at the table opposite you, "Bubs, I know you're trying to mask how you really feel. I can tell that you're holding back. Tell me how you really feel, please?" she asks.

You swirl your spoon around the pot of ice cream in your hand and do your best to avoid Leah's gaze for a moment before finally sighing, "I guess... I guess that I'm just frustrated, Le. The whole therapy, I hate talking to people like them, but it's like I don't even have a choice now when I can't go back on the pitch until I speak to her," You admit your feelings, exhaling another sigh. "I guess I didn't help matters either by lashing out at the wall."

"I get how you feel bubs," Leah nods sympathetically, reaching out to gently place her own hand in yours. "I know it hurts, but just remember that we're all doing this because we care about you so much-- I care about you so much, your like my own kid, you know despite the age difference, but you know, finding you like that in the way that I did, I felt scared and I thought I was going to loose you. I don't ever want to feel like that again."

Swallowing the lump that forms in your throat, you peer up slightly to try and hold off the tears from escaping, "I'm sorry... I'm sorry that I scared you like that," You whisper quietly, never fully realising how other people must have felt to see you that way. "I... I love you, Le. I'm glad that I have you around to take care of me."

"I love you too, bubs... So, so much!" Leah replies as she squeezes your hand reassuringly, "Even if I have to put up with your obsession with ice cream and dark humour. I know it's hard to accept the help, but you're not alone in this. I'm here with you every single step of the way, okay?" She tells you.

"Thanks, Le," You manage a small smile, feeling a bit lighter with the blondes' support and words. "I guess I can try and keep an open mind about this therapy thing." You state, shrugging your shoulders.

"That's all I ask my girl," Leah replies, smiling warmly at you. "I know it'll be hard, but you're strong enough to handle it and you're not ever going to be alone." She adds.

© scribblesofagoonerr