#{ you whispered and now you have to sit down and think about your life }

[lotties-ashwagandha]

THE FIRST TO BREAK

agatha harkness x reader x rio vidal

NSFW! when they can’t decide who indulges you more, agatha and rio find a way to settle it in competition. based on this ask i got. 1.3k words. i might have written this at 7am (that’s my excuse if it’s bad <3).

Rio’s arms rest looped around your waist as you stand at the stove. Her head rests on your shoulder as she watches you work, as you pour herbs and spices into a pot —you got up early, stalking through the kitchen to create something to prevent the illnesses that will be coming with winter soon. You use your witchcraft in the way of herbs, a potion witch as they would call you.

“You don’t need any of this,” Rio whispers. She watches you stir, and her arms around you grow tighter. “I’m not taking you from illness.”

You smile softly. You’ve tried to explain to her before that it’s not just about life and death, but discomfort — how much life resembles the gleaming, shifting ideal of thriving. She is still learning, it’s a concept too human for what is ancient, for Death.

“You’re going to keep her alive forever,” Agatha’s voice rings out into the gentle silence of the kitchen as she speaks to Rio. You turn slightly in Rio’s grasp to look over at her, and as she pours a coffee for herself Agatha raises her eyebrows at you accusingly. “Don’t break my favoritism streak.”

You shake your head. “I’ll try.”

Rio rolls her eyes. She steps away from you, leaning against the kitchen island behind her as she turns to Agatha. “If one of us is treating her with favoritism, it’s not me.”

“Really? That’s a stretch. How do I treat her with favoritism?”

Leaving the contents on the stove to simmer, you turn to watch them argue over you. It is playful, but still endearing, because you know they both treat you with favoritism.

“You answer to whatever she wants,” Rio says, like it’s obvious. “Even when she doesn’t ask, you’re always giving.”

“That’s not a bad thing.”

“No. Stealing diamond earrings and a diamond bracelet in the same week from a shopkeeper you threatened to kill is a little much though, isn’t it?”

Agatha is quiet for a moment, taking a sip of her coffee. She drinks out of a black mug Rio got her, wears a dark blue robe Rio bought her, wears a wedding ring Rio proposed to her with. You don’t think you are the one being shown partiality.

Agatha sets the mug down and looks at you. “What do you think?”

You didn’t think it had been worth bickering over. They had disagreed. Now as you lay on the bed with your hands tied all you want is for them to show you favor, to fuck you until they forget the petty competition they have created between them.

Two of Rio’s fingers slide into you as she takes advantage of her turn. The rules of their competition are simple: whoever lets you come first loses. You’re working up to the third time being edged, this is Rio’s second time on you and Agatha has only edged you once.

It was Agatha’s plan to make Rio go first, and now you can see why, because in the way she’s fucking you so greedily now with her fingers and in the low moans she lets slip as she sucks bruises onto your chest you can tell Rio will be the first to break. She wants to let you come as bad as you need it, her black nails digging into your hips as her free hand presses against you in a reminder to stay still.

“Look at her,” Agatha says, speaking to Rio as if you couldn’t hear, you were something to admire. “Doesn’t she deserve to come? She’s so beautiful for us like this.”

Rio lets out a frustrated breath, accusatory glance shifting to Agatha, who takes advantage of her proximity and pulls her into a kiss. You watch them above you, one of Agatha’s hands drifting to your breasts as she sits at your side. She’s trying hard to do anything she can to make Rio let you come.

Rio notices Agatha’s wandering touch. She pulls out of the kiss, pulling Agatha’s hand away from your breasts and replacing it with her mouth. The sensation elicits a gasp from you, and your back arches into the sensation of her tongue licking across one of your nipples.

“She’s so close,” Agatha whispers into Rio’s ear. She watches you with the same hunger in Rio’s eyes as she keeps fucking you with her fingers. “Think about how perfect she would look for you, how it would feel to have her—”

Just as you reach the edge of your orgasm, Rio pulls her hands from you. She compensates with kissing you — it’s not enough, though, and you can’t help but whine into the kiss. You need her touch, or Agatha’s, something to soothe the need growing in you so sharply.

When you pull away and look at Agatha, a conflicted expression occupies her features. You know she wants to give you an orgasm, but she also wants to win. As she takes Rio’s place and settles herself between your legs, head dipping down to kiss your thighs, you can see it — that there’s nothing she wants more right now than to feel you come on her tongue.

When Rio kisses you from beside you, Agatha delivers a sharp slap to the outside of your thigh. You tense, startled out of the kiss.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Agatha’s tone is demanding as she addresses Rio, who looks back at her with unbothered pride.

“I’m playing by your rules. You want to taunt me during my turn? It has to be even.”

“It will be even when I win,” Agatha says, and you’re overcome with the sensation of her tongue dragging through you. Your hands pull at the restraints above you to no avail. You want to reach down and weave your hands in her hair, or pull Rio closer to you as she watches.

Agatha runs her tongue over your clit. She does it harder, moaning against you when your legs begin to tremble on either side of her head. It’s almost painful how good it feels to have her tongue dipping inside of you and back up to your clit. With Rio’s lips crashing back into yours you can feel yourself slowly building into another orgasm — this time you need it.

“Please,” you beg breathlessly, hands pulling the restraints again. “You win, both of you can win…”

“Agatha,” Rio taunts beside you. She watches as Agatha draws you closer and closer to the edge — she watches when Agatha pulls away.

Yet when Agatha pulls away it’s not to let Rio take her place, but to slide two fingers into you and reposition herself so she can kiss you. You taste yourself on her tongue and a moan escapes you.

“Come for me, baby, give it to me,” Agatha murmurs. Your body responds immediately, any restraint you’ve tried to keep snaps as white-hot euphoria rushes over you. Agatha fucks you through it, fingers buried deep in you as she guides you through your orgasm. Vaguely you’re able to process Rio beside you as well with one of her hands between her legs — she’s gone with you, at the sight of you and Agatha.

Agatha kisses you again as you come down from it. You hear Rio breathing heavily beside you, and then Agatha is pulled away from you again so that Rio can kiss her. When they part, Rio looks into her eyes. “You fucking lose.”

“And you’re the one that got off on it.”

A smile makes its way to your lips. Playfully Rio shakes her head at you, Agatha moving to lay on your other side so that you’re sandwiched between them while Rio undoes the restraints on your wrists. You pull your hands down.

Laying down with them, Rio rests her head on her chest and loops an arm around your waist. Agatha holds her hand, and in their embrace you are enveloped by their love. There is no winner amongst you — the victory is shared.

[criticallyinneedofadar]

Royal Duties

I wrote three little one shots for the pole just in case lol so now I'm posting all three

Pairing: Gil Galad x Reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Morning light filters through the tall windows of the grand hall, glancing off the polished stone floors and casting a warm glow over the rows of nobility gathered to witness court proceedings. You sit beside Ereinion, the high-backed throne beneath you feeling almost too formal for the mood between you and the king. Ereinion leans forward slightly, face carefully composed, yet his eyes flick over to you with the faintest glint of mischief.

As a particularly haughty lord delivers a speech about his region’s contribution to the realm, you barely manage to keep a straight face. Ereinion clears his throat softly, disguising a chuckle as he murmurs just loud enough for you to hear, “I don’t think there’s a single person in this hall who doesn’t already know how ‘noble’ his house is.”

The corners of your mouth twitch, and you turn to him, casting a sidelong glance. “Do you think he’d notice if we slipped out the back?”

“Not if we leave the guards with a very good excuse,” he replies smoothly, casting you a look that suggests he’s half-serious. Then, with the practiced grace of a king who’s held this position for centuries, he adjusts his expression to one of benevolent patience, looking for all the world as though he’s deeply engaged.

The lord finally finishes, and Ereinion, without missing a beat, offers him a solemn nod. “Thank you for your… continued service,” he says, a small smile tugging at his lips as the lord bows himself out of the hall.

The moment he’s out of earshot, you lean toward Ereinion, unable to hold back your grin. “Shall we give him a new title? Perhaps Lord of Long-Winded Speeches?”

He bites back a laugh, the sound escaping in a soft breath. “Consider it granted. I’ll have the scribes make note of it.”

The two of you exchange a look, and for a heartbeat, you’re just Ereinion and… well, not the queen, not here under the judgmental gaze of court. Just the two of you, sharing an inside joke.

After several more interactions with various lords and advisors — all of whom seem to be vying to one-up each other — you and Ereinion finally manage a brief escape. You slip into one of the palace gardens, hidden by high walls and leafy trees, where the murmur of court life fades into a distant hum.

He grins, glancing around to make sure no one followed, then gives you a low bow, offering his hand. “My lady, might I steal a dance?”

You raise an eyebrow, taking his hand with mock formality. “I thought we’d save that for the next dreadfully dull council meeting. Just to keep them on their toes.”

“Good point,” he replies, spinning you under his arm in a quick flourish. He catches you in a mock-dramatic pose, his face so close that you can feel his breath, warm against your cheek. His eyes linger on yours, and the flirty banter fades for just a moment as he holds your gaze.

“Should we head back?” you murmur, aware that duty awaits — and that the more time you spend away from court, the more questions you’ll face.

But Ereinion only shrugs, his smile unmistakably mischievous. “Let them wonder. The king and queen deserve a moment to themselves, don’t you think?”

Ereinion’s hand is warm in yours as he spins you down the marble halls, your laughter mingling with his in the quiet, echoing corridors. The two of you move in perfect sync, each step lighter than the last. He dips you dramatically, and you stifle a laugh, whispering, “You know, this isn’t exactly dignified for the High King and Queen.”

“Good thing we’re in the far wing, then,” he replies, grinning as he pulls you upright again. “Besides, a little undignified behavior keeps things interesting.”

You can barely reply as he whirls you around, catching you just as you’re about to stumble. This side of Ereinion, so full of laughter, the sharp edge of command nowhere to be seen—it’s a rare thing, and you savor every second.

Just as he’s twirling you under his arm again, a figure appears at the end of the hall, stepping out from around a corner with raised eyebrows and a barely suppressed smile. Elrond crosses his arms, watching you both with an amused shake of his head.

“Oh, how regal,” he drawls, a glint in his eyes. “The High King and Queen, so tirelessly devoted to their duties, I see.”

You straighten, feigning the most queenly look you can manage despite the laughter bubbling up. “Elrond,” you say sweetly, “do you think I wouldn’t relegate you to writing our correspondence for Lord of Long-Winded Speeches?”

At this, Ereinion throws his head back, his laughter filling the hall. It’s deep, genuine, and utterly without restraint, echoing off the high ceilings as though he hasn’t laughed this freely in an age. Elrond stares, visibly startled, as his king—the indomitable Gil-galad, ruler of the Noldor—doubles over, still clutching your hand, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

You join him, feeling the tears gather in your eyes as you squeeze his hand tighter, both of you struggling to compose yourselves. Elrond looks between the two of you, his expression utterly dumbfounded.

“Truly,” Elrond finally says, “I’ve seen many things over the years, but this…” He shakes his head in mock exasperation, trying and failing to hide a grin of his own. “I’ll leave you to your… ‘royal duties,’ then.”

With a smirk, you give him a little wave. “We’ll leave you to your actual duties, Elrond. Someone’s got to keep up the kingdom’s standards, after all.”

As he walks away, muttering under his breath about “giggly rulers,” you turn to Ereinion, whose face is still lit up with laughter.

“Shall we?” he asks, still a little breathless.

You both head down the hall, still snickering quietly, leaving a thoroughly shocked Elrond behind. And as you walk hand-in-hand, you can’t help but feel that these moments—the ones stolen from duty, spent in laughter—are what make this life with him complete.

[rafesbabygirlx]

A Lot of Time has Passed | Part 7B

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Season 4 Rafe x Maybank reader

Summary: Beginning at the time jump, the Pogues seemingly succeeded at something, Rafe is struggling with making amends and being a better person. Jus sister left the island after returning from South America. Returning after 18 months with a secret.

A/N: took a page from @whytheylosttheirminds with separating the part into 2. Because it’s a bit of writing. About 3k words each. I wanted to finish this off before S4 P2 begins so it’s finishing this is the last part until it airs.

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: fluff, bit of angst, smut (oral m receiving, chest riding, p in v riding) death, Luke Maybank

“Can we please talk?”

You give it a second but you can see the desperation in his eyes, “okay, talk.”

He runs a hand through his buzz cut, eyes heavy with guilt. “I’m sorry. I do want to be better. I’m the man of the Cameron family now, and what am I supposed to do when all the women in my life hate me? Fear me? It eats at me. I should’ve stood up for Kie, set an example that Ruthie and Topper’s bullshit isn’t acceptable anymore, never was, I don’t care about that reputation anymore, not like I used to. When I look at V, all I want is to be better. I have no excuse.

He watches you, searching for a sign that you’re listening. You offer him nothing, forcing him to keep talking. “I took you for granted for so long. Used you, kept you a secret because I was scared of what people would think, all because of stupid titles. I knew Topper and Kelce wouldn’t say anything but that’s always what they’d use to try to piss me off when we’d be messing with each other. You always meant something to me and I constantly pushed you away. I hurt you more times than I can count, some of the times worse than others.”

Painful memories flash between you—He’s talking about the time he handcuffed you to his bed during his downward spiral after killing Peterkin, dragging you with him to Barry’s when he needed to hide out, putting you in the middle of gunfire with the police when he got caught. Drugging you alongside Sarah and bringing you on that ship then standing idle why he watched his dad strangle you until you were blue when you got smart with him about murdering Big John. All because he didn’t want to be alone.

“You came to me for protection from your father, and I failed you. You tried to help me, and I pushed you away. But all I want now is to see you happy. You shouldn’t have even forgiven me.”

Tears slip down your face as you reach out, cupping his cheek. “I told you what I thought your problem was, and I was right. You’ve grown without your father’s shadow. Even before I came back, you’d changed. You are the man of the Cameron family now, and you can be the kind of man your father never was. I need you to be all in, Rafe. No more half-measures. V needs you. I need to know we can count on you. Only then can we move forward.”

You grab the sea turtle V left on the bed this morning, unintentionally but great for the point you’re trying to make. “Because what if she was there, what if she could understand all that happened.” You toss it to him. “Think about her Rafe.”

“I promise,” he says, voice cracking. “Forever and always.”

A bittersweet smile spreads across your face. The words that once comforted you in your darkest moments return, anchoring you both.

I’ll protect you, I promise, forever and always.

I’ll be here for you when you need me, I promise, forever and always.

I’ll kick his ass for you, I promise, forever and always.

“I love you, Rafe, and that’s never changing.” You kneel closer, wrapping him in a hug.

“I love you too, Y/N,” he whispers, his voice resolute. “Forever and always.”

╰☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆╮

You look at him, and he smirks. You kiss him on the lips, then his jaw, then his neck. He coos at the feeling. You sit up and pull off your tank top, laying back down. You stare into his eyes intently as you play with the waistline of your shorts. He goes to reach out for you, but you smack his hand away.

“Uh uh, take your clothes off.” “Yes, mam.” He stands up and rids himself of his own pajamas, now standing completely bare in front of you. “Lay.”

He does exactly as you say. You straddle his legs, running a finger down his length to tease him. Kneeling your upper body down, arch your ass into the air, and he smiles down at you. You grab him in your hand, running your thumb over his tip, smearing his precum. You drop a glob of spit down onto him. You lower your head onto him, beginning to bob up and down. He thrusts up into you at the sensation, and you remove your mouth from him.

“Uh uh, I’m in charge tonight, baby.”

He nods his head and throws his hands up in a mock surrender. You begin bobbing again, taking as much of him as you can, gagging on his huge length but taking him nonetheless. You run your hand that's not pumping him up and down his torso, scratching your nails on the way down. You hear his series of grunts and moans and feel the way he'd tense up trying to refrain from thrusting up.

He was getting close, and you could tell by the way he'd twitch in your throat. When his breathing started to hitch, you let him go and watched for his reaction. As he realizes his orgasm was lost, he opens his eyes to see you kneeling in front of him with a big smirk.

“Not fun being treated like shit, right?” You laugh, and he rolls his eyes but eventually laughs quietly. He goes to sit up, and you push him back into the pillow. You want to tease him as much as you can. You made up, but it's nice to give him a little taste of his own medicine.

You start making your way up him, taking a seat right below his chin. You push down into him and moan. You begin to ride his chest. Rafe always loved to eat you out, and you know having him this close to your pussy drives him crazy.

“Let me taste you.” Gripping his head, moving it up closer to your clit. “Tongue out.” He lays his tongue out flat, and you move a little closer to also ride his tongue. Using him like this feels so good since you'd usually let him take control.

Your movements quicken, digging your nails into the back of his head, and you crane his neck. You're getting close, and you don't plan on slowing down. You hold yourself up on the headboard, and your body twitches. Rafe moans into your clit, and your head throws back. You shake as you come, arousal sticking to his chest. You lift up a bit to his mouth, and he cleans up what's left.

You move back down to his waist. Licking the palm of your hand and reaching back to stroke him. His body jolts at the feelings. You line yourself up with him and sink down onto him. Your nails dig into his chest at the stretching. No matter how many times you do this, the feeling always has you shocked.

You settle on him for a second before you lift up and throw yourself back down onto him. Your pace is immediately quick. You bounce like there's no tomorrow. Taking control of him like this is so rewarding. The feeling is amazing, but you need more stimulation. You begin to grind, feeling his pelvic bone rub against you has seeing stars.

“Can I touch?” You nod, and Rafe's hands roam your body. You're driving him crazy tonight, but his touch is soft. Taking every inch of you in. You're an angel sent from heaven to him. You're both close, and you're getting tired. Rafe grabs your hips and keeps you moving. You lean down and begin to kiss him.

“Love you, baby doll. Forever and always.” You lean your forehead on his as you continue your movements. “Fuck, Rafe. I love you more. Forever and always.” You cry out with a high-pitched moan as you release your orgasm. Rafe follows right behind you, gripping your waist hard and letting out a bunch of grunts.

You lift off of Rafe but stay on top of him. You shift down a little, enough to be able to lay your head on his chest. Following the rise and fall of his heavy breaths and listen to his heart race, while he holds you tightly, leaving kisses on the top of your head. You could lay like that forever.

╰☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆╮

The next morning you and Rafe wake up still tangled up with one another. He’s dressed and doesn’t smell like sweat and sex anymore, which means he left at some point. It angers you a bit but you chose to let it go for now. You take a shower and come out of the bathroom to see Rafe flying V around the room like Superman. You’re downstairs having breakfast, really just talking to V trying to make her laugh. That fell into a bit of a silence.

“I took the deal.”

“What?”

“Last night, I took the deal. That’s why I was dressed. I know you noticed but didn’t say anything.”

Taken aback just a bit. You were still very nervous of what Hollis’s intentions were. But you said you’d be supportive no matter what. “Ok, so now what?”

“She sent the info to the investors. The deposit should come out at some point today. And now I’m in contract with them.”

“Did you read the fine print about murder if this thing goes wrong?”

He laughs at the outrageous statements and goes to reach for your hand. “Yes, I read the whole thing, no there isn’t anything about murder. Not sure it’s something they’d want in paper.”

You smile and grip his hand a little harder. You go to say something but he cuts you off, “after yesterday, after our talk, after last night (he winks and you giggle), I thought this was the best step for US.” I want to be taken seriously, I want to be a strong father for V. Then I saw a photo of me and Sarah and I thought about the things I did to her. How she hates my guts, how she looked at me yesterday. I can’t be that person anymore. I’m gonna do the right thing and this is a stepping stone in that. This is for our family. I know you always hated that I’d tried to treat you with gifts and money, but you’re stuck with me and what’s mine is yours. So get used to it.” He takes a deep breath and smiles at you.

You release his hand and walk to the other side of the table to sit on his lap. “Ok Rafe Cameron. I told you I’d be there with you the whole way. Anything you need I’ll help you. I’m not going anywhere this time.” You give him a big kiss on the cheek when your phone starts to vibrate.

You reach over and pick it up and JJ is yelling in the other side. “JJ calm down!”

“Sis I need you here right now. I’m alone and got this letter and I’m freaking out.”

“Okay, OKAY, I’ll come.” You hang up and turn back to Rafe. “Do you think you’d be ok for a few when I go handle something for my brother?

“I mean sure but I thought we’d celebrate.”

“Ok first rule of the “be a better man” journey is to know that when a sibling calls in distress saying they need you. They probably need you. That would’ve saved you a lot of trouble.”

Rafe looks at you with a blank stare. “Ok- go then. I’ve got V.” You’re shocked at the reaction. Not being able to tell if he was mad at it or not was difficult. You didn’t mean to throw in a little jab about the past. It’s just a good lesson for him to learn.

You lean down to give him a kiss. “I love you.” Looking deeply into his eyes. “Forever and always.” He returns back.

╰☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆╮

Meeting JJ at your old house feels strange. He’s standing in the living room, staring at a piece of paper and rubbing his head. He hadn’t explained anything on the phone, which left you uneasy, but seeing his disheveled state makes your anxiety spike.

“J? What’s going on? Where is everyone?” you ask, voice tight with worry.

“They’re out on the boat, taking care of Terrance’s body,” he mutters, barely looking up.

“Terrance? As in Cleo’s Terrance? What happened?”

JJ sighs, exhaustion lining his face. “Cleo got kidnapped. Terrance was involved but didn’t know who the target was. He tried to save her, and it got him killed. I’ll fill you in later, but I need you to read this.”

He hands you the letter. The first line catches your eye: “Master JJ Maybank. Don’t let that go to your head.” You laugh nervously, but JJ doesn’t even crack a smile.

“Genrette’s groundskeeper brought this to me,” he explains. “Said Genrette left it for me.”

The words on the letter blur as you try to piece together its meaning. “I think we need to find dad,” JJ say, your eyes dart back to him.

“Absolutely not. I’m not seeing him,” you snap.

“Good thing it’s not about you,” he counters. “He’s the only one who might have answers to whatever this is.”

JJ’s expression softens, and he nods reluctantly. “You’re right. Sorry. Any idea where he might be?”

“I have a hunch.”

Minutes later, you’re on JJ’s boat, slicing through the water toward Barracuda Mike’s house. When you arrive, Mike is in his yard fidgeting with a go kart, watching the approaching storm clouds.

“Hey, Big B, you know there’s a storm coming, right?” JJ calls out.

“Yeah, I see it,” Mike responds.

You hang back as JJ pleads with Mike for information on your dad’s whereabouts. Moments later, Mike sighs and mutters, “I’ll call you if Luke gets in touch.” Sending you both off to the dock.

JJ sets the phone on speaker as it rings. Luke’s familiar voice comes through, cautious and calculating, until he hears Mike’s dog bark in the background. Realization hits him too late.

“We gotta move,” JJ says, eyes wide. You both sprint back to the house and bang on the door. Mike steps out, irritation creasing his brow.

“Mike, I’ve got a daughter to get home to. Don’t waste my time with this bullshit,” you says, voice cracking under the strain.

“I’m a grandpa, huh?” Luke’s voice drips with smugness as he steps out, a twisted smile on his face. “Didn’t see that coming.”

“Actually, you’re not,” you retort coldly. “She’ll never know you exist.”

Luke’s smirk falters, replaced by a fleeting shadow of disappointment. “That’s no way to talk to your old man,” he says, trying and failing to sound fatherly.

JJ shifts protectively in front of you, confronting Luke about his sudden reappearance and silence. You take a step back to the dock, needing space to process. Pulling out your phone, you FaceTime Rafe and V for a distraction. Rafe’s face lights up with a grin.

“Hey, when are you coming back? I’ve got something to tell you,” he says.

Before you can respond, the sound of sirens fills the air, and you see JJ and Luke sprinting toward the boat.

“Shit,” you mutter, forgetting you’re still on the call. “I gotta go. Bye, V. Rafe, I’ll call you later.”

JJ jumps in the boat with Luke behind him. “Take me home on the way,” you tell JJ firmly as you climb aboard.

Luke glances at you. “So, you’re a mom?” he asks.

“Yes,” you reply flatly, not sparing him a look. “And don’t ask anything about her. You don’t deserve to know her.”

“It’s with that Cameron kid, isn’t it?” Luke chuckles, as if confirming a suspicion. “I always thought that’d happen—the way he used to sneak in and out of your window. And I knew that’s where you’d be when you disappeared. Good for you, little miss new Kook.”

You clench your jaw, holding back a response. As the boat nears your house, you quickly text Rafe: Home. Meet me at the dock.

When you hop off the boat, you wave to JJ as he drives him and Luke off. Rafe and V are already walking down to meet you. You pull them into a tight hug.

“So, what’s up?” you ask, sensing the weight in Rafe’s eyes.

“I’ve been thinking about everything,” Rafe begins. “I’m really sorry for all the shit at the beach. Pogue this, Pogue that. I shouldn’t have put you through that.”

“We’ve talked about this,” you say, tilting your head at him.

“I know,” he continues, “but I need to know we’re good. My dad was a Pogue; that shit doesn’t matter. What matters is I wanna be like him, hardworking and keeping this family together. I want to build things, be better, in my own way. I’m going to patch things up with my sister, and I want you there with me. When the deal with Hollis goes through, I’m keeping a piece for us. For the three of us.”

The thought of the deal makes you pause, the uncertainty gnawing at you. Rafe notices and takes your hand. “Hey, it’ll be okay. We’ll make it work—you and me. I promise.”

He leans in and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. With that reassurance, the three of you head inside, ready to face whatever comes next.

TBC

Taglist:

@maybankslover @eringaitskill @luissa266 @lolll505

@dayyzlol @calaryssia @eg-dr3amer3 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @rafestar @bigbonenative

@writtenbyhollywood @livie4lifestarkeyblyth @leilanizcals

[needforspeed161]

Just seen this on TikTok and- AHHHH IM CRYING ABOUT THESE OLD GAY PILOTS AGAIN. So I wrote a quick little Drabble!

“Maverick”

The brunette turned, setting down a grease covered wrench as he wiped his hands on the towel slung over his shoulder.

Ducking below the wing of his beloved P-51 he’d been busting his ass to work on.

“Who is it dad?” Bradley’s head poked around the opposite side of the plane as he fixed his mustache.

“Tom-….what’r…..” the shorter man was interrupted by a pair of arms coming out to hug him tightly. As soft sobs were left in the junction between his neck and shoulder.

“Hey Tom….its okay, what’s going on?”

“Uncle Ice?” Bradley cocked his head, concerned bubbling in his stomach as he seen the picture laid out before him.

“Hey baby bird, could you grab your uncle some water? He’s gonna need it” Mav asked, and so Bradley was off, heading into the trailer parked inside the hangar that Maverick called home.

“Cmon Tommy, talk to me” he muttered, rubbing slow circles on his back.

“I’m so sorry….I’m sorry I wasted so much time, I feel so stupid!” Ice spit out, coughing into his elbow before meeting his wingman’s eyes.

“Ice whatr you-“

“What kind of a fool was I…..”

“A-a fool? Cmon don’t talk like that you’re-“

Ices eyes, blue and true as the ocean laid out before them so many times before….locked onto Mavericks green ones, like the horizon line between sea and land meeting as their carrier approached home.

“What kind of a fool was I, to have married her, and not waited for you” the blondes hands came up to cradle the shorter pilots face. Thumbs brushing away newly formed tears on the others part now.

“I-I don’t understand” Maverick was crying now, holding onto Ices wrists with gentle hands.

“Maybe this will enlighten you, you beautiful idiot”

Through two sets of tears their lips finally met. Waves crashed against a grassy shoreline, they were home….

Mavericks arms slung around the back of Ices shoulders. Slotting his head to the side to deepen the kiss. As tears continued to fall from both sets of eyes.

“I gave up on the idea of you ever wanting me…” Maverick whispered, resting his forehead against the blondes.

“Pete….sweetheart, I always wanted you….I was just so fucking scared….I didn’t know how to show it, so I decided to be the best wingman and friend you could have ever asked for. Because it’s all I knew how to do….its all I was ever allowed to be….”

“I understand…..it’s okay”

“It’s not….I wasted so much time Pete….so many of our years….”

“You didn’t”

Maverick wiped away Ices tears, smiling up at him with that huge dopey grin that the blonde came to know and love over the years.

“Even though I couldn’t kiss you, or hold you for as long as I wanted, or tell you I loved you….I got to see your eyes light up when I made a stupid joke, I got to see you shake your head when Goose and I would do something incredibly stupid. I got to sit out on the tarmac with you under the stars for hours and talk about everything and nothing. I got to be right by your side on dangerous missions. I got to fly through the pink and orange sky above the sea with you. I got to be the first person waiting for you on shore when we couldn’t go together and vice versa….we’ve been inseparable since….i mean if you really think about it we’ve basically been an old married couple since the 80’s”

They both chuckled, Ice running his hands through Mavericks dark hair. “This is true….but I still don’t want to waste another second not being able to kiss you…or hold you, or tell you just how much you mean to me….and how much I both love and hate those cowboy boots”

“Hey cmon now” Mav faked a wince. “The boots are golden and you know it!”

“Hangman owes me 20 bucks” Bradley interrupted, holding a bottle of water, leaning up against a toolbox as both men stared at him.

“You placed a bet about my love life?” The darker haired man questioned as they both approached him. Ice grabbing the bottle of water.

“I knew it all along….I do have eyes yknow? And you two weren’t exactly discreet.” Bradley snickered, fixing his own hair. “Hangman said it could never happen, I told him I wouldn’t be

Surprised if the whole Sarah thing was just a lavender marriage”

“So you and hangman are on talking terms now?” Ice spoke this time, resting his hand on the small of Mavericks back as he drank some water.

Bradley’s cheeks turned pink for a moment and his eyes fell down to his feet. “Well….you could say that….”

“And now you owe me 20 bucks darling” the older blonde placed a small kiss on Mavericks cheek.

Bradley froze. “Wait what?! You two placed a bet on MY love life?”

“To be fair I thought you two hated eachother” Mav chimed in, flipping his wallet open and handing the spoils to the victor.

“To be fair, everyone thought we hated eachother”

“This is true”

Bradley’s jaw was about to the floor as the two men before him discussed the topic amongst themselves. Beginning to walk towards the plane and past a very confused Bradley.

“Welp baby goose, it looks like the apple don’t fall far”

“Dad, I love you, but we’re not even biologically related….HOW CAN THE APPLE- yknow what…Nevermind”

Ice let out a small laugh. “Hope you don’t mind seeing more of me these days kiddo” wrapping an arm around Bradley’s neck as smiles painted on everyone’s face.

[xoxoavenger]

I Knew You'd Come Back to Me

pairing: JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

summary: And I knew you'd come back to me/You'd come back to me/And you'd come back to me/And you'd come back/And when I felt like I was an old cardigan/Under someone's bed/You put me on and said I was your favorite

word count: 562

warnings: I just realized there's a new season of obx and I haven't seen it at all at all so (not that this was ever cannon accurate but)

cardigan masterlist main masterlist

"Y/N?" Pope asks, sitting up. His heart is racing, knowing JJ is out there. Y/N doesn't look at him, acts like he isn't there, just stares at the door for a couple seconds before opening it back up and launching herself out.

"Oh!" JJ grunts, catching her as he stumbles backward. He lands softly on his back, arms wrapped around her. "I'm sorry," He says into her hair, holding her close.

"I knew you'd come back." She whispers, tears streaming down her face. She buries her face into his neck, and he holds her even closer. They're on the ground still, neither of them making any move to get up.

"I heard you say you wanted to get married." JJ confesses, causing her to finally move back and look him in the eye. "When we were babysitting the Kamps. I heard you before you fell asleep."

"Okay," She says softly, tears still falling. She thinks she knows where this is going, and it makes her want to throw up. She gets up, both of them now sitting on the porch.

"That's why I left." He confesses, and she looks away.

"You could have talked to me." She tells him, moving to stand. He does as well, grabbing her hands.

"I should have, I know." He squeezes one hand and lets it go, and then moves to push her hair out of her face. "It's just, you've seen my home life. I don't have a good example of what marriage is supposed to be. I never have. So when you said that, I didn't know what to do." He looks away as tears start to fall down his own face, and he wipes them quickly.

"If you would have talked to me about it," She says, and he just shakes his head.

"I didn't hook up with that bitch." JJ says, which makes her laugh a little bit.

"I know," Y/N, looks at the ground, letting the tears fall from her face. "I still punched her for it, got arrested." She whispered, and then JJ laughed. They both were quiet for a minute, looking at each other with watery eyes.

"I won't leave again." He tells her, and she can't help but frown. "I won't promise that I'll propose tomorrow, but I won't run off like that." She just nods, because that's really all she needed.

"I love you." She whispers, and he cups her face with one hand, their other hands still holding each other.

"I love you too." He whispers against her lips, and then they're pressing them together.

Their friends had waited until then to run out the door, knocking JJ and Y/N down again. Everyone was talking at the same time over each other in a dogpile, and Y/N was in the middle, laughing for the first time in months.

"When you have kids, can I be the godparent?" Sarah asked over everyone, which sent everyone in a frenzy once more.

"Over my dead body!" Kiara screams, and Y/N laughs again.

"We should have some sort of competition for it!" John B suggests, and JJ just rolls his eyes.

"We are not having kids for a long time, so y'all can come down about it." He tells them as he helps Y/N up. "Now, if you'll excuse us," He winks at Y/N, and Sarah screams.

"No! I didn't miss this!" 

//

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187  @one-sweet-gubler @theoraekenslover

[cherryblossombankai]

Word Count: 1.1k Warnings: angst, seriously it's just angst, alcohol, mentions of anxiety and trauma, sort of implied toxic relationship, breakup, sad, depression, jealousy A/N: I'm so sorry for this :) Tag List: @pixelcafe-network, @actuallysaiyan, @helloiamadrawer, @satorustar, @sweet-chocolate-sweet

You knew deep down that breaking up had been for the best, or at least you’d believed Aizawa when he said it was for the best. Aizawa was still trying to overcome his trauma, and you're no walk in the park to live with either. Stubborn and moody on the best of days, paralyzed with anxiety on the worst of days. You knew it took him some patience at times to navigate life with you, but he wasn’t a walk in the park either. You thought you were each other’s person until he asked for space. You gave it in hopes he would eventually realize that he needs you.

It had helped you along the healing process when you believed he was as miserable as you. You took comfort in the image of him curled up in bed, mourning the scent of your perfume fading from the pillow. At the very least, it made you feel less pathetic for still sleeping in his shirt every night and refusing to wash it because he'd no longer be lingering in the stitches. 

You were fine, truly. Most days you only cried a couple of times, and you hardly ever typed up a text you'd never send anymore. At least not when you're sober. The things you’d never sent while knee-deep in a bottle of wine, well that’s a different story. It ranged from “I miss you so bad” to “Why don’t you love me anymore?” but you never sent them, and that’s what matters. 

 "I'm on the path to healing. thank you very much,” you'd bragged to your friends over dinner. You meant it! Things were really starting to fall into place. 

Until it wasn’t anymore. 

All it took was one event to have your healing facade crashing down faster than you built it up. He didn't even like selfies, that's what he told you over and over. He would scoff and cover his face every time you tried to lean in to catch a snap of the two OF you together. More than once he went on a half-hearted rant about ‘living in the moment’ instead of stopping to photograph everything. You only have a handful of photos to prove that you didn't hallucinate a five-year relationship. 

Yet there he is on your timeline, snuggled up to a pretty girl who called him ‘baby' in the caption. His arm is wrapped around her. He's leaning in...He's smiling. 

Fuck, you love his smile. It was such a rare sight when he belonged to you. You wonder what this girl has that you didn’t.

Later that night, you and your roommate split a bottle of wine. 

"I hope he thinks of me when he fucks her," you ranted to your roommate. 

You were pacing the living room like a caged tiger. A caged, drunk tiger anyway. You were angry. How could he? What right does he have to be happy when you still whisper his name when you make yourself cum?

"I'm going to call him!" 

Your roommate thankfully finds your phone before you do. She swipes it OFF the coffee table while you're digging around in your pockets.

"Nope, that is a horrible idea," she says.

"Why? Don't I deserve answers? Closure?" you sit beside her on the couch. Your puppy eyes were almost enough for her to change her mind, but she didn't. 

"Of course you do, but not like this."

After your ranting and raving becomes sleepy, your roommate — No...your hero — tucks you into bed. She covers you up with a soft blanket and pushes your hair off your face. 

"Do you think he misses me?" you whine. "I want him to miss me.”  

"He'd be stupid not to miss you,” she says, too kind to break your delusions for now, “Get some sleep."

~

It felt like your heart was ripped out. Seeing a stupid selfie was one thing. Being face-to-face with the happy couple in the produce section of your favorite grocery store is another rotten thing entirely. Aizawa doesn't even live in this neighborhood. You can’t fathom why he’d decide to date someone from the same neighborhood as you. 

You're frozen to the spot. Your nails dug into the fragile flesh of the peach you were testing for ripeness moments before your worst nightmare came true. Aizawa doesn't notice you but, to your surprise, she does. Her smile falters and she quickly looks away as if making eye contact with you was painful for her. It was odd to see. You want to look away too, but seeing them is like watching a car crash. No matter how badly you want to look away, you just can’t.

"Oh, hello," Aizawa says when you finally shift into his line of sight.

"Hi," you fake a smile. You were hoping maybe you’d be able to seem genuinely unphased. 

It’s hard to be unphased when he doesn't have to fake a smile. His smile is real and you know she’s the reason for it. 

You clear your throat, "How are you?" 

"I'm good. Uh, this is my girlfriend, Ami."

"Nice to meet you." you lie for the sake of friendliness but refuse to shake hands. 

"I've heard so much about you." Ami says. "About your hero work, of course!"

“Right, of course. Thanks."

“We should get going, babe," he says and places his hand on her back. 

Babe? When did he become a guy who said something like 'babe'. It makes your stomach turn as you walk away. You used to make fun of people who said ‘babe’ together. 

"Why was I not enough for you?" you text him that night. Your eyes are so blurry with tears that you don't even think you could read his response. Not that he will ever respond, you figure. 

You roll onto you side, letting the tears flow from your eyes into the pillow. You clutch on tightly to the fluffy teddy bear he’d bought you for the last birthday you’d spent together.

"Don't do this," he texts back

.You drop your phone onto the bed, and you bury your face against your teddy bear. The muffled scream you let out is full of pain. You still love him. You know you shouldn't, but you want him back. You can taste him on your lips still. 

“Why? Because it's not on your time? Because you're not in control?" you text back.

"No! Because you're being emotional again.” 

“Again? God forbid I have feelings.” 

Aizawa was always so controlled. It was infuriating to know that no matter what you say you will never get under his skin the way you want to. He doesn’t respond for the longest time, and you decide to try once again to get to him. 

“Of course I'm emotional. I fucking love you."

When he doesn't respond, you get the message. There's nothing else to say. He's over you, or he wants to be. All you can do is pick up the pieces.

[prettypinkporkchop]

Hope this new request finds you well 😄

Would you write for Sam or Jared? Do you think they would be super protective of their imprints when they are hurt, sick, pregnant etc? I am missing seeing the cute fluff too and looooonnnngggg! Need to escape my life today with some of my fav wolf pack. You rock boo!

I'll give Sam the man some love today!

HURT: Paul threw the soccer ball into the rocks at the beach, and while you ran to go grab it, Jared accidently shoved you into them, giving you deep gashes in your thigh and leg.

"Ow!" You scream and fall onto the sand.

"Woah! Shit, I'm so sorry!" Jared calls out, stepping closer to you and looking back at Sam.

Sam is running to you. He pushes Jared away. "Move." He growls and then lowers down to you. He softly grabs your leg and sees all of the blood pouring out. "Come here." He tries to stay calm. He lifts you up bridal style.

"Babe, don't be mad at Jared. It was an accid-"

"Shh. I'm taking you to Sue Clearwater. Just relax, baby." He whispers.

He takes you to the clearwater's, and Sue bandages you up. Sam sat beside you the whole time, holding your hand.

"Don't be too hard on, Jared." Sue smiles at Sam.

He just laughs and gives your hand a soft squeeze, letting you know it's going to be hell for him.

After that, you two are at home. The guys are sitting in the kitchen and eating. Sam helps you inside, and you're limping. You make your way to a chair and sit next to Quil. The poor guy side eyes you, not sure on what to say or do.

"Want a bite?" He puts his chicken close to your face.

"Nah. I'm good." You giggle.

"Oh, my boy, Jared." Sam sighs and then grabs his shoulders from behind him.

Jared's eyes widen, and he stops eating. The rest of the guys are laughing.

"No laughing or it's all of you. Rules are, you do NOT step near my lady. If you do, you're my dinner." Sam gives Jared's shoulders a good squeeze.

The laughter stops, and they all look around, trying not to make eye contact and laugh.

That night, while trying to sleep, Sam has a pillow propped under your leg. He's making sure you're comfortable.

He adjusts your pillow. "Is that good?" He looks at you with worry.

"Yes, babe. Thank you." You smile and run your fingers through his hair.

"Is it too cold? Hot?" He asks.

"Mmm. Nope. Just right." You rub his cheek.

"Are you okay to fall asleep?" He lays down beside you. His arm wraps around your waist.

"Yes, I'm okay." You rub his arm.

He presses gentle kisses to your shoulder. "I don't like when you're hurt." He whispers.

SICK:

You close the toilet lid and lay your head on the cold metal. It feels so good against your hot skin. Covid is no fun. Thankfully, Sam can't catch it.

"My love! I made you some chamomile tea." He says from the living room.

You groan in response. You start to get close to falling asleep there. Sam walks in there. He gently rubs your back and lifts you up. You lay your head in his neck but then groan.

"What, honey?" He asks softly.

"You're too hot." You mumble.

"Well, thank you." He jokes.

"Shut up."

He gently lays you down on the couch. He places a small fan next to you. He puts the tea on the coffee table and turns on your favorite comfort movie. He sits on the chair beside the couch, worried he'll keep you too hot. You take a few sips of your tea before falling asleep.

You wake up in the bed next to Sam. He's holding onto you. You're covered in blankets, and you realize you got too cold. You feel pretty good right now, temp wise. A growl in your stomach lets you know you're about to vomit.

Sam wakes up. He touches your shoulder to keep you in place. "You don't have to get up. There's a trash can beside you." He says.

In an instant, you roll over and throw up. He rubs your back and places a small kiss on your shoulder blade.

"Oh, my poor baby." He whispers.

When you're finished, you sip the water next to you. You lay back and realize it's time for him to patrol. You gasp and look at him.

"What?" He asks, panicked.

"You have to patrol." You say weakly.

"Jake's got it." He smiles. "Do you want me to bathe you in the morning?"

You smile in content and nod your head.

"I love you." He says.

"I love you, too." You reply.

PREGNANT:

You grunt as you sit on the couch beside Seth. You smile at him and breathe out. Everyone is around your house, eating and hanging out. Your stomach is about to pop!

"You good?" Seth asks.

"Pretty mid." You laugh. "Want to feel? She's kicking." You touch your stomach.

Seth smiles and gently lays his hand on you. This makes your daughter kick harder. "Ooh! I think she likes me." He chuckles.

"Maybe you're the favorite uncle." Sam says, sitting down with his plate of food.

Seth laughs. "Watch me actually be her favorite."

You sigh as you realize you left your water in the kitchen. You start trying to stand up, pushing yourself up as hard as you can.

"Nuh, uh!" Sam touches your hand and stands up. "Seth, you shouldn't have even let her try." Sam scolds him.

Seth let's out an "uh?" And holds out his hand questioningly. "But you are right there!" He laughs.

"Yeah, but I was eating." Sam replies before walking and getting your water for you.

Embry and Paul start rough housing in the kitchen. You can hear Sam scolding them.

"NOT WITH MY WIFE AND BABY IN HERE!"

You can't help but laugh at them.

[boom-butterflyeffect]

WARNING/S - smut, mentions of killing/stabbing, knife play, choking, mr.ghostface kink?, mask kink?, <3

you heard a bang as the lodge door slammed shut, instantly getting your attention as you shot up from the bed. you swore youd locked all the doors before getting into bed and the only other person with a key was josh but hed had to stay late at the smaller cabin, Jessica and Mike's "love den", as he called it. "last minute preparations, babe", he said.

slowly creeping around the corner of the bedroom door you peaked out to see.. nobody. the long hallway was completely.. empty. so you went back into the room and grabbed your boyfriends baseball bat, then made your way into the kitchen followed by the living room. once again seeing.. nothing.

hand falling to the side as you sighed to yourself. maybe you were just way too tired and imagining things, the religious watching and study of horror media finally getting to you, you thought, just before you felt two hands reach around you, grabbing your mouth to silence you and your waist to hold you against them.

you tried as hard as you could to fight them off, not even being able to see who it was that had grabbed you until you heard the familiar laugh of your boyfriend as he let go of you.

“its me, kitten!” he lifted the ghostface mask to reveal a very amused grin on his face and you shook your head at him.

“JOSH! you scared me to death!” you yelled at him, looking down at his baseball bat still in your hand.

“if i was a real intruder id definitely have had to kidnap you.” he said, using the knife he was holding to motion to your clothes. or lack of.

as youd been in bed you were literally in just a small thong and a cropped scream t shirt, how ironic. you roll your eyes, moving closer to him as his arms wrap around you and you pull the mask back down over his face.

“you look.. hot.” you told him and heard a laugh from under the mask.

“you want me to fuck you like this?” he jokes but quickly notices as your eyes change at his words. “oh you do.. you want me to put this knife against your throat and make you beg for you life, kitten?”

“josh..” you whisper out, barely being able to find your voice over the shock you were in from your boyfriends words. youd always had a thing for the ghostface character, among others, and hearing your boyfriend speaking this way was doing something to you.

his hand reaches out and grips onto your throat, pinning you against the nearest wall as he presses the knife above his hand. “what kitten?” he asks and you cant even think, never mind speak to reply to him.

“you better start talking or im gonna have to make you, and im sure you dont want that do you kitten?” he asks, moving the knife to trail down your tummy causing a whine to slip from your lips. “oh maybe you do.. hm? you like how my knife feels against your pretty skin?”

“josh please..” you whine and he laughs, shaking his head at your reaction.

“youre such a little whore. i bet you loved how you felt when you thought i was someone else hm? did it make your little pussy wet to think about me forcing this knife into your skin.. making you beg for your life?”

your breath fell from your lips in a scattered fashion as your chest rose and fell quickly. you couldnt even imagine, he couldnt even imagine, how wet you were right now, how wet he was making you. cheeks reddening as he spoke to you.

“go on kitten, b.e.g.” the knife was pointed in to your skin, pushing hard enough to draw a little blood on to it.

“please jos-please dont kill me mr ghostface, i really want to be in the sequel.. ,you can do anything you want to me,.. ill do anything.” you pleaded so desperate and you could practically feel his smirk as he pressed a leg between your aching thighs.

“i know you will but its cute of you to remind me.. now shut the fuck up and go sit on the bed.” he ordered and you quickly did as he told.

you walked back into the room and sat on your knees on the bed, facing him as he walked over to you with a smirk before pulling the mask back down. his hand palmed himself through his pants as he made his way over, your mouth almost watering at the sight.

“you wanna suck my cock?” he asks and you nod your head, already desperate to please and he chuckles. “good slut.”

he undoes his pants, leaving them around his thighs before he grabs a fistful of your hair, dragging your face to meet with his already hard dick.

“s.u.c.k. now”.

you immediately take him into your mouth, tongue swirling around the tip before your head dips lower taking in more of him.

he groans as your cheeks hollow, and you look up at him,.. well the mask.

“fuck, fuck, fuck.” he grunts out, pushing your head down to choke on his cock. “good fucking kitten gag on my cock.”

you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second as he continued. josh had never yet been this rough with you and you couldnt lie. you really liked it and you could tell that he did too.

he drags you off and your head up to meet his mask. "you want me to cum down your slutty little throat before i slit it open? hm is that what you want little whore?" he asks and you practically whimper.

"please mr.ghostface." you nod and he pushes you back down, you latching back onto his cock instantly.

he holds you hair again, fucking into your face due to his desperate state now. he twitches in your mouth before spilling down your throat and you swallow without hesitation.

"thank you mr.ghostface." you smile up at him in the most innocent way possible, attempting to rub your thighs together for some release.

"stand." he orders and you scramble to your feet in front of him and with no warning he rips off your top and drags down your underwear. "so fucking perfect, id be insane not to want to cut your pretty little throat wouldnt i? hm?" he asks and you nod.

"stupid slut." he laughs before pulling you to sit on his lap, his cock directly below your aching cunt.

"what do you want babe? tell me what you want." he coos, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and you sigh.

"i want to ride you.. please." you almost moan just at the thought he nods.

"go on then kitten, maybe if youre good i wont have to kill you, hm? ill keep you around as my own little toy." he questions and you dont even answer.

you quickly sink down on his cock, moaning out loudly as you finally feel him inside of you. "josh o.h m.y g.o.d." he groans, gripping at your hips and forcing you to move.

you bounce up and down as he uses a hand to grab at one of your boobs. "perfect, youre so fucking perfect." he grunts and you smile down at him, pressing a kiss to his mask. "and so so cute." his hand trails up your back to tug at your hair.

"mi..-mister im close." you moan out, your eyes squeezing shut as you feel that familiar feeling in your stomach.

"hold it." he spits, his nail digging into your hip as he begins to thrust up into you, helping both of you to get closer.

his free hand grabs your throat, fingers tightening around it as he fucks you both to your highs.

"go on kitten show me how much of a good girl you are cum all over my cock." he tells you and you cum immediately, your nails dragging over his all black clothed chest as you moan loudly, screaming his name over and over.

"fuck." he grunts, as he lets go of your throat letting you fall against him as the two of you come down, breathing heavily for a few minutes.

"babe.." josh asks, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear and you hum, tracing patterns over his chest. "you okay?" he asks, continuing to play with your hair and you nod, exhausted.

“you never told me you into ghostface hm?” he laughs and you shrug.

“i got too many horror crushes.” you confess.

“oh yeah?"

"wait.. does beetlejuice count as horror too?" you quiz to no one really.

josh laughs.

__

idk im bored

jesus fucking christ anon.

Josh definitely would, especially around Halloween time since he has an excuse for dressing up in the costumes.

was not expecting a smut oneshot in my inbox, but i am not mad about it at all, good lord.

[kitkat13001]

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚜

>> tomura shigaraki x reader

>> comfort, this is entirely self indulgent, i have nothing to say. tomu calls reader “dollface” and “honey”, probably very out of character tomura but idgaf im going thru it and i needed him to comfort me (hope it comforts you too <3) // (dividers by @/anitalenia)

you’re mid-breakdown when tomura comes knocking at your window. 

you jump at the rap of his knuckles against the glass, your skin prickling and hair standing on end as you wipe your face. you pray your cheeks aren’t too blotchy, your eyes aren’t too red, thankful for the dimness of your apartment illuminated only by fairy lights and decorative lamp. 

“hey,” you say, opening the window and stepping back to let him clamber through. you try to keep your voice steady, but it’s futile. tomura’s nothing if not observant. 

“what’s wrong, dollface?” 

the way he’s frowning at you tugs at your heart and you feel the tears well up in your eyes again. he takes your face in gentle hands (sans pinky, of course) and it’s too much—you fully burst into tears. 

he shushes you softly, pulling you in close. his arms are tight, secure around your body. he may be a villain, but you’ve never felt more safe than when you’re wrapped up in his embrace. 

it takes a while for you to calm down. you’re gulping for air through the sobs, approaching hysteria, but the shame bubbling up in your stomach over the emotions is calmed by tomura’s quiet whispers in your ear. 

you don’t know how long you stay wrapped up in his arms, until you’ve cried yourself out. 

“sorry,” you sniffle as you pull away, wiping furiously at your face once you regain your bearings. “you don’t want to hear about my stupid problems.”

“actually, i kinda do,” he admits, taking your hands to pull you closer. “they’re a lot more digestible than my problems, probably. who knows, maybe i can even help you.”

“thanks, tomu. but i don’t think these are problems you can just dust and move on from.”

“hm. even if that is true, i’m sure talking about will help at least a little, huh?”

he tilts your chin up with his finger, unusually soft look in his eyes.

“so what’s the matter, honey?”

it all comes out. every little thing that’s been poking you between the ribs for as long as you can remember the last couple days, weeks, months. that one time you said that thing in middle school, last week when you tripped and dropped your favorite drink, how it’s been a minute since you called your mother, the way you’re hungry and nothing sounds good, how it seems like the world is going to shit.  

it’s kind of ridiculous to hear it all out loud, but tomura was right. it’s like a weight off your chest just to say it, to be able to breathe again. 

you’re flushed and breathless once it’s all out. you’re sitting on the couch now, your hands in tomura’s. you’re not quite sure when you got there. 

your shoulders sag with the relief of it all, body caving against his. 

“you feel better?” he asks, giving you a gentle nudge. 

“a little,” you admit, allowing yourself to lean back until you’re laying in his lap. your eyes flutter shut with the feeling of his fingers softly twirling a strand of your hair. 

“just…get some rest now, okay? ‘m not going anywhere.”

as promised, completely self indulgent coping fic :) it’s been a day. hiding under the covers from the horrors of the world. get up again tmr and do it all again bc life moves onnnn 🫶🤞 stay safe and don’t lose hope. you are loved!

- 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢 !

[demigodsanswer]

Percabeth teacher AU/Did they or didn’t they

((this gave me brain worms in the grocery store. Made them professors because that's my world))

During his master's degree, Percy had been given the salient advice to never sleep with another academic at a conference. Because you never know who might end up on your job search committee.

Had Percy listened?

Yes, actually. For eight years he'd listened to the advice, all the way through his Ph.D. and a good chunk of his temporary lecturer position.

And then, he stopped listening.

But in his defense, Annabeth (Doctor Chase now) was a beautiful young woman in a sea of eccentric old white people. He'd grown up with her, gone to camp with her, and he'd even taken her to prom. But then she went to Harvard, and he stayed in New York. Now they pretty much only communicated through likes on the rare Facebook or Instagram post. And, one night, through steamy glances across a Marriott ballroom, plastic cups of free wine in hand.

The decision to go home together was quick and wordless, but followed hours of talking about research, catching up on life, and making her laugh.

Annabeth even kissed him goodby in the morning.

And now she was on the other side a very impressive conference table asking him questions about his qualifications for Brown's open tenure-track job. Her presence kept him focused in the interview though. Working with Annabeth Chase would be an exquisite job benefit.

~

ten months later

Pollux watched them from the other side of the room. The Classics department wasn't a stuffy as most people assumed, but it certainly didn't have the gossip that the Drama department had. He worked across both, and often his work intersected with Annabeth's work in ancient architecture ("with an emphasis on Athens," she always added).

But Annabeth and Percy had made themselves the subject of gossip. And Pollux couldn't tell if they knew that.

When Percy's application had been pulled out of the pile -- a younger long-shot candidate who'd spent two years as a Lecturer at Wash U in St. Louis, had a good number of publications, and solid teaching philosophy -- Annabeth had asked if she should recuse herself.

"Do you know him?" Chiron had asked.

"Not well anymore, but we were friends in high school."

Minutes later, Travis had found her prom photos on Facebook with Percy Jackson still tagged. "He was your prom date? That's so cute."

Annabeth looked like she might bludgeon him to death with a priceless artifact and ship his bones to the British Museum for eternal punishment.

"Do you think it will affect your ability to be neutral?" Chiron asked.

"No, I don't think so," she said. And so she stayed on.

But she had been in strong favor of Percy since the moment he arrived on campus.

Now, they were sitting thigh-to-thigh whispering things to each other at the department "Saturnalia" party, utterly unaware of the several people snooping on them.

Pollux wasn't sure if they'd slept together before he'd gotten hired (unless they'd done it on prom night?), but he was squarely on team "they are sleeping together now."

~

three months later

Annabeth was sure she could maintain a professional and adult relationship with Percy. She'd indulged her high school crush for one (exceptional, blissful, wonderful, life-altering) night months before his application had come through, and that was it.

Well, her and Percy's relationship was certainly adult, but was hardly professional.

Sure, professors were allowed to date people in the same school, and even the same department. But Percy and her wanted to keep their relationship on the down-low until it looked less like Percy had fucked his way into a tenure-track Ivy league job.

Plus, Annabeth kind of liked the sneaking around.

Percy, as newest faculty, got stuck with the smallest office, and the only one with now windows. But it had it's perks.

It was the first nice Spring day in March, unseasonably warm, and Annabeth had celebrated with a cute, flowy dress that ended past her shins. One of her students had called it "light academia core." Annabeth assumed it was a compliment.

Dr. Jackson seemed to like it at least. She'd dropped by his office to offer him a ride home (to her home, but what did that matter?), and he'd simply pulled her inside, locked the door, and sat her on the desk. His hands were under it in seconds, and then, after a few "hello" kisses, his head joined his hands.

"I wanted to do that all day," he said with a smug grin as they tried to rearrange themselves after. It was six now. Most of their coworkers were gone, but who knew what undergrad clubs used classrooms in this building. And her students were nosy.

"I've got my own list of things I want to do to you," Annabeth said, tracing her hands up his bare forearms until the met the rolled up sleeves of his button-down. "So grab what you need and come home with me."

[fohatic]

don't mind if i do.....

there are still beautiful things by @meidui

The day Tony takes Steve home from the New York Army National Guard is the best day of his life.

the hope that kills you (series) by @meidui

Steve used to go on so much about freedom and choice. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. Some of the freedom he loved was big, big enough for him to lay his life down for over and over, and some of the freedom he loved was small, like the wind in his hair when he took his motorcycle out, but now he has to sob and take it when Tony sucks a deep flowering bruise where his prison uniform couldn’t possibly cover and whispers in his ear, “Who’s gonna help you now? Where are you gonna run?”

The Prize by @sabrecmc (HOWWWW IS THIS NOT ON ANY OF THESE LISTS YET)

Steve ends up as a concubine in the royal harem.

Deep End by @festiveferret

SHIELD has found a way to make Project Rebirth work - something Tony's father was never able to accomplish. An unexpected side effect has Fury begging Tony for some rather unusual help: the painful procedure has put their volunteer, a sub called Steve Rogers, so deep into subspace he can't come up on his own.

Tits Aren't Just For Ladies by Dr_Amuly ( @everybodyilovedies)

Tony fucks Steve's tits (man-tits, no genderswap or implants or anything).

(Not for) Public Consumption by Poose

“Can’t you like, I don’t know, do a little pirouette for me, sweetheart?” He shuffles backwards cautiously, glancing over his shoulder to avoid hitting the wall. There’s a chair back there, he should sit in it before his legs give out. Steve cocks his head, hand on his hip. He puts his front foot at angle to the one in back and executes a tired swing around. You’d think he’d like the attention a bit more. Tony may have to goad it out of him. “Steve, seriously, you’re like a bored stripper.” And then, suitably affronted, Steve takes another turn, more slowly, so that Tony can pan down and zoom in on his ass from a slightly lower angle.   *** Or, Steve and Tony make a sex tape. Exactly as sophisticated as it sounds. A non-powered AU of another AU that I haven't written yet. Contains zero plot.

Surrender Yourself by xWinterDreamsx

Tony has Steve tied up in ropes for some kinky fun.

Some Great Reward by @kiyaar

After the events of Captain America: Civil War, Tony and Steve come to an agreement. It doesn't involve affection.

Come on Closer by @epiphanyx7

[[... porn.]] Or, the one where Steve wants to talk to Tony about something important.

Leave Your Marks Written Upon My Skin by blue_jack ( @some-blue-jack)

“I want you to keep your hands right here, alright?”

Keep Us Warm, Tonight by @copper-mouth

Steve and Tony often keep late hours together when sleep won't come to either of them. Tonight is shaping up to go a little differently, however.

Working Late by @tinystark616

Some nights, Tony stays up late, building and rebuilding and upgrading his suits, until Steve walks into the workshop, usually already in his pajamas, and wraps his arms around Tony, kissing him until he forgets what he was doing and then dragging him to bed. A fill for the prompt "Steve sits in Tony's lap and rides him" from last year's Community Gifts prompt list. Because there's really not enough bottom!Steve in the world.

Ship to Shore by @mserm

The Avengers beat Thanos. Everyone is safe. (If you don’t count those five days they thought Natasha was dead.) All that’s left is to return the stones, a feat that Tony is sure will end his new friends-with-benefits relationship with Steve.

Consecration of the Virgin by @dracusfyre (sequel to The Penitent Man)

Steve gives his body into Tony's keeping. For the good of his soul, of course.

In The Springtime of His Voodoo by shaenie

“I’m removing Captain Rogers from this base, but not from active duty. I want him as SHIELD’s liaison to Stark Industries first and foremost. He’ll report directly to me,” Fury says. “As it is, your identity as Captain America is not public knowledge and it will remain that way until I say otherwise. That said, if you think you can get Tony Stark to work with you if you disclose that information, you have permission to do so.”

heyyy！i just saw u reblog an ask and it just happened to be the exact same thing I wanted to ask👉👈 do u have and recommend stony fics that are top Tony/bottom Steve 🥺

you know i do!! see also k's rec list and bulky's rec list, i tried not to rec any that were already on their lists <3

Jackpot by @elcorhamletlive

It’s not always like this.

Tony leans back on the bed, assessing his view. Near the door, balanced on his knees, Steve stares at him with half-lidded eyes, blue eyes darkened under those beautiful eyelashes. His blonde bangs stick a little to his forehead, where a glimmer of sweat is evidence of how long he’s been in that position: knees firmly planted on the rug of Tony’s bedroom, naked aside from a pair of cotton black briefs, hands tied up behind his back, exactly as Tony left him this morning. He breathes heavily, his muscular chest going up and down as he watches and waits.

Doubling Up (Steve) by @elcorhamletlive

“Well,” Tony drawls, his gaze going from the bed to where Steve, and, uh, Tony are standing, next to the small pile where Steve’s shirt lies along with his trousers. “This is awkward.”

Chamber of Reflection by @thahiree

A few years after retiring, Steve and Tony get a surprise visit from another Steve. Steve Rogers from Earth 1610 is lost, grappling with the new century he’s been unceremoniously dropped in, with confusing feelings for his new teammate, with himself.

Steve and Tony decide to get involved.

A Proportional Response by @mserm

Steve doesn't have a reason for cock-blocking Tony.

No reason, whatsoever.

It's Hard To Look Right At You, Baby by Albuss

“Woah,” Tony says, “slow down. Take it easy. Hold your horses.” He can be forgiven for saying the same thing four times because he is already completely, utterly wrecked.

“Fuck me,” Steve whispers. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.”

Five Times Steve Woke Up Early (And One Time He Didn’t) by @airlocksandaviaries

Steve's not actually a morning person, despite his body's insistence. It's quite possibly the one thing about the serum he's not immensely grateful for. Forcing himself up and on a run to burn through the overwhelming, restless energy that builds bright and early would be much more tolerable if it were a few hours later. Tony decides to do something about this.

Underneath it All by @hollyandvice

Steve's finally ready to indulge Tony's fantasy of seeing him in a thong. He just has terrible timing when it comes to implementing sexy times. But that's alright, Tony's a master of making the best of a (not actually) bad situation.

the year you were mine by @areiton

The night that changes his life forever, Steve is on a date with another man.

Or: Steve is a pricy escort and Tony buys him for a year. Neither of them are doing this for love.

a thousand things you call me by @areiton

He calls you a thousand things, and you love them all, count them all and guard them close, because with each he calls you mine.

Your Reputation Precedes You by @vanilla-shoes

Tony agrees to watch the desk for the salon next door to his garage as a favor -- but when he meets the salon owner's fiery best friend Steve, maybe the favor is for Tony after all...

Brooklyn After Dark by darefanny

”I could do that”, Steve had said before his brain could catch up to his big, stupid mouth. He had leaned over Tony’s shoulder to look closer at a photo of a man in lingerie on his tablet.

Slow Burn Fireworks by felisnocturna

Tony fucks him incredibly slowly this time.

praise you like I should by @firebrands

steve gets de-serumed for a hot second, but tony's pretty quick to reassure him of all his lovely traits. (made even better by having to sleep in a shitty motel with a mirror on the bed.)

Suds 'n Studs by @fohatic

Tony didn't mean to hire some super hot, young guy to take his clothes off for money -- honestly! He just wanted somebody to wash his cars! But accidents happen when you let your AI do the hiring for you, apparently. Now the recent divorcee has an awkward apology to make. He also has as an invitation to subscribe to Steve's OnlyFans. What he doesn't have is any clue what he should do in this situation.

In Too Deep by @fohatic

Steve knew that he was asking for trouble when he agreed to let the gallery auction off a date with him for charity, but he needed to get in the director's good books if he wanted to make it as an artist in this cutthroat town. He never imagined that his participation would ignite an outrageous bidding war, or that the infamous, billionaire ex that he hadn't seen since their sudden breakup two years prior would show up and stake his claim.

the thorn in his side by @fohatic

It had been there from the beginning. There was no end to it, that mutual wanting between them—forever unresolved—that had grown so terribly soft and unbearably romantic with age...

But there was an unspoken rule between them, as well: an understanding that they could never act on it.

That is, until an alien parasite's brood nest gets violently dislodged from its Chitauri Leviathan host during the Battle of New York, dispersing its contents directly over two time-jumping tourists who are very much in the wrong place and the wrong timeline.

pull me down by breakeven

He doesn’t mean to pull, is just brushing through the locks there as a means of comfort, to show Steve that he’s still there and present with him, that Tony is just as affected by the wet grasp of Steve’s hole as Steve is by the insistent pressure against his prostate

wind me up by breakeven

Steve hadn’t known it, but apparently Tony could tell after the first time they ever fucked. He could see in Steve the need to please, the need to be of some sort of service, and had known that it would translate perfectly in sexual desires, even when Steve hadn’t had a clue himself.

honey from your hive by meidui

"Steve, stop that," Tony says, sounding strangled as his grip tightens and Steve stops, letting Tony grab his face and tilt him up. "You're kind of scaring the crap out of me. What is it? What's going on with you?"

"We blew up the lab," Steve manages, and something dawns on Tony's face. "Everyone had a reaction 'cept me. Think 'm having it now."

Blushes Per Hour by @blossomsinthemist

Steve chewed on his bottom lip. “Well, no,” he said. “Um, but.” He was breathing heavily now, through his nose. “Rachel liked it when I did it, because she has, uh, she has sensitive breasts, and I, um, err. Sometimes I’d pull on my own nipples during, or, or after, on my own, and. And I’d imagine—wonder, really, if I was. If I had enough, or—”

“Are you saying you’ve fantasized about this?” Tony said, and he couldn’t help the pure delight that came through in his tone, because had he actually stumbled onto one of Steve’s kinks, here? He’d never let on at all before, not at all.

Please Please Me by @blossomsinthemist

Steve looked so beautiful flushed and wanting, on his knees, begging.

Failing To Not Fall by @nvrthlessthsun

Steve was failing to not fall in love with Tony Stark.

AKA the one where Steve thinks he's Friends-With-Benefits with Tony, and Tony thinks he's dating Steve.

Paint Job by @valdomarx

“You want me to what?” Steve looked incredulous. “I want you to detail my car,” Tony said with a smirk.

Relax, Darling by @valdomarx

Steve is stressed and tense after a hard mission.

Luckily for him, Tony and his tongue are available to relax him in a variety of delightful ways.

Two’s Company, Three’s a Crowd, Four’s a Party by @valdomarx

How to satisfy the secret desires of a horny supersolider:

Ults Steve gets gangbaged by Tony from four different universes (Ults, MCU, AA and 616).

Mark Sixty-Nine by @everybodyilovedies

Tony is irritated that Steve's first hug-and-fly wasn't with him. As the source of many of Steve's other "firsts", Tony has a brilliant idea of how he could take one more. Specifically, Steve's first time being fucked by a machine.

Afternoon Delight by @greyduckgreygoose

Tony watched with narrowed eyes as Rogers nodded politely to Natasha. They exchanged quick, familiar smiles, which suggested that they knew each other better than the acquaintances they seemed to want Tony to think they were. Up close, Rogers was even more attractive than he had appeared on camera, a touch of blonde stubble along his jaw, large square hands.

He also had a nice ass, not that Tony was particularly staring.

“Mr. Stark,” Natasha said, as they both stood before Tony’s desk. “May I introduce Steve Rogers? Or, if you prefer, Captain America.”

The Sixth Time is the Charm by @onemuseleft

The fifth time Steve tried to get Tony to fuck him (and failed) is when he started taking it personally.

Your Kind of Love by blue_jack

The first time they have sex, Tony isn’t really hoping for much.

[voidsentprinces]

Do you ever just...again?

[tonycries]

Unmistakably Yours - G.S.

Synopsis. In which the strongest bends space and time - literally - after coming back from deatḣ, to do what he’s always wanted to do - you.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, best friends to lovers, Satoru goes a little (very) INSANE, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, manga spoilers, use of jujutsu powers, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, féral Satoru, heinous things, happy ending, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.5k

A/N. Yeahhh that poll was cooking up something devious heheh. Gege give me back my man.

Gojo Satoru was going to kill someone.

He was going to kill someone and it didn’t matter who. It didn’t matter how. It didn’t even matter if he had to haul his broken body - scarred and barely-healed - out of this stiff infirmary bed, because the great Gojo Satoru awoke and the world shook.

Because you weren’t here.

“Ah. The oh-so deadest one, I see you’re awake.” Satoru flinches at the sharp, exhausted drawl from his left. 

Slowly, he blinks away the haze in his aching eyes, desperately trying to adjust to the cold room. Shoko’s voice was too loud. The lights too bright. His waiting arms too empty - where were you? 

With a low hiss, Satoru’s body is moving before his mind, sitting up like a man possessed. Goosebumps prickle his skin as the thin blanket falls off his shoulders. Temples throbbing because the world was spinning and spinning and you-

“Calm down, Satoru.” Shoko sounds almost panicked now - as much as she could, anyway. Uselessly trying to push him back onto the mattress. “I don’t care if you’re the ‘strongest’. Sukuna did a number on you and you have to rest-”

“Where is she?”

---

It was the final nail on your coffin - that slight, steady rumble beneath your feet. So fleeting that you’d written it off as your weary brain, too goddamn tired from today. Heaving out a sigh, you rub your eyes in frustration, so fucking alone in this too-large penthouse. 

Fingers jittery, you rifle through your best friend’s closet for his box of blindfolds, because you knew he’d be complaining about the sensory overload at the infirmary if- when he woke up. Though, you think that was more an excuse for Shoko to send your wrecked self away than anything. 

Grabbing a few more than necessary, your heart lurches as you eye that dusty framed photo by his bedside. A much younger Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, and you - probably the last time any of you smiled so carelessly. 

One dead and the other just on the cusp of it.

He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’s the strongest, right?

Swallowing heavily, you try to put your mind to something - anything - other than the memory of that battlefield and the blood. So much blood. Everywhere. 

God, you should’ve stayed. What if Satoru-

That was when you felt it. 

The tight, uncomfortable feeling of atoms standing at attention all around you. The air was so stagnant and heavy that it was almost hard to breathe. 

You don’t know how you realize what it is - but you don’t get the chance to wonder about it either. Because the thought has barely even crossed your mind before everything else is thrown at the window at those two words. 

Hoarse, and whispered, voice ever-so-slightly cracking at the end. One you recognized, one you knew you always would.

“My love?”

Satoru.

It was a miracle that you didn’t get whiplash from how fast you whirled around to face the doorway - and it was an even bigger miracle that you didn’t trip at how your legs were carrying you to that tall, familiar flash of white hair without a second thought. 

Hell, you don’t think you’ve ever run this fast in your life, and it still wasn’t quick enough when Satoru engulfed you in his arms. Letting out a soft sigh as he hugs you tight enough that it hurt, like he never wanted to let go. 

All familiar warmth and a rapid heartbeat that matched your own. 

A shiver runs down your spine at that scent of the infirmary, tinged with something so dangerously metallic, miles away from the usual hints of pine and candy. But you only pull Satoru closer - not even realizing the tears staining his snug t-shirt, nails digging into his sculpted back. 

“S-Satoru?” you murmur wetly, as if you still couldn’t believe it - even when you were in his strong arms. 

It killed you to pull away, and Satoru wasn’t any better, pulling you firmly to his heated body with a guttural grunt as soon as you showed any signs of shifting away. Grip almost bruising, fingers tight on your hips. But you didn’t mind, why would you? 

Because the strongest was nothing under your will - he always was. And it’s only once you break the embrace just a fraction of an inch that you confirm that this actually was Satoru - your Satoru. 

“You’re here.” you breathe out unsteadily, not knowing where to look first - his heaving chest, as if he’d run all the way here, or those faint scars along his exposed skin. Jagged, running down his pale skin like he was too impatient - too distracted - to let them heal properly. Satoru’s face was scarily blank, pretty lips set in a tight grimace like every second you weren’t locked in his arms killed him. 

He doesn’t answer - like he didn’t know himself. Nervously, you raise your eyes to meet his and-

Oh, Satoru, he was here. Alive.

Looking like he was ready to make sure that no one else was.

You just wondered where they’d pile all the casualties. Too many to bury at Jujutsu High if those tiny blue flickers of lightning at the corners of Satoru’s eyes were anything to go by. 

Gaze hooded, pupils blown, he didn’t look at you with that usual warmth. No, he looked at you like a man that had crawled back from death just to rip you apart. And you had half the mind to wonder whether this was some special grade curse that had just come disguised as your best friend. 

“Are you okay?” you try again, raising a hand to cup his cheek. “Toru?”

Oh, you might as well have just signed your own will, because no sooner are the words out of your mouth before Satoru’s jolting. Like the mere sound of that stupid little nickname from high school was enough to shock him to his very core. 

Electrify him just enough to finally look at you like it was the first time. Like he was seeing you after a thousand years. “My love.”

There it was again, that quiet, strained little mantra. 

Followed very closely by the deafening slam! of the door behind him, so hard that you spy one of the hinges rattling off. Startled, you look over Satoru’s broad shoulders just to catch a glimpse of the single, large handprint charred into the wood, slight steam wafting from his hand.

Shit. He’s lost it.

Almost like the strongest has forgotten his restraint - or didn’t care about it either way. Heated, you wondered what this boded for you. 

Will you be lucky number one on his kill list? You wonder, as Satoru presses his mouth right above your pulse. Racing. Dangerous. Feeling the rapid thump! thump! thump! under his lips.

Breathing you in, dragging his nose up, up, up- He mutters into your skin, “Y’can kill me if you don’t want this.” Will you go down - if there’s anyone left to remember, that is - as the casualty that surely and officially signaled the honored one’s descent into madness? Only the second best friend he had to kill?

Or, Satoru pulls away slowly from his little haven, breath ghosting your lips as he gasps out a shaky, “No God can take me away without doing this.” Will it be something else entirely?

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. 

Because fuck, how could you not? This is Satoru, and this is all you’ve ever wanted since those late night convenience store runs in high school, hand-in-hand and teleporting away from a furious Yaga.

The same Satoru that had cockily winked at you goodbye before facing Sukuna - leaving you crying with nothing to hold onto but those cold, cold hands and wishes that you’d have just fucking kissed him before. Maybe even put aside your pride to just tell him.

But none of that mattered now, because Satoru was so desperate - drinking you in like you were the last breath of air on Earth. Like it hurt more to part with your lips than it was to be cleaved in half.

Such a mess of teeth and saliva, and you were addicted. Drunk off his sweet taste - like candy, almost, and those cheap mochi he always got from downtown - and the electricity pricking at you each time your skin grazed against his.

It almost hurt - but it hurt so good.

Gasping, you pull away for air - impossible with the way Satoru was like a madman, kissing your swollen lips again and again and-

“Toru!” you squeal, muffled through his lips. “Aren’t you-” His mouth drops into a soft oh! at the delicate strings of saliva snapping in the non-existent space between you two. Surging forward like he couldn’t help himself. “Battlefield- mmpf- now?”

With a pained grunt, Satoru finally halts, just a hair’s breadth from your lips. And if you were in any better state of mind, maybe you’d have noticed the brief flicker of blue lightning all over his body. The way the lights flicker. 

“Special curtain.” he pants against your open mouth, a muscled thigh shoving between your weakening legs. “Time barely passes in here.”

You don’t know what your head is reeling more from his words or his hands - hands that kill - caressing you like a lover everywhere. Unable to decide between your hips, to your ass, to your pretty pretty face. Kiss-bitten lips uttering, “Everyone’s waiting for you.”

“So?” Satoru lets out a humorless laugh. About an octave higher than usual, like he was at the end of his rope now. Eyes hazy and glowing, looking as if it took everything in him to not just tear off that uniform and take you right now. 

“But-”

“Shut up and let me ruin you, my love.”

Your back is hitting the mattress before you can even start to wonder what the fuck is happening. One second standing at the doorway and the other all sprawled out on Satoru’s bed.

Besides yourself, you blurt out, trying to make sense of the situation to both of you two. “Did- did you just teleport us?”

“Don’t know.” he answers. And Satoru sounded like he genuinely didn’t know, as bewildered as you were. Powers acting before him - way, way before he can think - as he fists your shirt in his hands. “Don’t care.”

And you half wondered whether Satoru was even aware of what he was doing as he pulls, down, down down. 

Rip!

It tears through the air - both the sound, and the way he’s just pulling your shirt to shreds. All depravity and no repentance as Satoru throws it behind God-knows-where. Buttons hitting the floor at a maddening little rhythm to which he was slowly losing his sanity. 

He was kissing you like he was angry - taking it out on your poor clothes. Because before you know it, he’s pulling your bra off. Fingers searing on your skin, skirt just tatters on the floor. 

“Waited too long.” he groans, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. “Always wanted to do this.” And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into the valley of your breasts, “Ever since I first saw you and oh-”

That was it - only one look at your panties, all flimsy and drenched - and you’re back to wondering what Satoru’s kill count would be. You shudder as his eyes widen, letting out a strangled gasp from some deep, primal part of himself. Voice so broken and starved as he muses, “-can’t believe I waited this long.”

Shit. You weren’t making it out alive.

Immediately, Satoru’s dropping further down the mattress, easily pushing your knees up all the way till they were at your breasts. 

And it was so unfair. 

Unhair how he was still fully clothed, while you were spread so shamefully. Unfair how he was sliding his underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Up and down, up and down up and- Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertips before pulling, marveling at how sinfully soaked they were. 

And it was like something snapped - maybe his whatever restraint he had left, probably you by the end of this. Because just a split-second later, Satoru’s tearing right through your panties. Not even taking a second to breathe before burying his pretty face into your dripping cunt. 

Unfair how you were liking it so dangerously. Being so used. 

And Satoru knows - he thinks, with whatever rationality he has left intact - that he wants to admire your pretty lil’ cunt. To finally drink in what he’s been dreaming about for years all these lonely nights. But, no, that’s for later - for a different Satoru, one that didn’t feel like he was going to fucking die if he didn’t taste you right now. 

“Ah! Hngh- T-Toru-” you arch into his hot tongue, as he licks erratically up your folds, long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Lapping at your juices like he couldn’t stop.

“Tha’s right.” words muffled into your cunt. Throwing your legs over his sculpted shoulders. “Gimme more, use me. Use me- fuck fuck fuck- yeah.”

He sounded as delirious as you were already, flinching with each word spat into your sensitive cunt. Drunk off your pussy and so messy, like he was well and fully intent on ruining you. 

And it’s all you can do to sob so needily as he swirls his tongue around your sensitive clit. Seemingly unable to decide between sucking on it harshly and dipping into your sloppy hole. In and out. Wanting everything. Anything. 

“Fuck. S’too deep. Sh-shit.”

“Oh yeah?” he’s grinning, a cruel, cold little grin. You can feel it as he rolls his tongue against your clit over and over. “S’not deep enough.”

You pathetically try to close your legs around his head in shock, as the tips of his long fingers spread open your pussy further, teasing your entrance. 

But who were you against the strongest? The one that got everything handed to him on a silver platter since birth? Except you - until now, that is.

Because Satoru’s swatting thighs back open like it was a mere inconvenience, and feel your cunt clench in- fear? Anticipation? as you realize how gently he was throwing you around like a ragdoll, in comparison to that door from earlier. 

“No.” he sounds absolutely wrecked, babbling around your throbbing clit. “Need this- need you.”

And then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, so greedily that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Drinking in your pretty gasps of his name as he roams for that one spot he knows will have you seeing stars - only the best for his girl, right? The only thing on his mind right now, like a predator starved.

You can only tug on his hair and buck wildly underneath him, inching Satoru closer to where he was desperately searching for. Close - so close. 

“Toru-” you moan, like a prayer. 

But it wasn’t fast enough. 

Not for Satoru, at least.

Even through the haze in your eyes, you could make out that brief flash of electric blue in-between your legs, eyes widening as ah-

That cheat. 

You wondered if he even knew he was using his powers right now. Or whether Satoru was too far gone at this point. Way too smug with the way he hits that one spot. Hard. 

Ah, you quiver as something so dark sparks in his eyes. Looking like a man starved, that had finally come across his favorite meal. Moving with frightening accuracy as he pumps his fingers in and out, hitting it each and every time. 

“Shit, ngh-” you let out a shrill moan, “It’s too good. You’re so fucking-” 

One hand was so messy toying with your dripping entrance - the other digging into your hips. Dragging your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. 

Hard enough that you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. If you even made it that long, that is, if the tiny shocks of electricity at his fingertips told you anything. 

Desperate. Violent, even.

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same. “Fuck- m’cumming m’cumming, fuck fuck fuck-” You’re shaking as you cum, crying out Satoru’s name and delirious little moans that you’d otherwise be embarrassed of. 

And he doesn’t stop. Not when you’re blinking your vision back. Not when you’re shying away from his tongue, the stars behind your eyes too much with each flick of his tongue. 

“S’too much- too- fuck, sensitive, Toru.” you whine, big fat tears clinging to your lashes. 

Ah, there it was again. Just when Satoru was beginning to think that he might just be veering into a state of mind that could be considered sane - you have to call him that goddamn nickname again. And it’s only driving him wild. 

Well, he muses, fumbling with the hem of his t-shirt, it’s really on you then. 

You let out a fucked-out little whine as Satoru finally takes his shirt off, revealing such milky, toned skin. All sharp curves and dips like he was sculpted so meticulously, going down, down, down and- Your breath hitches at the large, pink scar standing out of his torso, so uneven and fresh that you feel a fresh wave of tears - different ones, this time. 

You take a steadying breath, eyes unmoving from the injury. “Satoru-”

“No.” Satoru’s tone is firm, so different from the metallic tinkling of his belt. He was moving now, shifting in between your legs to kiss those tears away. “Need this. Need you. Need you need you need you so bad-”

“But your…” you trail off. The words catch in your throat as he finally unbuckles his belt, pulling down his pants just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, soaked in precum. 

He was so…massive. Now, you expected your best friend to have a big dick, but this was ridiculous. He was so intimidatingly long, thick enough that you could feel the slick beading out of your sloppy hole already.

Yeah, you definitely weren’t making it out alive. 

Satoru sees it too, of course, because his cock twitches furiously. A low hiss leaving those pretty pink lips before he’s spitting on your quivering cunt. Once. Twice. 

And you know that if this shameless bastard could use six eyes to find your g-spot, then he could’ve done the same for this. But, no, he lets some of it miss, splattering against your inner thigh, smearing all over as Satoru thumbs in his saliva with your slick. 

God, he was treating you like some object. Wordlessly throwing your legs over his shoulders, dragging his weeping tip down your swollen folds. So fucking filthy. 

And then you feel like you’re been split apart - because Gojo Satoru was unforgiving. As was his aching cock. He’s barely even pressing through the first ring of muscle, and you already feel like he’s pushing all the way into your lungs. 

“T-Toru.” you yelp, glancing down at the way your pussy was stretched so lewdly around his thick cock. Quivering as he keeps pushing and pushing and- no mercy. Absolutely none at all. “Can feel you so deep inside ngh- I don’t think I can…” 

“No no no no no-” he’s panting into your open mouth. Fucking into your heavenly cunt in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to squeeze deeper inside. “Need this. Want this. Always did. God, fuck fuck fuck, you can do it-”

“But-”

God, Satoru can’t help but kiss you - to shut those cute lil’ whines up more than anything, he’s sure he’ll cum right there and right now if he didn’t. 

Because Satoru wasn’t any better. Body bowing into yours, eyes rolling to the back of his head, mouth falling into a delirious oh! as he finally bottoms out. Balls smacking your ass too hard, your pussy too tight, you too beautiful underneath him. 

Blindly, he reaches for the headboard - white-knuckling it so hard that it’s a wonder it doesn’t break. 

It does - and later you’ll find a pile of splinters behind the bed. It’s just that neither of you notice. Too high off the feeling of Satoru’s cock pushing inside you. You’re clawing at his back now, gasping for air. Letting him fold you in half to filthily lick away the tears pooling at your cheeks. 

“Shit- y’got this, my love. You gotta- ah- Breathe-” he can’t even speak properly, sharp tongue so heavy. Eyes glowing with such insanity as he rocks his hips harder into yours.

He was right - you needed to breathe. To finally wrap your head around the fact that this was Satoru - your best friend - the same one that binge-watches sappy rom-coms with you after every breakup. Every. Single. One. Somehow, you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Both of you were barely-lucid at this point. And he was out of control now.

Funny, how in all his dreams when you were screaming his name - Satoru was always suave, methodical, playing with your pretty pussy like a fine instrument. Right now, he was anything but. Sloppy - like he didn’t have enough time, never would, even in this room where time slowed.

“Don’t you run away.” he grunts at the way you’re so adorably torn between running away from his cock and bucking for more more more- “Waited twelve fucking years for this. N’ m’gonna take it.”

You almost sob at the pressure as he laces his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper. Down, down, down. “S’too good, Toru. Wan’ more-”

“More.” Satoru breathes, more to himself than anything. Eyes widening almost comically, a fucked-out smile spreading all over his face. “Y’want more even when you’re filled to-” He traces an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “Here?”

“Yes.” you gasp as he reaches down to toy with your throbbing clit, drawing tight, frenzied little circles. Balls smacking your ass so painfully, thumb pressing down right where his tip was hitting your cervix - as if he used six eyes to see. “Always wanted more. Always have, Toru.”

And you swear you could see something physically snap inside Satoru. Because his eyes glaze over, grin dropping instantly from his face. 

If you weren’t so cockdrunk maybe you’d have caught the way the bedroom lights flicker, the one down the hallway bursting. 

“Always, huh?” he’s muttering, grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Wanted more like me?” Rocking into you so sloppily, cock twitching so painfully as he speeds up. Fingers just as desperate - as depraved as his hips.

And this time, he doesn’t even have to use six eyes to find that one spot. Knowing your body well enough to hit it over and over until you were sobbing. “More more more more- fuckin’ take it then.”

At this point you didn’t know whether Satoru was always this ruthless in bed or you’d just broken him. It felt so good that it was almost scary. And your delirious mind wandered into the thought that maybe the bed would break - and your bones to follow. 

Well, they would have if Satoru hadn’t been using reversed cursed technique. But you didn’t need to know that just yet. 

“Satoru-” you squeal as he only gets more erratic.  “I’m…”

“Close?” Satoru’s grunting, smacking his lips against your own.

It’s laughable, really, that muffled question - because Satoru knew you were close. Losing his fucking mind, actually, at how you were squeezing so hard around him. Balls squeezing so painfully right now, but he wanted you to cum first - needed you to cum first.

“Yeah, so close. Wan’ cum- Ah! Please-”

“Then cum. Fucking cum, wan’ed this so bad.” he’s babbling deliriously. Little sparks of lightning visible even to your glassy eyes, fingers humming with a dangerous little energy that stimulated you so good. “Yeah, yeah yeah yeah fucking cum, wanna hngh-”

And then you are. So sudden and hard that you don’t even realize it at first. Just that you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. Rocking your hips into Satoru’s like such a slut. 

Oh, if heaven was really then the part of Satoru that can still form coherent thoughts thinks this just might be it. 

Because only the sight of you creaming all around his swollen cock and he’s cumming and cumming so hard that it hurts. Thick, hot ropes of cum that he can’t seem to stop. Doesn’t want to stop, and God he thinks he could cum until you beg and beg and beg it’s too much. Until you’re yelling for-

“Mercy!” you moan, head spinning with how fucking overfilled your pussy was. “Please, Toru-”

Satoru lets out a slight gasp, “Mercy?” Chuckling so cruelly at your dazed nod, “No mercy, my love. None at all.”

And God, it was so fucking hard to look at him too - eyes half-lidded and miles away, flushed and looking like he was anywhere but laid out on a hospital bed just a few minutes ago. In fact, Satoru looked like he was in heaven on Earth as he only milked his painfully hard cock on your snug pussy.

Pretty. Always so fucking pretty. 

And he kept whispering that, over and over in your ear as you both ride out your highs. Oh how he loved you.

Your eyes fly open, and Satoru knew he’d said that out loud. Shit. But, well, with the way you were immediately pulling him to collapse into your arms, he thinks he really doesn’t mind.

“Love you, love you. Love you so much. Always did, always wanted to love you- to fuck you.” You barely even notice him marking down your neck, sharp canines digging into the flesh like he wanted to break something. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood. “To ruin you.”

It was oozing out of you, both Satoru’s cum - dribbling down your legs in thick globs, pooling on the overpriced sheets below - and his power. Jolts of electricity running down all the way from your poor, abused cunt to your hazy mind. 

“So do it.” The air was crackling - crackling with intensity and the smell of jujutsu. It was in your veins, in your words as you whisper, “Ruin me. You’re the- ngh- only- one f’me, Toru. Always was.”

The lights go out. All of them - all across Tokyo, in fact. Shining so bright that it was blinding, until they burst. The last thing you see are his eyes - electrified with blue lightning, burning into your brain. 

And then it’s black. 

---

“I’ll be back before ya know it, my love.” he whispers against your forehead, cooing at the way you stir sleepily. “Gotta pest to take care of.”

Taking down that curtain wasn’t the hard part, the hard part was actually fucking regaining his senses enough to do so. 

And now, all cleaned up and fucked to sleep on his bed, you were looking so unbearably delectable that it made some part of Satoru just want to stay behind this curtain. To forget the waiting sorcerers on the battlefield. Saving the world be damned.

Well, no matter, Satoru had time. He was the strongest, right? After all, how could he give you the world if there was no world to give?

“N’ when I’m back, m’gonna kiss ya to death till you go out with me. Till everyone knows you’re unmistakably mine.”

A/N. GET IT - that unmistakable bit from the panel? 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[carebearbussy]

𝙨𝙖𝙡𝙩𝙮 & 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩

ᥫ᭡ 𝙨𝙮𝙥𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨: 𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝… 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖𝙨 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙣𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙬𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨.

ᥫ᭡ 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙧𝙖! 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚! 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

ᥫ᭡ 𝙘𝙬: 𝙋𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛 <3

ᥫ᭡ 𝙬𝙘: 1.3k

𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

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Your cravings have been going wild.

Ever since you had fallen pregnant by an absolute gargantuan of a man, you are forced to carry twice the amount of nutrients and food stored in your body. The local doctors had recommended that your usual meals be doubled in size, in order to support the extra weight it carried by having a child under Sukuna. And even Sukuna had chimed in, adding that maybe his diet would work for you. But you quickly declined the offer, taking into consideration the life growing inside of you. You did not want your child to grow up to be a cannibalistic monster, much like his father.

But your food choices have been much more bizarre as of lately. Things ranging from huge one course meals that could feed a family of 7, pickled everything, anything covered in cheese, and any regular foods you ate had to be made a specific way, or served in larger portions. Which is why you had decided to wake Sukuna up in the middle of the night, one of the cravings you had pondered on being at the top of your to do list.

Every now and then, your cravings would get really bad. To the point where it was now everybody else's problem. But you truly couldn't help it.

"Kuna, 'Kuna wake up!" You whispered, as you lay spooned beside him. You shook his body from behind you as you spoke, making sure he could hear you. You felt him stretch awake with a low groan, letting you free of his grasp. "Are you awake? Its important..." you ask, awaiting a response out of him. And to your avail, he is awake, but not with the attitude you were initially hoping for. He seemed annoyed that his rest had been interrupted, but those concerns were to be put to rest, as you stepped out of bed, sliding your slippers on by the edge of the bed. He looks at your standing form with half lidded eyes, clearly making the first of many signals of his annoyance with you at the moment.

"What is so important that you wake me from my rest, woman? Im giving you six seconds to speak." He says, as he props himself upwards, sitting at the edge of the bed. With you standing near him, he seizes your hips with his lower set of hands, forcing you into his proximity. "I'm not waiting all day." He ushers you on to speak, but as you think about his possible answer, you start to rethink telling him what you truly want. You look away, clearly starting to get nervous with the attention. But as you do, he grabs your chin, forcing you to look down at him, as he searches for answers. "Go on."

"Well... i've been having cravings lately, and I wanted to know if maybe the kitchen could make me something..." You say, fiddling with your thumbs, as you feel your stomach start to growl lowly. He looks down at your stomach, as you quietly protest his decision to be made. He closes his eyes for a couple seconds, before responding.

"If this is what you really need, then I will indulge this once, brat." He says with a low sigh, as he lets go of his hold on your waist, getting up from his spot on the bed. You look up at him eagerly, silently squealing to yourself as you jump up and down slightly. You wrap your arms around your husbands neck, as you reach up on your tiptoes to pepper kisses all over his defined face. He looks down at your cheerful form, looking unaffected by the attention you give him, but deep down is smiling on the inside. He knows that as long as you stay his sweet, happy wife, then he can get a good nights rest after this.

He picks you up by the back of your thighs, as you are lifted off the ground what seems suddenly. He hoists you on his left side, one hand holding your ass up, the other acting as a back rest. Letting yourself be carried, he opens the door with his right hand, walking into the large hallway to your favorite place since becoming pregnant, the kitchen.

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It seemed as if you had started a national crisis.

With the way you had Uraume, as well as a team of the estates chefs working like dogs in the kitchen. All that could be heard from the upper left wing of the estate was the clinking and clanging of pots and pans, as well as chefs scurrying to prepare the food you had requested. Because it was well known that any request of yours, was to be taken as seriously as if it were from Sukuna.

Uraume seemed to be the only calm one, with them being used to your shenanigans. They were the head of the kitchen, as they lead all of the preparations for the 'big feast', as they like to call it. That big feast being for your pregnant self, of course.

As the kitchen was torn shred by shred trying to prepare you the perfect dish, you stood by the entrance and watched, one hand on your stomach. Standing besides you was Sukuna, with lower arms crossed, as his upper arms conducted the kitchen staff with whats right and wrong. Your eyes lit up with excitement, as you watched all of these people cater to your needs.

"Kuna, how about... chocolate filled dumplings?" You asked, looking up at your focused husband. He was busy keeping an eye on everything, making sure not to mess up your multiple requests you had made in the past twenty minutes. He looks at you with upper set of eyes, his lower ones hyper focused on the kitchen staff.

"That sounds disgusting. But if that is what you wish, so be it." He tells you, scoffing at all of the ridiculous things you had said so far. He then watches as Uraume heads your way, a silver platter in hand, holding what seemed to be at least thirty pieces of bacon, covered in chocolate and sea salt. To any sane person, this would look downright vile. But to you? Sukuna watched as your mouth practically dropped. You squealed in excitement, looking at the dish in hand. "Please enjoy, my lady." Uraume says, still holding out the dish to you as you happily devour it.

But you pause as you look over at Sukuna, still looking down at you. And thats when a lightbulb flicks in your head. You grab a piece of bacon from the tray, as you step in front of Sukuna. He looks down at you, wondering what you're up to, when you reach up on your tippy toes to try and pry open his mouth. "Pleaseeee try it!" You say, pouting your lips, still trying to open his mouth with your fingers. He looks down at you as he furrows his eyebrows, curling his lip upwards. "No, that is repulsive."

Your pout lowers into a full frown, your eyes glossy with the want for him to try what you are offering him. He rolls his eyes, as he picks up the piece of bacon you are holding with two fingers. He looks at it, as he scoffs, swallowing it in one go. "See! Its good right?" You ask him, a smile crossing your face. He looks at you with a 'are you serious?' look, before ruffling your hair, amused with how happy you were that he divulged you.

"It was horrible. Never again are you going to make me do these kinds of things for you, brat."

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[alastorss]

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Alastor's antlers are embarrassingly, pathetically, unbearably sensitive.

He can't for the life of him figure out why—it's not like any of the other transfigured creatures wandering around the underworld were made this way. Most other animal-like sinners don't seem to care about or even acknowledge their characteristics.

Yet here he is, purposefully hiding them away just so that no one will discover his terrible weakness. Oh, what he would give to be like the others if only to ignore their incessantly uncomfortable presence on his head.

Perhaps it was a curse from heaven that made him this way, or karma that he was repaying from his life. Either way, he can't stand being touched.

At least, that's what he thought.

There's no malicious intent behind your hands, no glint in your eye that makes the primal instincts in his head scream at him to melt into the shadows. You're as gentle as can be, fingers running delicately along the intricacies of his antlers and stopping just at the ends of them.

"They're beautiful," you whisper with your eyes blown wide. Your shoulders rise and fall with each rapid breath, probably from the adrenaline of standing so close to an Overlord like this. And Alastor, no less.

Your reliable hotelier. Your first real friend in the hotel. The one whose smile cannot be trusted.

But for some reason, you can't shake the feeling that he's looking at you with pure, genuine appreciation even if his smile is a little wonky.

"Why, thank you, darling!"

He jerks away from you quick as the wind, standing tall once again and towering over you. His expression has morphed into something more strained—you can tell by the way his face creases up as his eyes narrow.

He was the one who decided to invade your personal space while the two of you were arguing. He just didn't think that you would be so bold as to get distracted by his antlers and have the gall to reach out to touch them.

The worst part? The absolute worst part of it all is that no one in all the time he's been in Hell has been gentle with him like that.

Add that to the list of things he despises. Or likes. You're confusing him now.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You have some nerve, he thinks.

Your hands have found a new home resting atop his head, with your fingers combing through his hair and tracing up and down the curve of his antlers.

It becomes a nightly routine—him on the barstool or sitting in front of the piano and you standing behind him with your fingers tangled in his hair and your chin on his head, perched right between the horns. Others in the hotel have started to raise a brow, but you don't seem to care.

So when you finally decide to break routine, sitting on the opposite end of the couch from him, his eye twitches.

There isn't even an audience tonight, everyone else already tucked into bed save for Husk behind the bar who's too busy with a bottle to care. The silence between you is heavy as lead.

"Is something the matter?" Alastor finally abruptly asks, eyes narrowed at you from the side. You shift uncomfortably.

"Why would something be the matter?"

He's not in the mood for games right now. "This is the first time you've sat away from me in months," he observes.

You look at him, surprised by his hostility over this. "Well, Lucifer told me that you don't like—"

"Lucifer," he interrupts, head now whipping to the side so he can fully glare at you. "Knows nothing."

You blink at him, stunned. With the way he's acting, he almost seems... annoyed that you've decided to stop being so handsy?

Silence overcomes you again as you just stare at each other, completely at a loss of words. Alastor finally realizes his snappiness and composes himself once more, exhaling through his teeth.

His smile softens at you, missing its usual edge. You know him like this the best—head in your lap and antlers exposed. It's familiar to you in a way that it could never be to anyone else. At least, you hope that's true.

"He knows nothing," the radio demon says one more time for good measure, eyes drifting shut under the weight of your hands.

Alastor has never liked to be touched before. But maybe there is a first time for everything, and maybe the safety of your touch brings him enough ease that you're the first he admits he can tolerate.

His smile says it all. He's content like this, even if he would deny it with his chest if you ever told anyone else.

"Okay," you breathe. "I believe you."

[shotmrmiller]

ghost getting himself a cute, soft girl he doesn't talk about much but is clearly obsessed with and price just thinks it's nice he's finally settled down, approves of the home he's made for himself, definitely approves of the one he's taken for himself.

soap asks kyle if he's seen you and he says, "yep. lovely bird he's got tucked away in her little dollhouse. makes great food, too." soap swears there's a subtle shift in his tone when he says "lovely", a hint of something deeper that flickers in his eyes for just a moment. soap simply sucks on his teeth, letting it slide. (although he knows that kyle's always been one to appreciate the good things in life.)

interest gnaws at him, a persistent itch he can't scratch. price likes you just fine, as does kyle. well what about him? he decides to bite the bullet and goes to simon with a knot between his brows, the corners of his lips tugged downwards. they've shared clothes, bullets, beds. if the other two got to meet you, why can't he?

"ya can come over for dinner on tonight. she'd 'ave my neck if she didn't formally meet ya anyway."

soap then asks, out of genuine curiosity more than anything else, if simon would have kept you in the dark from him hadn't he brought you up himself.

"ya meet 'er when i want ya to, boy, and not a moment before." the tone he takes is unmistakeable. his words are a command, not a suggestion, and soap instantly knows to not push further.

soap nods. "ah'll be there."

"course ya will. she'd be terribly disappointed otherwise."

yeah, he'd hate to have that.

soap sits in the living room, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm light over the cozy place. with a full stomach and an unfastened belt, nursing a glass of kentucky. he can't remember the last time he ate that well or that much.

maybe it's the alcohol that loosens his tongue, or the fact that he wishes he also had a sweet little thing to keep at his side just like simon's doing with you now, but the thoughts he's been mulling over all evening since he first saw you tumble out of his mouth.

"while ah can attest to yer taste in sweethearts, can't say much about your alcohol. bourbon, LT?" he says, chest warm.

simon's arm tightens around your hips, fingers splayed possessively over your thigh. he shrugs, completely unbothered by the backhanded compliment. "can't be perfect in everythin', can we, sergeant?"

soap's cheeks burn furiously hot when you come to his defense with a smack of your palm onto simon's chest. "be nice to johnny. he's got a face that make up for some of his other flaws."

the teasing lilt in your voice unashamedly gets his southern blood pumping. he can't help it if certain things stir when someone as pretty as you look at him like that. soap swirls the amber liquid gently in the glass while keeping his limpid eyes on you, not even trying to hide the fact that his gaze hasn't wavered since your cheeky little comment.

you then whisper something in simon's ear, your cupped hand not even half the size of his head and soap has to rearrange himself from the outside when your teeth catch your bottom lip. simon looks up at you then, eyes heavy and half lidded, and a smirk plays at the corners of his mouth.

"'m not sure, love. you'll just 'ave to ask 'im yourself. go on."

you open that sweet mouth of yours, but simon cuts you off with a decisive wave of his hand. "no. you know how to ask for things."

your reaction to that is visceral, and you're on your knees faster than his alcohol-muddled brain can comprehend. don't look down 'er shirt, don't look down 'er shirt, don't-

"johnny, will you touch my pussy?"

he splutters at your question, completely taken aback, but it seems you're not done just yet.

"hands to yourself, sergeant. tha' not all."

you pout at simon, one that earns you a look that promises consequence, but do as he says.

"will you touch my pussy, johnny? pretty please?"