#*discovers him stalking you* what the hell are you doing here?

[historyherstory]

Winters boosted Sergeant Bill Guarnere to staff sergeant and put him in charge of the mortar platoon. Winters had been Guarnere's platoon leader at Toccoa, promoting him to corporal, then sergeant and squad leader. He considered Guarnere "a damn fine soldier" who did an "outstanding job" in Normandy, so much so that Winters nominated him for the Distinguished Service Cross after Brecourt. Guarnere had a great sense of close order drill, which combined with his abrasive, sandpaper rough "South Philadelphia attitude" made him stand out among the other men. On a personal level, however, Guarnere was a loose cannon, and shortly after his promotion, he "misused his rank," Winters later wrote, "by trying to make the army co-ed."

Pressed for accommodations in Aldbourne, several houses were made available for NCOs, putting them out from under direct supervision by the company officers. Following a leave in London, Guarnere and his housemates had, not surprisingly, picked up several women. Rather than kiss the girls good-bye at Swindon, as was generally done, they brought them back to Aldbourne and secreted them in the loft of the house.

The GIs might have gotten away with this breach of rules had it not been that Lieutenant Peacock picked the next day to to a routine inspection. As he moved about the first floor of the cottage he heard movement in the loft above. Suddenly a female foot, treading on a section of old flooring, came crashing through the ceiling. Peacock duly informed Winters of the infraction.

"You arrange to have those women taken back to London," Winters said, "I'm going to find Sergeant Guarnere."

He discovered the sergeant walking along a village street. "Wild Bill," as he had come to be known for his legendary exploits in France, knew he was in trouble when he saw his commander stalk malevolently towards him.

"Goddammit, Bill, how could you do that? How could you deliberately go against my direct order and bring those chippies here? What the hell were you thinking?"

"No excuse, sir."

"You've abused your rank and the privileges that come with it and as of right now, Bill, you're a private. I'm busting you. And furthermore, since you are so good at giving close order drill, you are to report to Company HQ and give close order drill as loud and clear as you can to an imaginary company until I tell you to stop.."

(...) As ordered, Guarnere arrived and began barking out drill commands to imaginary men, but the exercise soon proved too difficult for the feisty, now ex-NCO.

"I can't do it, Sir. I just can't. I can't drill men I can't see."

"Okay, Bill," he (Winters) said. "But you're still a private. Because I value you as a soldier and a leader, I'm keeping you in command of the mortar platoon. But you're taking a two-thirds cut in pay."

-Biggest Brother, pg 87

[haunting-hufflepuffs-basement]

You know, I'm discovering that half the appeal of jegulus for me is that it forces rosekiller and james to interact in a non-antagonistic way. And that dynamic is soooo fun. I need more. Like. Just some highlights for ya'll:

Evan: Great. You don't want Regulus to die. We don't want Regulus to die. Now we just have to make sure REGULUS doesn't want Regulus to die.

James: Fantastic, but have you met Regulus?

Barty, kicking down James door: POTTER!

James: What the HELL are you doing in here? Scratch that HOW the hell did you get in here?

Barty: Regulus told me, now WHERE ARE YOU GETTING YOUR BOOZE?

Regulus: James. You know how you said you'd do anything for me? Well. . .how much did you mean that?

James: With my whole heart. Anything. What do you need?

Regulus: Evan?

Evan: We need you to find Barty. He went into one of his fits of exam-stress-induced madness and he's been missing for three days.

James, suspicious that Reg blabbed about the map: Okay, why do you think I'd know where he is?

Evan: Because when you and Regulus were in your painful pining phase you were somehow able to avoid us AND stalk him everywhere. I don't know how you know where everyone is all the time, I just know you're doing it somehow. If you can't find him, I'll have to assume he finally made good on his threat to fling himself into the lake.

James: Is? Is this a recurring problem for you?

Evan: OH, and you've NEVER lost track of YOUR boyfriend OR your best friend because they were spiralling and have a complex from their shitty upbringing?

James: . . . Point taken. Give me 5 minutes.

Evan: *grabs James in the hallway and slams him against a wall*

Barty: Alright Potter, start talking!

James: Dammit you two! You know you can just ASK Regulus how it went after we go on a date, right? He'd probably be thrilled to tell you! Don't you two keep complaining about how much he won't shut up about me?

Evan: EXACTLY. If we encourage him, then we'll REALLY never hear the end of it. Now, did you do the thing we told you about?

James: the praise thing? Yeah, he reacted really well. Which you'd know if you ASKED REGULUS!

Barty: See, what did I tell you? He loves it! See you same time next week Potter!

James, yelling after them as they leave: I STILL WANNA KNOW HOW YOU FOUND OUT ABOUT THAT BY THE WAY!

Evan: NO YOU DON'T!

Idk, I'm a sucker for not quite friends James and Rosekiller. I need more.

[drayue42]

Warning: When a straight guy says he's a hopeless romantic, that might just mean he's a creep.

[evasive-anon]

Jason Attacking Tim at Titans Tower

Fanon vs Canon

We've all seen the versions in fanfiction but I'm not so sure everyone's seen the original so if you're one of those batfam fans who doesn't want to read the comics (regardless of reasons) but you are curious about how it actually went this is for you.

What I'm addressing:

What does Jason actually say to Tim during the attack?

Did Jason drug all the other Titans?

Did Jason really wear a Robin costume?

Did Jason slit Tim's throat or call him replacement?

Did Jason actually break Tim's bo staff?

Was Tim crying or scared?

Did Jason write a message on the wall in Tim's blood?

Did Jason's eyes glow green?/Did he follow pit rage mechanics?

Panels and details below. This is a LONG one.

What did Jason actually say to Tim during the attack?

Dialogue in fanfiction during the Titans Tower attack varies based on what kind of fic you're reading but usually its either 'time to clip Replacement's wings' if its staying a beatdown whump 'or oh no precious lil bby why is no one watching you' if its an accidental child acquisition. Not judging either option, but this ain't about them its about the real shit.

Look at these opening lines:

Hey, Tim. I was here first.You're the Red Hood. You've been cleaning up Gotham the easy way. Easy? What do you know about easy, Tim? You had a father that looked after you. You went to a private school, right? You slept in a bed. I slept on the streets, I lived in the alleyways in Gotham. Trying to survive. Until Bruce took me in. I trained as hard as I could. I did whatever he asked. . . at least at first. But it didn't matter. They said I wasn't tough enough to be robin. But today, they say you are. Show me, Tim. Show me what you have that I didn't.

Jason really puts himself out there in all of his dialogue in this encounter, the struggle of having to fight for anything and everything he got in life, even the things that came to everyone else for free, and then being told he wasn't even good enough for the things he fought for.

There's a trope in fanfics that if Jason knew Tim stalked Batman and forced his way into being Robin that it would change how Jason felt about the situation but that's even addressed in this comic:

You were a kid, worried about how Batman was spiraling down into darkness. You spent weeks tracking the dark knight. Solving a mystery no one else could. You discovered who he was behind that mask. Millionaire Bruce Wayne. You were so pleased with yourself, I'm sure that you forgot who you were really dealing with. I know Bruce Wayne. And let me tell you, Tim if someone was trying to find out who Batman really was. If someone was stalking him for weeks. He'd know about it. You can't be that good. I am. He let you find him. And I bet he said the same thing to you as he did to me, didn't he? That you had a talent to make a difference in Gotham. That he needed someone he could trust in war on crime. That you were one of a kind. The light to his darkness. Robin, the Boy Wonder.

Tim saying 'I am' is really such a moment that doesn't come through in text because he is right that he really did do that but I also completely understand why Jason wouldn't believe it.

TBH my favorite part is how done Tim honestly sounds with Jason thoughout all his trauma dumping. Like imagine a grown man who used to work the same part time job as you breaking into your house, dressing up in your work uniform, ranting about how much the job ruined his life while he beats your ass??? God, and he probably had to write a fucking report about it after. RIP Timmy.

What do you want? Do you want to be Robin again? Is that it? You... want to take it away from me? Why in the hell would I ever want that? Don't you get it? When I died no one cared! No one remembered me. Are you completely insane? No one could forget you. I've spent my entire career wearing this mask under your shadow. I had to convince Batman to let me try this. All because he'll never stop blaming himself for what happened to you. You ask me, that's the only reason he hasn't taken you down. He's holding back. But me? No freakin' way. That's the Robin I wanted to see. Still. You do realize the whole idea of training a teenager to fight against something he'll never eradicate is a mistake. It didn't even surprise anyone when I died. When I failed. I failed-- but I'm still beating you. Do you think you're that good now?! Do you really, Tim? Yes.

Tim bashing Jason across the face as he says 'no freakin' way'? *chefs kiss*

Jason drugging the other Titans to knock them out?

Little bit true, Kory was actually just already away from the tower and BB and Cyborg were about to bounce because of the drama going on with Donna's return but Jason like super tazes them and then drugs Raven who he thought already went through enough shit without him knocking her out violently.

Note: Jason says in the text here that he never rolled with Cyborg or BB but like he actually did in some comics so?? The continuity is lie I guess idk.

Did he show up in Red Hood gear or a Robin costume?

Both tbh but he spent most of the time in the Robin costume but bro actually made a stripper rip away version of his Red Hood gear so he could dramatically reveal the Robin costume underneath. I can't believe no one ever includes that in their fics its so fucking funny.

Does he call Tim 'replacement' or slit his throat?

No, this came from a Batman comic with Hush not Teen Titans. That incident takes place in a graveyard not Titans Tower and he calls Tim pretender not replacement.

Does Jason break Tim's staff?

Tragically, no. The bo staff snap would have been iconic. Instead he just takes Tim's staff and beats Tim up with it and breaks stuff. BUT!! He uses it to bust a statue in the TITANS MEMORIAL ROOM which is a place in Titans Tower just for having statues of dead previous titans and Jason is rightfully pissed he didn't get one. Like Tim is correct in saying no one forgot him still but like I would be hurt too if all my friends made cool statues of friends that died and then just left my zombie ass out, like wtf.

Note: I am seriously losing my shit that I have never seen someone bring up the memorial room in a fanfic. That is so much angst material. 😭

Tim crying/ being scared?

Hell no. He's a fucking Robin you know he's being a sassy boy the whole time, even towards the end when he's about done he's still saying he's her and I love Tim for that.

Note: There are a few different times where Tim does a flippy Robin move and then Jason just fucking copies it like flexing that he can do it too, and its just so petty and stupid he's trying so hard to be better than an actual child. 💀I get why in the context of the situation but its still so ridiculous.

Message on the wall in Tim's blood?

TBH I really don't know for sure on this one?? Like its implied that he did but Tim isn't bleeding all that much throughout this beatdown and like we don't see Jason do it just the Titans reacting to seeing it after. It could be Tim's blood, it could be red paint, and it could even be that Jason packed an actual bucket of blood to bring with him to write a message with after he finished. TBH the world is your oyster on this one.

Note: If anyone can find another comic where this event was brought up where they actually clarify it was Tim's blood hmu and I'll update this but I couldn't find any.

Pit rage/ glowing green eyes?

Fanon only at this point in the comics. Jason is seems to be himself and even thinks Tim and his friends are pretty cool at the end, and he's just like reflecting on if he had good friends if he would have turned out better as he leaves.

[teenidlegirl]

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝓑eauty 𝓞f 𝓣his 𝓜ess ♡ 𝓒hapter 𝓞ne

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀military!miguel⠀𝓍⠀fem!neighbor!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

‧ ִ ۫⠀♱ 𝓢𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. you discover you have a next door neighbor after 5 months of believing no one lived there. a tall, mysterious man who rarely speaks and made of pure muscle.

‧ ִ ۫⠀♱ 𝓒𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. angst, little fluff, swearing, brief mention of stalking (but it’s false and paranoia), very little interaction

❛⠀ masterlist⠀⋅⠀next chapter ⠀❜

you regret not grocery shopping like planned last week. damn work has been kicking your ass. coming home when it’s past sunset. it’s your manger’s fault for changing your schedule this week.

carrying three heavy ass plastic bags and your purse on your shoulder, you waddle towards the front door of your apartment. a frustrated groan escape your lips as you dig through your purse for your keys while balancing the three bags in one hand.

the moment you find the keys, you feel one bag slipping from your fingers. “no no no no—“

just as the bag slips off, a large hand catches it in a firm grip. looking up, you see a man standing before you. a man way too tall, like a fucking tower. his head covers the hallway light, casting a shadow over you.

undoubtedly handsome, probably the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. dark chocolate wavy hair that looks a bit messy. piercing mahogany eyes which you’ve never seen before. is that even possible? the sharpest fucking cheekbones to exist, let alone on a man. his facial structure is insane.

not to mention those bulky shoulders. heavily outlined through the black shirt he’s wearing. damn he fit as hell just by those damn shoulders.

“oh- thanks.”

he hums with a light nod.

you try not ogle at him too much and unlock your front door. ignoring the heat in your face as you feel his stare, observing your every move. unlocking the door and shoving your keys back in your purse, you turn to him and take the bag from him.

“thanks again.” you offer a small smile.

the man nods once again then walks away. you expect him to walk down the hall but instead he walks up to the door next door. pulling out keys from his front jean pocket and unlocking the door.

oh shit- he’s your neighbor?

that’s the actual person who owns that apartment?

for the past 5 months you’ve been living in this apartment complex, you never saw anyone leaving or coming out of that apartment. you solely believe it was empty. but now, there was an owner.

you hurry inside, hoping he didn’t notice your staring, and close the door. after locking it and taking off your shoes, you place down the grocery bags on the dining table with a heavy sigh. your sweet white terrier luna approaches, barking happily and tail wagging. you crouch down to pet her.

you decide to take a shower after a long day. the need to feel refresh and relax. after your nice shower and slipping into a silky nightgown, you do your nightly skin care routine. thoughts about your neighbors has never left your mind.

that handsome face plagued your mind. how close he stood next to you, almost feeling him against you that made your face heat up. how he towered you so easily. a complete giant compared to you.

but what you really thought about was that you never saw him before. especially a man taller than the door and built like a tank, it would be easy to notice him. every time you leave and come home, that door is always closed. even with a shared wall, there was no noise coming from the other side.

now, five months later and some random guy shows up and claims to be the owner.

something about him is so… alluring. you’ve only know the guy for 30 seconds and already conjured up vibes about him. he never spoke a word to you, only hummed and nod as you thanked him for helping you. quiet and alluring.

now it’s confirmed you have a next door neighbor, you’re suspicious of him.

how long has he been living here? why he did suddenly show up now? where has he been before? will you see him in the morning when you leave for work? will you ever see him again in general?

you shake your head to not overload your tired mind with a million questions.

undoing the covers and getting into bed, you spend some time on your phone before falling asleep. setting your alarm for the morning. luna joins you and cuddles with you. the minute your head lays on the soft pillow, you’re taken to dreamland.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

you’re running late.

rushing around the apartment while getting ready made you spill your coffee over your brand new white blouse. it was your favorite blouse too. angrily digging in your closet, you find a baby pink one and hurriedly change out of the now coffee stained white blouse. you’re gonna buy a new one later.

after kissing luna goodbye with loving pets and grabbing your purse, you rush out the door. rushing down the hall, the elevator door was closing.

“wait wait wait!” you panic, running towards the elevator, as much as your little heels let you.

you can’t waste any more time. waiting for the elevator is dreadful since everyone uses it, especially since it’s the morning and everyone’s heading to work. taking the stairs would be a nightmare and you can’t afford sore, tired feet.

your worries fade when a hand stops the elevator doors from closing, they heard you.

“oh my god, thank you so much.” you sound breathless as you hurried inside the elevator to not keep them waiting, too busy trying to catch your breath to notice the person beside you.

“no problem.”

that rich, baritone voice. you instantly recognize it and glance upwards.

your tall, mysterious neighbor.

your alleged neighbor who suddenly showed up after 5 months with no trace of his existence.

your eyes rake over his bulky figure. a black duffel bag over his board shoulder. a plain black compression shirt hugging his biceps graciously-

nope, don’t think too deep.

you look away and keep your gaze forward. awkward silence between you two. unfortunately, you both live on the 5th floor so it takes a few minutes to get down to the first floor. a few minutes of awkward silence.

you remain unfazed and mind your business, waiting patiently for the elevator to reach the first floor. music playing through your airpods at low volume in case he talks to you. but also so he can’t hear your music blasting through them. it was a smart move when he spoke to you, which surprised you.

“your dog was howling this morning.”

a wave of embarrassment hits you. “yeah… sorry about that. she gets excited about treats.”

you’d reward luna with treats if she behaves well or does something really cute. your other neighbors didn’t mind, hearing a dog’s howl is cute. luna isn’t a loud howler but your next door neighbor says otherwise, mainly because he’s next door.

it also didn’t surprise you that he knew it was luna because you’re the only person on the 5th floor who owns a dog. your neighbor across mrs. harrington, an elderly lady, owns two cats but they’re super quiet.

the elevator reaches the first floor with a soft ding. your neighbor surprises you even more when he silently offers you to go first with his hand, standing to the side. you mutter a soft ‘thank you’ without eye contact and exit the elevator. suppose he does has manners, despite how suspicious he is.

walking to the parking garage, you hear his footsteps behind you. you can’t deny how your heartbeat increases as he follows you. he may be walking to his car but you can’t shake off the feeling that is he actually following, stalking you perhaps.

those accusations were dismissed when you hear his footsteps fade away. as you make it to your car and get inside, through the window shield you see your neighbor across the lot hopping on a bike.

oh shit- he owns a bike? a black one specifically. by the looks of it, appears to be a ducati.

damn, that’s lowkey hot.

secretly, you watch him drive off. the motorcycle engine echos the entire lot.

a motorcycle guy, interesting.

snapping out of thought, you remember you’re running late and start driving off to work.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

“so he just showed up out of nowhere?”

“yes, eddie!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands in the air. “for 5 fucking months, i’ve never seen anyone coming in or out of that door.”

eddie, your coworker and friend, stares at you with a surprise look. rubbing his chin with a hand as he leans against the desk.

“hmm… maybe he had a business trip?”

your expression falls flat. “a business trip for 5 months? be fucking for real, eddie.”

he shrugs. “just saying, maybe he’s fbi.”

a scoff left your lips as you turn around. rubbing your forehead with a hand as you feel an upcoming headache. “sure, fbi agent. sure, eddie.” much sarcasm, one of your famous traits.

“i’m serious, they go away on long ass missions.” eddie suggests. “or maybe military.”

you look back at him with a deadpan expression before heavily sighing. it’s possible eddie could be right, he could be in the military or fbi, it seems reasonable. but in reality, you don’t know what he does or even he does anything generally. those suspicions vibes still linger on him.

“maybe.” you shrug, crossing your arms. “but he’s still suspicious.”

eddie snorts, the corners of his lips raised up into a grin. “well, if anything happens, call me.”

you flash a small smile. “thanks.”

he hums happily as he leans off the desks, lightly patting your shoulder as he walks past you.

“oh wait—“

you turn around. “what’s up?”

“how’s anne?”

of course he’s ask you how his ex, your friend, was doing. he never left the conversation without asking how anne was since you talk daily. the breakup was hard, for both of them but especially eddie. poor guy was in rock bottom for months.

“she’s fine, got promoted at her job.” you see the way his eyes light up with enthusiasm.

“oh wow! that’s amazing, she deserves it.”

“she does. maybe you should tell her yourself.”

eddie blankly stares at you, mainly at your wild suggestion. “r-really? i don’t wanna—“

“do it, she’d love to hear from you. trust me.” a soft smile illustrated on your face.

he smiles on return. “okay, i will.”

you two share a smile before going your separate ways, mainly to not get caught of being distracted and off tasked. jameson doesn’t like slackers.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

a sigh of relief left your lips as you return home after a long day at work. after changing into comfy clothes, you take luna out to the bathroom and walk around a bit. the refreshing breeze of the night gently fitting your face. snuggling yourself in your sweater.

you head back inside and decide to check your mail. one from the bank and the other a costco coupon. the third one however isn’t meant for you.

miguel o'hara

apartment unit 99

it’s your neighbor’s. your apartment is 98, it adds up. now you have a name to go with his face.

there isn’t much information on the envelope, only his name and address as well the address of the sender but you don’t recognize it. this peaked your curiosity about this man.

you decide not to snoop further and take it to its respective receiver. it’s none of your business and you just wanna jump into bed.

after taking the elevator, you approach his door. suddenly, you become a bit nervous. you’ve only encountered this man twice, had awkward conversations, and now stand at his front door with his mail in your hand. his silent, intimidating demeanor makes you feel uneasy. a quiet, lonely guy who randomly shows up as your next door neighbor after five months of silence.

why are you nervous about giving out mail? just tell him the mixup, hand him his mail and leave. plain and simple. if only your racing heart agrees with that.

exhaling a deep breath, you knock on the door ever so gently. hearing the door unlock makes your heart jump. behind it is your tall, mysterious neighbor. clad in a plain white shirt that looks a bit tight on him. hair a bit messy, a few strings dangling over his forehead.

“uh… sorry for bothering you. your mail got mixed up with mine.” you went straight to the point, holding out the envelope to him.

his gaze falls down to the envelope. “hm… thanks.” he gingerly takes it from your grasp. “sorry about that.” he apologized in a light tone.

you shrug, lightly shaking your head. “it’s all good.”

glancing down, you see luna sniffing his feet. half of her body inside the doorway.

“luna, no.” you gently tug her away by her leash. “sorry.” you mutter awkwardly, a bit embarrassed to spare him a glance.

“it’s fine.”

the task is done and time to leave.

“night.” you mutter, walking back to your apartment and head inside without looking back at him.

what you failed to notice is your neighbor observing you returning to your apartment and closing the door. he remains standing there in silence for a moment then closes his door as well.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ♡ @reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @marshhbs @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @watertribeissuperior @lovehadlovelost @auiciqa @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[starlessea2]

That It Is (Astarion)

Pairing: Astarion x Reader [Baldur's Gate 3]

Summary: After a long day trudging through the sunlit wetlands, you discover your bedroll is waterlogged, and that Astarion has lost his in the swamp... AKA, the classic: ‘oh no, there’s one bed, whatever shall we do, darling?’ (Act 1 spoilers).

A/N This one has a tad more enemies-to-lovers vibe to it, but sweetness nonetheless. 

Masterlist

Night was creeping over Faerûn.

After a day of toiling through the deep murk of the sunlit wetlands, your party had found refuge: an abandoned shack a little ways inland from the swamp. It was unassuming enough through the fog that Gale had tripped over its porch, and even Astarion’s darkvision had missed the contours of the old building tucked away. 

But once scoped, you found that the place was empty. Shadowheart deemed it safe enough for you to unpack your bedrolls and dry your waterlogged boots. So you did just that—even managing to rouse a fire with an ignis and a few pieces of damp wood. 

The flames took a few moments to blaze to life, but once they did, the warmth was heavenly on your skin. One by one, you started to shed your wet outer garments, laying them out by the fire.

“Oh, bloody hells!”

A voice rang out over the crackling hearth. You turned to find Astarion on his knees, rummaging through his supply pack half-deranged.  

He flung the contents out onto the floor: some soggy books, a cask of water, pristinely-folded clothes. Then he promptly turned the pack upside down, seemingly devestated to find nothing else inside.

The rogue threw his hands up. “Gone,” he declared, with a dejected sort of laugh. “Be it just my luck after trudging through this gods forsaken waste—”

From the corner of the room, Shadowheart stopped wringing out her gloves. She gave you a look. Deal with him, she said through the shared connection. 

With a sigh, you conceded. “What’s wrong, Astarion?” You stood over the pale elf, hand on hip, “Broken a nail?” 

Irritation painted his face, but his demeanour remained playful.“Ha! Hilarious as always, my dear,” he replied, without sparing you so much as a glance. “Alas, I’m afraid my situation is a tad more dire.” 

You clicked your tongue. “Go on.”

Astarion stood up, taking a moment to dust himself off. “It seems I’ve lost my bedroll somewhere in that bloody marsh,” he finally admitted. 

Somewhere across the room, Shadowheart’s snort was quickly covered up by a faux cough from Gale. “Oh?” you said, “I thought elves didn’t need to sleep.” 

Astarion shot you a glare. “And do you need to dry your clothes by the fire? Need to eat tonight or, gods forbid, drive us half mad with your infernal singing sometime tomorrow?” 

He stalked the cabin, pointing vivaciously at your drying garments, and menial rations you’d hoped wouldn’t spoil. 

You felt your brow furrow at his display. “No need to be rude,” you said shortly. “Today’s been hard on all of us.” Pushing past him, you quickly retrieved your own pack from its place near the door. “Here—just take mine.”

Fishing around the bag, you searched for your own bedroll before producing it for him. Astarion let out a sound of disgust. 

“You could at least try to be grateful, Astarion,” you started. Then you felt it; your trusted bedroll squelched in your hand. It was pasted with a layer of thick algae, and some other mysteries you couldn’t discern. “Son of a—” you cursed. How had you forgotten when it rolled into the marsh earlier in the day?

A hand found your shoulder. “Thanks for the generous offer, my dear, but I think I’ll pass,” Astarion said, proudly. He then flicked a rather large leech off your bedroll, causing Gale to shriek when it landed at his feet. “I’d like to remain the only bloodsucker around here.”

You were about to quip back, when Astarion stepped closer—enough so that his breath dusted your cheek when he spoke. “And I think I spy a bed in the other room. That should do me just fine.” 

It took you a moment to unravel his words. By the time you did, he’d already traipsed halfway across the cabin. “Hang on a moment,” you called after him,“I already staked my claim on that earlier!”

“Hmm?” the elf hummed, feigning ignorance.

The audacity. You shot a glance back at the wizard, who immediately threw his hands up in surrender. “Oh no, you don’t,” warned Gale, “I’m staying out of this one.”

To his left, Shadowheart looked equally unbothered by your plight. You scowled at them both. 

It was going to be a long night.

—

The cabin was quiet. It had been some time since you had rested in a place with a roof and four walls. There were no beasties lurking near your camp, or dangers beyond the trees. The only threat to your person was Gale’s snores coming from the main living space. He’d taken refuge on the floor, whilst Shadowheart seized the chaise lounge. 

It was a comfortable night. So in principle, you should have had no problem falling into a dreamless sleep. Especially given the feather bed at your back. 

“You know, my dear,” Astarion whispered, “I might have agreed to this arrangement, but that was under the condition that you get some sleep.”

You tried not to startle, but his words sounded so close to your ear. It made your skin prickle with anticipation—despite doing your utmost not to show it. 

“I think you’ll find I was the one who was forced to agree,” you countered, “and I’m trying. You just—” 

Shifting in the bed, you turned around to face the elf beside you. He was leaning on one arm, gazing up at the wooden ceiling as though he were watching the stars. His eyes found yours. “I what?” he asked. 

You could hear his grin; he was teasing you. But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of backing down now. “You make me nervous,” you answered bluntly. 

He did not reply. Each second of silence that passed made you more and more uneasy. You couldn’t see him well in the dark. And as much as you tried to make out the contours of his face, you knew for sure discern every line on yours—every expression you hoped to conceal. “And why’s that?” he finally asked.

You let out a huff before falling onto your back. “You know why. Stop acting so smug—It doesn’t suit you."

Astarion’s laugh made its way to you. “Everything suits me, darling.” 

A witty remark alluded you, so you opted to stay quiet. Sleep was what you needed right now. The gods only know how deprived you were of it.

So you plumped your pillow and made yourself comfortable. Then you gathered some blankets to yourself. A yawn left you, but your mind felt anything but relaxed. You readjusted again, this time your body pressing into Astarion's. He moved to accomodate you; you stiffened in response.

“Will you stop wriggling around? I can’t so much as move without you flinching."

At his words, your breath hitched. You were midway through an apology before he interrupted.

“Look at me,” he said.

Despite the darkness, his thumb perfectly traced your jaw until it found the space just under your chin. Gently, he coaxed your head up.

“You know I’ve drank from you, right?” You gasped at his candidness. “I've felt your pulse on my tongue and your blood coat my teeth,” he went on. “Hells, I have your thoughts swimming in my head far more often than you probably realise.”

He paused for a moment, and in that time you breathed twice as fast as you ought to.

“You’ve allowed me that much, so sleeping beside me like this?” he said, with a lightness to his voice, “that shouldn’t matter, now should it.”

You couldn't reply. His words were likely meant to comfort, but they had only the opposite effect. As his fingers brushed your cheek, you immediately pulled back—hoping he did not feel the way you burned for him.

“No. I guess not?” you stuttered.

“Good,” came his reply. “Now sleep. I promise I won’t bite” 

He returned to his side of the bed, not overstepping the invisible boundary you'd drawn earlier that evening.

And on your side, you were left to press down whatever feelings threatened to bubble to the surface. You weren’t quite ready to let them out yet—not when you couldn’t see clearly the face he would make in response.

Right now, you just needed to sleep.

So you focused on the snores echoing from the other room, the rain pattering the windows, Astarion's breaths and your heart—which, without realising, had recently started to beat for him.

“Goodnight, Astarion,” you whispered into the dark.

“Yes, my dear," he said softly. "That it is."

[pucksandpower]

Could’ve Had It All

Pierre Gasly x social media manager!Reader

Summary: Pierre Gasly has taken a lot from Esteban Ocon over the years … but losing you to him before Esteban ever even really had a chance to have you hurts the most

Based on this request (I wasn’t going to post this yet, but with the news that came out earlier some angst felt fitting)

Esteban makes his way down the narrow hallway of the Alpine motorhome, his heart pounding in his chest. This is it — he’s finally going to confess his feelings for you. He’s had a crush on you for years, ever since you started working with the team. Your sharp wit, radiant smile, and passion for the sport have captivated him from day one.

As he approaches your office door, he hears a strange noise coming from inside. It sounds like ... moaning? Esteban freezes, his brow furrowing in confusion. What’s going on in there? Against his better judgment, he reaches for the door handle and pushes the door open without knocking.

The sight that greets him makes his heart stop. There you are, pressed up against the wall, your fingers tangled in Pierre Gasly’s messy waves as he trails heated kisses down your neck.

Pierre, his teammate ... his rival ...

“What the hell?” Esteban blurts out before he can stop himself.

You and Pierre break apart instantly, faces flushed with embarrassment and ... something else. Desire? Esteban feels like he’s been punched in the gut.

“Estie!” You exclaim, hastily smoothing down your rumpled clothing. “I ... we ...”

“You two are ...” Esteban can barely get the words out, his mouth suddenly dry.

Pierre straightens up, running a hand through his disheveled hair. There’s a defiant glint in his eyes as he slips an arm around your waist, pulling you close. “Yeah, we are.”

Esteban’s world comes crashing down around him. All this time, he’d been harboring these feelings for you, dreaming of the day he might finally work up the courage to tell you how he felt. And now, to discover that you’re already taken ... and by his own teammate, no less.

“How long has this been going on?” He demands, his voice thick with emotion.

You bite your lip, unable to meet his gaze. “A few months.”

“A few months?” Esteban can’t believe what he’s hearing. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“It’s not like that, Esteban,” Pierre interjects, his tone stern. “We didn’t mean for this to happen, it just ... did.”

“Sure, mate. Whatever you say.” Esteban shakes his head in disbelief. He can’t bear to look at the two of you, so intimately entwined. It’s like a knife twisting in his heart.

“Estie, please ...” you begin, taking a step towards him. But he holds up a hand, stopping you in your tracks.

“Don’t,” he says, his voice strained. “Just ... don’t.”

With that, he turns on his heel and storms out of the office, slamming the door behind him. He needs to get out of here, needs to clear his head before he does or says something he’ll regret.

As he stalks through the paddock, Esteban’s mind is a whirlwind of emotions. Anger, hurt, betrayal ... they all swirl together in a toxic mix that threatens to overwhelm him. How could you do this to him? And with Pierre, of all people?

He finds himself wandering aimlessly, his feet carrying him to the Alpine garage without conscious thought. Maybe some mindless work will help take his mind off this mess, at least for a little while.

But as he approaches the garage, he hears a familiar voice calling out to him.

“Esteban! There you are.”

It’s Pierre, jogging to catch up with him. Esteban grits his teeth, steeling himself for the confrontation he knows is coming.

“What do you want?” He snaps, turning to face his teammate.

Pierre holds up his hands in a placating gesture. “Look, I know this is a lot to take in. But you have to understand, what’s happening between me and Y/N ... it’s real, yeah? It’s not just some fling.”

“Oh, spare me the bullshit,” Esteban scoffs. “You’re sleeping with the social media manager, Pierre. How do you think that looks for the team?”

“It’s not just about sex,” Pierre insists, his brow furrowing. “I really care about her. More than I’ve cared about anyone in a long time.”

Esteban laughs bitterly. “Right, and I’m supposed to believe that?”

“Believe what you want,” Pierre retorts, his jaw tightening. “But don’t act like you’re some victim in all this. We both know how you feel about her.”

Esteban tenses, hating how transparent his feelings for you have apparently been. “That’s got nothing to do with this.”

“Doesn’t it?” Pierre challenges. “Face it, you’re jealous. You’ve had your eye on her for ages, and now that she’s with me, you can’t handle it.”

“You’re delusional,” Esteban spits, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

Pierre shakes his head, looking almost ... pitying? “Keep telling yourself that, mate. But the truth is, you had your chance with her. And you blew it.”

Those words hit Esteban like a physical blow. Because deep down, he knows Pierre is right. He had been too cowardly, too afraid of ruining your professional relationship to ever make a move.

And now, it’s too late.

“Just ... leave me alone, Pierre,” Esteban mutters, turning away. He can’t bear to look at his teammate’s smug face a second longer.

As he retreats into the garage, Esteban feels a profound sense of loss settle over him. He’s lost you, the woman he’s been pining after for years, to his own teammate and rival. How is he supposed to move on from that? How is he supposed to work alongside you and Pierre every day, knowing what he knows?

The rest of the race weekend passes by in a blur of forced smiles and awkward silences. Esteban does his best to avoid the two of you, throwing himself into his work as a distraction. But no matter how hard he tries, he can’t escape the ache in his heart whenever he sees you both together.

Finally, as the chequered flag waves and the race comes to an end, Esteban allows himself a moment of respite. He sinks down onto a crate in the garage, burying his face in his hands as the weight of his heartbreak threatens to crush him.

“Estie?”

Your soft voice cuts through the chaos around him, and he tenses. Of course you would seek him out now, when he’s at his most vulnerable. He lifts his head, meeting your concerned gaze.

“What do you want?” He asks, his voice dull and lifeless.

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, clearly struggling to find the right words. “I ... I just wanted to talk to you. About what happened.”

“What’s there to talk about?” Esteban shrugs, feigning indifference. “You’re with Pierre now. End of story.”

“It’s not that simple,” you protest, taking a step closer. “You’re one of my closest friends. I never wanted to hurt you.”

He laughs humorlessly. “Well, you did a bang-up job of that, didn’t you?”

You flinch at his harsh words, and Esteban immediately feels a pang of regret. This isn’t your fault, not really. You can’t help how you feel, just like he can’t.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, your eyes shining with unshed tears. “I never meant for any of this to happen. But ... Pierre makes me happy. In a way I haven’t felt in a long time.”

Esteban’s throat tightens at your words. Of course Pierre makes you happy. Stupidly handsome, charming Pierre with his easy smiles and effortless charisma. How could Esteban ever hope to compete with that?

“I’m glad he makes you happy,” Esteban manages to choke out, even as the words feel like shards of glass in his throat. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”

Your face softens, and you reach out to place a gentle hand on his arm. “You’ll find someone, Estie. Someone who makes you just as happy as Pierre makes me. I know it.”

Esteban wants to believe you, he really does. But in this moment, with his heart shattered into a million pieces, it’s hard to envision a future where he’s anything but hopelessly alone.

Still, he manages a weak smile for your sake. “Yeah, maybe someday.”

You return the smile, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze before stepping back. “I should go find Pierre.”

The words are like a knife to Esteban’s battered heart, but he bites back the anguished retort that rises to his lips. This is your choice, your happiness. As much as it destroys him, he has to respect that.

“Yeah, of course. I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

With one last lingering look, you turn and make your way across the garage, disappearing into the crowd. Esteban watches you go, mourning the future he had allowed himself to dream of — a future where you were his and his alone.

But that future is gone now before it ever had a chance to even take root. All that’s left is an aching emptiness where his heart used to be. Esteban closes his eyes, drawing in a shuddering breath as a single tear trails down his cheek.

It’s over. The woman he loves is lost to him forever. And for the first time in his life, Esteban has no idea how to move forward from here. All he can do is pick up the shattered pieces of his broken heart, and hope that one day, somehow, they’ll mend.

[taeyongdoyoung]

bear or man?

summary: you follow your secretive roommate deep into the forest and what you discover surprises you... pairing: werebear/bear shifter!haechan x reader genre: smut, fantasy, best friends to lovers warnings: y/n stalking (?) haechan, meeting a bear (?) in the forest, reader is lowkey a bimbo lol, running, licking, mentions of pee, cuddling a bear (don't try this at home), supernatural elements, fuzzy memories, fear of accidentally killing someone, confessions, kissing, hugging, squeezing face (is that a thing?), eating out, strength kink, size kink, unprotected sex in the woods (stay safe yall), dumbification, creampie author's note: this fic is inspired by the infamous "bear or man?" social media debate and i took some creative liberty to choose the best of both worlds aka THE haechan, duh word count: 2.5k

You have the best roommate ever. True, Haechan doesn't do much, mostly keeping to himself. When he's not working, he's sleeping all day in his room and probably gaming all night long. But what makes you like Haechan so much is that he's not invading your personal space. He's super funny and sweet to you. Whenever he goes shopping, Haechan always makes sure to buy you your favourite snacks, even without you asking for them. He sometimes gets you random gifts like cute pens he finds or little flowers every once in a while. In conclusion, the perfect roommate.

Haechan does have one flaw, however. Once a month, he goes missing. Once a month and it always coincides with the full moon. Now, he cannot possibly be a werewolf, because you, as any sane person, know that those things don't exist. But your curiosity is so strong that one night, you decide to follow him. You are aware that what you're doing is very wrong, especially considering that he's always been respectful towards your privacy. But at the end of the day, you're just a 🎀girl🎀. You can't possibly imagine sleeping another night without cracking his secret.

If it were you and you had a huge secret, you would totally tell him. After all, Haechan's not just your roommate's he's also your bestie. So, you need to know. At least, that's how you excuse your actions as you go deeper and deeper into the forest. What the hell? This is really suspicious...You swear you have your eyes on him when all of a sudden, he disappears. Eh? He was right here...You walk even further but Haechan is nowhere to be seen. Okay, you should probably head back home now.

And then, you see it. A giant brown bear staring at you. Fuck, fuck, FUCK!!! Alright, you try to stay calm and remember all the tips on surviving a bear encounter you read one time on the Internet out of sheer curiosity. Um, the first thing was probably not to run, as bears are incredibly fast. Yeah, no, fuck that. You start running but you don't make it far before the bear catches up with you. You trip and fall on the ground, already accepting the fact that you are probably going to die tonight. Okay, erm, what other advice did the Internet tell you?

You manage to get up and identify yourself as a human, slowly waving your arms and trying to speak calmly.

"Um, please don't eat me, bear," you murmur. "I'm not delicious, I promise."

At the mention of the word delicious, the bear quickly runs towards you. Your knees give out in sheer horror and you fall on your back. The bear stands nearly on top of you, sniffing in...curiosity? Hunger? God, you really hope the bear has eaten something already. You wonder if you have food in your bag. Will that make the bear angrier or calmer? Ughh, you don't remember the tips anymore. You feel so stupid and close your eyes, not bearing (pun-intended) the thought of staring death in its face.

Then, you feel something moist and slippery all over your face. Fuckk, is the bear licking you? Great, at least bears do foreplay before eating their victims. So much fun. Time passes and you are in disbelief your head hasn't been torn off its shoulders by now. You are also in disbelief that you still haven't passed out or pissed yourself or something even more embarrassing...You sneak a quick glance at the bear and it's still there, licking your face and looking at you.

God, you can't take this any longer. You try to move a little and to your immense shock, the bear gives you the space needed to get up. You do as you planned. Okay, so running doesn't help. But neither does staying in one place. What are you supposed to do? The bear seems to sense your uncertainty and stands on two feet. Does that mean it's curious or trying to intimidate you? You honestly have no idea. Then, the bear extends its front arms as if offering a hug. If it weren't for this dangerous situation, you would have totally found it cute.

Well, to be honest, it is kinda cute. Damnit, what is wrong with you? You figure that if you are meant to die tonight, then you might as well go out with a bang, right? You rush into the bear's arms, immediately being enveloped by a warm hug. Fuck, it is so soft and cozy! You feel like a total idiot but the fact it hasn't eaten you yet gives you some shred of hope.

Soon, the bear tires of standing on two feet and releases you from its tight grip. Aww, is it over already? You curse yourself for even thinking it. The bear lies down on the muddy ground and using its paw and claws, makes you lie down next to it. Eh?!?! You do as it suggests, making peace with your fate. Then, the bear once again hugs you strongly and soon after, it falls asleep!

Yep, running away is definitely out of the question. It didn't eat you but it didn't let you escape, either. What the actual hell is going on? As you rack your brain for answers, you feel exhaustion coming over you, and eventually, sleep visits you, too.

You wake up to the light of sunrays. In the middle of the forest. Recalling the shocking events of last night, you are immediately stunned upon realizing the bear is nowhere to be seen. Instead, next to you is the naked sleeping figure of your best friend, your roommate...Haechan! What is he even doing here?

You quickly take off your jacket and put it on him, because he looks terribly cold. Why is he naked? Is he an exhibitionist? Was that his big secret? You shake his arm roughly, waking him up.

"Mmn, Y/N? What are you doing here?" he murmurs sleepily.

"What are you doing here and why the fuck are you naked?"

"You wouldn't believe me even if I told you," Haechan whispers.

"Oh, yeah? Fucking try me! You won't believe the night I had. First, I followed you, because you always disappear during a full moon and I was incredibly curious. I know it was wrong but I really couldn't resist the temptation. Then, as I was following you into the forest, you suddenly vanished. And I ran into this huge bear, at first I ran a bit, but the bear was faster and caught up with me. And then I thought I was going to die but the bear didn't eat me, instead it just licked my face and cuddled me! Finally, the bear fell asleep and at some point so did I. So, whatever you wanna tell me, it can't be crazier than THAT," you exhale deeply, as you finish recounting your story.

"I am that bear," Haechan confesses. Okay, now THAT is crazier. "Well, technically I'm a bear shifter or a werebear, I'm not really familiar with the appropriate terminology, but uhm, yeah."

"Is that why you didn't attack me? Because you knew subconsciously it was...well, me," you try to find a logical explanation to this very bizarre situation.

"Honestly, my memories of last night are hazy," Haechan explains. "This happens every month. Whenever I transform into a bear, I have no recollection of what I do. I just know the transformation happened, as usual."

"If you don't have your memories, then, how do you know you didn't accidentally harm or...kill someone?" you mumble nervously. "Not that I believe you're capable of it. Just asking out of concern for your sanity."

"I keep track of all the news happening in our town. And there haven't been any bear attacks."

"But what if there is a bear attack one day? How will you know whether it was an actual bear or...you?" you begin to panic, just thinking of the possibility.

"Trust me, I'll know. There haven't been any bears in our town, period. Just me," Haechan says and the way he says it, God...He really is one of a kind.

"Oh. That's good, I suppose. But, just in case...would it be okay if I stick by your side every full moon from now on? Make sure you don't hurt anyone or...well, yourself."

"I can't ask that of you," Haechan shakes his head.

"You're not asking, I'm offering," you shrug calmly. "Seriously, Hyuck, if you accidentally kill someone while you're in your bear form, I'd probably forgive you and try to hide the body..."

"You're crazy," Haechan chuckles, somewhat amused by your words. "I wouldn't forgive myself. I'd just...turn myself in."

You nod and while the thought of your best friend in prison terrifies you, you are determined to not let it happen.

"Guess it's a good thing I'll be around to make sure you never kill anyone," you grin and rush to give him a hug, completely forgetting he's half-naked. Uhhh...You feel something unusual. "S-sorry."

You take a step back hesitantly, giving him some space.

"I should probably run to the store to get you some pants."

"It's fine," Haechan replies. "You already saw me in my bear form, I don't think seeing me naked is that embarrassing."

"Fair point," you giggle and try your best to focus on his beautiful soft brown eyes.

"I'll understand it if you wanna move out..." Haechan says out of nowhere.

"What? I don't wanna move out. You're everything to me. Being a bear shifter changes nothing about how I feel. Haechan, I trust you. After last night, even more than I already did, but...Um, yes, just remember that I trust you and I love you."

Haechan blinks in surprise, not saying anything for a while. Realizing what you just blurted out, you press a hand against your mouth. As if you could take it back. Scratch that, you don't want to take it back. It was the truth.

"Sorry, I probably shouldn't have said that right now," you sigh. "But, it still stands."

"I love you, too," Haechan replies gently.

"You...you don't have to feel forced to say it back!" you insist.

"I don't feel forced," Haechan takes a step forward. "I just thought you should know. The reason why I didn't tell you about being a bear shifter is that I was afraid you'd view me differently. But knowing you don't think I'm disgusting or something...it makes me wanna say it even more."

"Oh, Hyuck," you sigh wistfully and cannot take it any longer, crashing your lips into his in a passionate kiss. "There's nothing disgusting about you. You're perfect and so amazing," you manage to say in-between kisses.

"Yeah?" he smirks sinisterly. "You're even more amazing for not peeing your pants last night..."

"Hey, I thought you didn't remember anything!" you call him out.

"It's slowly coming back to me," Haechan confesses. "Care to remind me what else we did?"

"Hmm, maybe this?" you grab his wrist and this time you're the one pulling him to lie down on the muddy ground next to you. "And then, this?" you wrap your arms around him in another sweet hug.

Haechan gets rid of the jacket you gave him, remaining fully naked once again. You want to look away but he seems to have another idea in mind. He squishes your cheeks with one hand, sending goosebumps down your spine.

"Wanna try something different?"

"Sure, anything," you say dumbly, trusting him more than you probably should.

"I didn't get to eat you last night. But I will now," Haechan smirks cruelly and wastes no time in getting rid of your comfy jeans. Oh. Fucking hell...He tears your panties apart carelessly and dives right in, truly devouring your pussy in every sense of the word. You don't think you've ever been so wet in your entire life. But honestly, even if he did literally eat you, you'd probably be happy to die by his hands. Or his mouth. Shit, your brain doesn't work anymore. As Haechan drinks from your juices, you think that this is probably the only man you'd let do something so crazy. And with the vivid memories of last night, you truly can't imagine trusting someone else so completely. Before you realize, you're falling apart against his tongue. He holds you down with his strong arms as you are thrashing and begging for him. You don't know what you're begging for. But he seems to know you better. Because he gives you just what you need, exactly how you need it.

You pull him up towards you and kiss him again and again.

"Fuck, Hyuck, you really wanna kill me, huh?"

"You have no idea," he sighs and buries his head in your shoulder. "I hate to ask this of you but can you run to the store and get me some pants like you offered?"

"What? Right now?" you sigh regretfully. "Weren't we going to...you know?"

"Trust me, honey, there's nothing I'd like more. But, me not having any pants does, unfortunately, include me not having any condoms, either."

"Oh. Fuck that, I don't care. You can fuck me raw, I mean if it's okay with you. No pressure or anything," you blurt out without thinking.

"Are you sure?" Haechan asks in amazement.

"I'll grab a pill after, it's fine. Seriously, I don't mi-" you haven't even finished your sentence when Haechan buries his cock inside of you. Fuck, he's so huge.

"Sorry, sweetheart, I couldn't resist any longer," he grunts, as he fucks into you like a wild animal. Well...he kinda is. But he's your wild animal.

"Hah, it's okay," you manage, kissing him again in the process of trying to adjust to his size. "You're kinda enormous."

"Kinda?" Haechan repeats smugly. Oh, that bastard.

"I love you," you want to say it over and over again, you don't care.

"I love you more," Haechan responds fondly, while his cock pierces through your insides.

"I love you the most," you are competitive even in this.

"Yeah?" he laughs. "We'll see about that."

"Hyuuuckles," you moan, the pleasure and the warmth and the slight but bearable (pun-intended) pain being too much and yet not nearly enough.

"Hyuckles, huh?" he chuckles, the sweetest sound in the universe. "I think I like that."

"I'll call you whatever you want, whenever you want," you promise.

"Aww, baby, did my cock make you go dumb already?" he mocks you gently.

"I've always been dumb for you," you admit.

"I think I'll cum soon," Haechan warns. "I can still pull out if you-"

"Nooo, don't," you beg him recklessly. "Cum inside, please."

"Say no more," Haechan rushes through his words and apparently he was already holding himself back, because his release arrives right away, filling you up to the fullest. You come again almost at the same time, gripping him tightly, not wanting to let go. Not yet, anyway.

"Can we go again?" you pout, as Haechan does his best to clean you both up with the tissues he found in your bag. Because, yes, you went into a forest all alone with a bag full of your phone, tissues, your lipbalm and some water. Very responsible, yes.

"Girl, give me a break," Haechan moans, half-complaining, half-satisfied and already anticipating your next adventure.

"You love me," you giggle, feeling so happy to be here, with him.

"I do," he admits.

And that is why, you would always choose the bear.

The End

[valerie-is-in-the-cupboard]

Hey girly! It's me, the one who thirsts over Alastor c/ a curvy s/o. Instead of sending in another thirst post, cause I don't wanna subject people to my ideas if it's not their cup of tea, I thought I'd send in a request. That way if you like it, we get a banging drabble, if not, then at least people won't be subjected to it lol. BUT if I may request alastor x chubby s/o who's relatively new to hell. Unfortunately, one day vox/Val sees her and are absolutely SMITTEN. this turns into a little bit of a stalking situation with Al's s/o trying her best to manage it herself which, as we all know, doesn't end well. Fast forward to Al going ham and showing the V's exact who you belong to...nsfw if you pleade madam (also, absolutely loving the "taking care" series!)

Obsessed - Alastor x fem!reader

MATURE CONTENT AHEAD! MINORS DNI!

Dearie, I love your ideas and I'm sure others do too, so please don't stop sending them!!! I live for them at this point!!! Love you ❤️

Words: ~2500 TW: swearing, stalking, consensual non-con (kind of?), oral (male receiving), vaginal sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, Val being creepy

Being a new sinner in Hell surely wasn't easy. But when Charlie brought you to the hotel, you found yourself more and more drawn to none other than the Radio Demon himself. Luckily for you, his fondness of you grew day by day, and you discovered parts of him many didn't get to see, not even when he was still human. But unfortunately, Hell was full of other kinds of demons, some of them creepier than others.

It started with random texts from an unknown number. They seemed sweet and innocent, probably someone who got a wrong number, so you ignored them at first.

"Hello, amorcita! I hope your day is as beautiful as you are!"

But slowly, they became more... concerning.

"Amorcita, I saw you walking past my studio today! You look absolutely stunning."

The stalker somehow seemed to always know where you were - the hotel, Cannibal City or just walking around Pentagram City... he always knew. But you didn't tell anyone. It was Hell after all, of course there were gonna be creeps here. Besides, what could possibly happen, right?

But one night, on a late conversation with Angel Dust, you decided to show him the messages. His eyes widened immediately after you gave him the phone and the identity of your stalker made your heart sink.

"The fuck you mean this is Valentino?!" you snapped, shocked by the fact that it wasn't just a random creepy demon - but one of the biggest overlords from Hell. Angel placed the phone back on the table, sighing.

"Toots, you're in big shit..." he finally said, his eyes full of concern. "Ya should tell Alastor about this."

"No!" you protested. "I don't want Alastor to make a big deal out of this! They're just... messages, ok? No need to make a fuss."

"Hun, with all due respect, Valentino's not going to stop with just messages. You know damn well how he is! If you don't tell Alastor, then I'm telling him myself."

"Angel, please!" you placed your hand over his, slightly squeezing it. "If it gets too much, I'll tell him, ok? If he goes around spilling blood just because of some messages, no one will ever want to come to the hotel... Please, we can't do this to Charlie!"

Angel looked back up at you and sighed. "... Alright, fine. I won't tell Alastor. But you need to be careful, toots. I mean it, this Val shithead is a real piece of work. I should know. So don't do anything stupid, you got it?"

So, you didn't tell Alastor then, and as time went by, more and more sinners understood that there was more between the two of you than just a mere partnership. But unfortunately, this didn't go unnoticed by Val.

"So, you think the radio freak is better than me, amorcita?!"

"I can't wait for my hands to run over that delicious curves of yours! You'll forget about that freak instantly!"

But, the more you tried to ignore them, the more persistent and aggresive they became.

"You filthy bitch, I will fuck you so hard you won't even remember your name!"

"Amorcita, sorry for calling you a bitch... I would never hurt you..."

"Answer me, you whore! Is he fucking you right now?"

"Baby, please... I can give you a better life than he can. I would never make you do porn like the other whores I have. I'll treat you so good..."

"ANSWER ME BITCH!!!!"

He was driving you insane and the hope that one day he will stop was slowly fading away. And, despite your tries to hide, Alastor did notice something was off - the way you'd ignore that annoying phone whenever it would ring or the way your expression changed whenever you openeed it... It irked him terribly.

So, as you were sleeping, one of the moments Valentino would leave your mind alone, he reached for your phone. The screen lit up, and over the blurred picture of him cooking - that you insisted to use as your wallpaper, there was a text message.

"I'm gonna make you scream my name bitch!"

Another one.

"I bet that Alastor prick can't even fuck you good!!!!"

And another one...

"I can't wait to hear the sounds that mouth of yours can do, amorcita"

And probably there were more, but there was no way for anyone to know since the phone was quickly burnt and probably teleported in some forgotten pit, never to be recovered. Angry would be an understatement of the things he felt at the moment. His gaze fell on your sleeping form, the radio dials in his eyes burning with such intensity it would make anyone shiver. He wanted to make Val suffer, but how... Killing one of the Vees, despite being a nice idea, would surely bring more troubles than anything...

But he had to make sure that pest understands that The Radio Demon hates when people play with what's his...

You woke up to the sounds of grunts, your vision blurry as you opened your eyes. The room was dark, but something felt... off... Though you usually shared a room with Alastor, tonight you fell asleep in the room Charlie had originally assigned you. Exhaustion got the best of you as you were trying to look for some stuff to bring in your "new room", so you ended up knocked up on the bed.

The room was extremely dark compared to Alastor's and despite your tries to accomodate to it and see the source of the grunts, your failed terribly. "Al?" you asked as you lazily reached for the lamp on your nightstand. The bright light made you wince a bit, but you froze at the sight in front of you.

Valentino was engulfed in shadows, forced to sit on a chair in front of your bed. His eyes met yours and you could tell he was pissed. His huge wings twitched, trying to escape from Alastor's magic, his annoyed grunts as a tentacle covered his mouth echoing in your ears.

You heard footsteps approaching you and you both quickly looked towards their direction. The sound of his cane tapping on the floor, as Alastor slowly made his way towards the bed sent shivers down your spine.

"Alastor...? What... What is this?" your voice was weak, taken aback by the gravity of the situation.

He chuckled slightly, the sound making you tremble a bit. Your eyes fell again on Valentino, but Alastor's hand quickly grabbed your face, making you look at him. "This, my dear, is what happens when insects dare to mess with what belongs to me..." he eyed Valentino, as his claw slightly caressed your cheek, a gesture that never failed to make you blush.

His hand left you, your skin already missing the warmth it provided, as he pulled a chair next to the bed. He sat down, his legs slightly spread, despite his usual way of crossing them whenever he sat down somewhere. "I must say, I do admire your boldness, Valentino... thinking you could message my darling such obscene things and not face any consequence..." he shook his head slightly. His eyes met yours once again, a shiver running through your body. "Come here, my dear."

You slowly made your way towards him, sitting in front of him, a knot forming in your stomach as he looked you up and down. "Strip!" he commanded, making your eyes widen in surprise.

"What?" you asked, not quite believing what you were hearing. You quickly shot Valentino a glance, a look of surprise present on his face too. Alastor chuckled slightly, his smile widening at your reaction.

"You've heard me, my dear." he said, his voice softer than you'd expect it to bem given the circumstances. "Strip!" His eyes fell on Valentino once again, his gaze icy. "... And you will watch."

"Alastor, I don't think-" you tried to protest, only to be cut of by him.

"You either get your clothes off or I'll do it myself!" his voice was firm, leaving no room for debate. Hesitantly, you let the white gown fall off your body, Alastor's mouth watering at the sight of your curves. But he was a patient man, and despite the urge to fuck you senseless right there, he had to stick to his revenge plan.

As you sat in front of Valentino in only your panties, a mixture of embarrassment and vulnerability washed over you. However, the presence of Alastor beside you gave you a small beacon of comfort, knowing no harm will come your way. "What do you think, Valentino?" he asked, his eyes falling back on the moth demon. "Isn't she stunning?"

Your face went red at his words. "Alastor, please..." you whispered, the situation already feeling too much for you. His face softened at your plea, his heart shattering a tiny bit seeing you getting slightly overwhelmed.

"Shh, my love..." he cooed, brushing his claw across your skin. "Just try to focus on me, alright?" He slightly tugged at the hem of your panties. "Our friend here wanted to see a show... And we will give it to him." The static in his voice made you shiver as he slowly pulled down your panties, exposing you completely to Valentino. "On your knees!"

You quickly knelt in front of him, your spread folds glistening in the dim light. Despite how pissed he was, Val's cock became painfully hard at the sight; your juicy ass on full display in front of him.

Alastor's eyes were fixed on you, his finger caressing your cheek as his other hand unzipped his pants, taking out his erected cock. He pumped it up a few times, spreading its precum all over it. The way his eyes never left yours and the way his hand moved up and down sent a wave of excitement towards you, feeling yourself getting wetter, despite the embarassing situation.

He looked at Valentino, as he guided you towards his dick. You opened up your mouth, a low grunt echoing in your ears as your lips wrapped around his tip. "Such a good girl for me...." he purred, moving your head up and down his length. Val shifted slightly, the pressure in his pants almost hurting him. "Is this what you wanted, Valentino?" Alastor asked, a hint of mockery in his voice. "Is this how you wanted to have her?" His voice trembled slightly as your worked on his cock.

He grabbed your hair, moving you faster, making you take more and more of him, his occasional grunts making your walls flutter with every slight thrust of his hips. Without a warning, he pushed his entire length down your throat, making you choke on his cock. He made you stay there for a while, feeling him twitch slightly, as you looked up at him, your ears flat against your head.

The feeling of power he had over you sent a wave of pleasure through his body. "Such a good girl for me..." he whispered, gently caressing your head. He pulled you back, and as you gasped for air, your clit pulsed with excitement as you felt your wetness spreading down your thighs. "Can you see how wet she is, Val?" He asked as he eyed the man again, his finger coating itself into the spit that was all around your mouth and chin. "... Always taking me so well..." He leaned down, softly kissing your forehead, sending a shiver down your spine. "Get up, dear."

Alastor helped you get on your feet, quickly pulling you into his lap, your eyes meeting Valentino's. Your face got so hot when you realised the situation you were in, but your mind quickly went blank as you felt his tip brush against your folds, spreading your wetness onto it. "Do you like this, Valentino? I bet you wish you were in my place right now..."

His cock slowly entered you, a soft moan escaping your lips.

"Feeling her around you..."

Your walls clenched around him, his voice making your walls flutter.

"But you're not."

His hand grabbed your waist roughly, making you take all of him at once, a loud moan echoing in the room. Valentino let out a grunt, his pants wet from all the precum. Alastor's hand found its way to your breast, playing with it, while the other gently rubbed your clit, whimpers escaping your mouth with every movement. "What is it, Val? You said you want to hear the sounds she can make... Listen to them now!"

You moved slightly, desperate to feel his cock drag across your walls. You thought he would stop you, make you wait for him to allow you to pleasure yourself, but he didn't.

"Yes, my dear." he managed to say in between grunts, rubbing your clit faster, as you rode him. "Be a good girl and show Val how good I make you feel." He started thrusting up into you, the slapping sound of his hips meeting your ass was making you go insane.

His claw digged into your waist, making you ride him harder, the knot in your stomach getting tighter with every thrust. Your vision was blurred, your mind only focusing on how good his cock stretched you out, making you gush all over it. "Ahh~ Al... Alastor, shit!..." you moaned, digging your nails into his arm.

"Tell him, my love. Tell him who makes you feel so good!" You gasped as he thrusted roughly into you, sending shocks of pleasure over you. His name was all you could think of, his cock inside of you and his fingers working on your clit being the only things you could feel. There was no Val anymore, no embarassment. All you could think of was him.

You leaned back, throwing your head against his shoulders as his movements got quicker. Your walls clenched tightly around him as ecstasy filled your body, leaving you trembling. He gripped your waist with both of his hands, keeping you in place as he rammed into your heat, chasing his own release.

The intensity of his thrusts made you scream. He was fucking you senseless, pushing the air out of your lungs with every move of his hips. His eyes were fixed on Val as he fucked into you, his grin not once faltering as he made a moaning mess out of you.

Alastor's movements became sloppier and with a few deep thrusts, he released himself into you, pushing in so deep that you could almost feel your insides being ripped apart. Your body went numb against his chest, his hands holding you tightly.

"You made such a mess, my doe..." he whispered, brushing some hair away from your face, his cock still slightly twitching inside of you as his cum slowly dripped around it.

You raised your head, seeing Valentino look at you with a slight blush on his cheeks. Your eyes fell on his crotch...

The fucker came from watching you getting fucked...

Tags: @ratsematary @littlebluefishtail @xghostnuggsx @vxllys

@ustulia @n0tmentallystable @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog @alastorthirsty

@l3rittany @catticora

[eringobragh420]

🖤 Pairing: Damian Priest x f!Reader 🖤 Summary: Damian and his girlfriend’s relationship is on the edge of collapse, and they discover a new, interesting way to reconnect. 🛑 Warnings: NSFW. Angst, alcohol, cockwarming, dirty talk, unprotected p in v, cum 18+ 🖤 Notes: Spanish translations are at the end of the story. I do not speak Spanish, so if anything is incorrect, please let me know and I’ll fix it! ❤️ It's super long, so I marked where the smut begins for my feral beauties ❤️ 🖤 Taglist: @pittieprincess22, @cyberdejos2, @brideofinfamy, @rainbowdreams-x. If you’d like to be added, please click here! 🖤 Requested By: Anonymous. Hope you enjoy! 🖤 MASTERLIST

Staring at the label on the empty bottle of beer in her hand, she heard Damian’s boisterous laughter across the bar. She remembered a time not long ago when her own giggling would have been mixed in, but instead, here she sat, abandoned by her boyfriend so he could watch some stupid baseball game on the TV behind the bar with a group of other drunk guys he’d only just met this evening. She glanced over her shoulder at him, the tallest guy in the place, hair in a wet ponytail, dressed in his Yankees jersey, band t-shirt, and ripped jeans. Sexy as ever—the man only got more attractive with each passing year. His gestures were big as he entertained the circle around him, probably regaling them with stories from the road as a WWE superstar. She rolled her eyes, returning her attention to the beer bottle. She considered getting another one, but how much fun was it really going to be to be pissed off and drunk?

“You look lonely.”

She glanced up, eyebrow cocked, and found not a bad-looking man standing next to her table, but a man just the same, who was not her boyfriend. She cast her eyes back to Damian, and he was still otherwise occupied.

“I’m really not,” she replied.

“Sure you are,” the man argued, taking it upon himself to sit across from her. She inhaled deeply through her nostrils and all she could do was hope Damian remained oblivious. “I saw your man leave you over here like an hour ago.”

Had it really been that long?

“Well, maybe I’m just not very good company,” she deadpanned.

“I don’t believe that,” the man said. “A pretty girl like you? You’d be the best company, and I sure as hell wouldn’t leave you alone all night.”

“Listen, I appreciate the interest, but—”

The man’s eyes lifted, focused on something behind her, and she didn’t need to turn around to know what was happening, or about to happen.

“Somethin’ you need?” Damian’s hulking presence was beside her, and she took another deep breath, leaning against the back of the booth. 

“Hey, man,” the guy seated in front of her said, lifting a hand a beer bottle, “nobody’s doing anything wrong. Just havin’ a conversation.”

“Oh, okay, cool,” Damian said, leaning his fists on the table, muscles and tattoos rippling beneath the sleeves of his jersey. “Let’s have a conversation.”

The man across from her tilted his head and told her, “Good luck,” before beginning to climb out of his seat.

“The fuck is your problem?” Damian commanded, shoving the guy with one hand as soon as he stood up, freely knocking him off balance and to the sticky floor.

“Damian, relax,” his girlfriend yelled, slamming her bottle of beer on the table. “We were just talking.”

“Well I got some things to say, too,” Damian growled.

“Great,” she said, climbing out of the booth. “You guys talk it out, and I’m gonna go home.” 

Damian paused the stalking of his prey to focus on her for the first time since the incident began. They watched one another for a moment that lasted a lifetime, and she remembered falling in love with him the first time she saw him, she remembered feeling him the first night they’d had sex. She remembered holding hands and whispered secrets and promises of the future. He’d pledged to give her the world. Had he been lying when he’d sworn or had their relationship simply come to an unfortunate end? She didn’t know him well enough anymore to know the answer to what should have been a terribly straightforward question, and it horrified her, but she thought maybe if she could hold his concentration on her, he would recall all of those things, too. The good things. If he would just look deeply enough …

Damian severed their connection by turning back to a man and a situation that didn’t matter, and her heart disintegrated. Dusted, like in the Avengers. She grabbed her purse from the booth and had the Uber app pulled up on her phone before she even reached the door. She fought herself from looking back, repeating in her head that he wasn’t worth it—not anymore—in a futile attempt at making what she was about to do just a little easier. Yeah, right.

Once inside the Uber, her boyfriend having never once come out to check on her while she waited, she had another battle concerning whether or not to glimpse back. She kept her eyes forward until the vehicle was about to make a right hand turn, and suddenly there was a tug in her chest where her heart had once been. Like there was a string tied around the veins and arteries still remaining and it was connected to something she’d left behind. Clutching her aching chest with one hand, she pressed her other hand to the door to help her turn around, and she gasped, tears cascading down her cheeks. Damian was standing outside the bar, ponytail whipping this way and that as he searched desperately, perhaps finding what he was looking for in the back of the very vehicle she sat in as he promptly launched into an all-out sprint on the sidewalk, chasing after her. She slowly covered her mouth, weeping at the agony etched on his face, and she slid down in the seat, closing her eyes. 

She loved him. By all that was good and gracious in the world, she loved him with her entire being, but she couldn’t fucking do it anymore. She finished crying over the rest of the ride home, to their home, and she mumbled a thank you to the driver before getting out, closing the door behind her. The car sped off, she watched it go, and she imagined the scene was much like the one Damian had witnessed just a short bit ago. Her eyes slid to their front door, and she wrestled more tears as she plodded inside.

Damian arrived home faster than anticipated, but she’d had enough time to get herself together, to expel all the tears and soothe her trembling body by the time he came bounding through the door. Seeing her standing in the middle of the living room, he all but skidded to a stop. “I didn’t think—” He gestured at the door and held up his keys.

“We need … no, you need to figure out what you want, Damian,” she interrupted. 

He walked slowly around the couch, approaching her as if she were a lioness that could and probably would strike at any moment, rip him to pieces and devour him. When he was within a few feet, she took a step back. She knew what he was trying to do—he did it all the time. Get close enough to touch her, kiss her, hold her, coax her into believing she wasn’t mad about what she was really mad about. Her reaction stopped him dead in his tracks, and she watched his throat work as he swallowed.

“I don’t know—” he started.

“Of course you don’t know,” she interjected again, more tears pricking the corners of her eyes. So much for all cried out. “Why would you? It’s all about Damian. It has been ever since the beginning of this relationship, but I was too …” She sniffed, shrugged. “Too in love, I guess.” Her chuckle was pathetic as Damian breathed deeply through his nose, chest expanding and deflating. “And I thought you were in love with me …”

“What are you—? Of course—”

“Do you remember how we used to be?” she asked pitifully. “You were the Mickey to my Mallory …”

“Baby—”

“We actually made love for hours. We didn’t just fuck to cum like we do now.”

“Please listen to me …”

“No,” she stopped him one final time, her tone so soft she wasn’t sure she’d spoken at all. “I’m done listening.” She wiped fresh tears from her cheeks. “I put all your stuff for Raw by the door.” Damian’s brows furrowed and he turned to look at the door he’d just come through. His suitcase-on-wheels was lying on its front, a small duffel bag nearby—he’d blundered right past them. His eyes, now for the first time this entire evening beginning to show worry, returned to her, and they both knew how his luggage had gotten there from where he’d left it in their bedroom on the second floor. “I know you’re not supposed to leave for a day, but I just … I need you to go now.” Damian’s eyes fluttered closed and he scrubbed his huge hands over his face. “And while you’re gone, maybe you’ll remember what we used to have. How happy we used to be.”

“I’m—”

“If you say you’re happy, I swear to God—” She trailed off with a strangled chuckle.

“Oh, so you know how I feel?” Damian retorted.

She blinked up at him, and in his eyes, the ones that had once been so alive and so full of love, she could see misery and turbulence, and yeah, she could easily say she knew how he felt. She cleared her throat, brushing more tears from both cheeks quickly, as if she did it fast enough, he might not see how utterly broken she was. Maybe that’s what he needed to see. “I’m going upstairs,” she whispered, “and if you do love me, if you do care about me … you’ll leave.”

“Mi vida, please, just tell me—”

“You left me alone for an hour tonight!” his girlfriend suddenly erupted, and Damian’s eyes rounded. “We’ve seen each other four days in the past two weeks, and some fucking Yankees game has your attention? You try to fight some guy who didn’t know we were together because you left me alone for an hour?” Damian’s lips pursed and he remained silent for once. She sighed. “Goodbye, Damian. Have a safe trip.” 

She gave him a wide berth on her way to the stairs, stepping over his luggage as she headed up. Hurrying into their bedroom, she closed the door and locked it behind her, and by the time she’d slid down the wood until her ass met the carpet, she was a blubbering fool, covering her mouth to keep from crying out, to keep from hollering for Damian and telling him she was just kidding, and could he just hold her for a while and then everything would be okay? In time, she heard the front door open and close again. She could almost feel his presence, his very soul, drifting further away from her, that tugging in her chest returning, and she collapsed in slow motion, floating to the floor on her side, hugging her knees to her chest.

She awoke some time later in the same fetal position, suspecting she’d passed out from sheer exhaustion. Lifting her head, her spine screamed from the base of her skull all the way to her tailbone, and the carpet stuck to her cheek—she could only imagine the pattern etched into her skin as she lurched into a sitting position. She’d left a lamp on in the corner of the room, the soft glow illuminating the empty space, the unmade bed she wasn’t sure she’d be able to sleep in at all, and as the quiet enveloped her, she wondered if there would ever be laughter here again. She looked at the chaise lounge opposite the lamp, a small smile quirking her lips when she could almost see herself straddling Damian’s lap there, and she could almost hear her voice whisper that she was in love with him and had been since shaking his hand on her first day at WWE.

She rolled her eyes, refusing to permit any more tears from staining her cheeks, but that didn’t stop the intrusive thoughts in the back of her mind. Did Damian remember these things? Did they mean anything to him? Did she? Or was it his career he was now madly in love with? She’d sent Damian away to decipher the answers to these important questions, but she wasn’t certain she’d be strong enough to hear the answers. She climbed to her feet, limping across the floor to grab her phone from her side of the bed. As she reached for it, she paused, rubbed her fingers along her palm, and took a deep breath—all she could do to prepare for what she might find waiting for her in her notifications.

The missed calls and text messages were both in the double digits, along with a few voicemails, all from Damian, and she swallowed a softball size lump in her throat as she opened the text messages. She knew damn good and well there was no way she’d be able to listen to his voice without breaking down once more, and she was so damn tired of crying.

She sat slowly on the bed, the earlier suspicion she might not be able to sleep here blotted out by the overwhelming need to somehow be near Damian even though she’d just sent him across the country a day earlier than either of them had anticipated. Her dying phone slid from her hand, thumping on the carpet, as she backed across the king-size bed until she was on Damian’s side. Somehow the man slept with only one very thin pillow, so she grabbed one of hers and added it underneath before slipping her legs under the blanket and sheet. She was instantly inundated by the scent of Damian’s leave-in conditioner, but most importantly, the spice that was simply him drifted inside her nostrils and she was both allayed and shattered at the same time. Still depleted, now more than before, her heavy eyelids fell and she drifted off into a land of nightmares.

As Damian’s plane bound for Washington crashed above her into the side of a mountain, she was jolted awake. Her upper body careened forward, hair flying, arms reaching out because maybe if she could just catch the plane … A hand on her shoulder brought her fully out of unconsciousness, and she jumped again. 

“It’s okay! It’s just me!” Tiffy. Beautiful, sweet, perfect Tiffy, but all Damian’s girlfriend could think about was the fact that Tiffy had Ludwig and Ludwig had Tiffy and they were disgustingly happy and she was wildly envious.

“Tiffy,” she whispered. “What are you …” She scratched her head, looking up at Miss Money in the Bank, eyes mere slits. “How did you get in here?”

“Damian called Ludwig,” she explained. “He said he hadn’t talked to you in hours and your phone was going straight to voicemail.” Damian’s girlfriend nodded, though not wholly comprehending. “He told me where the spare key was.” She held it up.

“I see,” the dejected woman in bed said. “Well, I’m fine.”

“Obviously,” Tiffy rolled her eyes, “just like Damian is just fine.” Her pink manicured nails formed air quotes.

“Tiffany, I really don’t—”

“Look. It’s almost one o’clock, so I brought two of these—” She lifted the neck of a bottle of wine out of her glittery tote bag. “Let’s talk.”

Damian’s girlfriend was really getting tired of people demanding she speak to them, but she supposed this was different. Maybe she needed another perspective. She sent Tiffany to the patio by the pool while she changed out of the clothes she’d worn to the bar the night before and then had slept in, brushed her teeth, and as she was headed across the bedroom toward the door, she spotted her phone still lying on the white carpet. She feared what she’d see upon bringing it back to life, so she left it where it was, closed the door after her, and met Tiffy by the pool.

Nursing a hangover on Sunday and into the evening on Monday thanks to Tiffy Time, Damian’s girlfriend was again in bed, on his side, iPad in her lap, Monday Night Raw on the television. Tiffany had succeeded in making her feel at least a little better, agreeing that things had gotten bad enough between them that sending him to Washington early was probably the best way to get through to him, although, she added, it seemed a bit harsh. She recalled a similar situation between herself and Ludwig—their schedules had been completely opposite, they never saw each other, and their connection had started to dissolve—to which Tiffany had responded in a completely different manner. Instead of kicking him out and sending him across the country, she’d done internet research and consulted various friends in search of a way to reconnect with her boyfriend.

And the route of reconnection Tiffany had discovered was now in the search bar of Safari: cockwarming. Damian’s girlfriend had heard of it, but never given it much thought, assuming it was just one of a million other ways to please a man, but Tiffany had assured her that cockwarming wasn’t about giving or receiving pleasure, it was about being present and intimate with someone you loved, building or rebuilding a physical and emotional relationship by linking together in the closest way possible. It made sense, and she was willing to try anything. 

She glanced up at the muted television, heart skipping a beat when saw Damian in the middle of a match. He looked tired, and maybe he was hungover too, and he just didn’t seem as on point as he normally was. A little slower, a little careless, a little like he didn’t give a fuck. She turned the TV off, rubbing at her forehead. She was responsible for his distraction, and she hadn’t meant for their problems to interfere with his work, but she’d acted so rashly in kicking him out, she hadn’t considered any effect it would have on his live television performance. She hadn’t considered him at all, if she were being honest, so what did that say about her? Maybe Damian wasn’t the only one who needed to figure things out.

Without warning,  a bolt of lightning shot through her entire body, a current of electricity coursing across her skin, and she jumped out of bed. She looked at Damian’s side where she’d been sitting, her pillow under his, and it wasn’t right. She glanced at the TV and Raw wasn’t on and she wasn’t cussing at whomever Damian’s opponent was, and it wasn’t right. She hadn’t kissed him goodbye and he hadn’t slapped her ass for good luck, as was their routine, and it wasn’t right. The way she’d made him leave, ignoring him—none of it was right. Her eyes cut to her phone on the bed, to her purse on the chair, ending on a pair of sneakers in the corner of the room. Her brain shut off, leaving her heart in control, and her legs were moving. She grabbed the phone and the purse, slipped her feet in the shoes, and jogged downstairs. She grabbed her keys from the table and slammed the front door behind her.

She found herself at the airport, still on autopilot, and she bounced from one foot to the other as she waited in line to purchase a ticket. When she finally reached the desk, she placed her wallet on the counter. “Hi,” she said, “I need to get to Seattle tonight. Right now. One way.” 

The lady behind the computer punched several keys. “Well, it’s your lucky day,” she beamed, and Damian’s girlfriend suppressed the urge to punch her. “I have one seat left on a flight leaving in thirty minutes.”

“Great.”

“It’s $1,798.” Of course the only seat left would be first class.

“That’s fine,” she said, rummaging through her wallet for her credit card and identification. Damian was worth it, their relationship was worth it. 

Aboard the plane, she tried to sleep, but it was impossible. She tried to read a book on her phone, but she couldn’t concentrate. She ended up spending most of the flight reading and rereading Damian’s text messages, self-loathing growing with each pass. Yes, he was responsible for their abrupt separation, but she was just as much to blame. 

Landing in Washington, she checked her messages again, this time tapping on the thread with Rhea, who’d responded to her question while she’d been 37,000 feet in the air. Armed with the information provided by Damian’s closest friend, she ordered an Uber and gave him the address of Damian’s hotel. She rode the elevator to the top floor, wondering if he’d had to pay extra for a last minute booking, which, again, would have been her fault. Same with the price of his plane ticket. Of course, whatever she’d cost them monetarily paled in comparison to the time she’d cost them. 

SMUT Standing in front of Damian’s hotel room door, she knocked softly. Moments later the door opened, and there he stood, the love of her life, the Mickey to her Mallory, the very face she wanted to see before she died. He was in a black sleeveless shirt and black basketball shorts, and he looked burnt out and used up, and was she accountable for that too? But when he realized who was standing in front of him, those dead eyes reanimated, and his hunched shoulders squared. They gazed at one another for an extended moment, a silent conversation passing between them, an ask of permission and consent granted.

Damian stepped into the hall, and his girlfriend raised her elbows so he could position his big hands under her armpits before slowly, tenderly, lifting her in the air, not unlike picking up a crying toddler. Her arms slipped around his neck, her legs around his waist, and he completed their puzzle by enveloping her in his protective embrace. She tucked her face into the crook of his neck, crossed her feet behind him, and she was home. He held her for a while in the hall before stepping back inside the hotel room, the mechanism at the top of the door closing it for him, and then he held her some more, still standing, placing a hand on the back of her head. Eventually he took a seat in the chair beside the bed, his girlfriend repositioning her legs so she was straddling him, sitting back on his thighs, and they were able to look at each other again.

“I’m sorry,” he spoke first, cupping her face. “You’re right. I took you for granted. I took everything we have for granted.” He shook his head, eyes round and clear and the most delicious shade of chocolate. “I know what we were before … and I know … we’re not—we’re not that anymore. Just tell me how to make it right.” He brought their foreheads together, and her hands braced herself on his hard chest. “Tell me how to fix it. Because I ain’t quitting, and I ain’t letting you go.”

His girlfriend smiled for the first time in days, but it was fleeting. “I shouldn’t have kicked you out. I’m sorry, too.”

Damian shook his head, eyes searching her face. “No more apologies.” He kissed her forehead, and she laid her head on his chest. “So what do we do?” he mumbled against the top of her head.

Her eyes opened. “I just think we … need to reconnect,” she said. “And … I might have an idea how we can start.”

She explained cockwarming with a hell of a lot less grace and knowledge than Tiffany, and a hell of a lot more embarrassment, if her superheated cheeks were any kind of clue. But Damian listened, and his focus was solely on her, and he didn’t make fun of the idea, and they were already headed in the right direction. They agreed to give it a try here and now, as there was no better time than the present, and they were both too exhausted to engage in much else. The couple made their way to the bed, Damian’s girlfriend toeing her shoes off before they removed each other’s clothing, and they climbed under the blankets.

The experience was supposed to be more about intimacy and less about having sex, she’d illustrated, but, to make it easier for him to slip inside her, she’d have to get at least a little damp. It was no secret what Damian did to her simply by existing, so he smirked, brushing her hair from her shoulder so he could cradle her neck, thumb caressing her jawline. He pressed their lips together, the couple sharing a sigh of relief, and she rested her fingers on his wrist as they kissed. All the fear and worry and stress melted away as her arousal grew, and as they’d both suspected, it didn’t take long for her to become wet and ready, and, consequently, for Damian to become hard.

“Sorry,” he said.

“That is something you’re never gonna have to apologize for,” his girlfriend assured him. They shared a smile. “Just try to keep from, you know … fucking me.”

“Easy for you to say,” Damian commented, and they snickered. “How do you wanna …?“

She rolled over to her other side, backing up against him, semi-hard dick slipping between her ass cheeks. Damian whispered in her ear to be careful, and she couldn’t help the smile. They were going to get through this. He positioned her how he needed, making sure she was comfortable before slowly sliding inside her. He moaned, playing it off by clearing his throat, and she was barely able to mask her own whine. His arm slid under her pillow, gripping her hand that was already there, his other arm wrapping around her, and she held that hand with hers against her chest. He twitched inside her, and her pussy instinctively clenched around him, and their holds tightened on each other.

“You know it’s been, like, 50 hours since I left,” Damian said, following a moment of adjustment and silence.

“Damian …”

“No, I—I just mean … that was 50 hours without you. 50 hours to think about everything, all of it. So I don’t want you to feel bad for kicking me out. You were right. I needed time to figure things out.”

“And what did you figure out?” she asked. Considering he was inside her and holding her and he hadn’t slammed the door in her face, she knew his answer was at least a little positive.

“I haven’t been there for you,” he said, voice so deep, his girlfriend could all but feel her pussy producing slickness. “I made my job and everything else more important than you. And I’m sorry.” He pulled her closer, his cock slipping that much deeper within her. His biceps were unforgiving but protective, and the steady rise and fall of his chest comforted her on a level she’d never experienced before. “Baby, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” she said, squeezing his hands.

“You don’t—”

“Damian, there are two people in this relationship. What if I had just talked to you about how I was feeling weeks ago? We could have avoided—”

“I know me, you know me. It wouldn’t have had the same effect as kicking my dumbass out of my own house had.”

She sighed, believing what he said, but there would be no way to erase the guilt she still felt. 

“I love you, querida,” he uttered into her ear. “Eres mi vida, mi alma, mi todo. Siempre.”

Her body shuddered, Damian’s arm tightening around her. “I love you, Papí.” He pressed his face into the back of her neck, and the couple was physically as close as they could possibly be to one another. She felt her heart rebuilding, she felt their connection rejoining, and she knew just this one night wasn’t going to solve all their problems, but they were making an effort, and that was enough for now. “I love when you’re inside me,” she breathed, eyes closing.

“I know,” Damian whispered.

She awoke sometime later, eyes slowly blinking open. The sun was beginning to rise and her body was moving, ever so gently, her head sliding up and down the pillow. Regaining consciousness, she realized that where Damian had been semi-hard and comforting inside her before falling asleep, he was now solid and thick, filling her to the brim, and his hips were thrusting somewhat casually against her. And then she heard a faint snore from him, and that explained everything. She thought about waking him, she really did, but he felt too fucking good and she’d missed him too fucking much, and it had been a long fucking time since they’d been so intimate. There was no way she could fight this.

She let him continue, his pumps erratic and varying in strength, but she didn’t care. His hand rose from the mattress, sliding past one nipple to cup the opposite breast, which he instinctively squeezed, groped, and that particular pump was hard and deep. She cried out, smacking a hand over her mouth, but it was already too late.

“Shit,” Damian breathed. “I’m sorry, I thought I was dreamin’.”

She reached back, grabbing at his hip over the blanket. “No,” she whispered, “please don’t stop.”

“But—”

“Please, Papí,” she begged.

Damian attacked her neck, sucking, biting, and she moaned into the pillow, imagining proudly wearing his marks for all to see on the way home. His thrusts became steadier, more powerful, and his hand returned to her breast. He brushed the cool metal of his rings along her nipple before pinching and pulling, and her back bowed, pulling him deeper inside her pussy.

“This isn’t …” he trailed off, panting, and she recognized the sounds he was making, the words he was repeating.

She lifted her hips away from him, allowing him to carefully slip from inside her. Rolling over, she climbed on top of him, stroking his big cock a few times before lining her pussy up with the head. Meeting Damian’s gaze, she sank down onto him at a snail’s pace, watching as his eyes averted to witness their bodies join together, lasting longer than she expected before he laid his head back on the pillow, eyes closing, mouth uttering a string of obscenities. Biting her lip, she massaged her soft hands along the firm planes of his tattooed pecs until she found a suitable position that would allow for optimal riding. As she was about to lift her hips, Damian’s fingers encircled her wrists and raised her hands, melding their palms together, their fingers intertwining, his elbows anchoring them to the mattress.

“Ride it, baby,” he growled.

Grinning, his girlfriend’s eyes closed and her grip tightened on his hands and her hips started to move. She was instantly reminded of his size as she rose, her pussy shrinking back to its normal proportion the further he was removed, only to be stretched again with the next downward thrust.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Damian moaned, as she repeated the action over and over.

“I missed you so much,” she breathed, impaling herself fully and then grinding her clit against him. She freed her fingers from his and put them back on his chest, her entire body moving with her hips.

“I know,” Damian whispered. He grabbed two handfuls of her ass and took control of the pace. “Fuck, yeah, bounce on it. Bounce on my cock, baby.”

She obeyed, though he was doing most of the work, which ended up with him holding her still and his cock hammering up into her. “Oh, God,” she squeaked, his pounding hitting that secret spot inside her. “I’m gonna cum, Papí.”

His hand wrapped around the back of her neck and he jerked her down until their lips smashed together. “Say my name,” he breathed. “Say my fucking name.”

“Damian,” she wailed, pulsing around the battering ram that was his dick. Their lips smacked and their teeth clacked, and her throbbing cunt milked his own orgasm. The kissing continued as they rode out the waves of pleasure, as every ounce of stress and heartache and worry melted away, to be replaced by hope and love and positivity for the future.

Sleep was knocking, and she slowly descended until her cheek was on his chest, his softening cock staying warm within her. “I love you,” she whispered, almost like an afterthought, and Damian chuckled, placing a hand on her head.

“I love you, mi vida.”

🎀 Mi vida — My life 🎀 Mi alma — My soul 🎀 Querida — Dearest/Beloved, term of endearment 🎀 Eres mi vida, mi alma, mi todo. Siempre — You’re my life, my soul, my everything. Forever 

[sitepathos]

Every single thing you post about the batfam ignites tons of emotions inside me. I just read the 2nd part of the coma asks and was outright shocked with how the rage was shown from y/n. I was just thinking what would happen when the reader is constantly shown affection from the family, y/n find the camera Tim hid in his room. Would he berate Tim too and try and escape after that if they hadn't barred his windows?

What would happen?

Love the whole series, and excitedly waiting for the next part

When you discover the camera, you destroy that thing without hesitation.

You may be trapped in this horrible manor like a damn animal, but you refuse to be put on display for all to see.

Tim understands why you don’t want to be watched, but he needs to know how make you see reason and he can’t do that without information.

He sneaks into your room while you slept (bypassing Alfred’s ever watchful gaze) and plants a micro camera, the type they use during patrols.

Imagine his surprise when he opens up the feed the following morning to see you discovering the camera without a problem.

“None of you are as smart as you think you are,” you shout at the device before crushing it.

Ok, did not expect that. This raises even more questions, mostly: how the hell do you know about their micro cameras?

His need for more information grows and he decides he must speak with you directly, so he goes to your room.

“Oh look, if it isn’t Red Robin,” you taunt as he enters. “Forgive me if I don’t say ‘yum,’ that food is overrated.”

First question: how? Second question: the fuck?

“Surprised I know your little secret? I lived here for twelve years, dumbass. Did you really think I was so stupid not to notice you all coming and going?”

Not dumb, but inattentive. Though, with them basically forgetting that you were in the manor, it would stand to reason that you probably saw all sort of things.

“Y/N, I know you’re angry, but I promise you that we won’t make the same mistakes. We love you—“

“Shut the fuck up, you fucking twink, what do you know about love? Your own parents didn’t love you and Bruce sure as hell doesn’t know shit about love. He’s a cold, unfeeling bastard that’s dead on the inside and you’re just like him! No wonder he took you in!”

Ok, if you calling him a twink wasn’t bad enough, you had to go and bring up his parents.

“I know what you saw when Scarecrow dowsed you in his fear toxin. That Bruce doesn’t really love you because you blackmailed your way into making him adopt you, and that no one here loves. That’s not a fear, that’s the truth. You’re fucked in the head and anyone with eyes can see it! Who would ever love you?”

Ok, now that definitely stung.

“My Momma loved me, too bad you can’t say the same. You ever think she died just so she could get away from you?”

Ok, now that’s below the belt and he’s reached his limit.

He leaves your room and calls a family meeting, telling them that you know their secret, causing them all to gasp.

They were determined to keep you here until you accept their love, but now, you can never leave.

Knowing their secret puts them and you at risk.

But don’t worry, with Bruce’s money, he can get you anything you want and you don’t even have to lift a finger.

And Tim will be in the background, determined to find out everything you know about them.

He thought he was good at stalking, but you may be able to teach him a thing or two.

[szkunas]

KNOCK KNOCK, GUESS WHO! ౨ৎㅤsuguru geto.

synopsis / premise ♱ㅤwhen things in your life go well for a long time, there will undeniably be a problem knocking on your door. this time, the issue is your ex-boyfriend, wanted by the jujutsu society — who is very angry with you, even after he stole your money. || PART ONE (previous)

featuring ♱ㅤsuguru geto (jjk0 / 2017 version) x FEM reader.

warnings ♱ㅤ NSFW ♡︎ ㅤporn with very little plot ! toxic behavior ! suguru (GENOCIDAL man) ! unprotected sex (wrap it up) + unrealistic portraits of sex ! creampie ! reader and gojo are not in a relationship, but mutually interested in each other ! coercion / dub-con (both consent but just to be safe) ! genocide / death mentions (geto) ! stalking and breaking in ! bondage + choking ! spanking ! edging ! obsessed suguru agenda ! delusional suguru (you will see) ! seduction !

honorary mentions (inspirations, please read) ♱ㅤthis ask, by anon! all credits to them, i was not planning a part two, haha. whoever you are, i hope you enjoy it.

author’s note ♱ㅤso, today i was sitting down and thinking “im going to finish that yuta draft and probably start the sukuna draft for the event, since he’s winning the poll”. guess which of these two things I did? exactly. none. so, here is more suguru geto for you. i apologize in advance — i am not good at writing seduction. this is a bit rushed lol. repost because i can't see my post in tags

THERE IS NOTHING SCARIER than discovering that the person you love most is hiding a dark secret. it could be a lover, a second family, a dark past or a real, rotting present. that’s the feeling you get: everything is rotten. the walls around you and the space are shaped into a molten mist that rots as time passes, as you read the letter that someone slipped under your door.

the highly wanted criminal, suguru geto, was seen in your apartment two weeks ago, as shown in the photos below. we ask for your full and complete cooperation in the investigation, and soon some sorcerers will need to interrogate you. expect their visit at any time and answer the door when the time comes.ㅤ— the higher-ups from jujutsu society.

oh, hell. no. this cannot be happening.

as the procedure says, you burn the letter and get rid of the ashes.

although your situation is absolutely desperate, the secrecy of jujutsu comes before your disastrous love life. you turn to look for your cell phone, and the delay hurts your bones.

it seems like the object disappears when you need it most. when you find the damn phone, you don’t even hesitate. as you type the number that, at this point, your head knows by heart, your hands shake. this cannot be true. they are lying, they are trying to deceive me and defame suguru. but why? why would society need to do this?

of course, mentally, you suppress yourself. and a rational part of your brain — the part that isn’t driven by the love you feel for a man who’s been with you a long time — slowly realizes that this is the truth.

that’s why the disappearances in the middle of the night, the slight disregard for non-sorcerers touching you or him. the preference for privacy and not allowing you to post photos of the two of you together. he doesn’t have social media, he said. it feels very public. what a lie, he was actually a wanted criminal and cult leader.

no one answers the call, and you press the button once again. and again. and again. by the sixth time, you’re not sure if your hands are shaking with fear, disgust, or hate.

your money. your savings, built up after you left the witch life behind. a small guarantee of your future, a future you planned to have with suguru. a future stolen and lost, by the same man who once stole her heart. beautiful black hair and purple eyes really make a girl forget to pay attention to the red flags.

you leave voicemail after voicemail, until the box is full. then, messages. text after text while your fingertips digit furiously. it didn’t take long for you to realize that a response from him would be even worse, so your last messages were simple, direct. do not talk to me anymore. don’t ever appear in front of me again. and don’t you dare involve me in your affairs, you bastard.

pressing the send button through tears was one of the hardest things you’ve ever done in your life. and so, blocking the number seemed like the most sensible solution. it’s not like he would respond, even if you gave the number to the investigators — your exact intention.

so everything went as it should. 39 missed calls, 104 unanswered messages that changed her perspective of him forever, along with a letter that turned to ash, like a caterpillar turning into a butterfly. your life took a new direction, an unpredictable metamorphosis that made you move to another address after the entire legal process on your part was concluded. you didn’t know, and you had no involvement, as hard as it was to believe. and then the sorcerers left you alone, and this was your second new start to normal life.

lonely and with a betrayed heart, in a new apartment far from your ex. unloading the last box does not bring the relief of releasing a chain, but the pain. the pain of losing something. as if the chain had tied itself to one of your ribs and ripped it away, taking a part of you.

but the tears dry. time passes. the pain diminishes, and the space that takes it in the heart is hatred. you become your priority again, and in time, you rise again only to fall again. one last effort, a call to a certain sorcerer you once knew, satoru gojo. this was his noah’s ark, his last hope before resorting to more desperate methods.

he answered. and since then, a lot has changed.

it’s been almost ten months since suguru stole your money and trampled on your love and dignity. almost ten months in which you had your heart broken, and you slowly put the pieces back together. now, your latest relationship — it’s not really a relationship.

six weeks ago, you and satoru had sex in your apartment for the first time. since then, he has been very helpful in all aspects of your life and visits you regularly. he takes you on dates and even carried you when his feet got sore from walking. it sounds crazy, feeling so comfortable with someone after just six weeks, but that’s what happens.

gojo is more than an arrogant boy who uses humor in every situation he sees, he has a heart, and a very generous one at that. despite his insistence, the credit card that was entrusted to you is rarely used (and you managed to convince him to change the password, too). his intention was to ask for help, not to become a parasite that will take as much from him as he can. not when he’s a much better person than you expected. a kind of clumsy white knight, in a cute and a bit of a loser way at the same time.

so, of course, the dates have become routine now. cinemas, walks in the park, roller skating, going for ice cream. these experiences stand out in your memories, as sweet as scenes from clichéd romance films. kisses in the rain, desperate hands pushing you into the apartment — maybe this time, you might be able to tease him a little, make him lose it and have you right there, in a dark corner? the idea is exciting, dangerous, and so stupid it makes your heart flutter.

he still owes you a new bed, though. you keep fucking on your couch because you two broke your single bed the last time you did it.

checking yourself in the mirror before a date is, naturally, what everyone does. the red dress that adorns her body is a little short, the kind of thing you see on a seductive movie character. but satoru asked for this tiny — as tiny as the dress, in his words — favor and promised anything you wanted later if you wore that and hung on his arm all night. even when he’s being a pervert, he’s just a guy who’s whipped for you.

the idea makes you take a step back. satoru can’t be in love with you. yeah, okay. he does cute things often. he takes you on dates almost every week. he’s always trying to make you laugh and has already learned most of your quirks, likes and dislikes. he remembers you throughout the day, at random intervals, and buys you things so casually that you had to beg him to stop and not max out his card bill — he just laughed and said it was all cheap anyway. heirs…

but he can’t be in love. it’s all new, recent. perfect, but maybe it’s just hidden by the love fog at the beginning of a relationship. it has already blinded you to bad signals once, and you internally wonder if you are using gojo.

of course, part of you has already thought about it. having sex with your ex’s best friend and solve your financial problems. two birds, one stone. but satoru is everything suguru is not — true. intense and real, without a mask of sweet truth that covered a rotten truth.

honestly, you don’t want to think about it too much right now. this is a conversation that should be between you and satoru, not between you and your intrusive, insecure thoughts. he deserves to know the truth and he deserves to know that you’re just as interested as he is — not on the money, but on him.

a text message makes you smile right after spraying a sweet perfume on your neck. the screen lights up with that contact that has now become your favorite.

toru <3; ㅤ already in the dress? photos or else ill die (seriously)

a small laugh escapes your throat, and you immediately prepare to take a photo. stepping back a little and posing in front of the mirror, you could swear you heard something near your apartment door while simultaneously hearing the soft click of your cell phone.

one pose to show the front, and one for the back, with a soft, evil smile. satoru isn’t your boyfriend, but with his attitude, he could very well be. he looks at you as if you were the only woman in the world, and as if he wanted you forever. it’s beautiful. it’s such a beautiful emotion to see in those blue eyes that you can’t wait for the next time you look.

after texting back, asking what time the movie starts, your eyebrows come together in a frown. omnisity takes over the environment quickly, and you swear your heart stops beating.

this energy— it cannot be.

“hi princess. missed me?”

the whisper in your ear is so sudden that you immediately turn your face to look. a hand grabs your chin and forces your head to turn back to the mirror, and you gasp, immediately struggling.

suguru geto, on the flesh, the greatest traitor to have walked the earth since judas. traitor to the jujutsu society, criminal and mass murderer, and of course — your ex-boyfriend. right behind you, and forcing you to stare at the mirror as his free hand snatches your phone away.

you hit him with your elbow, but he barely moves. humming, as if he is amused. as if you are some game. geto’s hips press forward against yours, and he efficiently traps you between the sink and him.

this cannot be happening.

what suguru doesn’t find amusing, though, is your text messages with satoru. long or short, little flirtations or obvious nudes, these messages are simply something that makes him turn his nose up in disgust. how dare him. how dare satoru take the one thing suguru truly loved that way?

“get off me.” you murmur, your eyes widening. like any sorcerer, you know the basics of defending yourself, but panic runs through your veins like poison. your muscles feel like solid stone, and you can’t stop your breath from hitching when his hand stops cupping your cheek to grab you by the throat.

he’s a criminal who definitely must have had his share of fights. you are a sorceress who has not been in the field for almost ten years. in a real fight? he could drown you in that sink and satoru would only find out hours later.

satoru. the thought makes you immediately ramble.

“don’t you dare lay a hand on me. satoru will—” he squeezes your neck softly, a silent message for you to keep your mouth shut. suguru sighs, annoyed he needs to explain it to you, word by word. he really, really likes you, but he’s not in the mood after all these games.

this small action — squeezing your neck gently — makes you remember old times. old times, not good days. because, although they were good, the memory was effectively corrupted when he left you, almost a year ago.

“satoru will not do a thing. he doesn’t know i’m here, and he won’t know.” a break. “yet.”

your eyebrows shoot up, before your face contorts into confusion. what does he mean, yet? if anyone knows he’s here, he will be executed. why would he risk it, just to see you? is he here to kill you?

the thought brings visible panics into your eyes — the wonderful, pretty eyes you have. the window to your soul. your soul and body, which suguru would like to possess again.

again, what a ridiculous term. he never stopped owning it, in the first place.

maybe if you buy time, satoru will come see what’s taking so long. he will help. you’ll be safe.

but the date is only thirty minutes, and for satoru to come in person, you would have to wait another forty. one hour and ten minutes with your genocidal ex-boyfriend. wow. this must be some kind of twisted lottery of fate, where winning makes you unlucky.

you force your voice to remain calm, composed. he does not deserve the satisfaction of your fear.

“why are you here?”

“oh, look at her.” he mocks, as if you’re not even just there, listening. “asking why i’m here as if she has no idea.”

“i don’t.” you grit your teeth. “this is why people ask, imbecile. they want answers— ugh.” he squeezes your neck again, making you grow quiet until he relaxes.

“darling.” suguru smiles softly, but some veins are popping up on his hand. he is absolutely pissed, using that sweet voice to smooth you. “you know why i’m here. don’t play dumb. you— let satoru touch you.”

his tone is still soft, affectionate as the boyfriend you once called yours. but beneath the sweetness, there is an anger, a possession. like an animal whose territory has been pierced.

“did you think I wouldn’t find out?” he leans in, his hot breath making shivers run down your spine violently. “you underestimate me, my love. i’m a bit offended. coming from you, i expected so much more.”

his hand snakes all over your body, and close as he is, you’re sure he can hear your erratic heartbeat. thump-thump. thump-thump. thump-thump.

like the engine of a machine, accelerated to its limits. if your organs are your gears, you believe you are malfunctioning right now. a poorly functioning machine due to information overload.

it’s a lot to handle. his hands are warm as they gently pull your dress up, groaning. “i barely had to move it away. what, you enjoy dressing like a slut for satoru?”

it seems like your voice only works normally, as it should, when you feel your panties being pulled down, gasping. “suguru, no! you can’t!”

“oh, i can’t? why? c’mon, darling, just the tip.” he throws your phone away — the sound the device makes when it breaks against the wall is blood-curdling. he wraps both his arms around your waist, pressing his hips to yours. “pretty please?”

you grit your teeth. why the hell is this attractive? perhaps it’s because you barely heard geto beg before. but, no. you can’t. satoru, your satoru, he’s waiting for you — instead, you have your freak ex humping slowly against you. no way, is he wearing buddhist attire? like a monk or something. but these thoughts don’t matter. his words take you out of your head.

“i saw everything that day, you know. and a little before, and after that. getting all cozy with satoru, because i’m not here? you offend me, sweetheart. i’m a bit hurt.”

“oh, i’m not hearing this.” you curl your hands into fists, slamming them on his arms. “not after you lied about who you are, stole my damn money, and left! fuck you, geto! fuck. you.”

he smirks against your ear, grabbing your wrists and pulling your arms behind your back. you groaned, and he quickly decided to hit two birds with one stone.

tugging at the clothing strip that holds his robes together, he rips it off and uses it to tie your hands together as you squirm. he gives it a little tug, confirming it’s not too tight, and throws his clothings to the other side of the room.

“i know i haven’t been here.” he pauses, and you can watch him through the mirror as he forces you a bit down. “and i’m sorry. i wanted to tell you, i did. but i couldn’t. i know what you would think, and— i couldn’t lose you.”

it’s like a sincere admission, but you’re not foolish enough to feel sorry. not for him, definitely. throwing salt at the wound is your strategy right now.

“you lost me anyway. y’know, satoru really has a way with backshots that—” your words are cut off by a gasp, when he rips your panties off you and holds you down by the back of your neck. your back does a pretty arch for him like that, but suguru is not nearly amused enough.

“don’t be a brat. i made mistakes, but you, too. whoring yourself for my best friend? are you kidding me, love?”

“i’m not your love, don’t call me that.” he grabs you by the hair, tugging your head back up to look at his eyes through his reflection.

a pause, and suguru decided against what he was going to originally say, softening his grip on you.

“i missed you. i did. can’t i show it to you? just a little, baby, please?” he presses his hips into yours a bit more gently, and you can feel it.

his rock-hard erection, rubbing softly against your warm pussy. it makes you shiver and hum against your will. a part of you misses it. nothing wrong with satoru — he’s a great learner for an inexperienced guy — but geto knows just how to blow your back and be soft at the same time. an art satoru hasn’t mastered yet.

the idea of doing this to that white haired man who is so good to you — it brings tears to your face. how dare you want to say yes? but also, how could you say no when suguru’s head is rubbing deliciously against your entrance?

you close your eyes in defeat, not able to look at yourself.

“be quick. and don’t ever ask me anything again. you get this— and you disappear from my sight. forever.”

a deal with the devil. sacrifice something and gain something. your body for peace.

he chuckles, throwing his head back with a smirk. “oh, you and i both know that’s not happening, sweetheart. i’ll be here, forever.” he slips his hands down your waist, grabbing it gently and pushing his cock in.

the feeling is— exquisite. geto could try all he wanted, search in all the world, but he never could find someone like you. your body is almost poisonous — intoxicating is the right word. he just bottomed out and he’s already mixing his thoughts. that’s the effect you have on him.

suguru’s hips start moving at a restless pace, not giving you time to breathe or a warning. he can’t waste time with words, not now. not after being pulled away from you, his beloved, for ten torturous months. just when he was planning to come back and convince you to join his cult — or just grab you and lock you up, whatever —, he found you riding his best friend. sinking down satoru’s cock and making him cream all inside you.

the idea makes him huff, thrusting harder.

and you, under him? with your wrists tied up? well, you’re a mess. you’ll have to try bondage with satoru later, it’ll surely make his cock explode. your eyes widen, and you babble something — what’s wrong with your head? why are you thinking about satoru, then, suguru, then satoru again?

oh, lord above, maybe both at the same time? it’s a fantasy that makes you blush more than what you’re doing right now.

suguru guides your head up again, holding your neck gently.

“what are you thinking about, love? you keep—” he grunts. “clenching down on me.”

“nothing,” you stammer out. okay, there is something seriously wrong with you for enjoying this so much. a moan escapes you before you can stop it. “nngh— satoru!”

his eyes widen at the same time as yours. if your hands weren’t tied up, you would have brought one up to your mouth. the squeezing on your neck is firm, enough to not cut air circulation, but present. surely. the whisper of your name echoes through the bathroom.

“what did you just say?”

he looms over you, blushed cheeks and vulnerable expressions changing all the time, staring at your dumb little face in the mirror. suguru has a soft frown on his face, his eyes wide in horror, and his lips are slightly parted. but there’s a dark shadow oozing off him, a rage that cannot be contained.

he’s hurt. he’s mad.

you try to justify it quickly, to do damage control. “suguru! i said— i said suguru!”

but it’s a little too late for that, and lies only make it worse. he pins you down harder, his hips moving back at a ruthless pace this time. harder, faster — no mercy or trace of the sweet man who used to make love with you as if you were made of glass.

now, he fucks you as if he hates you, he hates your guts.

your moans and whines are muffled by the obscene sounds escaping where your hips meet. plap plap plap, mixed with a softly, slightly wet whisper of some sort. suguru lets go of your waist and brings his hand up.

you gasp when it hits the back of your thigh in a loud smack!

he forces you to look up, breathless as he murmurs.

“start counting.” he groans, harshly. and he smacks you again, right on the ass. he’s hitting so hard that you believe his intention is leaving a red mark — a present for satoru to look at later. and you’re right. his friend knows no boundaries and keeps taking what is his. what choice does he has, unless to mark you up?

smack.

you shiver, trying to squirm away and kick before he pins you down again.

“behave, brat. now start counting.”

smack.

“one—” you moan when his heat hits your sweet spot, huffing. smack. “two.”

“good girl.” smack. smack. smack. “how many is that, princess, mm? ohh, that’s the good pussy i missed so much. so— tight.”

“ngh! three! four! f—five?”

“is that a question, or are you answering me, my love?”

he chuckles meanly, thrusting into you again. you both grunt — near the edge already.

“suguru.” you throw your head back, whimpering. “i’m— i’m gonna—”

“ohh, you’re going to cum? that fast, honey? satoru hasn’t been good enough to you, i see.” he thrusts harder, laughing meanly at the way your eyes widen and tear up. “aww, he can’t treat you like you want. he fucks you like a good girl, i bet. but you want to be fucked like a slut.”

he leans down, peppering your neck with kisses and hearing your deep breaths. “it’s okay. i’m close, too. you have this effect on me, my love.” he grunts again, grabbing your hips. “throw that ass back on me, baby, yeah? yeah, juuuust like that.”

he grabs your chin, forcing you to look up as he presses his lips to yours in a upside down kiss. it would be romantic if it weren’t so possessive, visceral, crude. carnal. desperate.

when your lips part, he grunts and sighs softly, while you’re moaning loudly. nearly at the same time, your orgasms hit you both with everything.

suguru’s thrusts become messy, sloppy, and his skin feels a bit sticky against yours as he fucks himself using your pussy, pushing in ropes of cum to paint your insides.

you let your head fall forward when it’s your turn, squirming and whimpering softly. his forehead would have hit the sink if he weren’t holding you up. some more seconds, to dry out both of your highs. slowly, gently, he pulls out of you, watching the fat drops oozing out of your used hole.

suguru smirks as he undoes your restraints, kissing the back of your neck tenderly and adjusting your dress.

“don’t forget who has you first, mkay? i left a little gift for you and satoru here.” he sighs, sounding a bit sad. “i’ll have to go again, i’m sorry. but i’ll be back soon. don’t miss me too much. just leave your window unlocked, and i’ll be here again.” he grabs your face to turn it again, brushing his lips against yours. “unlocking them is a chore.”

geto leans back, and you shiver, confused. the sound of clothes being adjusted and thrown back into a body makes you turn your head moments after you heard it, still a bit too slow.

and he is gone. as you fix yourself up on your feet, you shiver as the realization hits you hard as a stone. no, no. satoru. no.

you stumble to the corner of the bathroom, picking up your phone. the screen is broken, but a call icon appears. you accept immediately, nearly sobbing.

“hey, senpai,” the nickname is soft coming from his lips. a small joke, playing with an honorific that he does not use with figures he should use. “you’re— a bit late. did something came up, or?”

“satoru.” you sob, and even through the screen, you can feel him tense up. his voice becomes more serious.

“what happened? are you okay? where are you? i’m on my way.” the scraping of a chair can be heard in the background of the call.

“i’m— my apartment. i have something to tell you. we need to talk, seriously, we—”

you shiver, and for some reason, you can picture your ex perfectly — walking proudly, with his nose up, the wind making his black hair flow behind him and cruel, purple eyes accompanied by a soft smirk.

“i made a mistake.”

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE, I APOLOGIZE FOR ANY MISTAKES.ㅤthank you for reading! <3

[delqcate]

hi angel!!! im aware of how super busy you are rn, but I can't get like frenemies scott barringer and reader out of my head, imagine it, like he's so annoyed by everything she does, she's the total opposite of him, sweet and kind, but also the sarcastic angry feminist, and he's the self-righteous football captain arsehole.

But no matter what he does, she's constantly stuck in his head, and it's kinda like the song "you look so pretty, pretty like the sun, i could watch forever while you shine on everyone" and he's so in love and a little insecure, which he covers up with this pompous arrogant fboy persona

anyways, you're writing gives me life more than anything! when i first discovered your flannel shirt fic on scott, i became obsessed and stalked your profile and obsessively read through all your fanfics, hayden characters or not, I read them all, and im head over heels in love w u :) you genuinely write the best fluff ever, like your my favourite blog for fluff, like don't get me wrong smut is cute and that, but god i would kill for some forehead kisses and hayden fluff

because i love you.

scott barringer x reader

anon you own my whole heart ilysm!!! you're soso incredibly sweet and being your favorite fluff writer??? such an incredible honor 🥹 i'm sorry it took me a while to get to writing this and i feel so bad cause i feel like i just didn't have enough inspiration for this so it's all messy but I hope it's still good. scott and shelby don't get together here but they're still good friends

summary: you and scott don't necessarily hate each other, but you can't tolerate both that much either. after a plan gone wrong, turns out there's a reason why.

warnings/cw: swearing, kissing (i don't know if that's warnings but yeah), fluff fluff fluff

word count: 1.9k

Where does Scott even begin with you? The Cliffhanger's sweetheart, the epitome of the sun in this hell hole, is his friend. Well, sort of.

Because every time he was near you, it felt like he was constantly basking in the sun, yet at the same time, he was warmed up by everything you did, from your smile to your voice. It was almost like he was constantly taunted.

He couldn't get enough of you, though. You were everything he's ever wanted—the warmth and love of another—and yet he still seems to be pushing you away.

But then that all changes when a little surprise is left on one of the class boards one morning when Scott and the other Cliffhangers are called to meet up with Peter and Sophie.

Scott walks into the classroom, wearing a sweater he just threw on due to the cold, and looks at the board in confusion. "Morp? Wh-what's a morp?" His brow was furrowed, and he frankly didn't care too much about decoding it until Auggie followed from behind him. "Oh, cool, a prom?"

Scott looks at Auggie, realizing everyone else is inside already. His eyes land on you, and he suddenly can't focus on anything but you. Everyone was taking a seat, and it took him a moment to realize you sat with him until a hand waved at his face.

"Scott, y'there?" Your voice rings out, and he looks at you, his face brooding as always. "Why? What's up?" He clears his throat and focuses his gaze on you. Despite hating you, he seems to be interested in what you have to say. Probably just sucking it up so it would be over.

You look at him, and suddenly you find yourself drawn to his eyes. Do they seem more blue than usual lately, or have they always been this way? But you don't have time to ponder about that because now it’s his turn to snap you out of your thoughts.

"Hey, are you there?" He gives you a small smirk, and you playfully roll your eyes. “Yeah, sorry,” you say, clearing your throat and resting your head on your palm. “Sophie and Peter paired us for morp planning.”

His eyes widen slightly, but he immediately covers them up with his emotionless stare again. “Why us? ," he asks, sounding annoyed. “Dunno,” you reply. “Probably ‘to build a stronger relationship between us’,” you say, playfully mocking what Peter constantly tells everyone whenever there’s a team activity.

He let out a soft scoff but couldn't help but let a smirk form on his lips. He was starting to let his guard down, something he rarely does around people; besides Shelby, she relates to him more than anyone. "Yeah, all that bullshit."

You nod and chuckle, watching as he bounces his leg, a habit you share with him. "All we have to do is plan the music, so it shouldn't be too bad. They're letting us use Peter's office and a couple more gadgets, I think." You shrug, but all you could think of was Scott.

Spending time alone with him in a room for days on end sounded both eventful and terrifying. But at least it was him instead of anyone else; at least you could get some peace and quiet for once.

————————————————————————

It had been days since you and Scott were assigned to make the playlist, and despite the bickering and constant grogginess you two would feel the next day, it was bearable. It caused something in Scott to brew—something he thought he could keep in, but it was just waiting to burst.

Scott dragged Shelby away to a corner in the common room—not the best place to have a private conversation, but it'll do.

"Let me guess," Shelby starts, her gaze landing on Ophelia talking to Peter and back at Scott. "You need advice to ask her out?" Scott scrunches up his face, annoyed but thinking about it. "Well, yeah," he says after a moment.

She chuckles and looks over at you again, trying to think of anything. "Morp's tomorrow, Scott. How are you sure Auggie or someone else asked her out?" Scott suddenly seemed upset at the thought, however. "You think Auggie has more of a chance than me?" His angry question was a little too loud, loud enough to catch your attention, at least.

Shelby quickly looks away and narrows her eyes at Scott, slapping his arm playfully. "Will you keep it down, you idiot?" He whines and leans against the wall, crossing his arms and staring at you from afar. "How am I ever going to ask her out? I'm just the cocky football star, a pompous asshole fuckboy. Every bad thing you could think of."

She sighs and moves closer, taking his hand and watching his expression before continuing, "Sure, you can be a complete asshole." He scoffs and looks at the floor. "Great way to start that off," he muttered. She rolls her eyes and continues with, "But all that matters is what they think of you. You wanna go all out and be stupid with your promposal? Go ahead. I'll be there every stupid step in the way."

He moves his gaze on her and mutters, "Stop calling me stupid. But, thanks."

————————————————————————

The plan was perfect. You and Shelby would be hanging out together, saying some good stuff about Scott, and Scott would play football with Auggie. Auggie would throw the ball at you, and he would save you. He would tie that to some smooth way to ask you out, but he would worry about that later. What was the worst that could happen?

Scott watches nervously as Shelby and you sit at the bleachers, taking a deep breath as Shelby discreetly nods and Scott starts to play. Your gaze moves to Scott, and a small smile grows on your face. Seeing Scott play football was cute to you. Despite being an ex-football captain, he still never lost his love for the sport, and you admire him for that.

Shelby notices your stare and chuckles, looking at Scott and back at you. "You eyeing Scott?" Your cheeks heat up and your eyes land on her, shaking your head as your face gets all flushed up. "No- well yeah, but not in that way! He's my friend; I just want to watch him."

Your gaze moves back to the two boys playing, and you swear you saw Scott wink at you, but maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you; he probably got something in his eye.

But you didn't even have time to think because the football started flying towards you, and Scott's amazing plan came crashing down as soon as the ball hit him right in the face.

"Scott!" You yell out and rush down to him with Shelby. He lets out a loud groan and covers his face. He's never felt so much pain and embarrassment before. "Auggie, fuck!" He groans out. "I didn't mean to, I- I'm sorry!" Auggie frowns and looks at the two, watching as you take Scott into your arms and prop your leg up for him to rest on.

"Shit- Scott, move your hand." You frown and try to move his hand, watching as a crowd of people form, someone rushing to grab Peter. Scott whines and shakes his head, saying something about how it really hurt, but it's muffled from his hands.

"C'mon, please? I swear the pain will be gone soon; I need to see how bad it is." You were trying to stay calm for the both of you, and after a moment, he moves his hands away to reveal a bleeding nose and some tears.

You wince and help him stand up. With the help of Shelby and Auggie, you guys safely bring him to the girls rooms and onto your bed, hurrying off to the bathroom while the two find something that could help Scott besides a wet rag.

You return to him on the bed and move his hand away. A small hiss escapes you, and you start to clean him up. The silence was killing you after a while, so you mumbled out, "That was stupid, y'know?"

He looks at you with an annoyed expression and scoffs, trying not to move too much as you clean his nose and check if it is broken. "Well, I'm sorry for saving your life," he says sarcastically, clearly upset that you didn't appreciate him saving you. Maybe his plan was just stupid.

"I mean, I appreciate it, but look at you now." You frown and place the rag on your side table, grabbing some tissues to clean the spot better. "Why'd you do it? Ruin your oh-so-perfect face for me?" He smirks and looks at you. "You like my face, huh?" You roll your eyes, and he lets out a small laugh as you punch his arm.

"Sorry, I couldn't help it." He lets his laughter die down and listens to the two of you breathing. It calmed him down to hear your breath, especially because he definitely needed to calm down. He took a deep breath and calmly let out, "Because I love you."

You stop your arm and move your gaze from his nose to his gaze, which was locked onto yours. You couldn't tell if it was because he was frozen in embarrassment or because he wanted to show you he really meant it; either way, it left you shocked.

How does he like you? He's made it very clear that he has some hatred towards you , so it didn't make sense. "But the way you act around me—" he quickly interrupted you. "It's because I'm insecure." He sighs and looks down at his hands, feeling the embarrassment creep up on him.

"You're just so- so gorgeous. You make everyone smile and laugh; it's like the goddamn sun. You shine so bright, and I can't help but feel this jealousy towards you because everyone gets to experience all of that." Although he didn't outright say it, it was clear to you that he was jealous, and it was incredibly adorable.

You let out a soft laugh, and at first he thought you were laughing at him, but a small smile formed on his lips when he realized you were laughing with him. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I feel like I shine brighter when I'm with you. You make me sparkle, I guess."

He chuckles and moves a little closer, sensing the change in tension, and he was sure you did too because you moved closer. "Sparkle, huh? What are you, a vampire?" He smirks and wraps his arm around you, making you roll your eyes and cup his cheek. "Just shut up and kiss me."

"Yes, ma'am." He smirks wider and kisses you gently, immediately crash-landing into heaven as soon as he feels your lips. They were soft and felt heavenly, just like he imagined. The kiss grew deeper but didn't last too long as someone threw a box of bandages at them.

Scott pulls away in annoyance but quickly gets flustered as soon as he sees Shelby and Auggie; he completely forgets they were coming back. "Congratulations, lovebirds!" Shelby smirks and moves her gaze between Scott and you. "But do us all a favor and get a room, will you?"

You let out a small chuckle and quickly helped Scott clean up, hearing the pair's footsteps as they headed outside. Despite both of you being complete opposites, Something told you it would all work out in the long run.

taglist: none!

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Am obsessed with the double trouble au with 2 readers and 2 königs <3 <3 It got me thinking, how do you think younger reader would interact with recruit könig? I feel like she'd honestly be terrified of him at first; he'd seem borderline psychotic (because he's practically drooling over her, always lingering around her and she might not be used to that kind of attention) but she might grow into liking him more once she discovers that she's into his annoying (maybe cocky?) antics.

CW: dubcon groping, dubcon kissing, dubcon everything

Hell yes she’s terrified.

This guy stalks her on social media, gropes her thigh under the table when they're out to eat, tries to move himself on top of her in the car when he leans to kiss her good night. Tells her the sweetest things before plunging his tongue in her mouth, one time he even flattens the passenger seat from under her so that she’s basically trapped.

Luckily he stops when she puts her hands over his chest and pushes him away: the drooly makeout session was getting out of hand, she sort of likes this crazy guy but she doesn’t want their first time to be in a car. Even if the said car is a nice black Hummer :(

He laughs when she escapes the vehicle – his little heartthrob is playing hard to get and it only makes König spiral further in love. He has an odd way of showing it though: sends her breathy voice messages in the middle of the night, so creepy, and one time she even hears a soft, slick sound in the background – is he fapping over there??

Young recruit König could be mistaken for a sadist but he really is just trying to make reader feel appreciated. Like… 24/7 appreciated… Fucked raw appreciated… Crying tears from overstimulation appreciated…

To König, love is not love if your partner isn’t shaking all over after you’re done with them and so the sex is bound to be a bit intimidating too, especially if reader is not that experienced. Poor young thing will be in constant fight or flight mode with him, and because König does the fighting, what else is left for her but to run? He always catches her though, and it takes months before she understands he’s not going to actually *hurt* her. Besides, König only enjoys her tears if they’re born from multiple orgasms.

If she’s crying because she’s scared, recruit König will become confused and oddly caring. So caring that she has to fawn or fake dead next because even this young man’s attempts to be nurturing feel like suffocation…

He asks, what’s wrong, did he hurt you, Liebe? There’s no need to be scared, little mitten. Shit, was he playing too rough…? Ah, you poor thing. Here, let him kiss it better…

…And before you know it, you’re squirming again, trying to get away from his mouth because there’s too much stimulation. König won’t let you go, hell no, you sound too cute when you’re squirming. Are you even trying to wriggle away or against him?

Then there comes the beautiful day when König is so tired from work he can’t even bother to chase her around the house and she’s like...

Do you even love me anymore?!

[charliedawn]

Slashers who meet a to-be victim whos just putting glitter on things

A to-be victim who has a room full of posters of serial killers and slashers

Imagine two of Bo's worst nightmares. Glitter. And sparkles. Combine them. Put them in a room and that would be your bedroom. And worst of it all...Posters of him and his brothers in every single corner. He was speechless...

"...What in the—? What is this place ?! Hell ?!"

As soon as he was in, he wanted to leave. Only to discover that the door was locked and he had now glitter on his shoes and his hand. And then, you appeared with a whole bucket of glitter in your hands. And Bo started praying.

Him : "Whatdya think yer gonna do with that exactly ?!"

You *devilish smirk*

Him : "Oh no, you don't ! Get the heck away from me !"

…Bo couldn’t get all the sparkles out of his hair for weeks.

...Wow.

Jason was surprised and impressed. A full room dedicated to him and the slashers. He hadn't expected it. He didn't really mind though. It meant you knew about him and weren’t scared.

Him *smiles* : "Do you want some help ?"

You *handing him a full bucket of glitter* : "Sure ! Put them everywhere. And you can help take pictures of the others for me."

He was more than happy to help and you ended up having a good time playing with glitter and stalking the other slashers. Jason may not really care about glitter and sparkles, but he’d be happy to spend time with you.

The Penny Brothers love glitter. It is something fun and colourful for Penny. He would help you decorate the whole hospital. He’d even be thrilled to meet a fan and see all the posters you have of them. It would mean that you are as crazy as him and you would get along just fine. Penny loves crazy people.

And for Pennywise ? Pennywise sees it as the perfect torture. Those little colourful flakes are impossible to remove from clothes or hair and when people receive them in their eyes…It means atrocious suffering and temporary blindness. So, of course he’d love them.

Brahms was ecstatic when he learned about the new patient who loves glitter and sparkles. He wanted to be your friend before he even met you. He stayed away for a while and only showed himself when he was sure you were what he thought you were. When he saw the huge posters of him, he got flustered. But, he got particularly excited when you showed him your collection of pink and purple items covered in glitter. He immediately felt like he had found someone who understood him.

It wasn’t long before Brahms started walking around proudly with a glitter-covered mask. And he didn’t even care about the others making fun of him for it, because there was you.

Norman knew from the start. He first rent you a room and when he took a look through the peep hole—he was immediately blinded by the brightness in the room. But, he was flattered by the posters.

Let’s just say that Norman found it endearing, but he isn’t a really big fan of glitter and sparkle—especially on him. It means more cleaning. But, on you ? He’d find it adorable and would gladly run the vacuum every day if it meant he got to see you in those very pretty and original outfits of yours.

Norman *smiles* : "Very cute, my little monster. Very cute."

Freddy : "FIRE IN THE HOLE !" *uses a literal canon to make the whole place sparkle*

Freddy loves chaos. You would just give him an idea to cause more trouble and make the whole hospital swim in glitter. Fortunately, the staff and the other slashers are used to it by now.

But, it doesn’t mean they like it all the same.

Random nurse *after she got covered in green glitter* : "…FREDDY ! Y/N ! Come back here !"

You and Freddy *cackling while running away*

Barry LOVES glitter. He lives for it. He wants each of his outfits to have a sparkle to them. And he’d design all sorts of clothes for you.

Barry *screams when you get out of the dressing room* : "YES ! Absolutely nailed it ! Twirl for me, darling. Yes. Thank you. Absolutely gorgeous."

Vincent did take you as an inspiration for his new piece. He took some of your supplies to cover his new wax statue and at the end, he offered it to you. It was a wax statue of yourself and Vince waited anxiously for your opinion.

Vincent *fidgets nervously*

You *smile widely* : "I love it !"

He was really ecstatic and gave you a hug. He really wanted you to like it.

[karlachismylife]

Love this blog you will find me rummaging through your writing like a raccoon in a trash can muwah

Oooh raccoon spottings!! Only the juiciest trash for you, fluffy comrade. This blog loves you back! Since I have been reblogging and doing ask replies a lot lately, feel free to use the masterlist, it's more or less full, only some little things get left in the "juju's grumbles" or "juju's replies" tags. But I reblog a lot of amazing creators, authors, writers and artists, so I do recommend scrolling and checking them out too!!!

And here, have some task force 141 discovering a raccoon in their home headcanons. I even went and found @thecutestgrotto 's raccoon dividers because how could I not, really.

Ghost hears rustling and is immediately on high alert. You're not home, and he would've recognized you regardless of how well you try to be sneaky, so this means there's an intruder. And this intruder chose a home with the scariest guard dog of them all.

Simon is stealth itself as he reaches for his tacticle knives. He could've gone for the gun, but that's too much noise and unwanted attention, would be better if no one knew he has it, since it's for emergencies. And for now this doesn't seem like an emergency, because you're not in danger and it seems like whoever broke in is slow, alone and not very confident in what they're doing.

As Simon stalks through the dark hall towards the back door where he heard the noise, he also realizes - that intruder is small. Could it be a kid? Stupid teenager breaking and entering for a bet? Or someone young and troubled to the point of desperately needing any sourse of cash? Or maybe it's a little one that got lost and just stumbled into someone's home in search of help? By the time Ghost actually reaches the now quiet room, he's already thinking he's going to be giving a stern talking, not a beating.

And then he finally turns the lights on, ready to pounce, and sees a dark fat blob frozen under a chair, beady black eyes staring at what poor racoon can only assume to be the apex predator.

"Bloody hell, where did ya come from, ya trash rat?" He's already assessed the room and made sure it was nothing more than the raccoon, so he sheaths the knife and crouches with a grunt, trying to grab the bugger by its scruff and shove him out of the door - it must've been the cat flap that let it inside. The raccoon, however, finally bolts. But not back to where it came from, no; it buries intself under the kitchen counter next. "Come back ya fookin' vermin, this ain't your hose, get the fuck outta here, bloody Zorro!"

When you finally come home, you're met with a sweaty, grumpy Simon with an icepack on his head, furniture moved around and traces of a proper chase scene. And a raccoon squished between the wall and the couch, nervously fidgeting with the mophead that somehow ended up there without a handle attached.

"Did you even try to lure him out with treats?" - "Fat bastart snatched a whole packet of nuts and bolted. Your turn now."

Price is having some fresh air outside, also known as lounging in a garden chair with his cigar, a pint and a nice book, early in the morning. He actually wasn't expecting to wake up this early, but he just recently got from a long deployment, so his sleep is messed up. Knowing he won't be able to fall back sleep, he decided not to disturb your own sleep, put on his big robe and went to catch sunrise beams. It's a little chilly, big droplets decorating all the greens and pinks of the garden - and the rising sun only makes the flowers look even more rosy as the tiny water diamonds sine and sparkle.

Bird song gets interrupted by snoring really quickly - the peace and serenity of morning garden, everything planted together with you and well taken care of, works on John like a lullaby, and he dozes off peacefully, his cigar snuffed out by a timin breeze, book flat on his chest and his hat slowly sliding down onto his eyes, protecting them from the sunlight. He's sleeping so soundly, even his snores aren't that loud, so the nature just accepts him as a part of the ever-changing landscape for today. Insects landing on him, searching for food and moving on without as much as tickling him. Wet grass sticking to his garden slippers and slowly drying of like that. Little midges getting stuck in his beard, poor thrashing creatures.

There's also someone bigger traversing the morning grounds, returning from the long night of searching for food. Not so stealthy under the sun, a dark shadow trots along the lush rose bushes that provide nice cover still. The hunt must've been not too successful, furry tummy still hungry and big tail dragging defeatedly.

But there's something new in this garden, something that wasn't there the previous day. And it brought something to put on the garden table - where food is often put. That's something worth investigatig, right?

When it turns out the little plate and big glass on the table only have something truly yucky in them (she checked really well), she has no other choice but to look in the chair. Good thing she has some help to recruit.

That's what explains the picture you see, once you wake up and go to look for your husband sleepily, only to find him snoring peacefully with a hat on his face and a whole family of raccoons rummaging through the pockets of his bathrobe and trying to climb up his hairy leg to see what's under the loosely tied belt.

There's raccoon infestation problem in your backyard. Well, it's not a real infestation, you already know that it's just one quite skinny and hungry-looking raccoon coming to rummage through your trash, scattering it around. Even when you stop putting it out, that poor critter keeps coming, bringing dirt onto your porch and sometimes even digging under your plants. You don't want to hurt the animal that's clearly just looking for food, so after some time you just give up and ask Gaz to deal with it.

You married him for his smarts too, you know, he should be able to think of something.

He obviously agrees, gives you a reassuring kiss on your temple and beams with pride just from knowing you think of him being capable to deal with any problem you have, because that's exactly what he's there for, he tells you. And he's confident he can do it, honestly, he has dealt with terrorists and complicated mechanisms, a starving shabby raccoon can't possibly be harder to deal with. You trust that confidence, you trust your husband, so you just leave him to it and forget about the problem.

Weeks pass without any real disturbance - at some point Kyles starts putting the trash outside again, and since it's not getting scattered all over the porch and garden again, you figure he has chased the raccoon away successfully. You would actually like to know how and thank him properly, but since he's still not mentioning it, you decide that he's still testing the results and will come report like a good boy once he's sure that little striped tail won't show up anymore.

You don't even put two and two together when one day, quite early in the morning, Kyle wakes you up with hot kisses behind your ear.

"Hey, angel. Sorry to wake you up, I jus' wanna show ya something. Let me carry you, a'right?" As soon as you stir, still warm and soft, eyes barely able to flutter open, he shushes you and stops you from getting from under the blanket. With a kiss on every eyelid, you get wrapped up in a blanket burrito and curl up in Kyle's arms, sleepy head resting on his shoulder as he carries you over to the door.

He places you on the porch rocking chair carefully, sealing the blanket around our feet so the cool morning air won't bite your toes, and crouches down next to you silently. Still half asleep, you can't even tell whether you wait for long or not, but your eyes try to close back, when suddenly something catches your attention.

It's the slightly more rounded raccoon - still same pattern on his tail, though - trotting directly to your porch with purpose in his stride. You blink, unsure what you're looking at, when that little buddy stops in front of the steps and looks at Kyle, who gives him a nod. Swiftly, the raccoon runs up the stairs and approaches the trash can. carefully, he slides off the lid with its tiny hands, and rummages inside. Just a single wrapper falls out of the whole bunch of things.

Once the raccoon finds some scraps he's been looking for and munches on them, he sniffs around, finds that wrapper and puts it back into the trash can. Then turns back to Kyle, who has a hard time hiding his sly grin as he looks at you, now completely awake and wide-eyes, from the corner of his eyes.

"Nope." Kyle makes an arching gesture with his palm. And the raccoon listens to him, turning to the trash can again and pulling the covering lid back over it. Only then he gets an approving nod from your husband, and just like that, leaves.

There's a moment of silence between you two as you watch that grey shadow disappear under the fence to your neighbours.

"Kyle, did you actually train a raccoon to throw its trash away?.."

You get a feeling when you push your key into the lock and open the door.

It's inexplainable, intuitive, gut feeling that you can't really put a finger on. Something's not right, but it's not the spooky dangerous "not right" like if you found your entrance wide open. No, it's a gnawing suspicion, an anticipation you get, trying to warn you something happened at home while you were away. Same feeling dog owners get when they're not being greeted by eagerly jumping pups because someone has chewed the owner's best pair of shoes up of broke their favourite vase.

Taking into consideration that you're living with John Soap MacTavish, it's either that or he's preparing to prank you.

But no, the TV's on and you hear distinct sounds of snacks being downed by one Scottish specimen, a glass or a bowl clinking from being touched by his clumsy big fingers, so he's not hiding behind the corner to jump at you. The apartment doesn't look trashed too, no hastly wiped blood splatters on the floor, no sight of ambulance or the police at the entrance into the apartment building. Looks like Johnny did't touch his street clothes or shoes either, so he probably didn't run out to throw away evidence like that one time when he forgot he started cooking something with caramel and had to throw away the whole pot.

Everything seems normal. Just your husband being so engolfed by Pocahontas that he doesn't hear you rustling with yout clothes and jiggling keys at the entrance, otherwise he would run out with crumbs of whatever it is he's snacking on in the corners of his mouth and grab you as he always does, spinning you around and looking like his whole life just regained its meaning because you're finally...

Wait. Since when is Johnny a Disney princess fan?

Last time you checked, the only one he approved off was Mulan, even Brave falling under critisism for historical inaccuracies he took too close to heart.

Carefully and sneakily, you tiptoe into the sitting room, going back and forth on whether to spook him as a revenge for the last time or not, but before you can decide, you get noticed.

There's a beat of silence between you, stuck in a creeping pose, Johnny with his hand still in a bowl of little apple slices, and a raccoon. Also sitting with a half-eaten apple slice in front of a slightly mudded water bowl. On the couch. In your living room.

"Soap."

Two pairs of eyes blink at you.

"MacTavish."

He slowly retracts his hand from the bowl and licks his lips, There's apple juice staining his stubble.

"Johnny. What the fuck is a raccoon doing sitting on the couch."

"We're hanging oot."

The raccoon finally moves and shoves the apple slice into its mouth, chewing juicily and reaching its paws in a asking manner. Distracted by that, Soap turns back to the critter and fishes a new slice out of the bowl, which the raccoon immediately snatches from your husband's hand and dips into the water bowl before crunching in the fruit.

"Johnny. Where did you find it."

"They just climbed oanto th' balcony!"

"Johnny, we're living on the 15th floor, how did it-" - "Nae "it", bonnie, 's "they". Ah asked. And their name's Rob Roy."

You fall silent again, watching Johnny hover protectively over the bloody non-binary raccoon. You wouldn't believe the balcony story, but Soap clearly looks like he hasn't left the apartment since you went out.

"It... they probably are someone's pet, Johnny. That ran away. Did you check? Ask around?"

"Ah did." He pouts at you as if he's offended you even doubt his ability to think of such logical solution. "Thay're nae. Jus' chose us, bonnie."

You feel your heard stutter at the implication behind those words and shake your head, pointing at the fiends on your couch.

"No-no-no, John MacTavish, we are not keeping that bloody thing. If it's a wild animal, it doesn't belong in an apartment! We weren't even ready for a cat, what raccoon, Johnny, the fuck you think it will-"

"But thay're cute! Look at 'em, bonnie! Ye wanna throw poor bastart away to starve and freeze tae death?!"

You and Rob Roy make similar pained sounds when Johnny grabs that fat fucker and shoves them into your face. Yeah, the raccoon is cute as hell.

It's Johnny's puppy eyes that do you in, though.