#Afab reader

[rawme-price]

Wolf!soap who can literally *smell* the different stages of human!afab!readers cycle and totally abuses this power.

Yes, he uses it for good, like being extra nice to u during ur period and always carrying your favourite snacks. He even offers to grab ur heating pad when ur sitting in the lounge with a pinched expression.

He also uses it for...less wholesome reasons. He knows exactly when u start ovulating bc you just smell so fucking delicious, and hes convinced if he can catch you at the right moment then you'll let him eat you out. He somehow always asks to borrow your jacket when ur ovulating so he has something to huff whole he jerks off to the thought of u lol.

Ofc ur not oblivious to him, you grew up with wolf hybrids so his whole scheme is nothing new. Yes, you would love to have him in ur bed, but its much more fun to watch the way his cock chubs up when u so much as man-spread a bit. His desperation has totally been the fuel of many of ur late night fantasies, wondering what he would be like if you ever let him.

Maybe next time you will.

[chrrybbye]

Yandere Batfam x Neglected! Meta! Reader

TITLE: one last lullaby

04 | 🌸 the music seems so loud.

A/N: this one's long. Longer than any of the other chapters, lolol. Buckle up, 'cause you’ll probably click off once or twice.

S.MASTERLIST + playlist

CW: GAY people. specifically HEAVILY implied future lesbanism. JUST IMPLIED btw. the main relationship is TBD :), feeling like an outcast, nightmares, unexplainable full-body pain, mention of country songs

Your father being Batman is, maybe, not so crazy after all.

Your mother did love her stories, whether it was in the middle of comforting you from a nightmare or reading you to sleep, and your father? Oh, how he was a favorite of hers. Sometimes he ranged, seeming like no man and a million men at once⸺ “a brilliantly heroic knight” “a stoic, dark man” “a flighty playboy” and so on. Maybe he really was all of these things, or maybe he wasn’t.

But one thing that stayed a consistent trait of your father was his determination to do good. She had never described him as anything less than a man of great honor. And if being Batman wasn’t a great honor, what was it?

And, somehow, you were both more and less angry at your father for it. For the idea of Batman being just a man⸺your father, at that⸺makes him seem far less all-knowing than you had initially deemed. Hundreds of people die everyday. It’s impossible for the great Batman⸺man, not men⸺to save all of them. It’s impossible for your father. Because Batman is just a man.

But if Batman can’t save you, then who can?

Your first day of school is approaching.

They’ve made quick work of it, as they seem to do everything, and you’re enrolled in Gotham Academy before you can blink. And like all things, this fact of information is delivered to you by Alfred. You may be young and he may think of you as unassuming, but you’re no fool. Everyone can tell⸺it seems Bruce can’t stand to talk to you. Besides your first meeting and when he’d given you your mother’s camera, you’ve had no other interactions. He seems to disappear at the most convenient of times.

(And neither can your so-called siblings, it seems.)

School, for most children⸺just the very word should bring dread. It should come with a sinking feeling, as if you just ate rocks, and a dry throat and an uneasy stomach. That’s how it used to be for you.

So why does it come with a flying feeling?

For other children, school is like a chain to the crushing reality of adulthood and responsibility, but for you⸺the idea of school ignites an expectation in your chest, a revelation of hope. School, this thing you’re supposed to hate, makes you feel hopeful…why?

Because existence in the manor is lonely.

You had people before, mostly younger children you would play with, and even your mother because when she wasn’t doing terrible things to you, she was kind and loving, but now?

Now, you fear you only have Alfred⸺and even he is slipping away.

Alfred has other duties. Other children, including Bruce. He has responsibilities as the Batman’s one and only butler. He isn’t entirely yours, and you understand it is selfish to wish he was⸺you got here last, you have the least claim.

But dammit, if you don’t feel your stomach turn green with envy whenever Alfred rushes off because Dick and Bruce had a squabble, or because Bruce crashed through a window, or because Dick was fooling around and got hurt trying to handstand on top of a chair,(isn’t he an acrobat? he’s almost a legal adult now, why does he still do such childish things?) or because Jason broke something.

Well, you’d be lying. But school? Now you can have a purpose again, besides trying to earn Mummy’s love or rotting away in the Wayne mansion. You have a reason to get up and out of bed.

(Maybe you can make friends.)

School can give you purpose.

You have a nightmare again.

When you wake to silence, a nothingness filled only with your sobs, you feel even emptier than before. You miss the songs your mother would sing to her plants in the morning. It felt like everything from your old life had been ripped from you, leaving you exposed and bare. There was no one who hit you or forced you to drink burning concoctions. But there was no one who held you when you cried or read you to sleep either.

You felt out of place, balling up on your fancy cold bed.

You had lost everything, except for maybe one thing⸺your only comfort.

You sing yourself a lullaby.

People at school are so kind. On your first day, the girl sitting at the desk next to you scoots closer and asks, “hey, want a piece of gum?”

One of the boys⸺a blonde boy with a nice smile⸺helps you on the math problems that you struggle with.

The teacher pretends to look the other way as you whisper to each other.

There’s a group of girls who are eager to pull you to the table at lunch. They ask you a bunch of questions, some you aren’t sure how to answer, but you enjoy the time you spend watching them and talking. Even when the girls bicker among themselves, you sit there just enjoying being part of a community.

People are so kind.

But there’s one girl who sticks out to you.

Juliette.

She fights to get a chair next to you during STEAM, she competes to sit next to you at lunch (even if all the girls were fighting for it at lunch), and during study period she runs up to you with a textbook in hand, exclaiming, “I’m one of the smartest in the grade. I can catch you up!”

She’s got blonde hair that shines golden brown in the sunlight, her teeth white like pearls, her soft lavender braces peeking out whenever she smiles. But your favorite thing about her might be how she looks at you when you talk, her green eyes wide and sparkling like she’s hanging on to your every word. It makes you feel heard.

You think you like Juliette a lot. You want to speak more. You want to speak more to her.

When you get home from school (you had called Alfred to beg him to let you take the bus with Juliette) he’s waiting for you with a plate of cookies and lemonade. You nearly smile at Alfred.

“How was school, Young Master [Name]?” He asked, a steady smile on his lips.

You take a seat on a stool at the kitchen island and sip your lemonade. “It was amazing, Alfred,” you say after a second, and then you’re unable to stop. You don’t even notice that you’ve called him Alfred. “I talked to a lot of people. They were loud. But they were interesting⸺and they have so many clubs, Alfred,” you sigh happily. “There…there was a gardening club. I think I’ll join it,” your tone slows, realizing you’ve been talking all this time. It must be difficult for Alfred to deal with your chatter, but you can’t stop. Why can’t you stop? “My⸺Mama…my mother liked to garden. We had plants all over our apartment.”

Because Alfred just nods. It must be difficult for him to suddenly see the nearly mute child suddenly turn into a chatterbox with seemingly no ‘off’ button, but he just nods. He nods, still smiling, and that’s why you can’t seem to stop talking.

Have you become addicted to attention? To the feeling, if only for a split second, of someone nodding along and listening to your words? Why?

It must’ve been because of Juliette.

You find your answer⸺no⸺at school, in the form of a boy who is too desperate for your attention. Attention is a kind of transaction. You give someone your attention in return for their own attention. In wanting someone else’s attention, you give them your own attention. But you didn’t want the attention. Not his.

He would drag his chair to your desk in the morning, insist on walking you to your next class, steal your textbooks and write on your math papers. You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t⸺your throat would close up and your hands would get clammy.

You tried to ignore him, just offering nods to the absolutely inescapable questions he’d pepper you with, ignoring him until P.E⸺when a soccer ball flew at your head.

You had heard the whish of the ball before it had hit you, but you had been unprepared to move. You felt an intense throb as you lost your balance, knocking into the girl next to you, Theresa. She just barely caught you as you began to hold your temples.

“Oh! I’m sorry!” The boy cursed, running over to you with a cheesy smile, “Shit, that was my bad. You okay, [Name]?”

“Um…” you grunted as your temple throbbed. It was a constant thrum, rattling against your skull. You bit down on your lips. You felt as his hand neared you, reaching for your head, when someone smacked it away.

“Dude,” you recognized Daniel⸺the boy who helped with your math⸺speaking to the other boy. “I just watched you aim straight for her head. That wasn’t an accident.”

“I⸺no⸺that’s not true!” The boy squeaked. His heartbeat was irate, either stressed or…lying.

“Whatever. Quit skulking around her⸺she clearly doesn’t want to talk to you.”

You heard the boy grunt in response and mumble “me neither” under his breath before walking away.

You watched Daniel with a detached kind of intrigue. Why had he stood up for you? The boy was trying to apologize⸺the matter could have been resolved with a simple acceptance of his apology. Daniel and you were on good terms, but that didn’t equate to close ones. He didn’t have any reason to defend you. The whole situation seemed more trouble than it was worth, which was funny since Daniel had been the one to put himself in the position.

You watched him as he stretched his neck, turning to you with an awkward smile, “Hey, um. Sorry about that. If he keeps bothering you⸺or, if he’s bothering you⸺then you can come to me.”

“Okay. Thank you.” You had told him the necessary pleasantries, and therefore had no clue what to say beyond that. There wasn’t anything else you needed to say. Still, as you watched Daniel, there was this nagging sensation in the pit of your stomach. It made you hop from foot to foot, as if it was going to explode from your throat⸺which was exceedingly dry, you noticed. You couldn’t just let Daniel walk away.

“Um…um…”

Daniel turned to you, waiting⸺just waiting. He wasn’t staring at you like you were the nuisance of the earth, or as if you were a black hole sucking away at his precious time, or as if he was going to devour your soul the moment you started speaking.

“Why…” you had already begun speaking. There was no plausible way to back out now, not without losing some of your already meager dignity. You had to suck up your regret. “Why did you help?”

Daniel turned to you, his friendly smile already in place. “It was the right thing to do,” he said, voice full of certainty. It made you stumble, confused. How could helping you have been the right thing? Surely him and the boy, if they ever were, were no longer on friendly terms. You frowned at him. He had lost a friend for no reason.

“Okay,” you said, instead of the questions swirling in your mind. Not because you thought he would get angry, but because you had entered this entire conversation by mistake, and you were more than happy to cut it short. And then again, “Thank you.” because it felt right. You were thankful that he answered your question.

Daniel smiled and clapped you on your shoulder, which confused you further, because why would he do that? You watched as Daniel ran to play basketball with some of his friends.

Theresa watched you as you watched him.

“He’s like that,” she said, startling you. “Friendly. He’s friendly to everyone. He’s nice.”

You nodded in agreement. Then, as she was about to respond, you asked, “What does it mean?” making your thoughts audible.

“Huh?”

“What does it mean,” you asked, imitating Daniel’s gesture, shoving Theresa’s shoulder a bit, “this?”

“Oh.” Her eyes softened a bit. “It’s kind of like a high five. A less informal version of a handshake. Kind of like a hug? But It’s, like, a boyish thing. You do it to comfort people sometimes, or just, like, say bye. You don’t really do it to say hi.”

You nodded. “I understand.” So, he was…trying to comfort you? It had been a little comforting, but the comfort was majorly offset by your confusion. You berated yourself for not just enjoying the gesture, brief as it was. “Then, what does ‘it was the right thing to do’ mean?”

“I...I don’t know?” answered Theresa, her voice cracking a little. She sounded stressed, so you nodded and let the topic drop. You were good at that⸺you didn’t like to irritate people. But Alfred seldom seemed irritated⸺perhaps you should ask him?

“That’s quite the question, Young Master [Name],” chuckled Alfred, your sheets neatly folded into squares over his arms. Why? You weren’t sure. Maybe he could sense all the tears and snot absorbed by it and deemed it in need of a thorough wash. Or worse, replacing.

You couldn’t figure out why, but the idea irked you. You didn’t want new sheets or pillowcases or blankets. You wanted the things in your room that⸺despite your dislike⸺you had begrudgingly accepted as yours. Those were your belongings. You didn’t want them thrown away or scrapped or given to some other child. The fear, however irritational, made your stomach knot. You barely noticed when Alfred continued talking.

“Young Master, there are some fundamental truths that everyone must learn and accept. One of these is that not everyone is as good as they claim or try to be. For some, to be ‘good’ is more difficult than for others. Many of us humans have impure and filthy minds.” Alfred said, removing a sticker from the wall, “But that does not mean that all humans are strictly ‘bad’ or ‘evil’. It’s whether humans follow the code of what is ‘good’ that decides whether they are ‘good’ or ‘bad’.”

Alfred said it all as if it was simple.

“So to do what is right…it would simply mean doing the opposite of what you would perceive as ‘bad’.”

It was an answer, a clear-cut one, received without any fanfare. Yet, you had another question, “What would it mean to be evil? Or do something evil?”

“Something that you know will hurt or harm others, or may make them feel negatively,” answered Alfred.

“Then…” You felt a hot rush of shame as your throat began to close up. It was shameful that you did not know what it meant to be a good person⸺how could you be something that you had no clue about? But you wanted to be. You wanted others to think of you as good. It sounded more honorable than being seen as a bad person…You couldn’t back out now. You just had to say it. Curse your big mouth…It’s been giving you trouble all day.

“Then what would being a good person or doing good things mean?”

“Doing things that will make people happy or safe,” Alfred smiled. “Young Master, I believe you already are a good person. An evil person does not wonder if they are an evil person.”

The very idea sounded like horse crap. You? A good person? Preposterous, even. What had you done that was ‘good’? Who even was ‘good’?Juliette was good. Daniel was good. Theresa was good, all the girls who had talked to you, welcomed you on your first day, they were all good. They made you happy. Could you be like them?

Could you be good? Was that something you could live for?

To be something good?

(You watched with relief as Alfred placed your sheets in a laundry basket.)

Unfortunately, the night brings you no more peace than the day. Your mother flashes behind your eyelids, blood, a suspicious gas…your heart is stuttering against your chest, and by the time the sun rises, you realize you’ve spent the whole night sweating in your blankets.

(Jason sneaks you a cup of coffee. “Ya look like the living dead,” he says. “And yer eyes are red. Are ya good? Did ya sleep well?”

The small cup of brown liquid, thrumming in your hands, sends a zip of warmth down your spine to your toes. “Thank you, Jason,” and this time you really do smile. It reminds you of the tea⸺really more like hot water⸺that your mother made after long nights.

Maybe one of your siblings can stand to talk to you after all. You miss the red on Jason’s cheeks.)

Juliette sees right through you. Not the way Dick or Bruce do, as in literally through you as if you don’t exist⸺but when you sit down next to her at STEAM, she pulls a granola bar out of her uniform pocket and presses it into your hands.

“Girl, you look like you got attacked by a vampire!” Worried lines are etched into her face as she frowns at you. Still holding your hands. “I was gonna save that for Ms. Jefferson’s class, ‘cause you know how she is⸺have you had her class yet?⸺but you need to eat like, now. You’re gonna need it.”

“I’m okay,” you said. Which was true, you had eaten earlier, even if you had barely gotten through eight bites with your shaky hands.

“Please? I’m reallyyyy worried about you.” Juliette stared at you with such expectant eyes.

You sighed and pulled off the wrapping, taking a bite. “Okay. Sorry.”

“No! It’s fine. Don’t say sorry. Did you sleep well?” She felt up your forehead. Her hands were so gentle.

You were about to answer⸺a white lie on your tongue⸺when the clearing of a throat came from the front of the class. “Girls. Could we focus, please?” said the teacher, tapping the projector. “I’d hate for you to miss instructions.”

“Yes, miss,” you and Juliette said at the same time. Juliette smiled at you, and when your eyes flicked to her mouth, you noticed her braces were now a vibrant, colorful teal.

Iris blue, you think your mother had called it.

Juliette convinces you to join the choir.

It’s a heat of the moment thing⸺and you also admit you’re weak to anything Juliette asks. She had stared at you with her gleaming jade eyes and you’d given in after five minutes.

You pretend not to enjoy it as they make you sing a stupid country song.

You arrive home to the news that Dick has come back from his new place in Blüdhaven. It’s strange, how the house seems just a tad bit fuller whenever Dick is around⸺strange because you’re so used to the emptiness.

And seeing all three of them together for the first time makes you even emptier.

You’re there too of course, sat at the dinner table while Jason and Dick catch up and Bruce stares at them lovingly. But it should definitely be noted that you only considered coming because Alfred asked. Perhaps you also thought it might be less awkward, now that you thought one of your siblings might like you a little.

It’s not.

Jason does speak to you occasionally. Asks how you like the food and if you like the stuff in your room. You answer as best as you can, but Bruce and Dick’s weightful eyes make you feel like you’re being crushed. Dissected, like a frog. You answer with as little words as possible.

It’s not joyful in the slightest⸺but not at all comparable to when Dick or Bruce ask you something.

When Dick says something, he says it with a smile⸺the coldest smile you’ve ever seen. It’s strained, fraying. Nothing like his warm smiles for Jason, or the delicate but there ones for Bruce. It fills you with the discomfort of seeing someone tearing at the seams. It’s similar to your mother’s smile, but so different. It’s not the smile of someone struggling, their edges being chipped away. It’s the smile of someone who wants to throw a blanket over you and make you disappear.

It makes you feel like an alien wearing the skin of his sister.

When Bruce asks something, It’s straightforward, simple. There’s many answers⸺and only one of them is right. It’s a lot less simple than he tries to convey it as. It feels like a test, a bid on your worth. The idea of him finding your answer lackluster makes your palms sweat around your knife and fork as you swallow a mouthful of pasta that tastes like nothing.

The silence as you contemplate your answers is always deafeningly loud. You can’t stand it. You miss Juliette’s chatter in your ear, her warmth at your back. You miss Daniel’s hand on your shoulder, his gentle explanation of multiplying fractions.

Before long, most of the plates are clear (not yours. You just can’t.) and you’re standing, the tightness in your stomach easing, getting ready to leave when a familiarly calloused hand grabs your wrist.

“Hey,” says Jason. “Did ya know we had an art room?”

You didn’t. You feel bile rise up your throat. Is this supposed to be a fun fact? Is this something you were supposed to know? Should you say you knew, even though you didn’t?

The words “okay” are on the tip of your tongue, but Jason speaks faster. “I can show ya if ya want.”

You gulp down your “okay” at the light of speed. He wants to take you there? You’re stuck, the urge to smell the oil smudged onto floors, the acrylic peeling from the walls⸺and the urge to run away to your room. Where no one can ask you befuddling questions or look at you like you’re trash wearing human skin.

You don’t know why you say yes.

(You pretend to not see the hope flash in Jason’s eyes.)

Jason is a simple kind of company. He takes you straight there, but he doesn’t drown you in awkward silence. He offers up light chatter, chatter you don’t actually have to respond to. Chatter that sets you at ease. He tells you a story about the time Dick broke a chandelier⸺which leaves you slightly off kilter, trying to align the Dick from your memories to the one in Jason’s memory. It’s just too much of a difference, and it leaves you with a crushing realization. It has nothing to do with you⸺Dick just doesn’t like you.

He probably never will.

If Jason sees your change of expression, he doesn’t say anything, eagerly pulling you towards the art supplies. You try to pretend the relief you feel at seeing paintbrushes and chalk and oil pastels isn’t crushing. You thought the last time you would see anything of the sort was the brief glimpse before you had left for school the day that your apartment complex caught on fire.

You reach for the oil pastels before you can think. They had always been your favorite, despite your mother’s many complaints about them. You liked to think she only kept her collection of oil pastels for you⸺after all, you had seen her snap one of the sticks in anger more than once. Not that it mattered. They were probably burnt into wax by now.

There was a notepad nearby. Before you know it, you’re scribbling a doodle onto the lined page. Jason gets this childish, hopeful kind of look on his face. “Hey, ya think ya could draw me?”

You could lie. It’d be a white lie⸺a simple “I’m not good at drawing people” and that’d be the end of it. Yet you don’t.

You don’t know why you nod yes.

Jason beams at the finished product. He gives a too-brief-to-even-register hug and then he’s holding the notepad to his face and grinning, “Don’t we look just alike?”

You feel heat rush to your face. He’s trying to compliment you, you know, but It’s still embarrassing. Your mother never did say much when you showed her one of your drawings. Jason’s warmth is a different kind of warmth, you suppose. Not any less than Juliette’s, but different.

Still much better than the coldness of your sheets.

(Of those doctor’s gloves.)

You and Jason depart in your doorway, after he walks you to your bedroom. Why? You didn’t feel like asking.

You pretend you don’t get jumpscared by Alfred, dusting off your dresser. He sends a pleasant nod your way. “How was dinner, Young Master [Name]?”

So that’s where he went, you think to yourself. Cleaning rooms.

“Fine,” you answer, tone groggy.

“I see you’ve made a companion of Young Master Jason.” Alfred notes.

“Yeah,” you can’t quite keep the smile out of your voice. “He’s good.”

“And the others?” asked Alfred, his hope palpable.

“Fine,” you said, voice intentionally flat. It was harsh, but what were you meant to do? Tell Alfred that you felt like human scum next to them? Insignificant? Like muck, hopelessly and pitifully stuck to their shoes⸺even though you hadn’t asked to be attached to them, legally or biologically? If you could scrap yourself off their shoes like the dirt you were to them, you would with a quickness. Yet unfortunately, you were stuck as a fly on the back of their favorite flyswatter. You sigh.

(You know they don’t like you. It’s not your biggest heartbreak. You had already told yourself there would be no one to brush your hair and pick out your clothes⸺so what if there’s no one to call your family, either?

You’re not dead yet. You’ll be alright. You always are.)

“How was I to know dinner was such an exhausting endeavor?” You mumble, rubbing your eyes. “I’ll head to bed, Alfred. Goodnight.”

“Do try,” murmured Alfred, looking a little spaced out. “You’ve been looking a little quaint lately. I shall see you before school tomorrow. Goodnight, Young Master [Name].”

You feel like you’re on fire. Not your blood or your bones⸺you. Your very essence, from where you’re arching, gasping into the sheets, practically eating them as you cry into them. From where your scratchy nightdress is rubbing against you and sparking miniature fires.

Your throat is dry, closed, so much worse than all the times it closed while you were talking and felt as if you were going to die. Well, you still feel as if you’re going to die, but ten times worse now. Your stomach is twisted and your limbs are pulsating and tightening like a cramp, feeling like someone is stabbing you all over. You sob as your stomach cramps, practically screaming, your chest throbbing⸺you might throw up.

No, you are throwing up⸺or maybe that’s just your spit? You are drooling everywhere. It’s hard to tell, not that you care, it feels like all your bones are snapping.

You muffle your cries into that stupid, ugly rabbit. By biting its face, of course. That ugly, worthless plush.

You hate it.

When you wake the next morning⸺sweaty, sore, and a nasty taste in your mouth⸺you’re just grateful to be alive. The rabbit is still intact, too, which feels like a little more than you asked for⸺which was “please don’t let me die.”

(You didn’t know why you would keep living, just that you didn’t want to die right then⸺alone, small, insignificant.)

But you’ll take it, nonetheless. Like you always do.

(You lied to Alfred. You didn’t get any sleep⸺though you definitely got in your fucking bed.)

Juliette tutts at you when she sees you again, holding your face in your hands. “You look even worse than yesterday,” she murmured. “You need to take a cat-nap!”

“A cat-nap?” You question, watching Juliette as she watches you.

“Yeah! Like the nap a cat takes,” she explains, “where they curl up in a ball and stuff⸺”

A pair of high-heels click against the tile floors and there’s a jingling of keys…that stop right outside the restroom. “Girls? I know you’re in there!”

Juliette ‘eeyp’s and falls a little closer to you, and you’re practically swimming in her blouser where her chest is pressed against your face. You try not to make a choking noise as you rest your hands on her hips, holding her bodyweight up and keeping her from teetering on to the ground. You close your eyes and hope your skirt isn’t taking a dip in the toilet water right now.

The high-heels click away.

Juliette’s hands, tight on your shoulders, loosen a little. She’s beaming. “I told you we would get away,” she whispers, smug.

You nod, letting Juliette go as she crawls from between your legs.

Your first taste of rebellion. You don’t think it’s that bad. It makes Juliette happy.

prev. {☆||☆} next.

taglist: @bunbunboysworld @inayouboo @thatoneraeder

[isyluvsbigboys]

• —"𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠" !! 𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐭 𝐱 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐱 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 ❤︎

𖤓 Synopsis: Going to the Breaker Box had it perks, Volt however liked his fun, little did you know he'd drag you and Eddie into it.

𖤓 cw: nsfw/mdni/very sexual content

notes: this is my first fic in the date everything fandom, I don't normally write fics so I may do this in two parts, enjoy <33

"We're doing this all for you, Darling" Volt cooed into Eddie's ear, tracing light touches into his bare chest. Eddie's cheeks and ears were tinted in a flushed pink, barely visible in the dimmed lights of the Breaker Box after hours. Volt chuckled, amused at the predicament you were in as he leaned over the nibble and lick the shell of Eddie's ear.

Eddie grunted and shifted his hips upwards in response, trying to obtain whatever friction he could from you. You lightly straddled his waist, just grazing him, as you rocked back and forth slowly. Volt was kneeled next to you, stroking your back, dragging his hand up your back to rest on your shoulder.

"Put your full weight on him, Live Wire" Volt whispers. "God, just look at him under you". Eddie's eyes gazed up to yours, desperate for some type of release. You widened your legs until your whole weight was on him and Eddie let out a whimper at the pressure. A chuckled was heard from behind you as Volt took his place, one hand gripped your stomach as he pressed his pelvis against your ass. His other hand snaking up to land on your breasts as he rocks himself against you, pushing you against Eddie. You and Eddie both let out a guttural moan at Volts mercy.

Eddie's hand flew to your thighs, gripping onto them for support as he tried to rock you and bring you more closer to him, he felt estatic, no thought could conjure in his mind as he was being sensually rubbed against by you with the help of his best friend.

"Aww, he's so desperate for you" Volt cooed slyly. "You're doing such a good job, Live Wire". He says to you, leaving wet kisses down your neck as you arched your back. "Maybe you can do this on your own now?" He whispered in your ear as he removed himself from you, a little too quick from your liking.

You continued to dry hump Eddie through your dampened underwear, visibly getting more sweaty and desperate for some sort of release, But Volt wouldn't let that happen so easily, would he. Volt pulled up his dark velvet chair and sat watching the two of you, feverishly running his hand over his own pants, teasing himself. The sight of Volt could've made your mouth water. He slumped back, stretching his legs out and wide, resting his head in his hand, smirking at the fact he knew you enjoyed this.

"Enjoy what you see, Princess?" He asked you, not breaking the eye contact as he undid his zipper, revealing a toe curling bulge in his boxers. You didn't break eye contact with him as Eddie's slight thrust back against you wound you up more and more.

The sight of the two men, sweaty, light moans drove you insane. You rested your hands either side of Eddie's stomach as you thrusted back against him, joining him in sync, the texture of his boxers grinded against your core in the more divine way, you whined out as you felt Eddie's hands now gripping your hips, helping you to rub yourself against him. You shuddered and shook your hips rapidly, embarrassingly, trying to not loose the high you were chasing. Your body crumpled as you let out a cry of several moans, your core twitching as you orgasmed for the first time tonight. You put your hands on your mouth, trying to comprehend the experience that just happened, attempting to catch your breath. You looked down at Eddie who had his eyes closed, letting out pants himself. "God that was, unreal" Eddie spoke, for the first time of the night.

Your eyes turned to Volt, who now had a dark patch on his underwear where he'd obviously finished himself- trying his best not to let anyone know he finished himself watching the two of you.

"So.." Volt chirped, brushing his hair back out of his face "the night has just begun"

notes: it's short and not well written. but damn a girl can try, this might be a two parter

[cupid-cakes]

Shelley x Fem Reader Smut

MDNI

CW: AFAB anatomy, AFAB pronouns, oral receiving, cum eating, sloppy oral

Part 2

You find yourself more and more grateful for the dateviators. It’s hard not to be grateful, say on your office desk chair with Shelley kneeled before you, your legs thrown over her shoulders.

Her face is nudged between your thighs, her hands have a bruising grip on your outer thighs to keep your legs spread for her. Shes still fully clothed unlike you, her hat nudged against your stomach as she licks at your lower lips.

You lean back in the chair and moan as she flicks your clit with her tongue. She follows the motion up with licking it with the flat of her tongue. You can feel her smile against your sex before she looks up at you.

The brim of her hat provides shade over her determined looking eyes, she has a wide toothy smile with your arousal smeared on her lips. “That feel good baby?” You respond with a nod which only makes her smirk grow.

“Good…because I’m gonna make you feel even better” She shoves her face back between her thighs, licking faster with a newfound vigor. You lean your head back relish in the pleasure.

A shiver runs down your spine as Shelley’s tongue prods at your entrance, she wastes no time sliding the muscle in. She lets out a muffled moan at the taste of you.

Her tongue laps at your folds, her grip growing even tighter on your thighs. You squirm in your seat, gasping as you feel her tongue delve inside of you as deep as she can go. Your slick gathers on your thighs and on her chin as she continues. No doubt making a bit of a mess on the chair.

She laps sloppily at your folds, occasionally groaning as she eats you out. Her nose presses against your clit. Your hand goes to her head, knocking her hat off so your fingers could tangle in her brown hair. Your grind against her face creating a bit of friction between her nose and your clit.

Her fervor seems to double as her hands move to grope at the flesh of your ass to pull you closer against her mouth. Your juices drip down her chin as her tongue eagerly slides back and forth collecting as much of your slick as she can on her tongue.

Your grip turns to you pulling up at her hair as your hips continue grinding against her mouth, not that she seems to mind at all based on the slurping noises coming from between your thighs. Your grinding movements continue sporadically as you chase your high, it doesn’t take long before you release a soft cry and your juices are flooding down onto her face.

You lean back against the chair and quickly look down at Shelley for any sign of discomfort. But instead you find her gazing up at you with a loving gleam in her eyes, a lopsided grin, messy hair and your release dripping down her face.

“You have no idea what you do to me” The words come out in a breathless rasp as her hands move down to your knees. You take a moment to catch your breath as she pulls the chair closer to her.

“Come on baby…I gotta see you cum again” You can’t say no to that face, so you just sigh and smile as she stands up, leaning over so your faces are just an inch apart. “You wanna ride my abs?”

[m1stm3]

tomura has a habit of spreading ur thighs nd then just. watching u get wetter n wetter. he’ll lean his cheek on ur thigh to get comfy nd everything while his eyes r just glued to the way ur squeezing around nothing.

[chososrightnipple]

❝𝗷𝗷𝗸 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 + 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘀❞

a/n: i'm going insane guys anyway love u all mwah <333333 afab body but no gendered language btw!

part two.

── დ ──

. *. ⋆ GOJO SATORU

▸ creampies. please just let this man cum inside of you omg he'll go insane. seeing the way his release leaks out of you afterward has him ready for another round almost immediately.

▸ dacryphilia. "you crying'?" says it all right there. he'll coo, a bit mocking, and wipe at the tears running down your cheeks.

▸ size difference. he's so big compared to you. his height, his hands, his dick. he gets off on it so hard seeing you have to look up at him :(

▸ praise (giving + receiving). he'll charm your panties off if you really want, just make sure to let him know how good he's fucking you, too.

▸ overstimulation. hand in hand with dacryphilia. he's not done with you until he's shooting blanks and you're a weeping mess below him.

▸ breeding. listen.. he needs an heir for the gojo clan. he'll fuck you into the mattress for hours on end- he just wants to make sure his baby takes, that's all.

▸ orgasm denial. he's a cocky man, and he knows it. he loves the exhilaration he gets controlling your orgasm, making you beg for it before he gives you any satisfaction.

▸ pussy/thigh/boob jobs. he wants to put good use to all of your body.

. *. ⋆ GETO SUGURU

▸ choking. the feeling of you swallowing as his large hands cusp at your neck is like a drug to him.

▸ begging. seeing you so compliant under him as you plead and cry for his touch... those pretty little eyes and wobbling lip. it's mean, he knows that. he just couldn't care less.

▸ sense deprivation. tying you up and blindfolding you, giving him all that power? he goes crazy for it.

▸ degradation. you wanna be fucked like a slut, he's gonna treat you like one.

▸ edging. when he's feeling really mean, he'll edge you for hours. until you're shaking and whining and the only word you can get out is a broken moan of his name.

▸ impact play. he loves waking up and seeing the red imprint of his hand on your ass oh my godddd don't get him started.

▸ hair pulling (receiving). he wants you to tug at his hair, card your fingers through it, pull it as you're riding his face!!!

▸ sadism. pretty much hand in hand with everything above. he's such a mean boyfriend but he knows how much you love it.

. *. ⋆ CHOSO KAMO

▸ biting. your shoulders, neck, and thighs are full of his teeth marks, almost perpetually. and of course he's not gonna complain if you leave a few bites, too.

▸ begging. show him how much you want him, how badly you need him, and he'll fuck you as much as you want. you just gotta put in a little work first.

▸ worship (giving + receiving). seriously this man worships the ground you walk on from the moment you wake up to the second you fall asleep. he just asks you worship his cock the same

▸ overstimulation. he's fuckin you until his legs are giving out from under him and you're nothing but a fucked out, drooling mess being pressed into the bed.

▸ blood play. i mean... i think this is a given.. will purposefully bite down too hard just to lick the blood clean as an apology.

▸ orgasm denial. he knows once you cum, it's over, and he just wants to stay sat in your pretty pussy a little bit longer- you understand that, right?

▸ somnophilia. his favorite breakfast is in between your thighs. besides, you don't think there's any better way to wake up, anyway.

▸ voyeurism. pleaseeee pleaseee pleaseee let him watch you masturbate it's all he needs in this world !!!!!

. *. ⋆ SUKUNA RYOMEN

▸ anal. he needs to claim every hole your body has to offer. plus true form sukuna is a slut for his double penetration just saying

▸ choking. hearing your choked gasps as he squeezes your throat could make him cum on the damn spot. watching your eyes roll into the back of your head as each second passes on.

▸ exhibitionism. no, he doesn't care that there are other curses around and no, he doesn't care if they can see. you're his, and he'll fuck you anywhere he wants to.

▸ extreme bondage. watching your poor, writhing little human body tug at your restraints uselessly is something he'll never get tired of.

▸ collaring. he'll even get his name custom engraved, just so everyone who looks at you know exactly who you belong to.

▸ degradation. he's a mean thing, but you seem to enjoy that for some reason. he savors in the way you clench around him every time he calls you a whore.

▸ edging. you're not allowed to cum until he's says so, and anything before that? you're in for one hell of a night.

▸ predator/prey. let him chase you through the woods as foreplay. he'll inevitably catch up, of course, but seeing you attempt to get away is so cute to him. especially when he's had enough of the teasing and is pinning you against the nearest tree.

[tojisun]

i feel like simon loses it when you murmur, “like this?” every time you ride him.

it’s not even the first time that you’ve ridden him—and he sure as hell would make sure that it wouldn’t be the last—but there’s always something so sweet at the shy curl of your question, your watery eyes peering up at him like simon isn’t ravenous for every inch of you; your scent, your taste, your touch—he’s hungry for everything that you are.

so when you ask him—

like this? timid and achingly soft;

like this? heart stutteringly quiet and meek;

like this? overwhelmingly intoxicating—

simon buckles and wraps his arms around you because, “yeah,” simon replies, voice rumbling in a ragged rasp. “jus’ like that, love.”

his cock twitches, pulsing, and he has to bite down at the inside of his lip to stop himself from reaching his euphoria. it’s too soon, almost embarrassingly so, but he can’t help himself. it’s like your meek question is a trigger for him, unravelling his body until he feels like he is left as mere threads of his ecstasy, stroked to its tipping completion.

yeah, simon repeats to himself, his thick hands planted on the fat of your ass, squeezing greedily, before hoisting you up to feel the delicious press of your walls drag along his cock. it is such an enveloping warmth; all feverish and soft.

how could you even ask him anything like he isn’t being unmade?

you hiccup, breathy and hitching, as you curl close to him. simon chuckles.

“that’s right,” he says, fucking you back down his length. “s’good, huh?”

all he gets is that familiar thrum of your muffled hum, and simon coos because he knows he’s hit that threshold that renders you nonverbal.

see? such a sweetheart for him.

[rawme-price]

Hmmm afab ferret!reader complaining to ur best friend johnny about how hard it is to find a boyfriend or even a good fuck.

Sure, you meet plenty of nice guys, but they aren't really prepared to have a ferret partner. There's a common misconception about ferret hybrids just being playful and energetic, which means when you actually want to fuck you tend to scare guys away. You tell Johnny this, bemoaning the fact you cant find someone on the kinkier side.

And Johnnys quiet for a moment, eyes narrowed in that look where you know hes running a pro-con list. "...I might know someone, hes a bit awkward though, I little shy."

Thus a week later ur meeting simon in a nice little bar, the orca hybrid exactly ur type. It takes some warming up, but soon enough hes cracking jokes and laughing loudly at ur own. When he gives you a *look* and asks about taking you home, you put a hand on his shoulder and tell him outright "look. Its fine if you aren't, but I really need someone to just shove me around. Be real mean and aggressive, yeah? Its good for my instincts."

You watch as Simon's lashes flutter at ur words, a grin spreading over his face. Long story short, hes everything you needed. Scruffs you and drags u where he wants, bites and scratches at ur skin. Ur walking out of there stuffed full of cum, covered in bruises and blood. Simon's walking out of there thinking of what betrothal item to get you.

You send Johnny a very nice box of chocolates later.

[chrrybbye]

ONE LAST LULLABY

➶-͙˚ ༘✶MASTER LIST*ੈ✩‧₊˚

synopsis: your mother, who was just as sweet-tongued as she was quick handed, passes away leaving you to be taken in by your Father, who you quickly learn is Batman. And that neither he or his children particularly like you. That’s fine⸺but why, and what, are all these strange things happening to you? You think you just need to hang on until your eighteenth birthday.

ACT 1: the calm before the storm

00: you had that same look in your eyes.

01: no, I ain’t got nothing to smile about.

02: and I miss you like a little kid.

03: I sit here poor for you.

04: the music seems so loud.

05: coming soon

ACT 2: LOCKED

ACT 3: LOCKED

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊* . °•��|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

THERE’S A CASSETTE LABELED….

READER AND MOTHER : little soldier by the crane wives and/or velvet ring by big thief

READER AND BAT FAMILY : price of perfection by katherine lynn rose and/or good 4 u by olivia rodrigo

READER AND JULIETTE: cure by vivinos (mizisua cover) and/or she likes a boy by nxdia

READER AND DANIEL: Impact by enjambre and/or do I wanna know by arctic monkeys

ACT 1 READER : top of my school by katherine lynn-rose

ACT 2 READER: nightmare by halsey

READER AND JULIETTE (happy…?) : casual by chappell roan and/or little miss perfect by write out loud

ACT 3 READER: people I don’t like by upsahl and/or the hand that feeds by the crane wives

full Playlist for this series here!

[earlgreylatte]

Hello, You

(Invincible Variants x Reader) Of course he would come to see you. You’re the reason he’s here, after all.

After hearing the news to stay inside as the attack of Invincible copycats decimated cities across the globe, you hid under your blanket, the light from your phone illuminating your face as you watched the broadcast for any sign of your Mark.

You could only hope that he was alright, that he wasn’t blaming himself, that he knew you were waiting for him to come back safe. He already has enough problems as is.

Your distress is momentarily tempered when you hear your window slide open and your floorboards creek. When you don’t hear Mark immediately greet you or tease you for being bundled up, any concern you felt for Mark becomes overshadowed by fear for yourself as you hear footsteps near your prone form.

You can only tremble, clutching your blanket close to your body until the room goes silent. You shakily exhale, becoming confused when another quiet beat passes. When your breath returns to normal, the blanket is ripped off of you, eliciting a scared yelp.

For a moment you only stare in confusion at the sight of your boyfriend’s estranged father before realizing it’s not Nolan Grayson that stands before you, but Mark clad in a costume similar to his father’s. His face is impassive, mouth a firm line, so unlike the expressive nature of your Mark.

He calls your name. Quietly, yet there was something heavy in his tone. Something you could almost delude yourself into thinking was longing.

His hand brushes against your cheek, moving down your face before resting on your shoulder, a finger pressed against your pulse.

“You sound healthy,” he comments, deceptively neutral in his delivery, but even behind his goggles, you could feel his gaze burning into your face, “In my world, you had cancer. By the time the Viltrumites reinforcements had arrived, it was too late. All that talk about life changing technology and medicine, but it ended up being utterly useless to me.”

Your breath hitches, but he continues, “But here there’s a me that rebelled and an you that never got sick. That got to live past high school. That’s just the way it goes, I suppose.”

His hand travels lower, brushing past your collarbone before resting on your breast, your heart hammering beneath his palm.

“Do you know why I came here?” He wonders, his free hand planting itself on your bed, as he moves his body to hover above yours until the only thing you can see is him.

“No,” you whisper, staring into black lenses.

“Because even after all these years, the only heart I wish to know, to hold, and to cherish is yours. I was willing to play human for you, to tolerate the presence of the idiots that breathed the same air as us, but then they all had the audacity to outlive you. And I can’t move on. So the selfish man that I am, I’m here to take you. To have you by my side again, no matter how much blood I have to spill,” He declares before pressing his lips against yours, muffling your gasp and cries, gripping your wrist when you try to shove at him.

He only pulls away when you start to feel lighthearted, looking down at you as you struggle to catch your breath.

“You can cry and protest all you want. You loved me once, you can do it again,” he asserts, bring your wrist to his mouth, leaving a kiss against your pulse point. “This world was doomed the moment your Mark decided to rebel. I won’t let you die because of his delusions.”

“…I’m not her,” you speak up. “I don’t know you, not really.”

“I know,” he responds, “but every inch of my body is crying out to you, and I’d rather kill everyone on this planet before I let you go again.”

He releases your wrist, instead sliding both hands under your shirt, gloved hands savouring the feel of your skin, your warmth seeping through the fabric.

“…you’re shaking,” he notes, throwing a glance at your discarded blanket on the ground, “I’m sorry, I’ll warm you up. I promise.”

“Mark,” you say, out of instinct more than anything else, your mind coming to a blank.

“Shh,” he hushes you, voice gentle but firm, “Let me take care of you. Like I always do.”

A part of you is relieved that he hasn’t taken off his cowl because you knew you’d crumble under the emotion that would undoubtedly be in his eyes. The same eyes that always held so much love and adoration towards you.

His lips press against yours again, more demanding and heated, as hands travel higher and higher until—

“Looks like I wasn’t the only one that thought to come here,” an amused but familiar voice drawls out, the Mark on top of you pulling away, body covering yours protectively.

Another Invincible sat at your window ledge, black and yellow costume starkly contrasting the rest of your room. He smiles at you when you peak around Mark’s arm.

“Honestly, you were acting so high and mighty earlier, but you’re pretty desperate, huh?” He mocks as the other Mark’s face becomes stonier. “But, really, you should fuck off somewhere else because that’s my girl you’re feeling up right now.”

Before he can respond, another voice interrupts him as you notice yet another Mark, floating behind the one at your window.

“Fucking seriously? How did you even get here before me? I bet you halfassed your locations,” The Mark with a mohawk that has you raising your eyebrow complains, “I literally called dibs on this one! Find someone else!”

Feeling the tension build up, you only hope that Mark checks in and saves you from the bullshit you’re witnessing as they begin to snarl and yap at each other like feral dogs.

Why me, you lament.

Shiesty Mark: hey, babe, it’s Big Dick Friday—why the fuck are you all here??

Why is there no Omni Mark content, he and that shiesty mark were my favourite…

I feel like omni mark is the definition of ‘quite literally hates everyone but you’

Masterlist

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

Wolf hybrid pack that was supposed to eat chubby bunny reader but instead take you in and use you as their little breeding toy.

They just kind of adore you, spoiling you with freshly picked fruits and vegetables, doting on their sweet little bunny as much as possible.

You want snuggles? They’re making a cuddle pile immediately, and you’re at the center. You’re hungry for something sweet? They’re ransacking the nearest village and bringing back every sugary item they can find.

They get into a lot of fights over who gets to breed you first once mating season comes around. You’re a bit afraid, seeing all these tall, needy wolves circling you like you’re a slab of meat.

It’s the first time they’re ever rough with you, pushing your soft body down and holding onto your hips as they rut into your fat pussy until you’re knotted over and over again.

Once they’ve all had a turn, they’re back to purring and cuddling into you, giving you little mating bites and cleaning you up.

You decide it’s worth it to get fucked out of your mind every once in a while if it means you’re treated like the pack’s princess. After all… it feels way too good being all full of cum and being bounced on one knot then another…

Being adored by an entire pack of wolf hybrids isn’t easy, but you’re a horny bunny, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @screaming-crying-screamingagain @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @j3llyphisching @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljr @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @buckoothecow @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68

[soapcloth]

CW: 18+ MDNI, loan shark!price x reader part 1, fem!reader, afab!reader, noncon elements, manipulative price, implied violence (not reader), petting, almost(?) fingering - 3K words - dividers -> @/cafekitsune massive thank you to @pricetagged for keeping me sane writing this

“Mr. Price-” you spoke up, fingers massaging into your temples. 

“Said you can call me John, Sweetheart.” the man interjected with a serious look. 

He was currently hanging your entire life over your head and he knew it, you most certainly were not going to call him by his first name. Noticing your reluctance, he shrugged and leaned back into your dining room chair.

“Look, I’ve been as kind as a man like me ought to be. Don’t know how much longer I can shoulder the loss, and I don't know how much longer you-” He sent a condescending look of concern your way, a hand fishing into his pocket. “-can take the fees. I’m playing the good guy here, y’gotta pay up, lovie.” 

“No smoking inside.” you warned, voice less confident than you would have liked it to be.

His hand paused in his coat before slipping out and up in a sign of surrender.

There was a buzzing silence between the two of you, only interrupted by the occasional tick of your kitchen clock. It was hard to meet his gaze, eyes rooted downwards towards your table under the weight of your rising debt to one of the most notorious men in the city.

“Right then.” he huffed, palms coming down to rest on the table before twitching upwards. “So?” 

“Give me another month to pull something together.” you spoke, wincing when you caught the way his eyebrows quirked in surprise. “-Please?”

There was no telling a man like John Price what would be happening. He was the shot caller, the unequivocal card dealer, it was only by some higher grace that he let your ill manners slip. 

He grumbled for a moment before looking up. “I respect what you’ve got going on in the shop, I do. Lovely place, good atmosphere—we’re both the entrepreneurial type, so to say I’ve got a bit of a soft spot for you-” the thought that he’d lump your small shop in with his exploitative business made your stomach turn. “-but this is a bit much, yeah? Let’s give it up, sweetheart.” 

Your face twisted into a sharp grimace, but that was all you could do—what right did you have to tell the man whose money you were living off of to get out of your house? Even worse, you hated that he had a point; you were so tired of your lackluster sales and mounting bills, but-

“I’m not the only owner, I-I can’t just make decisions like that.” you reasoned.

He looked incredibly unimpressed, nostrils flaring with a dissatisfied huff. “Right, your business partner.” 

“H-he-”

“If it’s what you want, m’sure he’ll understand,” Mr. Price hummed, eyes narrowing. “I think you’ll find my men and I can be quite persuasive.” 

Registering your cautious demeanor, his lips curled upwards.

“Where is the bloke anyway?” John asked in faux-disinterest, disapproval blooming from his tone. “Always sends you to talk to the big mean lender. S’not right.” 

He shook his head and sighed.

“-Seen this play out before, love. He’s throwing you under the bus.” 

Your mouth shut, hard set into a frown—you knew he was right. Your business partner was most likely enjoying his morning in peace knowing it was your apartment above the building—your life about to be uprooted if it all went tits-up. It was hard not to feel played.

Mr. Price’s gaze glimmered in recognition, and slowly, like a languid predator, he was leaning across the table with a large hand over your own. 

You studied the sparse dusting of translucent hair on his fingers, the trimmed nails at the ends of his stocky fingers, his nice, expensive-looking watch—anything not to meet his eyes. 

“S’not worth it,” he urged softly. “spreading yourself thin like this.” he paused to think. “My advice? Liquidate, I'm sure you and I can work something out in the long term.”

You swallowed, throat feeling impossibly dry as you focused on the twitch of his thumb.

“I’ll think about it.” 

“I don’t want to be the bad guy, but business is business, sweetheart—I’m offering you a hand, it’s in your best interest to take it.” he spoke, palm patting over your digits before withdrawing into his pocket. There was a deep breath drawn in through his lips. “Right, I’ll be off then—Unless you want me over for lunch?” 

He chuckled deeply in solus as he stood, reminding you of a proud and awful beast. “Maybe another time then, love.” 

Ideally not.

-

The shop had closed on another unnoteworthy day, only serving to further hammer in Mr. Price’s point. With defeated footfall on the stairs up to your flat, you nearly slipped, shocked by a fist beating on the front door frantically. You slowly turned around, heart pounding from the sound.

“-Christ! Let me in!” Ewan, your business partner cried out from the other side of the threshold.

You hurried to the door; pushed aside as soon as the lock had released.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” you scolded over the shop door’s welcome chime. You were met without response while the man darted for the till. “What are you-”

“Not now,” he growled. “we need to get out of here.” 

Studying him closer, you realized one of his arms had been held up by a makeshift sling, tucked neatly beneath his quilted coat.

“W-what are you talking about?”

He paused, looking up. 

Your eyes widened when the light from the street outside washed over his face. 

“What happened to you?” 

“Doesn’t matter.” he snarled, freshly dried blood crusting at the movement. His head dipped down as he popped open the till. “Price and his dogs want our heads.” 

“I just spoke to him this morning-” 

“Things change—may have pushed our luck a little too far. We’ve got to get out of town.” 

You frowned “I-I can’t just-” 

“Suit yourself.” he snapped, voice dropping to a mumble while his fingers grabbed at whatever they could, stuffing it into his coat pocket haphazardly. “-Sitting duck.”

“Wait—that's our money.” you balked, watching the empty register drawer shut. He offered you a bloody, tight-lipped smile as he sped past you towards the door; in and out like a typhoon.

“Good luck.”

You were stuck where you stood when the door swung shut, absolutely beside yourself in shock as you watched his figure disappear from view into the night. Looking around your shop, it was just as it had been when you closed up, but the knowledge that you were sitting on an empty till, all alone with the looming threat of a less-than-savory money lender finding out you were back to square one for your upcoming payment was not kind as it crashed into you. 

After a sobering moment, you hobbled over to the point of sales, turning the drawer’s lock tentatively. Of course, the tray was as empty as the day you had bought it, save for a spare coin roll shoved into the side. You stared down at the dark plastic, hand clumsily digging into your pocket for your phone. Swiping at the device, you paused, debating for a moment over whether or not to open the banking app; you already knew what you’d see if you did.

Confirming your fears, the log showed a hefty transaction at the branch earlier that day. The account had been emptied right before the banks closed. 

You had nothing to give John Price.

It was all gone.

You stared at your feet while it sunk in. Slowly, you regained the ability to move, making your way over to the shop door and locking it back up before spinning on your heels. The trip upstairs was eerily silent as you slipped into your flat, legs wobbling as you ambled into your washroom and stepped under the hot stream from your showerhead. You let the water run over you for far longer than necessary, only stepping out onto the frigid tile once your fingers had pruned. 

The dinner prep that followed had gone surprisingly smooth, serving as a vessel to pretend the foundation of your life wasn't crumbling away. You replayed comforting thoughts, words passing through your mind like a liferaft just out of reach– you knew Mr. Price, he always spoke gently to you, he would understand, he-

A fat tear fell onto the hand that braced you over the stove, watching the bubbling pasta through bleary eyes. With a shaking grip, you drained the water and slipped the noodles into your saucepan, stirring and sniffling lamely.

You made too much—you had nothing to give and you had made too much. Typical.

Sitting at your table, you ate in near-silence, listening to your clock’s soft ticking as you tried to ignore the afterburn image of Mr. Price across from you where he had sat that morning.

Your fork paused mid-air when the downstairs shop chime rang out. 

Had Ewan come to his senses? 

You closed your eyes and waited for him to call up to you. 

The stark sound of heavy footfall bustling around the lower level was the first thing to alert you to the intrusion—too much noise for one man. Setting down your fork, you stared owlishly at the door to your flat as if it was the last line of defense between you and whatever was happening down there. Through the muffled commotion, you could faintly make out the creak of your stairs getting louder—closer, you watched helplessly as the knob slowly turned.

The door opened a fraction, a thick hand curling around the side to brace it against the three thunderous knocks that echoed throughout the room.

“Come in.” you spoke up once your heartbeat had evened out, blinking as Mr. Price emerged from the dark stairway.

“Mmh, you’re here.” he stared down at you, a pleased rumble rolling around in his chest. “‘Course you didn’t skip town, smart. Good girl.”

He kicked his boots off and drifted through your kitchen; cabinets and drawers clattering behind you while he whistled breathily, dishing up some pasta as if you had made it for him—you do suppose he had every right to, though. 

Your whole body tensed as a palm ghosted across your back. The plate was set down, and the chair beside you was tugged out from beneath the table. 

Your eyes darted to his dish where it sat, steam trailing fragrantly. Mr. Price tucked in, humming lowly despite his tense demeanor. 

“S’good, Love. eat up.” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat and grabbed your fork, gaze falling back to your dish as you picked at the food, appetite long gone. Once again, it was you, Mr. Price, and the sounds of your kitchen—an unwelcome sense of Deja Vu creeping in. 

“Your money’s gone.” you whispered, unable to stand the silence.

He reached towards you, grabbing your napkin, and patting his mouth. “I know.” he scratched at his beard idly. “My boys are dealing with that.” 

You paled, trying not to think about what would happen to your business partner as you watched Mr.Price fuss with his fork, leaning in to take another large bite; a nauseated feeling washing over you. 

“What's going to happen to me?” you murmured, eyes downcast. 

His fork clattered quietly against his plate as his hand came to rest on the back of your neck, thumb petting at your nape. “That’s what I'm here to sort out, sweetheart.” 

Sort out. It was ugly, spoken as if you were just one of his assets. You nodded; compliance met with a soft, affirming squeeze. 

“We can work something out.” his hand traveled downwards, grazing your arm before landing on the meat of your thigh. “I don’t have to be the bad guy.” 

“Mr. Price..” you spoke after a sharp breath, tears threatening to well up. 

You missed the way his eyes crinkled at your weepy tone, thumb brushing your thigh in comfort. 

“I’ve had my eye on you, love—Would have never lent you as much as I did if I wasn't sweet on you. Thought maybe I’d be able to charm my way into your life but it seems like I only see you when you’re late on a payment.” he laughed hoarsely. A knee knocked into yours as he stood; his chair scraping beneath him. The floor creaked under bulk, two large hands coming to rub at your arms with hot breath and trimmed beard tickling at your ear. “-I’m a hopeless romantic, y’see.” 

“Price!” a voice hollered up, causing the man to straighten with a low growl. 

“What?” he barked, voice aimed downstairs.

“Trucks loaded up, gonna head back to the office, yeah? See if Simon needs any help retrieving the cash.” 

His hands flexed around your shoulders. “Good, lock up behind yourself. I’ll be a bit.”

You froze, looking up to see the looming shadow of a man; profile distinct in the low light. He turned to you, offering a tight grin while a wayward hand trailed from your arm to your neck, caressing the skin as he exhaled deeply behind you, resting your head against his abdomen. 

“It’s okay to give in, love.” he cooed. “Let me take care of it all.” 

You had nearly folded when that little prey animal in your brain stiffened, hackles raising. You stood carefully, sidestepping his grasp.

“No, I-I… I couldn’t impose… It’s alright.” you silently begged for him to understand your polite refusal.

“S’not imposing,” he challenged, glaring down at you. “imposing would be the number of zeroes on the sum you owe me—now you care about my burden?”

“That’s-”

“That’s not how this works, sweetheart.” he laughed. “Now, sit back down.”

You complied, lowering back into the seat shamefully.

“Good.” he exhaled, crouching beside you with hands knotted together. “I always collect what’s owed, that’s one thing you need to understand.” 

You nodded.

“-But I’m not opposed to shouldering burdens where personal interest is involved.” His eyes searched your own desperately, palms unfurling to rest back on your legs. “You understand what I'm saying, yeah? You’ll never pay it off alone, let me help. I could take care of you.”

Overwhelmed, you turned away; the grip on your thighs tightening in response as he braced himself, standing up. A warm hand cradled your cheek as he drew your gaze upwards, free hand looping around your back and lifting you to stand against him like a marionette. 

“I don’t know what to do…” you sniffled as his big palm had begun to rub circles into your back. 

He shushed you. “-It’s okay, love. I can handle it, It’ll be okay.”

You nodded, turning and rubbing your face into his shirt as he comforted you. The entire situation was a disorienting experience. Had you done something so wrong to get here?– had it been a crime to want to live a gentle and quiet life in your shop? 

It was hard to care much for your sense of conviction when the root of your problem looked more like a finely woven cradle; what did it matter if you were to bend the knee to your devil’s appeal at this point? 

Still, it felt as if you were teetering on the edge of a cliff.

“I’m scared.” your lips settled for, hiccuping the words into his chest. 

He hummed thoughtfully, the noise buzzing around the walls of your head as his thick arms hooked around your neck, pulling you in deeper—a trap set without any fuss. 

“It’s okay for you to be scared,” he pressed a kiss to your crown. “There’s no way anyone was getting out of those rates you agreed to, love. Let me help you.”

You stiffened, head raising slowly to look at him. He smiled down at you.

“You definitely won’t be taking care of our finances, yeah?” John joked, letting out a deep, phlegmy laugh before he pecked your nose, pulling you back into his chest and rumbling against your head. “Enough nonsense. You’re tired, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

It was all so domestic—like he hadn’t just shown you his rows of jagged, shark-like teeth. 

His grip relented as he patted your bum. “Go on and get into bed, let me clean up dinner.”

-

So you did, brushing your teeth and feeling incredibly confused as to why you were readily complying. What truly got to you was how tender it felt—had you been so oblivious to his vying interest? You had just assumed he was a rare good-natured lender; though, you suppose neither of these had been true.

John Price was not a good man; although it was a recent revelation in the grand scheme of things, you knew this as a fact now. The other fact of the matter was that it seemed you were most likely the real collateral in the vulturine deal. Had he been playing the long game?

You could hear John floating around in the other room as you pulled an old shirt over your head to sleep in—the kitchen faucet running as you slipped into your bed. It all felt so wrong. 

Your eyes shot open when the bedroom’s aged floor creaked, deer-like paralysis keeping you snapshot-still as the ring of his belt buckle filled the static air. Was he—The rickety bed dipped behind you under John’s added weight, bedframe crying out with every shift of his body that came with tucking himself against you; achy grunts blowing out from his lips.

“Not as limber as I used to be.” he laughed modestly. “Still gets the job done though, I reckon.” 

He breathed for a moment before his nose dipped into the hair at your nape, sniffling around. 

“-Better than I imagined.” he grumbled contently.

Thick hands dipped under your shirt, massaging at the skin momentarily before slipping into your panties, tugging them out of the way. 

“Mr. Price.” you winced, feeling his cold hand on the sensitive skin.

his hands paused as the large man thought for a moment.

“Mrs. Price…” he chuckled after a beat, the hairs on your neck standing up in response. “-See? You don’t like it much, either. Now, what’s my name, love?”

“John.” you mumbled quietly, eyes darting around through the dark of your room.

“Mmh. good girl.” he hummed, hand cupping your cunt and thumbing at it absentmindedly. “Sleep, love. Big day tomorrow, yeah?” 

[whokilledsamara]

Hello! I don’t usually make requests but i have one could u pretty please if u have time? 🥺

Anyways the request would be like homocipher boys (especially my bbg Mr Crawling) pussy drunk. Pls.

PUSSY DRUNK

a very short fic for a few of the Homicipher boys. {Mr. Crawling, Mr. Scarletella, Mr. Silvair, Mr. Gap, Mr. Hood}. Homicipher x afab!reader.

warnings! : each are different so a bit of violence, neediness, switch!reader, smut, porn, PORN NO PLOT!!! almost all of them are cunnilingus

{an: if you meant a fic with all of them in a gangbang sense, you can send in another request}

MR. CRAWLING

"Not now Mr. Crawling, im busy." you say softly, gently petting his head as he tugs at your skirt. "Please..", he practically begs, his lips turned into a pout.

he was always so desperate to please you, stopping at nothing as long as it made you happy. his eager face made it so hard to resist, and with a sigh, you gently part your legs before continuing to use your hands with what you were doing.

almost as soon as you do so, his face is shoved as far as it can go, a whine leaving his lips as he has to pull away to remove your underwear. a giggle escapes you while you watch.

...

"mngh.. fuck, please.." the words slipped so effortlessly from your lips, Mr. Crawling's head so deep between those legs of yours that you couldnt think straight.

your hand was fisted in his hair, tugging often. whines left him almost constantly, his hands holding up your thighs on his shoulders and off the chair. "Me want, More" he states softly, his voice muffled as he stares up at you, the lower half of his face still stuffed between your thighs.

as you nod softly, he hums and shoves two of his long and slender fingers inside of you, effortlessly curling them upwards towards your g-spot. "a-ah..!" your voice hits a high peak at the sudden intrusion, legs trembling as yet another orgasm rips through you, despite how many you had previously.

as overstimulated as you were, the man between your legs gives a few more licks to your clit, slowly pulling away. as he sits up, Mr. Crawling stares up at you with a cheeky grin, his chin covered in your juices. "Good." ..... "Big, Good."

MR. SCARLETELLA

as usual, he was feeling needy.

every since you pretty much marked him as your "slave", he has been near you at all times, getting upset whenever you interact with others instead of him.

this time in particular though, you watched tears fall from his eyes as he stared up at you with a desperate expression. despite the cold look on your face, and the amount of times you rejected him, he still pleads. "Please." he whines, his hands trembling against your thighs. "Please what..? not this again." you ask, glaring down at him. his hands grab at your raincoat, face a pleading mess.

"Need, You." he begs. you think for a second, a long exasperated sigh leaving your lips before you finally do what he always dreamed of. you roll your eyes, head tilting to a nod. that was all the conformation he needed.

...

hours had gone by, your unfortunate yet aching cunt so desperately clenched around his tongue, his hands clawing at your thighs.

his skilled tongue circled your clit an uncanny amount of times, his pace never slowing. "A-ah wait.. wait i cant.. fuccckk.." another orgasm ripped through you and then, only then, did his pace falter. "You, Like?" he asked, pulling his face up from your legs with an uncanny glare.

you nod many times, his smile only growing wider. his lips lean in and press against yours, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. as much as you denied your feelings for the man, you couldn't think of anything but how good he felt and tasted. with a thoughtful groan, you wiggle your finger at him, signaling for him to stand. immediately he obeys, face flushed and juices dripping down his chin. your eyes are locked on his for a second before you speak in a demanding tone.

"Take off your pants."

MR. SILVAIR

he was NEVER needy. so why was today different?

one of the other residents had managed to piss him off so much that he couldn't think straight. his usually calm demeanor shifted completely dark, not even a hint of his usual smile on his face.

even Mr. Chopped seemed worried, asking softly if he was okay. Mr. Silvair ignored him, his gaze fixated on your eyes. he nods his head to his "research room", silently instructing you to go. he follows closely behind you, the heavy door slamming shut and locking you both in the room.

...

a huff leaves his lips as his hands angrily lift you up and slam you on his examination table, ass up for him, with little to no way for you to escape.

"W-what are you doing? Whats wrong?.. Mr. Silvair-!" you ask hurriedly, hands scrambling to find something to grab. he ignores your pleas and hikes up your raincoat, forcing off your panties with one quick motion. you couldn't see him as you tried to look behind you, but you felt him sink to his knees. "H-hey- ah..!-" your words are cut off with a moan as his long, snakelike tongue slips between your folds.

Mr. Silvair's strong hands keep you spread with ease, giving him full access as he greedily eats your pussy like its the last meal on earth. "Stop Squirming." his usually calm voice turns dark, his fingers digging a touch deeper into your hips as he keeps you held up for him.

as hard as you can, you attempt to keep your hips still. his tongue reaches as deep as it can reach, making you harshly bite your lip and see stars, juices running down his face as you finally orgasm. "A-ah right there--fuck! please.." your begs go unnoticed as he releases you and stands, walking out of the room without another glance. seemingly, this little outburst would hold him down for a while.

be glad it was only his tongue this time.

MR. GAP

a while after you got used to your residency at the complex, you learned your lesson about walking near the gaps.

the man who always seemed to appear at the worst moments, would mainly only mess with you. usually, it would only be a small poke as your ankle as you walked by, a tug at your hair when you had your back turned, or small scares he would pull off.

eventually you learned to ignore it, or altogether stay away from the walls, but unfortunately for you, today was a day you slipped up. as careless as it seemed, you were walking on your own, tiredness taking over your expression. the day was hectic, having to deal with more than one entity at a time.

a sudden yelp escapes your throat as you are yanked by your arm into a small opening in the wall. your back ends up pressed against the nearest wall, Mr. Gap's face level with yours with that sick, uncanny expression he always has.

you huff and use your hand to push at his face, the ever so sassy man rolling his eyes and grabbing your wrist. "You're No, Fun." he grumbles, hands fumbling with your shorts. "The fuck are you doing?" you mutter as a hushed yell, eyes glaring at his.

the grin on his face grows wider as he shoves off your pants, before suddenly dissolving into nothing. your eyes dart around, confusion evident in your expression until a sudden whine leaves your lips at an unknown feeling hits your core.

looking down, you find Mr. Gap nose deep in between your legs, eyes locked on yours as he smirks into you. your hand shoots down to grab his hair, attempting to pull him away as embarrassment fills your expression. though unluckily for you, or luckily depending on how you take it,, he doesn't move. instead, he groans into your hand, his hands tighten on your thighs as he pushes his face deeper, licking and sucking anything he can manage.

after many failed orgasms, and many tears from his constant edging, finally after everything he lets you cum, sucking hard enough on your clit to have a loud moan escape you, thighs clenching around his head.

though something tells you he isnt done.

MR. HOOD

as mono tuned as the man was, and as little as expressive as he was, he couldn't help his built up tension.

while no, he didn't understand the concept of love, or at-least he wouldn't admit it- he knew and felt the need for touch.

he often would allow you inside of his coat, usually just chilling in there or whatever you called it- but you never saw it as anything more than companionship. or so he figured. the moment he felt you experiment by placing your hand just above his crotch, his views changed.

with little to no effort, Mr. Hood plucked you out of his coat, setting you gently on the nearest table. he stared at you for a second, chest heavy. he could definitely sense your confusion- but as he kept his gaze on you, he reached out to grab your leg, his oddly feeling hand sat calmly on the inside of your thigh. "May, Touch?" Mr. Hood asked, an almost worried tone in his words. quicker than he could get his words out, you were nodding.

his body stilled for a second, almost as if he was debating his life choices, but ultimately decided to continue. gentle fingers reach under your raincoat, tugging down your panties with ease. and while he would never admit it, he quite greatly enjoyed the small sounds you made when his fingers traced your lips.

he hesitates for a second, before pushing a single ghostly finger inside. it was oddly cold, but felt so good inside of you as he worked his way in. a long moan leaves you, your hands reaching out to grab his arms.

one of his tentacles shoots out, replacing his finger that instead opted for your clit, rubbing in tight, hard circles. "Oh fuck.." you breathe out, legs trembling at your embarrassingly close orgasm. "I-im gonna c- mmngh!!" a hushed scream leave you as the tentacle curls, thrusting hard at your G-spot. it sends you over the edge, your juices flowing down your thighs and around the appendage. with a sigh, he pulls out, seemingly pleased.

"Turn Around."

{ made by @whokilledsamara }

[chososrightnipple]

❝𝐣𝐣𝐤 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 + 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨)❞

a/n: almost four hundred followers omg.. i love all you freaks mwah!! here is part two as promised. included some requests for characters. aged up! megumi and yuji of course. might do a part three maybeeee? afab body w/no gendered language as usual.

part one.

── დ ──

. *. ⋆ TOJI FUSHIGURO

▸ panty stealing. he thinks of it as memorabilia. snatching your panties from the floor before you have the chance to put them back on- just something he keeps to remember you bye.

▸ daddy kink. we all saw this coming, right? you call him daddy once and it's all he needs to fuck you into the bed for the rest of the night.

▸ thigh riding. seeing you frotting against his large thigh, desperate to cum, pussy practically drooling for it... his favorite foreplay 100%.

▸ cum play. this man will cum anywhere and everywhere and he'll love it. let him cum on your face, your ass, your chest, your back, down your throat, etc etc.

▸ hatefucking. angry sex after an argument where he takes out all of the stress you caused him on your poor holes :(

▸ breeding. you can give him another baby, can't you? you can make him a daddy all over again, right? just let him cum inside of you as much as he wants, he'll make it happen, he swears.

▸ exhibitionism. you grind against him once on the bar floor and next thing you know he's dragging out to the empty alleyway and pressing you against the nearest wall.

▸ size difference. he's so large, so big, every single part of him practically overtaking you. and he gets off on that fact so fucking hard!!

. *. ⋆ NANAMI KENTO

▸ cockwarming. seating himself inside your warm pussy while he's stuck doing all kinds of boring paperwork. he'll fuck you, he swears, you just gotta sit pretty on his lap for a little bit, okay?

▸face fucking. he loves taking out all of his stress on you. gripping your hair as he uses your mouth mercilessly, bullying his cock down the back of your tight throat.

▸blindfolding. silk ribbons in a variety of colors that he matches to the underwear you're modeling for him. only the best for his lover <3

▸ thigh riding. there's no better way to put him in the mood than pathetically grinding yourself against his thigh, using his body selfishly for your own pleasure.

▸ hair pulling. y'all know that one scene... he pulls at your hair exactly like that. fingers going white with how tight he's tugging at you, manipulating your position until you're face to face with his scowl.

▸ spanking. makes you count for every slap and if you miscount, he's starting all over again. pay better attention to him next time, yeah?

▸ semi-public. yes, he will bend you right over his desk, no he doesn't care there's a meeting going on next door. or better yet, against the window of the fourth floor, overlooking the busy street below it.

▸ phone sex. it really isn't any problem that he's across the country on a mission. even just the sound of your whines over the phone is enough to get him off.

. *. ⋆ MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

▸ panty stealing. he would say he feels bad about it, but he doesn't. you looked so good in the lacey little things, he can't help but want to keep them for later. even has his own little drawer for them.

▸ masochism. the stinging pain of your nails running down his back is utterly euphoric. and don't get him started on how harshly you tug at his hair when he's eating you out- he can cum in his boxers just from that alone.

▸ breast play. massaging at the skin, feeling the plumpness under his fingertips. sucking at your nipples and leaving a trail of kisses down the valley of your breasts. he's obsessed.

▸ edging. leaving you just on the brink of release over and over again, until tears are streaming down your face. he'll let you cum eventually, you just look so pretty this worked up for him.

▸ marking. oh my goddd do not get megumi started on this. he doesn't know why it gets him so worked up- seeing you covered in the hickeys and bite marks that he's left on you- but it does.

▸ cunnilingus. eats you out like a man starved, like he'll never eat you out again. pulling him away from your poor pussy is next to impossible if he's not yet done with his meal.

▸ mutual masturbation. sometimes you both just need to relaxation of release and nothing more. sitting across from each other on the bed, or maybe side by side, listening to the moans of the other as you both touch yourselves.

▸ dacryphilia. like adoptive father like adopted son. seeing your eyes brim with tears from how good he's fucking you drives him crazy.

. *. ⋆ YUJI ITADORI

▸ ass play. we all know he's an ass man i mean come on?! doggy style is his favorite position just because of it. seeing how the fat of your ass moves with every slap of his hips is fucking addicting.

▸ praise kink. tell him how good he's fucking you and how much of a good boy he is pleaseeee!!!!

▸ toys. he didn't realize how much he would love bringing toys into the bedroom until he sees how hard you can cum around him while he holds a vibrator to your clit.

▸ raw sex. he knows it's stupid, fucking you with no protection. you're pussy just feels so good, so warm, he needs to fuck you raw.

▸ face riding. please sit on his face, suffocate him, he doesn't care. it's his favorite position to eat you out.

▸ overstimulation. poor baby doesn't even mean to overstimulate you half of the time- he just has so much stamina, you understand that, right? and seeing you so flushed and fucked out under him has him so horny. just one more round, yeah? you can do that for him, right?

▸ dirty talk. yuji is a yapper and that doesn't stop when he's fucking you. the filth that comes out of his mouth has you wet just thinking about it.

▸ dry humping. the tension, the intimacy, the panting, the friction?? all of it, it's like a drug to him.

[uglygirltrying]

insecure princess!reader x barbarian!ghost cw: angst, brief sexual mentions, bad writing, confusing ghost insecure princess!reader who has never had any suitors. her sisters overshadow her. her mother pities her, afraid that her daughter will never marry.

fortunately, due to an alliance that her father has made, she finally marries. he's a barbaric prince, shameless and perverted. mean and scary.

princess!reader who tries her best to make love kindle between them, to live the fantasy that she's always had. she rubs lavender oil on her neck, tugs one of her nightgowns straps down her shoulder, to be desirable like the women in paintings. her lady-in-waiting helps her make her hair silky, and her dresses pleasing to the eye. but you can't put lipstick on a pig.

the prince only has her from the back. it's a relief that he wants to make love to her, but at the same time it breaks her heart. she wants to have a face that he wants to look at.

the princess' anxiety only worsens when she notices that the prince's older brother keeps looking at her. she's not used to attention from men, she doesn't know how to interpret it. he might want to hurt her, show everyone just how disgusting she is. or maybe he laughs with his mates about her, just like everyone else. or maybe... he likes the look of her, maybe he'd like to tug her nightgown down and have her chest to chest. it's a stupid thought, she shouldn't entertain them and embarrass herself. and he's her husbands brother!! it's wrong!

then, one night during a feast, her husband's drunk antics drive her to walk away. she wanders the dark hallways of the castle, moonlight and candlelight illuminating the paintings on the walls.

the princess stops to look out of a window, a lone tear running down her cheek. it's an unending weight on her shoulder. she hates the presence of other princess', the prettier princess', they only remind her of what she isn't. knights don't fight for her, artists don't paint her beauty, and princes don't ask her to dance at balls.

a noise makes her jump out of her thoughts, she whips her head around to look down at the hallway. it's him. her husband's brother, ghost. he stands few feet away from the princess, looking her up and down.

"c'mon," he urges, his voice deep and rough. ghost nods, gesturing down the corridor, to the feast. before the princess can even respond, he has already turned around and began to walk back. but she doesn't follow.

the princess stays in place, looking down at the floor as she sniffles. why should she go back there? they don't want her there. the man in armor turns back around when he doesn't hear the princess following after him. ghost lets out a sigh, as he hears her sniffle. with couple of steps, he's standing in front of her.

"why do you cry, princess?" he mutters, reaching up and gently holding her cheek in his scarred hand.

"i hate him..." it's a silent whisper, lost to the silence of the cold castle. her face twists as she fights against more tears.

"walls have ears, and they will twist your words into treason," ghost says firmly, shutting the girl up before she can be her own doom. his thumb run over the bottom of her eye, wiping up the tears that spill. ghost sighs and leans down, pressing a small kiss between her eyebrows.

"sweet princess, you need to return to the feast... i cannot take you away tonight," he whispers huskily.

"take me away...?" she repeats, even quieter, her brows knitted in confusion.

"if i killed him, i could claim you for myself," ghost murmurs. he looks down at her, letting the princess ingest his words.

her eyes are wide in shock. kill? for her? that is the most romantic thing she's ever heard. is this what courting is? if so, then she only wants more of it. she can't tell if he's mocking her, but there's something in his voice that makes her stomach stir with excitement. the wine in his breath makes her consider for a moment that he's messing with her, but she also wants to enjoy the attention.

"h-how would you take his life?" the girl straightens her back, trying to sound more confident.

"i would slit his throat, as easy as slicing a warm pie," ghost says it as if it's nothing, his running along her cheek. "i could take you far away, we would live in a house by the sea and you could wear pretty dresses for only me to see."

her breath hitches, feeling that flutter in her stomach. jesus christ. her hands clutch onto her cute little dress as she squeezes her thighs together. now she regrets giving her virginity to that twig, when a man like this could've had it, a man who truly deserves her purity.

"now be a smart girl and return to the feast." ghost murmurs and turns to walk back to the feast.

what?

she quickly reaches forward, desperately clinging onto the man's arm, to keep him there. if she let's go now, he might just come across a wench or two and change his mind. "b-but you said that-!" she stammers, utterly confused by the change in the air. there's no one there for her. no one who she's welcome to. her heart aches. she thought that this prince wanted her. what did she do wrong? ghost scoffs, gently prying the girls hands off his forearm. "you think it’ll be like a story, a hero slaying the villain and sweeping the princess off her feet. but this is real life," his tone is suddenly colder, more detached. “you’re chasing something that will never be yours.”

her hands stay in the air for a moment when he pulls away from her, reluctant to let go. his words sting, dig in deep and leave a pit for her to collapse in. her hands fall down and settle over her stomach as she fidgets with them.

she opens her mouth to say something, but the words escape her. it all changed so fast. some wench must've bewitched him, taken him from her. why can't she have anything, not even a man who wants her?

he looks at her again, his gaze intense, unflinching. his expression hardens, though there’s still a part of him that almost looks regretful. and then, he just walks away.

the princess can do nothing else than stand in place and hold back tears. she's alone again. the moonlight makes her shaking hands look blue. did she misunderstand? did she wrongly assume the meaning of his words? or was she just so naive?

it hurts to think, and the thoughts themselves hurt even more. it'd better if she just went to bed. ------------------------------------

inspired by the fact that i'm ugly and never had a boyfriend

[deathc-re]

oh, how he just wants to make a pretty little house wife of you. leave you with absolute freedom and autonomy over your time.

you want to go shopping? here's his card.

you want to join a yoga/ pilates/ kickboxing class? let's register you together!

you want to renovate the kitchen? my buddy knows a guy.

he wants to come home and smell the amazing cooking you have for him. or on lazy days, plop on the couch with you and eat take out.

he wants to smile at his phone while at work because you sent him a selfie of you eating breakfast at noon, or taking the dog for a walk, or with shopping backs in the trunk or with the people you're volunteering with or whatever it is your heart desires.

he wants to see you on the porch, barefoot and pregnant, rubbing your belly and waving to him as he pulls up in the driveway.

he wants to hear you ramble on about the new book you read and hated/loved. or help you brainstorm ideas for your passion project.

he wants to brag about you to all his work buddies and bring you to all the corporate dinners and stroke his own ego while you bashfully tell his coworkers that you "don't have a job, my husband takes care of everything."

NANAMIN, BAKUGO, KIRISHIMA, FATGUM, IZUKU, aizawa, yuuta, armin, iida, iwazumi, sugawara + whoever else you want!