#I HOPE. THIS SUFFICES. i have been having a hell of a time trying to figure out how to even approach

[moe-broey]

Do you ever think about Triandra grieving for the childhood she lost when she was forced to kill her father, and the emotional burden of hiding the truth from Peony? And how Triandra feels her anger towards her father will make people view her as despicable?

MAN........ I've absolutely been rotating this in my brain... I'm very much still in the early stages of parsing out How to write her, and huge props to everyone who helped me consider the broader picture too (category 5 tunnel vision incident 😓)

LIKE. ABSOLUTELY these are huge impactful things about her... I think something else I was reminded of that was really significant to look directly at was, how her lost memories also affect her mental/emotional state. And the fact that it's not just a case of repressing the memories psychologically (though, I think you could take creative liberties and explore that route on top of what happened canonically). It's Freyja who wipes Triandra's and Plumeria's memories whenever it becomes too painful for the girls or inconvenient for Freyja, as well as a way to keep them dependent on her. And like I talked a lot about the girls not being able to process what happened to them, having to grow around the pain, but I think what I completely neglected to consider was well!!! How COULD they even address it, if their memories were also being shut down and locked up within themselves.

So like... absolutely, and I have been thinking about this nonstop, I do have to reconsider A Lot in how I was approaching How To Write Triandra. She really would be starting completely from square one. Which, I think that aspect went over my head a bit cause personally, I'm so far beyond that point? And I think, because of that, I was REALLY struggling to even place where to start when attempting to capture her, haha. I think maybe I was ten steps ahead of where I really should be starting!

LIKE!! Before I get way too off topic LMFAO, I think what you're asking is what I was asking myself. I was REALLY fixated on the father-murder bit (because. Well. It is significant). But now, I almost think, I have to go further back?? Like, emotional processing-wise. Augh... but also full disclosure I AM still having A Lot of trouble pinning anything down LMFAOO

I think. To best answer your question. I think, the grief of lost childhood would have to come much later. After maybe, unpacking the reality of her situation, and fully internalizing that it (wasn't her fault? That's what I want to say, but also, I'm unsure what the trauma work response would be for a child who killed their parent in self-defense/to protect a younger child). I do know, she would have to work through her beliefs that she's irredeemable, despicable, nothing but trouble, before she can even get to the point of grieving for herself. I think, what would make this more difficult for her is her current role as a bringer of nightmares -- not only does she have this horrifying burden from her childhood, she also feels terrible about having to give mortals nightmares. Which is something current-day for her that reinforces her belief that she's a bad person, that she does nothing but cause trouble and make others suffer. (Now may be a good time to disclose I'm a bit behind on the current FBs rn LMFAO, but I do like the direction they're taking/I really believe it's overdue!!! Recontextualizing nightmares as either information that can be useful for someone to navigate in their waking hours, or maybe there's a handful of strange individuals who Want to have nightmares. For. Reasons 👍) And we haven't even GOTTEN to Peony yet!!!!!! AUGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Any which way! As I parse out the story I want to write, a huge shift in approach is tone. I think, what needs to be most present, is compassion. There's still conflict, I still really want to characterize her as somewhat antagonistic -- I think, maybe, she doesn't know how else to reach out. And I still want there to be apprehensiveness, a practicality that can be cold. But at the core, I really want there to be kindness. And I think that Was always the goal, but again! I do think I've had to change the way I've been thinking about it! 😅 Just like. Compassion! ENHANCE

[crushmeeren]

࿐ megumi’s turn! dabi’s version can be found here. again, this is short and sweet so I could focus on editing, but I hope the pacing wasn’t too fast. it’s also softer than I intended it to be, soooooooooo enjoy. :D

⇢ ⇢ ⋆ FEM READER ⋆

࿐ master list link ࿐ kinktober master list

⋆ ⬪ KINKS INCLUDED ࿐ hints of hunter/prey, stalking, mask kink, breath play, a mixture of degradation and praise, yandere (ish?) vibes.

⇢ ⇢ megumi art by saucy britt ! ⇢ ⇢ @sikuthealien

┊ ༝ ᭝ ༝ short summary ༝ ᭝ ༝ ┊ ‣ ‣ ‣ ‣ Megumi’s your boyfriend, but he’s a bit too obsessed with you. He starts pretending to stalk you at night while wearing an oni mask to drive you even further into his arms and see him as your protector. It backfires when Megumi doesn’t realize that you found out it was him almost immediately. Nevertheless, you’re going along with it because you’re just as delusional about him.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Whenever someone asks you “hey, what do you love about Megumi?”, well, a plethora of amazing things fill your mind. You could, and would, write love poems about that man for days.

But, there are two quirks of his that you love to mention.

First off, Megumi is truly horrendous at keeping secrets. His apathetic attitude may not broadcast that, but he’s a gossip. Only those closest to him know that it’s his guilty pleasure.

Secondly, if you looked up the definition of obsessive personality, Megumi’s pretty face would be pictured there.

You’re not complaining, no, you’re so in love with your boyfriend it makes you sick. It’s just, for as long as you’ve known him, he’s never had the ability to keep a secret. Not even to save his life. You’re privy to much more restricted info involving Yuuji and Gojo than you ever thought you’d be.

To piggyback off that, he’s also constantly worrying about your safety. He checks in on you often, and he gets this stormy expression whenever you refuse to take his concern as seriously as he wants.

The pathway to and from your work is all but seared into your brain. You’ve walked it alone so many times that you could do it with your eyes closed. So you’re not quite understanding why now, of all times, Megumi has deemed it unsafe. You’ve remained unscathed thus far.

And that’s why, when your sweet, obsessive boyfriend began stalking you on your way home from work late at night in an Oni mask and hoodie to cover his hair, you felt…. flattered. Were you creeped out? No. Should you have been? Probably. There’s no denying that the thrill of it gets your blood rushing, and the adrenaline high gives you goosebumps. You enjoy it, for lack of a better word.

Megumi, you assume, is more than likely trying to make a point. As misguided as it may be. When you first saw the masked man the night after yet another argument, you reasoned it was too much of a coincidence to ignore. At that time there was no proof connecting him to Megumi, but you had your suspicions.

When he asked about your walk home that very night, his forced nonchalance raised a red flag for you. Still, you didn’t mention you thought it was him. You did however snuggle close to him and rant about “your stalker”, begging him to protect you. Megumi sure as hell resembled a self satisfied cat when you did.

Afterwards, Megumi ended up pinning you to the bed with your knees touching your ears, whispering about how he’ll kill anyone who touches you. Now he does that each time you mention seeing “the stalker”, on your way home. A win - win, truly.

Granted, you were still wary about whether it really was him or not for the first few incidents. Then he made the mistake of hiding just around the corner of the alley you frequently pass and you caught a whiff of his extremely familiar cologne.

Not to mention you found the exact same Oni mask peaking out from under his bed a few days later. It looked as though he shoved it underneath in a frenzy, confident that it would suffice as a hiding place.

It didn’t.

You pretended you hadn’t seen it, waiting until Megumi went to get snacks from the kitchen before casually kicking it further under the bed and out of sight.

Safe to say, you’ve been allowing this to go on for much longer than you should have. It’s been almost an entire month. You’re curious to know if Megumi has any hunches that you’re aware it’s him, if only because you haven’t mentioned hide nor hair of filing a police report about it. Which would be the next logical step that any sane person would take.

In the back of your mind, you distantly wonder if you should be concerned that Megumi is so obsessed with you that he’s willing to go to such lengths to push you further into his arms.

You end up shrugging it off because you can’t judge him too harshly. You probably would’ve ended up doing something similar sooner or later if he hadn’t beaten you to the punch.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Things come to head one night as you’re heading home.

The moon is bright, the stars are beautiful, but it does absolutely nothing to tame the trail of fire you’re leaving in your wake.

Work had been… enraging, to say the least. Your insufferable coworker had been on shift with you, and you’d seriously rather shove bamboo shoots under your nails than work with them.

They’re selfish, incompetent, a pick me, and you can’t fathom why your management keeps them on staff. Those motherfuckers.

After you had angrily tugged your coat on and gathered your things, you stormed out the door after having a rather heated conversation with your manager. You hadn’t checked your phone all night, and it completely slipped your mind to text Megumi when you left, as you usually did.

About halfway through your fuming journey the light of the street lamps bounce off of something shiny and it catches your eye. Your heart beat falters, head snapping towards the alleyway only to see a figure lurking in the shadows. Peering straight at you. The person is clothed in all black, hoodie securing their hair, but once you spy the Oni mask, you realize it’s Megumi. Again.

You roll your eyes, your only recently fading irritation sparking back to life. You exhale harshly through your nose, stuffing your hands further into your pockets and speed up. You are not in the mood to deal with this. The distance sound of sneakers scuffing the sidewalk as someone walks briskly has your fingers balling into fists.

Normally, the cold blooded thrill of being stalked switches your adrenaline into lust, leaving you drooling for Megumi by the time you get home. But currently it’s twisting into something ugly. The sensation of eyes constantly being locked on you has you desperately wanting to crawl out of your skin. It’s overwhelming, and not in a good way.

You speed up once more, jaw tightening to the point that your teeth may crack when Megumi matches your pace. You’re this close to breaking out into a jog as you turn the last corner to your block, but your ears start to twitch at the sudden absence of footsteps.

You whirl around ready to give your boyfriend a piece of your mind, but you freeze when you realize he’s gone. You grind your teeth in irritation because he obviously slipped away without you noticing. Clicking your tongue behind your teeth, you practically stomp past the last few houses toward your shared home.

Megumi better be ready to argue when he shows up.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

As soon as you get home you toss your stuff carelessly onto your bed and return back to the living room. Dropping down onto the couch, you sit stiffly, shoulders tense as you perch yourself on the edge.

A part of your brain scolds you, telling you that your boyfriend doesn’t necessarily deserve all the built up rage from the day. Megumi isn’t innocent though, and he does play a part in the chaotic mess you’ve created, so it’s obvious you need to talk to him.

It doesn’t take much longer for Megumi to show his face. The door creaks as it opens and closes, your palms starting to sweat the closer he gets. Megumi calls out to you in greeting, but the silence is deafening when you don’t bother to reply.

Megumi rounds the couch and freezes when he eyes your tense posture. His face is carefully blank, eyes flitting over your figure as he gingerly sits down next to you. You barely spare him a glance, Megumi’s brows pinching in concern as you return your stare to the TV in front of you.

“What’s wrong?” His tone is apprehensive as he rests a large palm on your knee, slender fingers squeezing reassuringly. You stiffen under the touch, unable to stop yourself from glaring hotly at him.

“Why the fuck have you been following me?” Your tone drips with venom, the slightest bit of guilt brewing when Megumi’s head jerks back as if you slapped him, lips parting and eyes widening.

Okay, so you definitely didn’t plan to get to straight into it, but evidently you can’t hold your tongue.

“That’s not, I mean —,” he starts to fumble over his words as he tries to come up with something convincing. His fingers dig into your knee and you sneer slightly, shifting to grip his wrist so tightly your knuckles turn white.

“Megumi,” you warn. “I know you’ve been following me. I found the Oni mask under your bed. Tell me why. Now,” you stress the last word and lock your heated gaze with his. His dark eyes flit back and forth across your face as he stays stiff for an ungodly amount of time. Just as the silence is becoming unbearable he wilts in his seat, sighing as his chin touches his chest.

Some of your fury fades when he lifts his head and looks at you with such sad eyes, a small frown on his mouth. Your hold on his bony wrist loosens considerably.

“I just,” he pauses, pursing his lips as he searches for the right words. “You make me feel, okay? Too much sometimes, and I get worried about your safety. I wanted you to see how dangerous it can be for you to be out there alone. I need you to need me, the same way I need you...” he mutters, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he averts his gaze.

All the fight drains out of you, chest welling up with a warmth so intense it burns the tips of your ears.

“Gumi,” you say softly, moving to tenderly cradle the side of his jaw. He leans into it, eyes hopeful as he reaches up to place his hand over yours. “I do need you. You’re the only one I trust to protect me. You didn’t have to stalk me to get your point across,” you say with slight amusement, resting your forehead on his.

Megumi sighs softly, lids lowering. “I wasn’t going to keep it up at first, but then… I started to like the thrill of hunting you down,” he admits, sparking the tension between you. The warmth in your belly turns you gooey as you process his confession.

You hesitate before answering shyly. “I…liked it too.” Megumi’s expression shifts into something more humorous, a faint smirk quirking his lips.

“Oh?” He teases. You bite your lower lip, trailing your fingers feather light down the side of his throat and his breath hitches.

“Yeah,” you whisper, catching Megumi staring at your mouth with a dark hunger. He smoothes his hand up to your inner thigh, inching his face even further into your personal bubble.

“I want you,” he murmurs, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. You moan lowly, tilting your head to get the perfect angle. Soft lips meet yours slowly, repeatedly, and the slick noise of it makes your pussy ache to be stretched by his cock.

You make out with your boyfriend until you’re seriously debating crawling into his lap and riding him right here on the couch. Delicately, you place your hands on his chest, the soft t-shirt brushing your palms, and you push to break the kiss.

“Go get the mask, Megumi.”

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

It’s a rush to see who can get naked first.

Your clothes, and Megumi’s, are scattered along the floor of your bedroom. Megumi had eagerly pulled the mask from his back pack, and now you’re in bed spread out on your back, watching Megumi with bated breath as he slips it on.

Megumi has settled on his haunches between your thighs, adjusting the mask until it fits comfortably and covers his entire face. You have to bite your knuckles as he looms over you. He plants his hands on either side of your head while you stare up at him with stars in your eyes.

You’d practically begged him to make it rough, not wanting much, if any at all, foreplay involved.

You gently run your hands down the soft skin of Megumi’s taut stomach, fingers brushing over the thin patch of dark hair that leads to his cock. You wrap your fingers around his shaft, the decent weight of it against your palm turning you on just that much more. His hips twitch involuntarily when you squeeze playfully, slowly stroking as he moans your name.

Too soon he’s snatches your wrist away, causing you to pout up at him. He shakes his head and tugs your hand away from his dick.

“Turn over baby,” Megumi instructs, backing off enough to allow you to wiggle and shift freely until you’re flat on your belly. Your cheek squishes into the mattress, hands resting by your head, and your blood starts to sing when Megumi straddles the backs of your thighs.

The tingling sensation in your fingertips reminds you of the first time you had sex with Megumi, and it’s as if you’re experiencing that night all over again.

Your stomach clenches when a hard cock suddenly nestles against the swell of your ass. The smooth, warm skin dragging back and forth as Megumi rolls his hips for the friction.

“Are you gonna fuck me like this?” You ask excitedly. A sharp swat on the ass is your answer, a startled gasp ringing out as you fist the blanket.

“I never said you were allowed to speak. Bite your tongue unless I tell you otherwise, whore,” Megumi says coldly, spanking you once more to get his point across. You capture the tip of your tongue between your teeth and nod vigorously, your skin already warm to the touch and swelling.

The insult has your cheeks on fire from the inherent shame, but it feels incredible. Besides, you know he’ll be calling you a good girl soon enough.

Megumi shuffles down, rising up to his knees as he uses a thumb to spread your pussy open. It’s a slow press as he tries to work his cock inside you. His tip’s on the edge of popping in but then he slips, sliding down and bumping your clit instead. The jolt of sweet pleasure startles you, causing you to shove your face into the blanket and moan.

“Sorry,” Megumi snickers, but the bastard doesn’t carry an ounce of remorse in his voice.

He readjusts his angle, lining up his cock a bit better and then he’s sinking a quarter of the way into your tight pussy. It burns, you’re nowhere near wet enough to take him, and you think you could cum from the sensation alone.

He rocks his hips and steadily inches himself the rest of the way inside, using rolling motions until he’s pushed in to the hilt. Megumi decides to stay there, cock jerking and applying firm pressure to your cervix.

You hiss on your next inhale, a stab of pain making itself known. The feeling blends with the pleasure of being stretched so well and your pussy flutters involuntarily. Megumi gasps softly, supporting his weight with palms pushing against your upper back.

“Fuck, you’re so tight like this. You were made to take my cock,” Megumi praises, voice rising in pitch when you wiggle underneath him. You whine quietly in agreement, remembering to stay silent, and an approving hum comes from behind you.

Megumi looms over your back, fingers closing around your wrists to effectively pin you to the bed. He draws his hips back and snaps them forward powerfully, pelvis smacking loudly against your ass.

He builds up to a rough pace, the unyielding grasp on your wrist has your fingers going numb. Your boyfriend mercilessly pounds you into the mattress, cock pushing so deeply you swear you can feel him in your stomach. You cry out endlessly as overwhelming pleasure swells behind your bellybutton. You struggle to get free, but Megumi doesn’t allow you to budge.

If Megumi is making any noise, you can’t hear it over your own cries. Well, except for the few husky moans that spill unabashedly from his mouth before he can stop them. When you start to cum you shout his name so harshly into the sheets that it wrecks your voice. Your boyfriend curses hotly, slipping his cock free completely and flipping you onto your back before you can blink.

He pushes one thigh to your chest and shoves his cock back into you, his other hand latching around your throat as he leans in close.

“What the fuck did I say about speaking without permission?Are you deaf?” He snarls, the angry, distorted expression of the Oni mask becoming much more threatening in your fucked out state.

“I’m sorry,” you wheeze, both hands flying to grip his forearm.

Megumi clicks this tongue and squeezes hard briefly before shaking himself free of your hold.

“You’re sorry?” He sneers, pressing his palm to your face and covering the entirety of your mouth and nose. He completely cuts off your air and your eyes go wide, a burst of panic building in your chest. You can’t fucking breathe. “I’m going to teach you a lesson about listening to me. If you don’t want to pass out baby, you better cum on cock before you run out of air.”

You fist the sheets until you’re sure they’ll rip, eyes rolling back as Megumi fucks you into the mattress. The intensity of the situation and lack of oxygen fills your brain with molasses, ears ringing as your sole focus remains on cumming.

Mercifully, your pleasure starts to crest and peak into that familiar edge, the one that’s similar to the anticipation right before the big drop on a roller coaster. The smooth glide of Megumi’s cock continuously splitting you is more than enough to dangle you over the edge.

Your chest starts to heave, lungs burning as no air makes it way inside. You fumble with Megumi’s wrist, tugging desperately, but he whispers muffled encouragement through the covered mouth of the mask.

“C’mon, you can do it baby. You’re almost there, I can feel it. You’re such a good girl. Make that sweet pussy cum for me and I’ll let you breathe.”

The backs of your eyes start to sting, heart thumping so hard it pulsates throughout your entire body. Your vision swims and your thighs tense, Megumi’s nails biting into the sensitive skin on the underside of your thigh. White hot pleasure suddenly crashes into you, flowing like warm honey. The base of your skull digs into the mattress as you cum with a muffled scream.

Megumi immediately frees you and you gasp loudly, throat like sandpaper as you swallow oxygen the same way you drink water. The sensation of air filling your lungs drags your orgasm out ten fold and you start to push at Megumi’s chest when it gets overwhelming.

“Megumi,” you all but sob, pleading as you stare up at him with glazed eyes. He drops your thigh as he sits up, slipping his cock free with a hoarse groan as he strokes himself quickly. His lean body sags with relief as he cums, streaking your pussy and stomach with white.

He lets go of his still twitching cock, tip leaking pitifully onto the blankets, and pushes the mask off to throw it haphazardly aside. He pants harshly, cheeks scarlet as he runs a hand through his sweaty hair to keep it from sticking to his forehead. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to regain your bearings. You’re sure a headache is on the horizon as you rub your eyes with your knuckles.

The air in your room is humid and stuffy, the only noise being you and Megumi trying to catch your breath. Your boyfriend eventually slides off the bed to find his discarded shirt from earlier. You stay limp as he helps get you clean, Megumi opting to crawl up beside you and lay on his stomach afterwards.

He twists his head towards you and you mirror his position. Your entire being feels like jelly and you sigh contentedly when Megumi rubs a soothing hand up and down your back.

“Are you alright?” Your voice is scratchy as the adrenaline wears off and sleep starts to seep into your limbs.

Megumi snorts. “I should be asking you that. You’re the one who’s half asleep.”

You punch his shoulder halfheartedly and he laughs. “Whatever, can we go to bed now?”

“As long as you promise to take my concerns more seriously.”

“Fine, only if you promise not to stalk me through the streets like a lunatic.” Your eyes drift shut as you speak.

Megumi huffs. “Deal.”

“Keep the mask though, gumi.” You crack open an eyelid to smile playfully at him. Megumi lets out a startled laugh, but he agrees not to throw it away. He snuggles in close and kisses the side of your cheek several times.

[muddyorbsblr]

gestures & rain checks

See my full list of works here!

pre-story author's note: Yes I am very aware that it's been a solid month since Valentine's Day. Yes I am still posting this 🫡

Summary: It feels like your friends are getting plucked away from you one by one as their respective (or in Nat's case prospective) partners make grand gestures to ask them to be their Valentine.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 4.8k

Warning/s: language (nope still not sorry, Rogers); mentions of alcohol; tooth-rotting fluff; gun use [let me know if I missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: Morgan being a precious beb; himbo!Thor hours; lowkey sad Reader hours; chaotic group chat vibes in the end

You always had a distaste for this day. Valentine's Day. To you, it was the one day a year that you would do everything in your power not to step outside because it reeked of flowers and chocolate marked up to the heavens for merchants to take advantage of last minute gift shoppers hoping to make a gesture big enough that their crush would let them score at the end of the night. Or guys buying extravagant and ridiculously large arrangements to make amends for wronging their partner as if a 10-foot tall teddy bear was gonna magically press some Undo button of him going on Hinge or Tinder and talking up a dozen other girls on the side.

There was one year that you let slip around Nat and Wanda that this day "smelled like a cemetery" with all the bouquets that bombarded you the second you exited the perimeter of the Compound. Hell, the second you left the main section that housed you and the rest of the Avengers. And you stood by that opinion stubbornly, mostly because you'd only ever witnessed flowers being given when someone was desperately trying to glue back together the pieces of a severely damaged relationship.

And also because no one had ever given you flowers in your entire life. Or chocolates. Or a teddy bear. All your past relationships were with men who were still mentally and emotionally boys that believed emojis and gifs sufficed and were as good as the real thing. Nary a single soul had ever actually spent a lick of time or effort to give you something that told you they deserved your time and effort in turn.

And after so many years of being barely an afterthought, the day just felt like this entity that you resented to an irrational degree, where all you wanted was to lay in bed and wait it out until the clock struck 12 and it was February 15th. Then you could go on a hunt for all the overpriced chocolate that suddenly got their prices slashed by 50% or more.

That was the plan again for this year, had it not been for both Nat and Wanda barging in to your apartment and practically dressing you up like you were their own life-sized definitely seen some better days Barbie doll. "Come on, we can go and have a Galentine's Day 2. Maybe hit up a club and get some free drinks…" the assassin trailed off, zipping up your dress and playfully swatting your ass to nudge you forward. "March on, soldier."

The common area was nearly bare and eerily quiet when you all got there, which made perfect sense considering that most of your teammates who were happily committed to someone were off spending their day together, probably executing their own personal twists on those cliched gestures of adoration. Knowing Tony, that would probably consist of a two-storey tall stuffed bunny or a lavish new vacation house as a nice private little getaway spot for him and Pepper when they wanted to have a date night.

Only Morgan and Shaun were at the big dining table by the kitchen, the little girl working on bracelets with the martial artist nursing a cup of coffee while he handed her beads to add to her work. "Whaddup, Ten Rings…Baby Stark," you greeted them, ruffling his hair and pressing a kiss to the top of your goddaughter's head. "What're you two up to this fine completely ordinary day?"

"Oof, I take it you're gonna be spending the day watching a bunch of couples be all extra lovey dovey just like me?" You threw him a look, squinting your eyes at him that had him throwing his hands in the air in surrender. "No need to mentally squish my head, Y/N, we're on the same side, I swear," he chuckled, scooting over to the other seat so you could sit next to Morgan. "How about this, karaoke later tonight? Just us and anyone else that doesn't have a date with dinner and co--" You swatted his arm to get him to stop talking, not so subtly signaling in the little girl's direction. "I mean…adult balloons?"

"Wait how come you have special balloons?" Morgan asked, looking up from her activity book and earning barely stifled chortles from both Nat and Wanda. "Why can't I play with them? I like balloons."

You leaned back in your seat, making a motion with your hands as if you were wiping them clean of the whole conversation. "I'm not helping you out of this one, buddy."

He scratched the back of his head, obviously backed into the corner with his own words. "Eeeeeh…put a pin in that and ask me again when you can order a beer, Baby Stark."

The child pouted at both of you, slumping down in her place at the table and slipping back on her princess pink headphones before focusing all her attention on her activity book again, grumbling something about how grownups shouldn't have conversations around her if they didn't want her to ask questions. Valid enough point, but you still weren't going to be the one to give her her first lesson in Sex Ed class a good decade ahead of time.

"Anyways…" Shaun poked at your side, calling your attention back to him. "Karaoke, ladies? We can pick up Katy and Wong before we head over and sing some Disney duets and gorging ourselves on shots and nachos--"

"Hold up, Wong?" You all turned your attention to Stephen, who'd just walked in to the common area. "This I gotta see. You guys have room for one more?"

"Sure thing, as long as you use your sling ring to help us get into Tony's private stash," you quipped, taking a sip of your coffee. "There's no way I'm getting through this day stone-cold sober."

"Or we could go for the really hard stuff and break into Thor's stash of mead from Asgard before he depletes his supply." He showcased the ring in question with a wiggle of his fingers. "Just a portal away."

"I like the way you think, Strange."

"You can all cease your scheming to pilfer my liquor, my friends," Thor's voice boomed into the area, a bounce in his step as he made his way to the coffee pot. "I would happily supply you all with two barrels if that would be enough for your gathering?"

"That's perfect, Thunder. Thanks." You started to tuck into the breakfast plate served by the Compound kitchen staff, mumbling your next question to the blond god. "What've you got planned with Jane for today?"

"Ah." A wide grin stretched across his face at the mention of his girlfriend, the sight both warming your heart and pinching it at the same time. A bittersweet reminder that in the midst of romantic plans with sentimental or grand gestures, your plans involved getting shit-faced with your fellow single friends. Plus Wanda and probably Vision. "Well, I have employed the aid of Wilson to order an ornate bouquet of Jane's favorite flowers which should arrive this morning. Then for lunch I shall prepare her a meal."

"Lunch?" Wanda questioned, tilting her head to the side. "Forgive me if I overstep, my friend, but aren't the romantic plans usually made for dinner?"

"Well, yes…but Jane has graciously agreed to adjusting our schedule for this day so that I may spend the time after lunch aiding my brother in a gesture of his own." A lump formed in your throat at the words. "It seems he wishes to get into the spirit of the holiday, and I am simply ecstatic that he came to me asking for a helping hand."

"I asked nothing of you, you over-muscled oaf," you heard the raven-haired god call out from the main entrance, two large packages hovering a few inches above the ground blanketed with a glow of green from his magic. "You volunteered when you imposed yourself in my space and hovered over my phone."

"Pfft, semantics," Thor waved off, already making his way over to Loki so that he could do some more apparently unnecessary volunteer work. "Are the flowers in one of your parcels?"

"I like flowers!" Morgan chirped from her seat, bouncing in place with bright excited eyes. "Prince Loki, can I help? Please?"

He let out an exaggerated sigh, a trace of a fond, amused smile betraying his facade. "Very well, little Stark. Come along."

Your goddaughter squealed, skipping over to Thor and placing her tiny hand in his. "Uncle Barbie, tell me who his princess is?" He leaned down to whisper the answer in her ear, making her sprint in place with even more excitement. "I promise I won't say a word."

"Barbie? Like your doll, little Lady Stark?" You could practically see the wheels turning in Loki's head from learning about the nickname.

Morgan nodded her head vigorously. "Auntie Y/N came up with it. She calls him Macho Barbie." She proceeded to talk about how you came to give the blond Asgardian the nickname that bizarrely stuck to him more than "Point Break" ever did, said god looking like he already dreaded the coming days -- maybe even years -- now that his brother knew that little tidbit of information.

Once they'd all made their way up the stairs and you could no longer hear the little girl's chipper tone, realization sat heavy in your heart from her reaction to whatever Thor whispered to her just a few seconds ago. Whoever it was that Loki was going to make this grand gesture for, it was someone that Morgan knew enough to the point that she couldn't contain her excitement finding out who the woman was.

It was someone in SHIELD. Maybe even someone in the Compound.

"You good, Babes?" Nat's tone was cautious, approaching you like you were a wounded animal, teeth bared and ready to pounce if she so much as breathed wrong.

You answered with a terse nod of your head. "There is absolutely no fucking way I'm getting through today sober."

"Y/N, dude, I'm sor--"

Bang

"What the fuck?" All eyes grew wide at the sound, your body stiffening as another shot rang out, reverberating throughout the common area. "FRIDAY? Threat assessment," you called out, already readying yourself for combat once whoever was outside made their way to you in the compound.

"No threats have been detected," the AI answered simply. "There seems to be no living target for the gunman."

You could only manage to repeat your words. "What the fuck?" Shot after shot rang out, an interval of three to five seconds between them. Each deafening bang making you flinch, your head spinning with possible explanations on why FRIDAY didn't deem the supposed attacker as a threat. "Where's the target then?"

"Shots are being fired at the training area, by the track field, Agent Y/L/N." You all started to make your way to the area, everyone still on high alert despite FRIDAY's findings.

"Y/N?!" You shared a look with everyone else in the room at the sound of Loki's voice calling out for you, the god looking frantic as he appeared at the top of the main staircase, a sigh of relief escaping him once he saw you standing at the bottom. "You're alright," he exhaled, hurriedly making his way down. The quickening pace of the gunshots had him squaring his shoulders, stepping in front of you and marching toward the sound.

"We've handled way worse than gunfire, Laufeyson, you don't have to lead the defense," you told him with a touch more bite to your tone than you intended, irrational jealousy coursing through you knowing what he was preparing for before he started charging down the stairs. You sidestepped him and started walking toward the training area, brows furrowing together when you saw that from where you stood, the marks from the bullets digging into the ground where forming some sort of shape.

"It's a message…" Wanda mused, angling her head to and fro to see if she could get the whole picture from the ground. "I'm going up, I wanna see what's worth risking Pepper's wrath with all the lawn work she has to commission now." She held her hand out to you, wordlessly offering to take you up with her, an offer that you gladly took, clapping your hand over hers, both of you giggling as your feet lifted off the ground.

Once you two had risen high enough, it was clear what the message was. The shots had been positioned so that the markings would take on the shape of a heart, and the ongoing shots were creating initials. "N…" you read along, barely able to contain your excitement when you saw that the next letter was an R. "Natasha Romanoff!" you yelled out, the assassin's eyes lighting up with a mix of giddiness and curiosity as she tried to look at where the gunshots could've been coming from.

You did your best to turn your head, trying to see who was behind the gesture, kicking your feet in the air once you saw the gunman. "What? Who is it, Y/N?"

"It's Barnes," you squeaked, giving Rogers a reckless wave when you caught sight of him jogging toward all of you with a megaphone in hand.

"Natasha Romanoff," Bucky's voice boomed through the speaker system, making the usually cool and collected former Russian spy put a hand over her mouth to hide the way she was steadily turning pink from how flustered she was. "I know I have a long way to go to make up for how we first met, but I think you're swell and I'd like to try starting it off with maybe dinner tonight?" Both you and Wanda squealed and held each other tight mid-air watching her nod her answer, running over to her once your feet touched the ground again.

"You two won't be pissed if I take a rain check for tonight, will you?" she cautioned, still a wistful tone in her voice from processing what was happening.

"Absolutely not, you go enjoy your date. More drinks to go around and all that," you told her with the biggest smile. "But tomorrow night we're all staying at my place and you're giving us a full report."

"And remember to wear the red lacy underwear," Wanda teased with a comical wiggle of her eyebrows, earning her a poke to the ribs from both of you.

Nat pulled away from the two of you, walking back toward the indoor gym with Steve walking alongside her, starting to talk about how his best friend had been trying to work up the nerve to ask her out since he got sworn in to the team nearly a year ago. From the sound of the conversation, it seemed that Rogers was divulging some information that Barnes probably swore him to secrecy not so long ago.

"And then there were seven," Shaun spoke up, walking toward  you and the sorceress and clapping a hand on each of your shoulders. "Thor came through and left the barrels in the kitchen for us."

You were about to start talking about the food arrangements when the sight of Wanda's husband flying toward you all with a bouquet of camellias and hydrangeas in his hand. "Wanda, my love, I owe you my deepest apologies."

"Whatever for, Vis?" She broke away from you and Shaun to greet the synthezoid, placing her hands on his upper arms as he pulled her in for a chaste kiss.

"It did not occur to me that you might have wanted to make plans for today until Mr Stark had gone into detail of his own itinerary today for his wife," he explained, handing her the bouquet. "Unfortunately I cannot procure a reservation for us tonight, but I still wish to do something for you. Would you allow me the honor of making you a meal and perhaps watching a movie in the private theater?"

You and Shaun gripped each other's hands like you were high schoolers watching their best friend get asked out on their first big date, shaking and pushing each other over the sweetness of the gesture. "I don't need fancy restaurants or pretty flowers, Vis. Getting to spend time with you, especially after everything that's happened to us, is more than enough. I just need you."

The Sokovian turned back to face you and Shaun, a touch of guilt in her expression. "Rain check? I'll bring extra snacks tomorrow night to make up for it?"

"Don't worry about it, Babes," you reassured her, both you and the martial artist waving off her worries. "Enjoy your evening."

The couple have you a curt nod and a smile before happily flying away hand in hand back to their apartment.

"And then there were five," you and Shaun said in unison, walking back to the common area to load up those barrels that Thor left for tonight's 'festivities'. When you got to the kitchen area, Morgan was adorably sitting atop one of the barrels in question, feet happily swinging in the air with a big smile on her face.

"Off the goods, little Stark, we're not risking you getting drunk your dad's gonna kill us," Shaun said in a panic, already lifting the little girl up and off the barrel and making her squeal and giggle as she giddily exclaimed "I'm flying!".

"If you really think that she can get drunk from osmosis, we have a lot to talk about, sweet little summer child," you joked, walking up to one barrel and starting to push it toward the garage. "Think you can use that ancient mystical ring magic for makeshift wheels so we don't bust out our lungs lugging this all the way to your truck?"

"I can assist you, darling." Your skin bristled at the sound of Loki's voice, taking every ounce of strength you had to not stiffen or recoil at his use of the word. He was only saying it out of habit. Probably a remnant of his upbringing as a prince on Asgard.

He didn't mean it the way you wanted -- more than anything -- for him to mean it.

"No need, Laufeyson, I've got it from here," Strange butted in, conjuring an energy shield with his magic that he slid under the barrels, starting to wheel them toward the garage. "Carry on. Oh and friendly advice, man to god? Your future girlfriend, you know, the one you're making this big gesture for? She might not appreciate you calling other women 'darling', so I highly recommend kicking the habit while it's still early. Avoiding future battles and all."

The god sucked his teeth, the action causing his jaw to clench and sending your thoughts someplace they had no business being. You had no business thinking about another woman's man that way, no matter how hot he was.

"I will remember that. Thank you, Strange," he said softly, making his way back up the stairs.

"Thanks for the save," you muttered, opening the door to the garage for the sorcerer to guide the barrels through. "Don't think I could've gotten away with being on Bitch Mode with him a second time today. Not like I can help it, though. Some lucky Midgardian bitch is gonna be his by the end of the night."

"Pretty sure you're the only woman I know that considers being Laufeyson's girlfriend a good thing."

"Yeah, Y/N, like I know he's on our side and everything but most days he still has me on edge. Like passing him on a bad day's gonna get me a stab in the ribs, not a death glare like normal people," Shaun concurred, nudging your shoulder to hopefully stop your lamenting before you got in too deep. Again.

"I'm really down bad, huh," you sighed, letting out a little yip when a portal to the dark dimension appeared just a few feet in front of you. "The fuck--"

"Hey Strange," a reverberating ethereal voice called out from the portal, and then a tall woman with platinum hair with beauty that you could only describe as 'dark celestial' stepped out. Her eyes trained on the sorcerer next to you. "Heard that today's something of a holiday in this dimension. Figured it might be a good idea to stop by and maybe you could show me around your uh…" She turned to you and Shaun, both your jaws slack on the ground. "What's this place called again?"

"Avengers Compound?" Shaun said at the same time that you blurted out, "New York?"

"Compound York?" She raised an eyebrow at the two of you, amusement coloring her face as she gave you both a once over.

"Eherm…no," you answered her, chuckling nervously and shifting your weight between your feet. "This structure here is Avengers Compound, which is in Upstate New York. New York is a city, but also a region…and a state…?" you drifted off, already feeling a pinch in your head from trying to explain the best you could. You looked over to Shaun. "The more I try finding the words to explain, the more I realize how complicated it actually is. Save me."

Stephen stepped forward. "How about I just take you on a tour around New York, then?" His face stretched out into a wide grin, clearly unable to hide his giddiness over the knowledge that she crossed dimensions to be with him today.

"Is that…New York the city, the region, or the state?"

"The city. New York, New York. There's a whole song about it and everything I can play it for you in the car." He proceeded to drape his arm around the dark sorceress, leading her to his car further down the expansive garage.

"Your little human friend is right, things here are complicated. Downright confusing." She looked back at you and Shaun again as they walked away, hand in hand. "It was nice meeting you both! Stephen speaks highly of you all," she called out, her majestic voice echoing throughout the area.

"You're really pretty!" you blurted out in response, causing her voice to melt into a chuckle, telling her partner how she found you 'adorable'. You threw your head back and groaned toward the ceiling. "I'm a fucking dork."

"At least you're an adorable dork," Shaun shot back, nudging your shoulder and lightly touching the back of your head to get you facing forward again. His phone chimed with a text notification. "Katy. Her shift's over, she said she'll get us a room for eight. I'm texting her now to get a smaller one." He held up his hand, palm facing you. "And then there were four?"

You sighed, clapping your hand against his, your friend giving you a reassuring squeeze once you did. "And then there were four." You jerked your head toward the apartments. "I'll just go change into something that involves 'eating pants' and I'll meet you down here in ten."

The walk back up to your apartment wasn't that long, but it still felt like it with how quickly you slipped back into your lamenting over how your friends had such an eventful day today. Nat had her very public grand gesture. Wanda had her husband trying to cook human food in the name of spending time with her. Strange had his girlfriend literally rip a hole between dimensions to get here.

"And all I have waiting for me are two barrels of mead and karaoke microphones," you muttered, walking through your front door and begrudgingly unzipping your dress from the back. You were just about to half-stomp your way to your closet when something on your bed caught your eye.

Three shiny roses lined with gold, tied together with a gold ribbon at the foot of the bed. A large heart-shaped box of chocolates at the center. And a little teddy bear dressed as a bee with red antennas that had hearts at the end, at its fluffy little feet was an embroidered message. "Bee mine".

"What theeeee fu--"

"Y/N," an all too familiar voice called out from behind you. The air left your lungs at the sight of Loki in a form-fitting forest green button-down tucked into onyx black slacks, tucking his hair behind his ears before smoothing his hands over his shirt. "You're early--"

"What're you doing--Was this you?" you babbled, gesturing at the gifts on your bed. For a second, your heart beat erratically, the thought that maybe this was for you, before reality and logic sunk in. "Okay I think I know what's happening…"

"You do?"

"Yeah, you got the wrong apartment. Gimme a minute to change and I can help you move all this over to--"

The rest of your words died in a little squeak at the back of your throat, the god closing the distance between you two with a few long strides, framing your face in his hands and placing a tender fleeting kiss to your lips.

"Those tokens of my affection are exactly where they belong, little mortal," he murmured against you, tracing up the bridge of your nose with his lips until he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "As am I."

You let out a shaky breath, fighting against the urge to melt in the god's embrace as he snaked his hands around your waist. "The gesture your brother mentioned this morning…this?" He proceeded to press kisses down the side of your face, his warm exhale as he whispered 'yes' into your skin making you light-headed. "This is for me?" you gasped out, whatever was remaining of your logical brain smacking the rest of you with how stupid a question that was.

"Who else would it be for, darling?" He pressed a kiss to your jaw, tightening his arms around you and pressing your body against his. "There is no other in this or any other Realm that could have captured my heart so completely." He kissed the corner of your jaw, making his way down the side of your neck, holding you tighter to keep you up when your knees finally buckled from the sensation. "I did this for you, because I wish to ask something of you. That you become mine as much as I am yours."

"M-Mine?" you stammered. "Y-You're mine?" Since when? How come you didn't get this particular memo? Could've saved you a lot of turmoil and nights spent alone staring up at the ceiling trying and failing to hypnotize yourself out of being into him.

He kissed the tip of your nose, resting his forehead against yours. "I have always been yours, darling."

Your hands traveled up the length of his arms, like you were grounding yourself and trying to tell yourself that this was real. He was really here and he was telling you the words you wanted more than anything to hear for who even knew how long at this point.

He's here, you thought to yourself. And he's mine.

There was only one word that you could muster up in that moment. "Yes." I've always been yours, too.

Karaoke Dreamin' on Such a Winter's Day group chat

myfirstnameisagent: Don't kill me but…rain check?

busboy10: Are you kidding me, Y/N?? You said you'd be down in 5 minutes tops and we're gonna meet up with Katy.

nromanoff: Sweet, now you're gonna have a story to tell tomorrow night, too.

myfirstnameisagent: Actually about that…rain check on tomorrow night, too? I'm kinda not there right now…

busboy10: There?? What do you mean "There"?? How'd you get out the Compound without me seeing you? Or whoever the hot date you're ditching me for is?

imjustwong: Where is everybody? We ordered nachos.

myfirstnameisagent: Yeah…I'm not in the Compound…or in New York…any of the "New York"s. Might not be for the next week. Maybe more. The three of you better not drink all the mead in one go.

busboy10: ??????

thevision: Agent Y/L/N, my wife is showing many signs of distress over her inability to contact you. Your phone seems to be going straight to voicemail.

thewanda: Y/N WHERE ARE YOU I HEARD A BANG FROM YOUR APARTMENT ARE YOU OKAY??

myfirstnameisagent: Babes, I'm fine. That was just the Bifrost.

thewanda: EXCUSE ME??

nromanoff: BABES WHAT--

pointbreakbarbie: My friends, I heard the Bifrost be summoned near Lady Y/N's abode. Is there an emergency? Must I make my way to Asgard to assist?

myfirstnameisagent: Thor your brother said if he finds you here I have permission to stab you, don't even fucking think about it.

thewanda: I REPEAT. EXCUSE ME???

busboy10: Y/N are you in Asgard?? With Loki??

myfirstnameisagent: Yes. And yes. See you in two weeks.

thewanda: He better use that healing magic on your legs so you don't walk funny.

A/N: It took me a whole month to write this because real life was trying TKO me in the work department and also I got sucked in to the worlds of Hello Kitty Island Adventure, Disney Dreamlight Valley, and Delicious World and I've been too weak to even attempt time management 🤣

I'm working on stuff tho I swear it 🫡 Horny bitches cuts are in progress, stories are in progress…lots of progress 😅😅

Also for reference, this was the lil stuffed bear that Loki gave Reader:

and the roses looked like this:

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover @dryyoursaltyoceantears

[signedkoko]

Signed with Love - Helluva Cast

What is this? - A valentines gift to my lovely readers! Its valentines/love letters from your favourites 🖤

Characters - Blitzo | Fizzarolli | Loona | Millie | Moxxie | Stolas | Striker | Verosika | Wally Wackford

Series Parts Hazbin Cast - Here! Overlords & Sins - Here!

Dear, Hey, Whats up

Oh what the hell, just be my valentine, we both know its about time I just fuckin ask.

I can't promise anything lavish, but what I do have is a kitchen and a comfortable couch. Maybe you can try showing me how to bake and we can eat what we make while watching some shitty romcoms.

Whatever makes you happy,

Oh come on, you know who wrote this.

Heeellloooooo!

I know you are usually the one to ask, but this year I wanted to change things up a little! Be my valentine?

While we could go somewhere crowded and wait forever for food, I thought maybe this year we could stay home, order a bunch of takeout, and spend time together?

And of course, I love you,

"Froggie"

Don't freak out,

I swear this isn't a ransom note, I just wasn't sure how else to ask you to be my valentine.

You know how we both wanted to go to the lovesick festival but ti was sold out? Well, don't ask how but I got tickets. Now we can go watch idiots get drunk and pass out in front of their girlfriends, and enjoy a bunch of our fav bands.

Outfit theme: Hot as fuck?

X Loona

Hi sweetie!

I know technically it's your turn for valentines this year, but I know you've been busy and I wanted to surprise you!

My parents called and told me they need someone to house sit while they are away for the week, so we could enjoy valentines on the ranch and I can show you my home! Especially the food and festivals I always tell you about.

Happy Valentines ❣

Millie

Hi dear ❣

Maybe it's getting old by now, but for yet another year I would love to have you as my valentine.

I don't know where I'd be without you, you make my hellish work at least a tad bit bearable and inspire me every day. I've already had to erase several rambles, so I'll save the rest of the sweet talk for the date. Just be ready in formal attire for 6, because we have a show to catch!

I'm sure you'll look amazing ❣

— Moxx

To the sweetest one I know,

I've been inspired by the books I've been reading to handwrite a letter to you, so you have something to keep for memory sake.

To have you by my side for another valentines is a dream come true, last year you pulled together such an amazing evening that I can only hope to outdo tonight. I would like to take you to see the stars, I know you've always asked and I believe it is about time.

Thank you for being mine,

Prince Stolas

Howdy darlin'

While originally I wasn't going to be home on time, I made sure to finish up this mission early so I can be there with ya for valentines. I'd call, but I know you swoon for romantic gestures, dontcha?

I'll handle all the details of our outing, just relax and don't worry your pretty head about a darn thing.

Can't wait to get home and see you again,

Who else?

Miss me?

I had to head out for a gig early, so sorry I couldn't catch you at the door before I left! I hope this note will suffice in the mean time.

Since I can't bring you, I have a limo headed to pick you up around five, that should give you time to get ready for the concert! Your pass is with the driver, and you've got front row seats, kay? I better see you cheering for me ❣

Happy valentines day,

Mayday 💋

Greetings, I say I say,

It's not everyday sheepish imps such as myself get such a heavenly opportunity to court a sweet thing like yourself!

For you, and you only my dear, I will spend such a lucritive holiday with my one and only. Should you accept, I am pleased to inform you that we have been invited to Ozzie's! Isn't he the kindest?

x x x x x x x

W. WACKFORD

Authors Note - Okay be honest with me WHO ARE WE ACCEPTING A LETTER FROM?? I gotta know,,, This is the last of the valentines series, I hope you all enjoyed!

[viridwns]

Yan!Muzan x F!reader (Yan!Akaza, Douma and Kokushibo x F!reader)

Warning(s): Yandere themes, descriptions of gore, reader getting the touch of that stockholm syndrome, manipulation, reader is in the trenches, gaslighting

WC: 2.6K

A/N: sorry for the long wait pookies. My grammar is probably horrible as well, but oh well.

Tags: @the-faceless-bride

Miscommunication masterlist

Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance

Shut up shut up shut up—

Your fingers clench around the fabric that was covering your chest.

It was soaking wet; having absorbed most of the water that was percolating down your hair and skin.

Your heart, it was beating too fast. It was loud in your ears, and by the gods, it hurts.

You pushed yourself even deeper into the hollow trunk of a rotten tree. Your breaths were shallow and uneven.

Calm yourself, otherwise they will find you.

You tried to scare yourself into absolute silence, but you were already frightened enough.

You knew everything you did was too loud. With their inhuman sense of hearing and smell, this wouldn't cut it.

You hoped the deer blood that coated your body would suffice as a scent blocker. The still moist substance mixed with your sweat, tears, and even blood if you were unlucky enough to have cut yourself while running.

You begged that the dead of the innocent prey wouldn't be in vain.

Splinters dug into your abused flesh. You bit your lips and squeezed your eyes shut. All to keep a sob from spilling over your lips. You just had to wait for first daylight, the first few rays of sun. Then you would be free.

No,

Not even then.

You had to escape this hell bound country. Maybe then you could find peace.

It's mid summer already—it was still early autumn when I visited Japan.

Has it really been that long? You felt your hands starting to shake at the thought of having disappeared from the face of the earth for so long.

This was the first time you were successful in avoiding their grasp. All it took was pretending to play house with them and gain enough trust.

You had to hold yourself back when they allowed you to go outside the first time. It was hard not trying to leg it the first few walks, but it got easier over time when you were carefully working out your escape plan.

Muzan should be recovered by now.

Instead of wallowing in self-pity and feeling miserable, you stopped fighting them. They had been suspicious, which you expected them to be. It took you months to break the armor around Muzan and take his trust in your hands. You had twisted it, played with it, and made him think that you loved him. You felt yourself leaving your body whenever you sweet talked him, fed him delusions; it pained you too much to be mentally present.

You knew how keen Muzan was on having a routine. You gently merged your outside time in his regular schedule, so instead of having to beg to go outside, he almost forced you. It was routine, was it not?

It would be at dead of night when you walked through deserted woods. Taking in every path, every misplaced branch, anything that could make you recognize where you were. The number of monsters walking with you variated every night. Usually, it was all four of them. Sometimes, it started with just you and Muzan, and the rest joining mid walk.

The minute you saw the lake, your plan was set in stone. You subtly suggested cooling down in the water, already loosening your kimono a little. Douma answered with throwing you over his shoulder and almost teleporting to the lake.

The rest didn't really know the intent behind it. You were never this bold with them, certainly not bold enough to suggest skinny dipping.

Your lips were twitching due to having strained a smile for too long, but you had to pull through. Even when Douma had started to undress you, his fingertips adressing every curve with care, you pulled through.

This went on for weeks. It would have been suspicious if you wanted to go swimming every night—you just waited for Douma to suggest it again, which he did, a lot. Even Kokushibo made a subtle comment about it once.

But you knew tonight was the night to make all gears turn.

Muzan had been the one wanting to go for a swim. You had purposely riled him up the whole day long just so he would make this suggestion. A calculated action turning into a wanted outcome.

The other three were out on a mission, just like you had planned.

It was just him and you.

Your legs were wrapped around him, your lips on his, your mind out of your body.

Muzan was in a state of delirium when you cried his name, begged him for more. You knew what he liked, what he expected, and like no other night, you gave it all. You defiled yourself, made your body an object he could own.

Just for this one chance.

When he was at the peak of his high, when you knew his senses were jumbled and overloaded, you pushed a mouthful of wisteria into his mouth—death's kiss.

You were horrified when you saw Muzan’s face melt away, his skin detaching from his jugular, bones peeking through the bloodied mess. You felt his chest cave in—becoming mushy as the wisteria he swallowed spread through his body.

He let you go when realization kicked in. The adrenaline spurt you got from his shocked, betrayed expression was enough to get you out of the lake and deep into the woods.

It was pure coincidence that you found a dead fawn, but it was a welcomed surprise.

With left over wisteria deep in your soggy pockets, blood of an animal smeared over you, and the sky clearing up from the all consuming darkness, your plan was going as it should be.

The cracks of the rotten trunk provided you with limited view, but enough to see the surroundings getting clearer as more light seeped through the trees.

This was it, they couldn’t get you now. The sun was rising.

A laugh almost escaped you as you wondered how long it had been since you last saw actual daylight.

You let your heart rate spike, not out of fear this time, but out of relief and excitement as the world you’ve been fighting for all this time was at your feet.

Scenarios of you on a boat waving at your parents as the ship docked, running into their arms like you did when you were little and had been separated from them for too long.

You began to crawl out of the trunk, your hand almost touched a ray of light as voices reached your ears.

Your stomach lurched.

It was like the world froze over with how still you were. No noise came through to you except for the nearing voices.

You recognized them. Being locked up with only them for so long even had you remember how each of their footsteps sounded.

But how?

Tears started to well up in your eyes.

The sun was out, they can’t walk in the sun.

You turned your head ever so slightly, directly looking through a crack. You silently yelled as you watched the tree form shadows on the ground, a shield against the sun for monsters to hide in. You held your head, tugging so hard that you felt pieces of hair rip apart from your skull.

“I can’t sense her! She somehow covered her tracks.” Your heart almost stopped beating at the closeness of the voice.

Akaza.

This meant that Muzan called upon the others as well to hunt you down.

There was no time to panic, you had to get to a clearing. All hope was not lost yet.

You crawled further out the trunk, carefully assessing your surroundings. You had to stop yourself from gawking. You had forgotten how vibrant everything seemed in the daylight.

You felt your eyes sting, not used anymore to the reflecting sunlight on the world around you.

“The wisteria she has on her is blocking her presence.” A deeper, more gruff voice echoed. Kokushibo.

No time. You reminded yourself.

You climbed out the trunk, not without difficulty as your pants hooked behind the wood. You ripped it loose.

The voices came from your left, so you went the opposite direction.

It may be a given, but you were surprised how much stamina you had. Douma’s hunting trips (hunting you) were in your benefit after all.

The adrenaline pumping through your veins had a welcomed effect as well.

The forest got less dense with every step you took, more light seeped through the leafs. A good sign.

You felt your heartbeat drum in your ears, you couldn’t hear their voices anymore.

Hope filled you once again.

In the distance you spotted a very bright light, and you sped up. A clearing, that much light had to mean there was a clearing.

You were proven right the closer you got, for the first time in forever you saw the edge of this damned forest.

You were so lost in happiness that you let your guard slip.

A branch, invisible to your eyes as you were running, knocked the wind out of you as it collided with your face.

Warm hot liquid started to spurt out of your nose. You couldn’t help but groan in pain. A whimper leaving your lips as you tried to sit up.

Black spots clouded your vision and dizziness overtook you.

You had to move, but your body wasn’t ready to.

Fresh blood coated the browning dried blood on your face and clothes. You felt a hefty amount slide in your throat and you started to cough like crazy to get it out.

“I can hear you.” A taunting, childlike voice singsonged around you.

You held back a cry as Douma’s footsteps echoed somewhere in the forest.

You pressed your back against the tree that made all your hard work mean nothing.

You dug a hand in your pocket, hoping the left over wisteria would help you. Your heart sank as your fingers reached for nothing.

The wisteria was nowhere to be found. Only a large hole where your hand was peeking through.

You cursed yourself as you realized it must’ve ripped when you were in the trunk.

You knew your blockage was slowly fading. Your sweat, blood and heartbeat making you protrude from the rest of your surroundings.

“Come out of hiding, it’ll make things so much easier.” Douma had that same whine in his voice like he always did. Although you could sense an edge to his tone. He was taking this serious. That meant he still couldn’t fully locate where you were.

You still a sliver of a chance.

Silence fell over the haunting forest, you looked to your right. It would take a small sprint to get you of the umbra.

“Fine, so be it. I’m always a fan of a little cat and mouse game.” He said, further away this time.

No sign of the other demons’.

This was your chance.

You stood up, fighting the weariness that tried to hold down your body.

You could collapse later in the sun.

You let one more beat of silence pass as you readied yourself to make the fastest sprint known to mankind.

The face of your loved ones flashed through your mind and with that you set off.

A whirlwind of footsteps suddenly closed in behind you, but even if they were so fast it looked like they appeared from thin air, you were one step away from the sun.

“You’ll never escape.”

That voice, you almost didn’t recognize it.

It made you stop your movements—locking you up just one teeny tiny step away from the tree line.

You only had to stick your hand out to touch the rays of sun.

You looked over your shoulder to see Muzan standing there, the others behind him, further away from the light.

Your mouth fell agape. He was completely healed from the damage you had done. Except for the emotional part. You had never seen him desperate before. His brows were furrowed, but not in an angry manner. His lips were downturned and he had a hand reached out to you.

“Just one step to proof you wrong.” You said, determined—looking forward. You grit your teeth. Why wouldn’t you move. This is exactly what he wanted, for you to react to him.

“Are you sure?” He was testing you, putting a seed of doubt in your mind.

You shook your head and made a move to go into the clearing. You spotted a nice cottage in the distance. Laughter of children echoed through the field.

“I will kill every human in my way to get you back,” You freeze. Your hand was touching the light, it was warm and itchy, but in a nice way.

You didn’t reply. Muzan took a step closer, you heard his skin sizzling as it touched the slightest bit of sun.

“I will massacre every town, every city, this whole country if I have to” His voice was shaking, your hand was too.

“I will not rest, I will find you. If you escape this land, I will start raining hell upon yours. Your friends won’t be safe, your family won’t be safe until I have you at my feet again.”

The smell of burned flesh clogged your nose.

“Tell me, do you still remember how to speak your mother tongue?”  You let out a choked sob.

You hadn’t talked in your language for ages, and you haven’t even noticed up until now.

Muzan didn’t stop from watering the seed in your mind.

“Do you think your parents would even want you after all this? They probably already buried an empty casket to get over the loss of their daughter.”

“Stop it.” You cry. Tears falling freely over you cheeks.

“Do you want to awaken their grief again when you show up looking like their daughter, but not being the daughter they know,”

“I’m still the same, cut it out.” You whisper, your strength leaving your body as the seed turns into a tree.

“No you are not and you know it. You are just afraid to acknowledge it.” Muzan put a hand on your shoulder. It was warm, boiling, he was melting away under the sun. His voice was soft, like a mother’s lullaby.

“They would turn on you out there—the woman who lived with demons’. You bear our marks.” He traced his finger tips over the scars on your neck.

“The humans would hurt you. Your father wouldn’t even want to look at you. All he would see is the corrupt soul that took the seed of the devil himself.”

You watched a woman call for her children to get inside in the distance. A solemn smile spread across your features.

“I just want to be free.” You laugh lightly. Your voice was breaking as was your mind.

“I know.” Muzan held your waist and as the family went back inside their home you took a step back from the tree line.

You turned around, turning your back on the future you could’ve had.

It was too late for all that now.

Muzan was looking at you as he slowly lead you back in the depts of the umbra. You watched the burned patches on his skin regenerate.

“I want to go home.” You whisper. You were a mess. Covered in blood, mud, tears. Your clothes were battered, your hair was sticking to your face.

Everything hurt.

Including your heart as you came to accept your fate.

“I’ll take you there, my love.” Muzan mused as he placed a cold kiss to your forehead.

You felt the others gather around, it was the first time you didn’t cower away from their touch.

You embraced it instead.

A portal opened beneath your feet. The familiar maze of stairs, lights and walls made you sag in relief.

Muzan held you. Taking away all the warmth the sun had provided you in those few moments.

You fell within the confinement of his arms. You looked up, the bright light fading further and further away as you neared the ground and you wondered  what the word for sun was again in your language.

[tinalbion]

Hi! Can I please request a smut fic with Rusty Nail? When I saw that you wrote for him, I was so excited because he is so underrated!

Hey there! I've been thinking about this for so long and I am finally here with good news, I am gracing you with more Rusty smut! Something the world desperately needs, I know I do! Thank you for being patient, I know it was a hell of a wait, but I am back as much as I can be!

Rusty is very underrated and he deserves so much more love than what he gets. So I hope this will suffice for the time being! 💙✨

"I Don't Want To Miss You Like I Do" ||

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Rusty Nail x fem!Reader

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄! Minors, DO NOT interact! Masturbation, vaginal fingering, cowgirl, oral, penetration, creampie

𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: 4k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You had been feeling extra lonely since Rusty had been out doing his job to support the both of you, so with your mind occupied, you figured you'd have some personal one-on-one time. Too bad you didn't know you weren't alone.

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐃𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!

Whenever Rusty was gone for weeks at a time, that part didn't bother you in the slightest, it paid the bills and was a necessary trade-off for affording all he could provide for you. You didn’t even think he would give up what he loved doing, and you’d never want him to, but what you hated the most was the loneliness.

You'd grown accustomed to having him around, so when that first time back on the job came around, you were slightly nervous, but living in his larger home was nice and much more peaceful than staying in your city apartment. It gave you things to do with a place so large, new things to discover about Rusty that he had displayed around the walls, but for such a larger place compared to your apartment, it was painfully quiet after a while of living there. Rusty wanted you to feel at home here since you decided to stay with him, so he tried his best to do what he could to bring more of you out within the confines of the walls. He offered to set up a room just for you if you wanted it, sort of like an office or a crafting area, and he'd arrange it to suit your needs. You spent time in there when he was away, fiddling around with whatever you had set up, and you just mostly liked to sit in there and read, but today you were feeling impatient, so you placed the book down and let out an irritable sigh. 

You weren't upset with him, far from it, you were upset with yourself for being so codependent on this man. He brought out a side to you that you didn't know existed, and you were starting to feel that feeling in the pit of your stomach whenever you began to think of Rusty. It would lead from missing him and wondering what he was thinking, to wondering if he'd ever let you fuck him in his truck. You sure hoped he would at some point, you needed to ride him while he was in that seat of his–

“Oh god,” you grumbled and stood up from the chair, then you decided it was best to go and take a shower. Wash away your sinful thoughts, that's what you needed to do. You pulled yourself away from the room and weaved your way around to the shared room you had, then rummaged through the closet, your mind desperately trying to bury the thoughts you were having. 

The trickling of water felt great as soon as it hit your body, your muscles relaxed under the warmth of it, so you cranked it up just a little more to get the temperature just a bit higher. A smile grew across your face as the water soaked your hair, ran down your back, and you stood there to allow yourself just a few moments to gather your thoughts. But as soon as you closed your eyes, his face was there. You could imagine him walking into the bathroom as soon as he heard the water start running, opening the door, and just leaning against the frame, because he’d know you heard him, so you’d peek out. 

“What’re you up to, sugar?” 

You’d scoff and look up at him as you peeked through the shower curtain meekly. “Taking a shower, why?”

“Just wonderin’ why you didn’t invite me in.”

Rusty was like that sometimes; he would want to be wherever you were, wanting to touch you in every place he possibly could reach. You weren’t opposed to it, you encouraged it even, but something about his gentle touch when he was in one of those moods always made you feel empty without him here. Your fingertips ghosted over your lips and slid down to your neck -his favorite spot to kiss you- as you stood beneath the running water still, smiling to yourself. 

The impure thoughts that took over your mind were willing you to slide those fingers lower and lower, smiling as your eyes remained closed until you gently dipped them between your legs. Your vivid memory of the way his large, calloused hands handled you so well flooded back, and the way he curled those two fingers into that sweet spot made you buckle at the knees. Yours weren’t as good as his, but they’d get the job done. You let out a small moan, your breath hitched as you pictured Rusty pinning you against the cold tiles of the shower. 

“Easy there, girl, you’re so eager. Gonna take my time with you.”

Just thinking about his deep voice as smooth as pouring a glass of whiskey, it tickled your brain in the right ways when he spoke you through everything he did. Most times he'd tease you, edging you to the point you were a shaking, sobbing mess. Other times, he would talk you through it and watch you as your face contorted from feeling pure bliss to feeling complete frustration.  

“Please, Rusty, I wanna cum so bad,” you'd whine. 

“Oh you will if I let'cha,” he'd respond smoothly, knowing you couldn't do much to change his mind. 

Your head leaned back as the water sprayed down your chest, you couldn't help but grab your breast and squeeze it, playing gently with your hardened nipple. God, you needed him so badly, and you wondered when he'd be back home, back in your bed. You wanted to feel his mouth between your legs, feeling the way his facial hair rubbed against the inside of your thighs sent you into a frenzy every time, and he knew what to do to get you to cum on command. 

You wished he was here to pick you up and place you in the bed, but you had to make due until he came back. With a sigh, you removed your fingers from yourself and washed them off, then stepped out of the shower with a towel wrapped around you. The sting of sadness set in a little as you shuffled to the large bed in the center of the master bedroom, seeing how painfully empty his side was. He was already gone for a couple of weeks, and it had been a while since you last called to check on him, so maybe you would do that to ease your loneliness. But you felt so pent up and needed to feel a release in one way or another, so maybe you'd call afterward. 

As you crawled into the middle of your bed, you laid on your back and sprawled out, one leg lifted as you placed your fingers between your already slick folds, thinking of the large, rough man of your dreams. He would know how to take care of you, it's like he was easily attuned to your needs and what you preferred, and his fingers fit so well into your hole. You moaned out softly, your body moved as you rolled against your hand, wanting to feel his thick digits stretching you so well. The room was filled with your moans and wet sounds from between your legs, and you pulled those mental images to mind that made you want to descend into your orgasm, already so eager to feel the sweet relief so you could finally relax. 

What you hadn't been paying attention to was the front door opening and closing. 

Rusty had tried to call you twice, but your phone was still sitting in your office space beside the book you were reading, so you had no indication that Rusty was going to surprise you by coming back a little earlier than expected. He heard your moan from downstairs, his ears perked up and tuned into his surroundings. At first, he was a little worried by your lack of reaching out, but it seemed he'd caught you at the perfect time. He was missing you while he was away, and he already felt the growing excitement in his jeans. Slowly but surely, he made his way up the stairs, making sure he didn't tip you off just yet, and the sounds coming from you only sounded more enticing the closer he’d gotten. 

He had finally got to the doorway and he peeked inside, watching as you lay there spread out on your shared bed, touching yourself as your eyes were squeezed shut. You were pumping your fingers in and out, curling into that sweet spot as you moaned out Rusty's name over and over, wishing he was there to take care of you. It was hard for him to keep watching and do nothing, he had to have you, he couldn't wait for much longer.

His large hand slowly pushed the door open as you continued, no sound came from the hinges which would have given away his position. Instead, he stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with one arm keeping him in place while the other slid into his front pocket. Damn, you looked good like this, he was always a watcher, but never to this degree. 

“Well, damn, if I woulda known you were havin’ fun without me, I woulda came home sooner,” he said suddenly, his voice still low and deep. 

Your eyes snapped open as you removed your fingers from yourself, the sudden shock of the fear of being caught electrified your nerves. But after the initial shock, you stared up at him and smiled with a hint of embarrassment. 

“R-Rusty! You're home!” You wanted to run to him to greet him, but your soaked hand kept you from doing so. “You're back early.”

He stepped up toward the bed, his head cocked to the side as his hands managed to find his belt as he began to undo it. “Well, I wanted to surprise you, but it seems you surprised me first. What'chu doin’?” 

Your face was most definitely red as you closed your legs, poorly hiding the fact that You were just touching yourself. “Uh, I was just… I was thinking of you all day, I was missing you… and I got caught up…” You confessed with a blush in your cheeks. 

“Missin’ me that much means a lot to little ol’ me, sugar.” He stepped up to the edge of the bed and without missing a beat, he grabbed your legs and pulled you toward him, which caused you to yelp out a little in surprise, but you were now face to face with him. He smiled down at you beneath the brim of his aging trucker hat, his eyes bore deep into yours. “Havin’ all the fun without me, ain't you?”

“I wasn't having that much fun, I was wishing you were here with me,” you explained, staring up at the large man. “But… you're here now, and well, I haven't finished…”

“Oh, so you want me to help you with that, huh?” He asked with a smirk, his large hands still resting on your ankles. “And so what if I do help you?” He asked playfully. “What do I get out of this if you finish?”

You knew he wanted you just as bad as you needed him, and he wanted you to work for it now that he caught you in the act. 

“Couldn't keep those pretty little fingers away, just had to get impatient, huh?” He chuckled as he lowered his body onto you, massive in size compared to you. 

You bit your lip as you reached up for his neck, wanting to play with the hair that peeked out from beneath the hat. He stopped just above you, hovering enough that if you were to lean up, he would be just out of reach. “Rusty, kiss me, please?”

He just chuckled in response, that smile you fell for immediately peeking from beneath the hat. “Oh I don't think so, you gotta earn that, sweetheart.”

You were about to whine in protest, just wanting to dote on the man now that he was back, but you barely had time to recover when he lowered his mouth to your inner thigh, kissing it and biting at your sensitive flesh that was oh-so close to your heat. The gasp that escaped was loud and sharp, but you soon turned into a whining mess the more he teased you. 

“Rustyyyyy~” You whined as you tugged at his hair, causing the hat to shift and fall off to the side of the bed. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do it.”

“You mean you didn't mean to get caught, is that it?” 

Your face was flushed at the realization that he was right, you meant to pleasure yourself but wanted to get it out of the way so you could hold off a while longer for him to get home. 

“Been so greedy ever since you were fucked,” he huffed and lowered his mouth back onto your thigh. “Give you a taste and now you're fuckin’ cock hungry.”

His lips kissed your slick folds over and over, just missing the mark of paying attention to your throbbing clit, and you swallowed a pathetic whimper that died in your throat as soon as he plunged two of his fingers into you. You hissed at the feeling of those calloused digits, curling into you and causing your walls to flutter around him. Your back arched as you rolled your hips into his hand, feeling that sweet friction that hit you in just the right way, you wanted to cry with how much you've missed him. 

“Oh my god, Rusty, please, keep going…” you sighed, your lead lolled off to the side as you removed the towel from your top half, and then you began to massage your breast as he kissed and touched you.

“You better not cum till I tell you to,” he warned in that deep honeyed voice. “Else you ain't gettin’ what you want.”

“I-I don't know if I can hold back–”

“Then you better learn real quick, sweetheart, you ain't gonna like the punishment you get if you don't.” 

You loved when he urged you, spoke to you like he did, the gravelly voice he got with you was so sexy that you could have fun just listening to him talk. You shifted and couldn't help but continue to fuck yourself on his hand, whimpering as you were stretched so good with just his fingers. Rusty then slid his tongue around, coating it in your wetness as he continued to finger you, gently playing with your clit. He sucked at it, watching as you went from a whiney mess to a blubbering mess. You twitched and your body jolted, feeling that intense pleasure on your clit, getting the friction you so desperately craved. 

“Oh, fuck, Rusty! Please!” you begged, your knees shaking as he held one of your legs up behind your knee. 

You urged him to continue, so he obliged and removed his fingers, to which you cried at the loss of feeling him inside of you. But now those had been replaced with that broad tongue, lapping away at your essence, wanting to taste the sweetheart he so desired in his absence. You could feel his facial hair scratch and tickle at your thighs, the overwhelming feeling of his stubble, his tongue, and his large hand gripping at your leg so hard was a lot to handle while your orgasm was building. 

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck–” You were at a loss for words with how well you were being treated, you'd loved how he got you so sinfully wet.

Rusty smiled as he brought his lips up to your aching nub and began to swirl his tongue around it before he began to suck at it. You cried out and thrust your hips upward, pushing yourself further against his mouth as if you could get him any closer to you, all while your hands were clutching at the comforter beneath you. 

You were so close to feeling a sweet release until his mouth harshly pulled away from you, leaving you feeling empty and aching. “Rusty, no! W-Why would you do that?”

“Told you you couldn't cum without my say so, and as much as I wanna taste you, I want you to cum while I'm inside you,” he explained, followed by a dark chuckle. 

It didn't take him long to crawl back toward you, one hand guiding himself to push against your folds, his head pushing against your clit. You squirmed and rocked against him, trying to feel him slide against your lips, just wanting anything more than the emptiness you felt right now. 

Your eyes closed, your brow furrowed, and you moaned every time he pushed against you just enough to feel just a little relief only to pull away again, and it was driving you insane. Your eyes fluttered open and you stared up at him with a look of pure frustration. 

“Rusty, pleaseeeee,” you begged him again, but you regretted doing so as soon as he pulled away from you. “Wait, what are–” 

He pushed himself up, then with a quick turn and an arm slung around your waist, you flew up against him, landing against his chest as he quickly positioned himself so you were straddling his lap as he sunk into the mattress. 

“Told you, sweetheart, you're gonna work for it.”

Your lips suddenly felt dry as you could feel his hard cock twitch beneath you. He was giving you the chance to ride him, how could you refuse him this? Your hands hold onto his shoulders to gain some leverage as you move yourself a little higher, allowing yourself to line up perfectly with him. Slowly you sunk onto him, the girth of his cock stretched you so well, it made you let out such a low sigh as your entire body shivered with the feeling of how much you needed this. 

“Oh my god, Rusty,” you groan out, your hands still placed on his shoulders. “Fuck, missed you so much while you were gone.”

“Yeah?” He asked with a wicked smirk, his hands gripped your waist as he pushed himself deeper inside of you until he bottomed out, and then those calloused fingers slid down to your thighs. 

Your hands immediately reached up and snaked through his hair, grabbing and pulling at it as his hands held you by your ass, allowing you to bounce on his cock at your own speed, but he could easily change that in an instant if he decided to. You leaned forward, wanting to kiss him, but he leaned back a little and smiled, chuckling at the disapproval plastered across your face. 

“Told you sugar, you gotta earn that. Need you to cum on me first, now start movin’,” he huffed as he leaned back against the pillow, watching you with interest as you began to bounce on him. 

He helped a little, lifting you every so often to get you to fall harder into his lap, your skin slapping in a beautiful rhythm as you cried out his name over and over again, but your voice hitched when he slipped his hand between the both of you to rub his thumb against your clit. Your fingers clasped the back of his head and neck, your nails grazing his skin while he continued to gauge your reaction. 

“Oh fuck, Rusty-” you gasp.

His thumb rubbed in increasingly tighter albeit sloppy circles, and that only caused the pleasant tingle between your legs to grow with a deeper intensity. Rusty then pressed the pad of his thumb harshly against your throbbing nub while he thrusted his hips upward at the same time, watching you as you were coming undone as he watched you intensely. 

“Yeah, you’re doin’ a good job there, wonder if I should let you cum now…” He chuckled as he saw your eyes roll back once he jerked his hips upward, hitting that spot in such a delicious manner.

“Please, oh my god, PLEASE-”

“Please what, sweetheart?” 

You shivered and bit your lip, wanting to stifle your moan so you could form a singular sentence. “Please, I wanna cum so bad. Please, let me cum…”

Rusty’s grip tightened as his smile widened. “Atta girl, love hearin’ you beg for it.” His hand pulled away from your possibly bruised hip as he reached up, his massive palm now wrapped around your throat as he pounded into you harder, faster, all while still stimulating your clit. 

You cried out, your whines and moans drowned out by the blasphemous sounds that came from your slick-soaked pussy. He relished in the sounds you made, you knew he wanted you to be as vocal as you possibly could, even in public when he would make sure you knew who you belonged to. His hands released your throat and moved away from your clit, then slid around to rest on your ass, gripping your cheeks hard as he began to fuck himself into you. He’d give you the release you so desperately craved, and the release he needed to lose himself in being away from you for all that time. 

“Rusty, I won’t be able to hold it...” you warned through gritted teeth, your hands resting firmly on his chest as you clawed your nails against his skin. 

“Guess I could let you cum on me, then,” Rusty offered through his heaving breath, still smiling up at you. 

Several more hard thrusts against your aching cunt and you were going to be ruined in his lap, you cried out while he continued to plow into you, making you take every inch you could of him as your body tensed and finally released that pleasure. You couldn’t even take the time to ride out your orgasm, Rusty was relentless and continued to take you at his unyielding pace, wanting to be able to cum deep inside of you. His thighs tensed with each roll of his hips, his body straining beneath you as your walls clenched around him.

Rusty wrapped his arms around your waist and buried himself to the hilt inside of you, coming hard as spurts of his hot seed coated your insides, his deep honeyed voice released a guttural growl as he gripped you hard. It throbbed as he held you in place, but you were too tired to move much anyway, so you allowed him to use you as he deemed fit as you lay limp in his arms.

You were both straining to catch your breath as you both lay there, your body now collapsed on top of him while his arms released the firm grip on your waist and just draped over you gently. Your head was resting on his shoulder as you attempted to catch your breath, and Rusty just lay there with his hand stroking your hair softly, rewarding you for your good behavior with the softness only you really got to see. He wouldn’t force you off after, he enjoyed the affection you showered him with during moments like these, so he allowed you to remain splayed on top of him. 

“That was amazing…” You sighed happily, your eyes closed as you listened to his heart beating. You couldn’t find the heart to pull away from him, even if he’d been gone for a while, you just wanted to enjoy it with him, no matter how brief. 

His arms wrapped around you as if to give you a hug that he hadn’t thought of giving you till that very moment, so you moved your head lazily to look up at him, your chin resting against his chest. “You still haven’t given me that kiss yet,” you huffed and pushed out your bottom lip. 

Rusty just let out a low chuckle as he always did, but he pushed himself up and slid his hand around your neck, tangling in the sweat-soaked hairs as he pulled you into a heated kiss. When you pulled away, you smiled up at him and felt content with everything in the world now. 

“Missed you, too, sugar. Next time you’re feelin’ lonely like that, I suggest you call me up.”

“And how will that help me exactly?” 

Rusty just laughed again and slid his hand down to your ass, giving it a firm slap. “Oh, I’ll think of a way.”

[dindjarindiaries]

Your Needs, My Needs

character: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

prompts: "Is that what you wanted to hear? Are you happy?" "I dropped everything to be with you! Everything!" & "Don't you want the same?"

main masterlist • prompt masterlist

Din stumbles towards you, and you give him a worried once-over at the unsteady movement. He doesn't appear to have any serious injuries on the surface, and the bodies strewn on the floor around him prove that the fight alone could have made him exhausted—especially since he spent stars know long fighting them on his own before you showed up.

You holster your blaster and keep your gaze on Din's visor as he approaches you, awaiting his usual polite nod and gentle thank-you. Instead, he stands with his gloved hands curled into fists at his sides, his helmet tilting before he addresses you in a tight tone. "What the hell are you doing here?"

You scoff and raise an eyebrow. There's no way he's being serious. "A 'thank you' would suffice."

"No." Din's response is curt. He points a gloved finger towards your chest. "You're not supposed to be here."

Your jaw hits the floor, bracing for the impact of your heart that follows it. "Really?" You cross your arms and hope the gesture hides your hurt. "I save your ass, and that's the first thing you choose to say to me?"

Din swings his helmet to the side, readjusting his stance amidst his audacity to act angry. "I told you to stay behind and rest while I got this information." He faces you again and punctuates each word through a tightened jaw. "You're. Not. Supposed. To. Be. Here."

"Yet, here I am." You laugh, but the sound is curt, not amused. "And had I not come here, you probably would've died. What then, Din?"

He shrugs. "It would've been a warrior's death." He adds a nod. "This is the Way."

You gawk at him for a moment. Your jaw ultimately snaps shut as you shake your head at him. "No, no. This is bantha shit." You take a step closer to him and lift your own finger in accusation. "You were taking longer than I expected, so I did the right thing and came to see if you were okay. Now, you're angry at me, because I didn't let you die?"

Din's helmet straightens as if he insists on speaking, but you don't give him the chance.

"If the roles were reversed, you would've killed anyone in your path to get to me, right?"

Din remains silent. His weight is set on one hip, his visor never straying from your gaze. You suddenly begin to feel overcome by a wave of fear as you repeat yourself.

"Right?"

"That's different. I signed up for this life. It was information I needed." Din points his finger into his own chest this time. "It was reckless of you to risk your own life trying to intervene."

"Reckless?" You can't help laughing again, your hands slapping your thighs as you walk back and circle around to compose yourself. "Stars, Din, doesn't it get exhausting playing the role of the honorable hero? The person who's so self-sacrificial, but refuses to let anyone do the same?" You cross your arms again and narrow your eyes. "That's not how this works."

Din's hands rest on his hips. "How what works?"

Your chest stalls for a moment, and your gaze falls to the floor. This isn't how you wanted this to go. You've been picturing this moment for so long, and this isn't at all how you expected it to happen. "You know what."

Din's arms slowly fall back to his sides as he takes a step forward. "How what works?"

Your chin nearly meets your shoulder as you hide from him, your eyes squeezing closed before you force yourself to face him with all the desperation and rage that festers within your chest. "Love, Din." You throw your hands up in the air. "Is that what you wanted to hear? Are you happy?"

Din's already stopped in his tracks, and after a long moment of anticipatory silence, he starts to shake his helmet. "No."

You huff, the pain rattling you in a wound worse than anything a blaster could give you. "No?"

Din's visor falls to the floor. "No. You weren't supposed to..." He can't even say it. He shifts his weight between his feet. "You can't."

"Again, Din, that's not how this works." You're thriving on your bitterness, now, as you take a step away from him. "And who are you to tell me how to feel?"

Din's helmet snaps up to meet your gaze. "I'm not... I didn't mean..." He lets out a frustrated sigh of his own, his gloved hands resting on his hips again as his helmet swings to the side. "You're not supposed to because it's dangerous. I'm still a wanted man, with or without the kid." His voice lowers at that, and for just a short moment, you pity him. "You shouldn't be tied to someone like that." He finds your gaze again and nods in resolve. "You won't be."

Your heart begins to shatter into painful fragments, and you let your agony show. "So, that's it?" Every memory of your time spent with Din hits you in an instant, blurring your vision in a way that's either rooted in anger or heartbreak. "I'm honest with you about this, and after everything, it's just... goodbye?"

Din looks back down at his boots. His modulated voice is so low, you nearly miss it. "It's for the best."

"You don't even have to feel the same way. I don't give a shit anymore." Your tears dissipate from the heat of your anger as you go on. "But for you to just assume you can put an end to this, to our partnership—whatever the hell it is—in an instant is something I won't allow. After all this time, Din? Really?" You close the distance towards him and jab your finger against his beskar cuirass. "I dropped everything to be with you! Everything!"

"I—."

"No. It's my turn to say no." Your finger taps the bottom of his helmet, urging him to face you. You can only hope he feels ashamed at the pure fury in your gaze. "You don't have to feel the same, but I know you do, because you've told me. You didn't have to use your words to do that. I'm not a fool, Din, and that's one of the reasons why you love me so much."

You give Din a moment to say something, but he doesn't. He's frozen in place, and you take that as your cue to go on.

"You've let me stay, and that alone says more than you ever could with your words. You never stay in one place, or with one person, for long—and that's something you have told me."

You furrow your brow, now painting on all the genuine longing you feel towards him.

"All I want is to the live the life we have together the way we want. No more holding back. No more dancing around the spark that's been there since the beginning. Just you and me." You search his visor the best you can, your voice lowering to a whisper. "Don't you want the same?"

Din's armored shoulders rise in a visible breath, though all other parts of him remain still. After a long moment, he speaks, his voice just as soft as your own. "There is nothing in this galaxy I want more than that." He sounds wounded as he goes on. "But just like with the kid, I've learned that I can't have what I want if it means someone will get hurt, or if there's something or someone better for them."

Din exhales, a broken sound that makes you physically resist the urge to hold him. His helmet looks away from you again.

"I'm used to it. And one day, I'll be okay with it."

You take a gentle hold of his helmet, making his visor face you again. Your thumbs brush over his beskar cheeks. "Well, I'm not." You lift your brow at him. "Do I get to have a choice?"

Din's gloved hands wrap around your wrists. "I would never take your freedom away from you."

"Then I'm making the choice to love you, and that includes everything that comes along with you. The bad, the good, I don't care, Din." You give his helmet a gentle shake. "I know what I signed up for. I've known." You lower his helmet to your forehead. "I'm all yours, Din, if you want me."

Din's hands slowly slide from your wrists towards your face. He gives his helmet an aimless shake, asking his question as if he can't fathom the thought of it happening. "And what if something happens to you?"

You smile with the most reassurance you can muster, whispering the words he holds close to his chest. "This is the Way."

Din pauses for a moment, then—in the slowest and most tender way possible—he pulls you into his embrace. His arms support your back and keep you tight against him, and your arms wrap around his neck. Your eyes close as you bury your face in his shoulder, each broken fragment of your heart piecing back together at the warmth of his affection.

After silence persists for longer than you can handle, you dare to ask the question that's holding the last piece of your heart back. "Do you want me to—."

"—Stay." Din answers the question before you can ask it, his voice a desperate plea. "Please."

You smile and hold him tighter. "I always will."

main masterlist • prompt masterlist

[lovebotmo]

like the movies

chapter five - late library nights

series masterlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader

wc: 1337

author's note: hello friends!!! it has almost been a month and i would like to offer my sincerest apologies!!!! i have entered my final semester of university so things have been rather hectic. i appreciate all the love you guys have given this series this far <3 thanks for being the absolute best. kiss kiss

also if i missed you for the taglist plz let me know!!! its been a min hehe

song inspiration: bewitched by laufey

Thanks to Lavender’s rather loose lips, the entire student body of Hogwarts seemed to be buzzing about your secret, not-so-secret admirer. Three days later and you could still hear the giggles of second-year girls as they discussed just who your mystery man could be steps behind you and your friends. You even had to endure a public love confession from both Fred and George, the red-headed twins bickering and quarreling over who loved you more in their newest prank. They both claimed to have been your secret admirer and demanded that you choose the twin you cared for more. It quickly devolved into a passionate, highly embarrassing competition that had the crowd which had slowly grown howling in laughter. George had even torn his shirt open, claiming that ‘the fires of love were burning within him and that clothes could not contain his ardent affection any longer.’ The whole affair might have been more comical had you not been its victim. Suffice to say you were adequately embarrassed, as if the burning blush on your face had not been enough evidence to that fact.

However, even with all the attention now placed on you and your secret admirer, no one had sincerely come forward to claim responsibility. You could hardly blame them, given the reactions of your fellow students. Still, you couldn’t help yourself grow more and more curious as days continued to pass without any additional clues.

“So…I hear you’ve got yourself a bit of an admirer, huh?”

Rolling your eyes, you turned towards Theo to find a smirk resting smugly on his face. “Merlin, not you too, Theo. I swear it’s impossible to go ten minutes without someone mentioning it.”

Theo laughed at your response and the obvious annoyance in your expression. “Bit of a touchy subject?”

You sighed. “Sorry. It’s just—bloody hell, I’ve got loads of people coming up to me trying to chat about it and well, it’s a bit much.”

The tall Slytherin nodded as he scanned his Potions textbook, looking for the next set of directions for the Wolfsbane potion you were currently brewing. “I didn’t mean to pry, really—”

“No, no it’s all right. I’m just a bit on edge recently.” You and Theo both reached for the crushed moonstone, hands bumping clumsily into each other. “Sorry, ‘m all over the place today.”

Theo gave you a gentle smile before grasping the vial, gingerly adding it before meeting your eyes with his own. “S’all right. Besides, we both know it’s better if I handle things, considering I’m the better Potions student any—ow!” Theo rubbed his arm where you had lightly smacked him.

“Just because you beat me by one whole point on the last test doesn’t mean—”

“It means I am better than—Salazar, woman!” This time Theo rubbed his other arm which you may or may not have hit. “You’ve got to come up with a better comeback than physical assault. I could report you to Slughorn, you know.”

“Oh please, you’d never snitch on me, Theo. We’re potions partners after all—you’re stuck with me.”

A wide grin made its way onto Theo’s face, along with the faintest blush that he desperately hoped you couldn’t see in the dim lighting of the classroom. “Yeah, ‘spose I am.” Realizing he was looking at you in a bit of a daze, he cleared his throat. “I forgot to mention, Pucey’s set a last-minute quidditch practice for this afternoon. I know we’re meant to work on the project for anti-venoms, but is there any chance we could push it until later?”

“Tsk, tsk, Theodore. Choosing quidditch over Potions, eh? And you call yourself the best Potions student?” you teased. Theo let out a sharp laugh, dropping three murtlap tentacles into the cauldron bubbling before you. “That works for me, actually. Where did you want to meet?”

“I can catch up with you on the quidditch pitch. We can head over to the library from there.” Stirring the concoction clockwise, Theo looked at you from the corner of his eye, “Thanks for being flexible.”

“’Course. It’s what you would expect from the best Potions student, right?”

“Alright, pipe down.”

“You’re no fun, Theo.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now hand me the wolfsbane leaves.”

“Only if you admit I’m the better Potions student.”

“Y/n.”

“…Here you go.”

Tugging at the sleeves of your sweater, you made your way towards the quidditch pitch, just as the sun was starting to set over the mountains surrounding Hogwarts. The practice had evidently just ended as players began to descend from the sky at the sound of Captain Adrian Pucey’s dismissal. Walking over, you saw Theo dismounting from his broom alongside Enzo. Upon spotting you, the pair walked over to greet you.

“Rough practice, huh?” The boys before you were out of breath, chests heaving with obvious exhaustion.

Enzo gave you a look, “You’ve no idea.” Beside him, Theo nodded in agreement.

“Pucey’s got his tail in a twist about the game this weekend against Gryffindor,” Theo said. “We can’t catch a break.” Theo grabbed the end of his practice jersey to wipe at the sweat on his brow, revealing a lean, toned abdomen. His tongue swiped quickly at his pink lips as he continued to breathe heavily. As he let go of his jersey, one of his hands went to run through his unruly curls and you couldn’t help but stare at the more than pleasant image before you.

Fucking hell…Godric save me.

As if sensing your train of thought, Enzo smirked, mirth dancing in his eyes.

The sound of Theo’s Italian accent broke your reverie. “I’ve got to hit the showers, so I’ll be ten minutes or so. You alright with waiting?”

Clutching your Potions textbook to your chest, you nodded, giving Enzo’s look of obvious amusement a glare. “’M fine. Go ahead.”

Theo flashed that wide grin of his that you were becoming fond of before trotting off to join the other players in the locker rooms. By now, Enzo’s grin had become a full-on beam.

“Whatever you’re thinking, Enzo—well, don’t think it.”

The Slytherin raised his hands in mock confusion. “What could you possibly mean, Y/n? I was just wondering—”

“Enzo, don’t make me hit you with this book.”

“Jeez, I guess Theo wasn’t lying when he said you were violent.”

“Hey!”

Hours later in the library, you swore words were beginning to dance off the pages of the endless tomes you and Theo had been rummaging through for your upcoming project. Beside you, Theo seemed to feel the same exhaustion, groaning as his forehead dropped onto one of the thick volumes.

Grasping your quill, you gently brushed the feather by Theo’s ear to grasp his attention. Still faceplanted in a book, the tired boy simply turned his head towards you rather than sitting upright.

“I reckon we call it a night, yeah?” Theo’s curls shook as he nodded his head, eyes beginning to droop in exhaustion. “You’ve probably got to be up early for the game tomorrow too.” Your Potions partner glared at you for the reminder before finally sitting up.

You began to tidy up the sprawled-out texts before Theo broke the quiet resting over the library. “You going?”

Turning to look at him, you paused, “Going to what?”

Theo laughed softly, “The game, Y/n.”

“Oh.” You grinned sheepishly, “I don’t know. Hadn’t decided yet.”

Theo hummed at your response. Moving sluggishly, he began to help you pack up.

“Well…you should go. It’s supposed to be a good one.” You met Theo’s eyes that were already peering into yours.  

“You want me to go, huh? To show off or something?”

Theo laughed at you, gently flicking one of your hands reaching for a stray quill. “Or something.”

You smiled, “Well, if you want me there, I’m there.”

Having finished packing up, Theo stood in front of you and mirrored your grin. “Well, I do…want you there, that is.”

Walking out of the library together, you gently bumped the taller boy’s shoulder. “Then, I’m there.”

taglist: @melllinaa, @randomgurl2326, @lovelyygirl8, @abaker74, @mypolicemanharryyy, @vanevafu, @laceandsuch, @agent-tempest, @themarauderswife7, @adoraspace, @spencerreidsthings, @crimsntwlip, @readingthingsonhere, @sbrn0905, @violet2022, @aemiliazzz, & @hoeforvinniehackerrr

[gonzo-rella]

Headcanons: Charlie Dalton, Neil Perry and Todd Anderson Taking Care of Their Sick S/O

MASTERLIST | AO3 | KO-FI

Relationship(s): Charlie Dalton x sick!gn!reader (romantic), Neil Perry x sick!gn!reader , Todd Anderson x sick!gn!reader (romantic)

Warnings: The reader has a cold so... yeah. Also, since I'm sick myself, my brain isn't really working at it's normal level so apologies for any mistakes! (Let me know if I need to add any)

(A/N: Unfortunately I'm still sick (it's only been a few days). Fortunately, I'm still motivated to write headcanons to get me through this relatively mild illness (and I'm starting to feel better)! I've got a Todd one-shot draft that I started a year ago and never got around to finishing, so here's my first offering to the Dead Poets Society fandom. I'd love to write more for it, both reader-insert and not. I'm not sure if I'll end up writing any more sick fics (I've already written hcs for Yellowjackets and Abed Nadir and Annie Edison from Community) since I should be better soon, but if you're still interested check out my fandom list and requesting info and feel free to send an ask!)

CHARLIE

Charlie will jokingly tell you that you’re disgusting.

If you’re not amused by that, he’ll awkwardly but sincerely apologise, his mortification thinly veiled.

He isn’t entirely sure what the hell to do to make you less sick.

(He'll have to consult his more medically knowledgeable friends for advice)

He will ask you if you want him to kiss it all better.

(And he will not hesitate to kiss you when you give him the go ahead)

Suffice it to say, he does not care all that much about getting sick himself.

(A small part of him hopes that he does get sick so you'll have to take care of him)

He will spend so much time with you, you’d think you were dying.

He will also get you anything you ask for (even if it has no clear use in making you physically better- he just wants to make you happy).

If his earlier attempt at joking doesn't work, he'll still persist in cracking jokes and making you laugh to make you feel better.

(If your laughter causes you to break out into a coughing fit, though, he will feel awful).

NEIL

Neil knows exactly what to do.

He may not like his dad's dream of him becoming a doctor, but damn he has such a knack for looking after you.

He makes sure you’re drinking enough fluids and taking any medicine you need to take.

No matter how disgusting you might get, Neil is completely unfazed the whole time.

If anything, he'll find it funny and try to keep you in as high spirits as possible.

If he does mind getting sick, he certainly doesn't show it.

For example, he doesn't hesitate when kissing you on the cheek or forehead.

He loves you so much that it really won’t matter to him if you can- or do- get him sick.

He’ll regularly ask you if there’s anything that you want or need, and if you’re comfortable, and if you’re too hot or cold.

It’s evident that he cares about you getting better.

He’ll sit at your bedside and try to take your mind off of how you’re feeling.

But, he will insist that you need to rest up, so when you’re asleep or trying to fall asleep he’ll be as quiet as humanly possible to make sure he doesn’t wake you up.

If he does end up waking you, he’ll feel terrible about it.

He’s so loving and caring anyway, but especially when you’re sick.

TODD

This guy is fucking terrified.

He assumes that anything he does will only make you sicker.

A small part of him is convinced you will die under his care.

So, he begs Neil for advice, and Neil humours him so that Todd doesn’t drive himself nuts.

Todd will regularly ask you if you need something, and he’ll repeatedly offer you whatever Neil advised him about.

He’s also completely torn between his innate desire not to get himself sick, and his deep love and affection for you.

So, please don’t get upset with him if he recoils almost every time you cough and sneeze, because he does spend as much time as he possibly can at your bedside.

Speaking of which, Todd sits at your bedside like a loyal golden retriever.

He’ll hold your hand (internally panicking about your high temperature, of course) and place the occasional kiss on the back of it.

He’ll also read some of his poems, works in progress and completed, out to you, and he’ll make sure to pick plenty that are about you specifically.

Sure, he’s nervous, but you love his poetry and all he wants to do is reduce how terrible you feel.

[trashogram]

Heyyyyy friendo

If you're willing can we get a fluffy hcy one shot for when reader was still pregnant? I can't get enough of her and Lucifer being an absolute dork

Like maybe reader is trying to do house work and Lucifer is trying to get her to sit down and she's just like "n o"

Not quite what you asked for, but I hope this will suffice!

***

You’ve been glowing for 5 going on 6 days, illuminating a good portion of the whatever space you occupied, and it was only that unmistakeable luminance that kept Lucifer from jolting out of bed.

The bedroom door had been kindly left open, and Lucifer hesitated only at the reminder that he had yet to take his slippers up from Hell and to your apartment. He leapt out of bed, clad in apple-printed boxers (the ones you could not stop giggling over as soon as you saw them) and sought you out. It shouldn’t have surprised him to see you assembling a bookshelf in just an old t-shirt in the middle of the living room floor. But the King of Hell stared at the bizarre picture in front of him for a long moment.

“Babe.”

You looked up at him and grinned.

“What?” His exasperation was mostly for show, already returning your smile with his own. Happiness was so contagious when you wore it.

“I couldn’t sleep.” You replied. “And the fact that this shelf was just sitting in the closet was driving me nuts. So I thought ‘why not?’. It’s better than just thinking about it till the sun comes up.”

“Better to become a carpenter than to cuddle with me, huh?” Lucifer gazed at you with too-big, saccharinely sad eyes and a quivering pout.

“Oooh, a carpenter like Jesus?” You asked. “You would bring him up, wouldn’t you my Prince of Darkness?”

“Pfffbbtt!” Lucifer waved your words away, sitting on the floor with you with legs crisscrossed. “You made that reference, not me!”

He sighed, head in hand as he stared at you with naked fondness. “You are a miracle though.”

Your arched brow and flick in the blond’s direction belied the color that rose in your cheeks. “Stop it, you.”

It didn’t stop the former Angel, continuing to make goo-goo eyes at you while you concentrated on lining up two wooden boards. Lucifer’s gaze set on the growing bump that now filled out beneath your breasts, visible even under your baggy clothing. He felt that overflowing flush of warmth through his whole body at the affirmation that you and the baby were doing well. The horror of your condition during your initial pregnancy was not gone from his mind; but he was more than tentatively hopeful that you would not only survive, but thrive. And so would your baby.

And then, once he or she was born maybe… maybe you would realize you loved him, or at least liked having him around. And maybe you would agree to see him and the baby sometimes, or even let them stay with you… and maybe he could be one of the things that made you happy in life…

“What’s that look for?” Your question catches him off-guard.

You’re not looking at him, busy twisting a nail into the bottom of the box you’d successfully created.

“Aha, hmm?” Lucifer cleared his throat. “I-uh, was just… wondering why you didn’t put any pants on to do this?”

You snorted, putting down your nail and tiny wrench. “Lucifer, you out of everyone should know that pants come off when it’s time to screw.”

“Hahaha, that’s so funn—o-oh, aha…” Lucifer went beet red with that and with your subsequent laughter.

—

You ended up washing your hands of the project when you realized your shelf was inside out. (“The instructions suck! And there’s too many labels. They want me to fail on purpose!”)

Lucifer took your hands and held you close, soothing your sore attitude with gentle words and fervent pawing as soon as you were back in the safety of your comforter together. The bookshelf lay forgotten until the late afternoon of the following day, though you fell asleep with a smile as Lucifer kissed your forehead goodnight, humming happily beside you.

[qvrcll]

Hii. I just saw your works and I really love the writing<3. Anyways i saw ur taking requests and i really have one in mind.

So like vendetta leon was some sort of a mission (like something similar to the movie) and he Heard the virus had broken out to the city and the only thing he can think is the reader (I'd really love for the reader (which is a retired agent, to be preggy😭). Then he like straightly went to their house (or apartment) and the zombies have already broken inside.

(no angst pls my heart is too poor to handle angst 😭)

cherry waves

summary: with your retirement from the source of his burden’s and the arrival of your pregnancy, leon almost swears that things will be alright. but worrying intel from hunnigan and the affliction of his worst fears make things worse. make things bloody and gashed with the ultimatum of death — and the one thing on his mind? you.

warning: written with vendetta ! leon in mind, violence, afab reader, use of gun, mention of vomit, intense imagery of death / zombie bites, mention of pregnancy, angst (but happy ending), implication of smut (nothing happens :P)

a/n: firstly, ty so much for ur interest for my works! it always makes me so happy ppl like what i write 🥹 secondly, WOW, i loved this plotline and couldn’t wait to get writing it! thank you so much for requesting this because i had a great time writing it (anything exploring leon’s worst fears is an immediate yes from me!) i hope i did your prompt justice and hope you enjoy :-)

It would start with a mission, something so insanely emblematic in its own course that it made Leon scoff sourly.

Of course they would do this — do this to him, to you, try to rope him back into a hell he had once wished to depart for entirely. You’d done it, excavating all wounds and ties to that little milky tinctured office corner and a chock-full of folders, of late night runs to diners and the semblance of sentience. Leon had admired you, held you in high regard and shunned any and all faces that had locked horns with your decision, dragging them through filth and dirt and nothing but the crud of his hate and the spew of his regrets.

And after you’d promised the two of you this peace, this little hole of your own created in the cataclysmic remnants of what once was, in a tiny apartment stocked away into the city curtained with the foolish promises of a forgotten past, Leon had sworn that it had worked. Had been cut from an entirely different cloth, and woven into something… away from this hell.

But it’s always something other than peace in the end.

And when he’s on his own, cornered against a wall with little to no care for anything lavish, just the bile wedged in his throat from the coalescing pools of worry in his stomach, he tries to think of you.

“Leon, your slippers…” you’d called out from the living room, in his memory, voice soaked with little to no empathy. He’d mumbled something incoherent back, something unintelligible, that had sufficed for a few minutes before you’d thrown a shirt over his head. An injunction, he was sure it was, to his constant habit of doing away with his clothes in the wrong places. Next thing he knows, he was being smothered by your weight as your voice rung clear, a ring of indolence grating your voice, “Leave your shirt on the floor and I swear to god, Leon S. Kennedy—“

“Okay, okay, I promise—“ he’d chuckled, collecting you and your squeals in his broad arms, entrapping you into the planate sheets of the bed he’d laid in since the morning began, “I’ll be mindful of where I keep my shirts. Kiss me?”

And your resistance, your throes of faux fury, the crooning semblance of your squeals and laughter had dissolved into a stimulant, a drug for him to swallow wearily whilst his back was met against some other unfamiliar surface.

He holds his breath. Strengthens his feet against the bounding hard-wood floors as an outburst of flitting groans, cold and doggone with the smell, a reminder of 1998, sound out from beyond the foyer of the abandoned building. And he’s accustomed to the feel of blood between his teeth — god, he’s done this in repeated intervals before, so why did it begin to feel too pervasive in this moment?

His heart clamours in his chest.

His skin bursts with a sheen of cold sweat.

His teeth clatter with a fear he’d known all too well, for a time too long.

So why?

So he rephrases, rewrites this fear in him into something of a catalyst — he thinks of you again.

He thinks of your smell and your smile, your tears and the strength you’d accumulated when you had grinned goodbye to this shit hole. He thinks of your nails digging lines of red against his back, the rows that escaped you when he’d had you pressed against the mattress. He thinks of the day you’d staggered up to him, eyes rimmed with a similar shade as the vermillion he’d worn to some masquerade themed drivel (in the name of work), calling for him like you’d been bitten by the dark, searched for his face in the light — “Leon… Leon, I think I’m pregnant,” and he’d kissed you raw, kissed you like he fought, kissed you through the burn and edge of his tears cracking into the press of your mouths as he had felt grounded for once in his pathetic, penurious life.

He uses that, the glint of that vision, that new beginning, the shade of hope that came as you, to shape an opening — he aims his revolver at a blindsided corpse. Fires a crisp blow at a groaning zombie. Kicks, buckles and flanks against two more and advances with the burn of your memory in his mind.

It’s nearly ten minutes since he’s been stationed into the rubble of the desiccated building and Leon’s throat itches with a certain worry.

How were you? Did you need anything whilst at home? Did you think of him? Did you crave something demonically new? Did your feet hurt, like it often did following your pregnancy? Did you rest enough? Were you up, staring at the crescents and spoons of white dotting the sky, like he was?

And Leon nearly trips, nearly kisses the ground from thinking of you — but he needs to. Needs to allow himself this grace to make sure he’d not shoot himself, surely. Needs the image of your face to bless every corner of his mind so he’d remember what it felt to love you thoroughly, fully, to the point of death and damnation. Needs to feel you, if even in his mind, if even for a second too faltering, if it meant he could mow down another zombie.

“Leon? Leon!”

He cringes, retreats to a gap in the wall as he presses his headset into his ear — Hunnigan.

“Hunnigan?” he whispers, throws his voice to a lower sonority than before, so that he can hear her better. So that the clatter, the dash of undead a few feet up ahead, cannot pick up on his bearings.

He hears a cut from the other end, before the agent’s familiar voice cracks through, “Leon, there’s been new intel.”

He frowns. This can’t be good, if she’s already using his first name instead of a roster of aliases. Still, he needed to figure it out. Keep a locale on his bearings.

“New intel? Go on…” he breathes softly. He picks up the press of footsteps up ahead and smothers further into the tight bite of the space, wincing when his muscles flout back at him with an ounce of pain.

“There’s been reports of a zombie intrusion in the city,” Hunnigan starts, and Leon stops, “and there have been increasing hoards against buildings and apartments.”

And he drops.

His feet move, on pure muscle. On pure fear. On the cut-throat and persistent emotion that is love, of you, of the memory of you, of the promise he’d made and of the shattering grip of his life, as he books it out of there. Hunnigan continues, gathers something about altitude and choppers. Of gunfire and backup. Of something more, but Leon can’t tell.

To Leon, his mouth is already bleeding and his body is already teeming with wounds, with the futility of scars and the loom of death, when he pictures those sick, dead bastards at your door.

Why did he accept this stupid job?

Why didn’t he follow in your footsteps?

Why didn’t he stay?

And as he beats the ground with louder noises, attracts a few undead with the heave of his groans as he breaks for home, for your apartment, he can lay a hand over his chest and feel his heart attempting to splinter into knots as he runs.

He thinks of you, again. He thinks of your smile and the smell of rot. He thinks of your smell and the curl of lips and the gash against your hip. He thinks of your odd habits, your huff, your laughter. He thinks of your body stapled to the floor, marked with messily biten flesh and an aspersion of blood on the counter. On the floor. On your face.

And you and you dead and you dying and you growling and you—

“Fuck!”

Leon chokes, his throat jammed with pathetic cries. His eyes glisten and shed, but he quickly finds himself recanted in front of that familiar apartment, front so idyllic, it was burnt straight from his memory. His skin melts with sweat, with pin pricks and with the threat of throwing up right there, but he soldiers through.

At first, it’s hard. It’s hard to breathe, hard to see past his tears. It’s hard to get a clear grip on his weapon and it’s hard to blur out the mess of their groans, their staggering enumeration. But he finds some messy middle ground, grounds his feet and staples his teeth and shoots against brassy flesh, against bone and blood, barely cares for the splatter of blood against his lip, his chin, his hair.

All he cares is for you to be standing there, as you as you could ever be. As safe, as teeming with hope and the glimmer of tomorrow as you ever were, welcoming him home.

But he’s half delirious, half fucked for thought, as he makes it up the staircase with difficulty. He wants to delude himself and wants to believe the lies he’s almost weaving in his head. But the truth is vibrant, unpleasant as the verdant decay of flesh that hordes your apartment floor.

And he nearly throws up.

Your door is open, three zombies freshly approaching the crack of it. Their heads jitter and steer in the limelight, and Leon nearly breaks, but holds the pieces of himself as he shoots through their corroding skulls.

He shouts your name first, then chokes with grief at the sight of blood — and the image of you dead and dying and —

And he’s trying, yes, he’s trying, as he stumbles through the threshold with his gun quivering in his hold. And yes he’s breathing, but only so little, as he eyes the count of flesh against the tile of your living room. And yes he’s standing, but nearly crumbles with the thought of a repeat. Of a sequence to his worst fears.

“Leon!”

The scream gushes from the bedroom and his heart teems with that familiar feeling, slow but sure, of hope. Of love. He silently cries as he makes a run for your shared bedroom — his calloused palm harshly swings apart the door and sees you cornered atop the bed, bashing the head of a zombie in. It’s managed to corner you far up the bed, but you’re sour with spit and curses as you try to throw it off — but the undead prove to be a challenge.

And yet, Leon is a worse piece of work.

With his shot gun aimed at its head, the zombie flattens to the floor with an animated thud.

And then there’s silence. There’s a heave from you, as you gather your surroundings and make use of something solid to determine Leon actually there — actually standing in the stretch of your bedroom as he looks back at you, face bristling with blood and carnage. With tears.

And with time, comes semblance.

You dart towards him, worry in your hands when you gather him in your palms like life itself — “Fuck—Fuck, I was so worried. Fuck, Leon, are you okay?”

“I’m okay, sweetheart, I’m okay—are you?” he inquires, rushes for thought as he presses a hand into your side, your face and your back. Tries and thrives with the effort of remembering your warmth through his fingers — collected here, in the bloody mess of your apartment.

And you’re breathing and you’re alive and you’re smiling and you’re holding love in your hands when you cry into his arms.

And as he holds you like there’s so much of losing you, crumbles to the floor in the vacancy of your arms, he catches sight of your already swelling belly beneath his nimble fingers as you sigh out a laugh. Beckon his hand atop your stomach closer, say something about ‘knowing how to work a gun, even after all the bullshit I’d left behind.’

And Leon sighs with the thought of tomorrow.

© 2023 qvrcll ! do not repost any of my works on any platform.

[lovers-tucked-into-a-quiet-cafe]

4th of July Special [IKYLHT]

~2.9k Words | Series Masterlist | Prev | Next Chapter [Coming Soon]

Hope you enjoy this very very overdue special chapter. It's part of the larger timeline of the story but considering we just had the 4th not too long ago I figured I'd post what I had so far just to keep you held over until chapter 8 is finished. It will very much be expanded upon in due time. Much love

-

There are three holidays you force yourself to celebrate as an active member of the military.

Veterans Day, the obvious.

Memorial Day, also obvious.

And the great ol’ 4th of July. Independence Day, a celebration of our great freedoms, our national pride.

More importantly- a day filled with beer, fireworks, and a rack of ribs, all without the threat of having to clock in that morning.

The boys had called you a yank when you’d first suggested it, mentioned something about the ridiculousness of the American desire to clog your arteries while lighting shit on fire.

The sweat of the 98° day dripping down Johnny's back, soon to be washed away by cool pool water. An ice cooler filled with Coronas, freshly cut limes on the table. Slow cooked rack of ribs on each plate while the burgers sizzle on the grill. These were things you’d pitched to the boys only moments before they’d laughed in your face.

The idea of leaving the Queen’s land to shack it up with a bunch of blue-coats celebrating the day they’d left the commonwealth felt blasphemous, especially for Simon and Price, the true patriots they are. Kyle didn’t care much, he’d actually been quite excited to visit the US again. The west coast was unexplored to him, and he’d be lying if the prospect of seeing a few celebrities during his stay in California didn’t excite him. Truthfully, Johnny would take any chance to subtly spite the Brits. He’s a proper Scot, after all.

But you’d pushed the idea hard.

It was Sparks’ annual 4th of July barbeque and there was no way in hell you were going to run the risk of missing him lose a finger trying to light the extra explosive fireworks he’d bought after a mission in Texas.

You’d gone that route first- having Shane call Price to personally invite the task force to his home in San Diego with the promise of good food and drinks. When the invitation didn’t seem to make it to the group chat, you’d stepped up your game. You thought maybe a polite Captain-to-Captain request from Griggs would suffice. It did not.

Fortunately, you were in the perfect position to seal the deal.

“You know, I just think it’d be a great team bonding activity.”

You hear his groan as your movement stops, feel the way his hands fly up to grasp at your waist, but you ignore him entirely.

“I don’t understand why you insist on impeding my job, John. I thought it was a captain’s duty to assist his subordinates?”

His fingers dig into your hips, trying their best to move you but you keep yourself steadily perched atop his lap.

“I think this is team bonding enough, love.”

You look around the room, turning your head as far as you can in each direction, before you settle your eyes on his form once more.

“I don’t see the rest of them. Seems like it’s just you and me here, Price.”

A small moan he clearly tried to conceal slips out as you lean forward, planting your hands on his sweaty chest and feeling the way his heart quickly patters. The bed shifts under you, sheets molten hot with your combined heat.

“Want me to go get them? I can roam the base in search of them. Would be faster if I skipped getting redressed-”

“-Alright, alright. I’m listening.”

You go to speak but shoot him a stern glance as you feel him attempt to move from under you.

The coy smile he lets out feeds your soul, his cheeks flushed from exertion, eyes hungry with want.

“We’re going.”

He laughs, eyes glancing down to where he throbs inside you.

“You think this is the best time to bring this back up, sweetheart?”

Shifting enough to make his breath hitch, you flash your own big smile.

“I do.”

Glancing at his watch, he quietly huffs as he mulls over his options.

“California?”

“Yes”

“During peak travel season…”

“Yup”

“For a holiday only you celebrate?”

“In a country you don't wanna revisit. I know, it’s not ideal.”

“So we’re doing it because?”

“Because it’s for me, John. We’re doing it for me. So I can go home.” Your smile is pleading.

He gives a small nod, lifting your hand off his chest and kissing the back of it.

“Okay. I’ll call Sparks and let him know we’re coming.”

“It’s okay! I’ll just text him-” You can’t control your smile, damn near flying off the bed to grab your phone if it weren’t for Price hooking an arm around you and flipping you beneath him.

“-You can text him once we’re done here. I still have another fifteen minutes with you.”

Admittedly, you didn’t call Shane until the following morning.

With Price on your side, it was easy getting everything in order. He dealt with the logistics- plane tickets, hotels, rental cars- while you did the fun part.

Helping the boys pack.

Kyle was by far the easiest. He naturally had good style, all you’d needed to do was inform him of the typical San Diego weather and how to transition those outfits into something a little cooler for when you’d venture up to Los Angeles.

Simon and Price came next. Simon’s was physically easier, just more mental gymnastics. Despite being in many’a hot biome before, he refused to admit his all black ensemble just wouldn’t do. Cargo pants and combat boots weren’t adequate pool party attire, especially when you knew he’d want to prove his usefulness attending to anything he possibly could (you prayed Shane had fixed the dishwasher leak or you knew you wouldn’t be seeing Simon until well past sunset). Price was more physically demanding. He didn’t care much what you dressed him in, he trusted you enough to ensure he stepped outside looking handsome- you’re 99% sure someone had told him about the ‘girlfriend effect’ and he just ran with it. The difficult part was actually buying the clothes. He had no problem handing his card over, but he didn’t seem to want to send sizes, measurements, color preferences, anything of use. You’d resorted to taking a measuring tape to his biceps as he oversaw drill exercises, the width of his shoulders as he sat doing paperwork, the length of each limb as he stood at the gym’s cable machine.

Johnny was quite a bit more difficult. Having been to your home in LA a few times before, he knew how hot it’d get in the dead of summer and thus decided it was prime time to dress in nothing but swim trunks and his favorite pair of vans. Despite being told numerous times that he’d need to pack at least one shirt, every time you checked his suitcase that shirt seemed to have vanished. Your only saving grace was Price’s scolding when he’d gone over the group’s tax write offs and seen the recurring £5.25 Tesco charge for a single men’s t-shirt.

Still, somehow you’d all managed to make it in one piece. And best of all, without a single complaint.

Price stood at the grill chatting with Griggs about various meat charring techniques while Ghost supervised refereed the game of chicken Soap and Gaz were playing with the rest of the Demon Dogs.

The liquor was free flowing and gave you the opportunity to utilize this annual event for what it truly was- a chance to check up on everyone.

And who better to do it with than your closest confidant and his therapist wife.

Convenient, really.

“How’ve you been, kid?”

Nodding as you glance over at Johnny balancing Kyle upon his shoulders, you can’t help but smile.

“We’ve had our moments. Can’t complain, though.”

Alison nods, and you see her head tilt ever so slightly. She’s going into work mode as best she can without raising your suspicions. She’s well trained, probably what’s saved her marriage with Shane. To her dismay, you are also well trained.

“How do you see your future together?"

“Alison, you'd know better than most that people like us don’t get futures.”

“You can spare her the melodramatic self loathing, she’ll just whack you upside the head.”

She glares at Shane’s retort, gives him that ‘stop joking I’m trying to fix shit’ look you’ve seen so many times before.

“I guess I haven’t thought about it. Genuinely. I think it’ll be good though. I love him… and all that mushy shit you’re dying to hear me say.”

“Okay. Well, that’s a start. What about the rest of the task force? Do you think you work well as a team?”

“Oh yeah, we’re a well oiled machine. My doing, of course. Successful or not, our missions can always be described as top tier.”

“And how about off-mission? Do you get along with everyone?”

You fight the urge to glance over at the four men whose hands you’d put your entire life into in more ways than one.

“Uh, yeah. We’re good.”

“Good?”

“Yeah.” You shrug.

Her response is cut off before she could even start it, two shorts car honks bouncing off the wood of the open side gate leading to the front of the property. She cranes her neck to see the car from her position in the backyard, just catching the conversation between Raines and his wife as they begin to unload the car.

Alison turns back to you after waving hello, pointing a finger and making a stern face.

“We’re not done here.”

“Aye Aye ma’am.” You jokingly salute her as you internally thank Raines’ kids for making him late to every event he’s ever been invited to.

You and Shane wave to the couple as she walks up to say her greetings, Shane walking towards the cooler to grab two beers.

“I warned her against interrogating you. But we all know how she feels about listening to me.”

“She’s lucky. She’s the only one that can ignore you and call you a dumbass without repercussion. Sometimes I envy her.”

Popping off the cap, he makes his way to two lounger seats off in the corner of the fenced backyard, plopping down with a sigh.

“Gonna have to retire soon. Or take up being a desk jockey. Whatever keeps my knees from going out.”

“Not showing up to your PT appointments, Sparks? I do recall you scolding me for doing the same.”

“I’ve been showing up, that’s the problem. Ain’t bouncing back like I used to.”

You nod in understanding. You’re not even that old and the aches had already settled in. The military really does take your best years.

“Alright, kid. Enough stalling. How’ve you really been doing?”

“I told you, Johnny and I have been good-”

“-I don’t mean your relationship. I know you two are doing good. God knows I’d be getting a call from MacTavish asking how to fix it if y’all weren’t. I mean about the mission.”

“Oh. Yeah, no. It was fine. It’s over.”

“Heard it was a rough one up top.”

“Uh, yeah. Always is, I guess. We would’ve loved to have traded places with you.”

“Don’t underestimate the stairs, kid. Was damn near out of breath by the time we’d gotten up there.”

You let out a hum, more of an acknowledgement than an agreement.

“I know it’s hard for you to sit and watch. But you gotta remember your roots, Water.”

A snort escapes you, humor and nostalgia behind it.

“Haven’t heard you call me that in what, five years?”

“You retired it. You may call me an asshole but I do have a heart.”

“Well-”

“-Don’t change the subject, Carrots.”

“You know I’m still mad you told Kyle-”

“-Rabbit. Come on. Talk to me, kid.”

He stares you down, gives that same stern look you’d always seen after cracking a joke a little too soon after a mission gone awry.

“Nightmares?”

“A couple.” You murmured with a shrug.

“Just a couple?”

“A few.” You manage another murmur.

He studies your side profile a moment longer before trailing his eyes towards your line of vision.

Kyle sits on the pool ledge right where the deep end becomes standable again, using his dry hand to feed Johnny chips from the paper plate he teeters on his thigh. Every time Soap gestures as he speaks, pool water flings from his position standing in front of Kyle’s shins and onto the plate.

Shane thinks back to the first time you’d shown up to an event like this. He watched you, a newly-appointed baby-faced private first class awkwardly clutching a plate with a burger you had no intention of eating, and was reminded of how out of place you had felt in this small sliver of normalcy.

He thinks back to how utterly determined you seemed to not make friends, to not form attachments.

He thinks back to how, despite your reservations, you found yourself slowly easing into the environment.

Despite being so quick to adapt, you’d never been fond of change. And you couldn’t be more different now from the person you were before.

He thinks about how embarrassing it was for you to admit you'd even been having nightmares, let alone what they were about.

“Ok kid. I’ll let you avoid interrogation for now. No use in ruinin’ a good barbeque.”

You pat his knee with an appreciative smile before you heave yourself out of the low chair, setting your sights back onto Kyle as he rejoins Johnny in the pool.

“Hey Rabbit?” You hear Sparks call out after you.

You look back at him over your shoulder.

“Yeah?”

You look at his blank face. You’ve known Shane long enough to tell he doesn’t want to spook you off but is begging for answers. He's giving you the opportunity to tell him on your own volition, no questions asked.

There’s a small demon resting in the back of your throat. He decides now’s a good time to carve at your esophagus. He urges you to spit it out so he can escape his imprisonment in your windpipe. To say what can’t be retracted, to just get it out there.

You stay silent, facing forward again and walking up to Price. He scrubs char off the grill rack, seemingly abandoned by Griggs.

That answers who lost the coin toss.

“Hey Cap,” You bump shoulders with him, tugging on the string of his boonie hat that rests against the back of his neck.

“Hey sweetheart” He mumbles back.

“You look handsome” You whisper with a giddy smile.

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm”

“Hungry yet?”

“Only for you, big daddy” You manage to get out between a laugh and an over the top wink, just narrowly missing the way he goes to swat at you.

“Behave, Rabbit.”

“I always do, sir” You nearly purr.

As the earlier heat of the day began to cool, the sky painted itself in hues of orange and pink. You were finally feeling contentment settle deep into your bones. Your favorite part was soon and very much worth skipping your main meal, even if Price disagreed.

You and Soap had helped set up a small fire pit in the center of the yard- marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate bars all laid out for s’mores. Kyle, still somewhat in subdued awe of the whole spectacle, watches from your left as the others talked around the fire, their faces illuminated by the steady flame. You watched the way his eyes constantly bounced around, so deeply invested in the stories of your comrades.

Johnny sits between you and Ghost, his usual spot for the last nine months or so since Las Almas. You go to search for Price but are almost startled out of your seat as his arm misses your face by about two inches, draping over your lap a red checkered blanket he’d found thrown over one of the lawn chairs.

You grab his shirt by the collar before he gets the chance to pull away, pulling him down to kiss his cheek.

It was risky, there was no guarantee everyone outside of you five had been distracted by the sudden start of the neighbors fireworks, but you couldn’t really find it in yourself to care at that moment.

Grabbing the metal rod Johnny holds out for you, you shove the marshmallow on the prongs and lick the stickiness off your fingertips. You’d always hated the residue, but the practicality of Johnny hand feeding you the squishy candy didn’t negate how sickeningly adorable it was to witness.

“Care for a s’more, Ghost?” you asked, leaning forward and holding out a stick with a perfectly roasted marshmallow.

He looked at the stick, then at you, and finally at the fire. It was a simple, almost childlike gesture, but there was something undeniably comforting about it. He took the stick from you with a small nod.

Johnny was already assembling the graham crackers and chocolate for him, adding an additional little chocolate square in the center.

Simon holds the dessert, examining it on all sides before looking up at the group before him. No one is paying any attention to the three of you, something you’d requested from both your old team and Price and Gaz.

You nod as encouragingly as you can when he scans the group once more, whispering just enough to be heard by him.

“It’s alright Simon. Go ahead.”

His black surgical mask is only down for a second before half his face is covered again, now with significantly more graham cracker crumbs settling at the bottom of it then before.

He hands the s’more back over to Johnny as he nods his head.

“See? Not so bad, right?”

Ghost looked over at you, your face illuminated by the soft glow of the firelight, and nods once more. “Not bad at all.”

Soap, munching on the last of the s’more, looks over with a smirk.

“Told ya. Next time, we’ll get you on karaoke.”

Simon goes completely deadpan but chuckles softly.

“We’ll see about that.”

-

<3

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[monzamash]

anonymous: no. 27 screams Pierre 👀

— it really does. i actually got a few sent in for pierre so i'm gonna bunch this prompt and “good girl" together bc it just felt right and i got carried away writing for him 🙏 (and i had to re-upload this because i couldn't edit the ask after posting, sorry!)

pierre gasly x you (femreader) | 1.1k 18+ minors dni

Pierre was a menace to society; a playboy, someone you swore you would never give yourself to again – no matter how charming those steely blue eyes could be. They were agonisingly alluring at the best of times but you’d been celibate, by choice, for months now, so much as a brisk wind making your thighs clench together.

You were borderline cock-staved, embarrassingly so and when Pierre, your friend, invited you to a club night he was hosting, you should’ve said no.

A polite decline and a promise to catch up with him next time he was home in Milan would’ve sufficed but you couldn’t. Your fingertips had a mind of their own, swiftly texting back a simple ‘see you there’ before tearing your wardrobe apart to find something to wear, desperate to impress and to find someone, anyone to put you out of your own self-inflicted misery.

“But why would you do that?”

Pierre couldn’t comprehend your staunch declaration of abstinence, baffled by the decision to starve yourself from something so good, so enjoyable. It was something he hoped he would never have to do, god-willing.

“Um, because the last guy I was dating fucked his secretary…”

Pierre almost laughed at your response, not because what had happened to you was funny, hell, he almost put a hit out on the guy – he laughed because of how ludicrous that relationship was to begin with. You deserved more than some washed up tech dude, fumbling his way through Italy trying to scam a bunch of old people who didn’t know how to use the Internet. You deserved a man, a real man.

“Why exactly is that funny to you?”

“It’s not,” Pierre cleared his throat, “Darling, that guy was an asshole, a scumbag… I told you that a million times.”

You rolled your eyes at his reply, “Not really looking for an ‘I told you so’ from you of all people, P.”

Pierre was quick to hold his hands up in defence, realising that you were actually hurt by this asshole and he didn't need to add to that.

“Eh, I’m not telling you that. I’m saying that you should want for more and at least find someone who can satisfy you like you deserve...” He was testing you, watching for your reaction and he got one, quirked brow and pursed lips.

“When did I say anything about not being satisfied?” You were curious to know when you had ever aired that unfortunate tid-bit to the man beside you.

“You didn’t have to, ma belle. I’ve known you. I know what satisfied looks like in those eyes. I’ve seen it.”

His blue irises were unyielding, threatening almost, tempting you back into the arms of the man who had sworn himself to you. Sure, he fucked around and sampled most of Italy but you were the pinnacle of his fickle heart; you were his.

“Remind me again.”

Three simple words ignited the simmering desire deep within Pierre’s soul, eyes darting across your face as he caressed your warm, rosy cheek in his hand. He was soft with you, careful not to break you in the chaos of his want but when your lips crashed onto his, he knew you burned for him too; desperate to feel something again, with him. Your fingers grappled his short beard, stubble tickling your skin as he deepened the kiss, tongue battling against one another, starved for passion.

Pierre subtly inched back, lips hovering over yours as he whispered, “Where should I fuck you? Your choice.” His eyes flickered between yours, waiting for an answer while he savoured the way your pupils dilated in the darkness.

With a devilish grin you asked, “Did you drive here?”

A soft chuckle rumbled in Pierre’s tightening chest as he processed your words, fingers instantly entangled with yours as he dragged you out of the club and into the dimly lit street. He didn’t need to be asked twice to fuck you in his Mercedes, the idea making his already snug slacks a lot tighter. Even in the midst of his excitement, Pierre still rushed around to the passenger side and opened your door; endlessly chivalrous even if what he was about to do was anything but gentlemanly.

“Thank you,” You whispered, mimicking his smirk before sliding into the passenger seat with a nervous sigh.

You watched Pierre strut around the front of his car, chest puffed out and head darting in all directions to check the surroundings. A small smile tugged on the corners of you lips when he jumped in beside you with a boyish grin, hand immediately reaching down to push his seat back as far as it would go while the other roamed your bare thigh.

“I don’t think anyone can see,” Pierre muttered as he leaned back in his seat and started unbuckling his belt with his free hand.

“Don’t care if they can to be honest,” You sweetly replied and shuffled the hem of your tight skirt up your thighs, peeling it up around your waist and out of the way.

Pierre tutted as he palmed himself over his briefs, watching you carefully crawl over the console and settle your knees on each side of his thighs, “That’s very naughty,” He hummed, gripping your waist as you settled on his lap, his heart racing under your shaky hands.

“I thought you knew me, darling.” You taunted and tugged his stiff cock from the tight confines of his Calvin Kleins, craving to feel his soft tip teasing your hole.

“That is why I’m not surprised,” Pierre exhaled, fingers gripping your sides even harder as you slid down slowly and bottomed out. He was bigger than your ex, bigger than anyone you’d been with, full stop.

The grimace stitched between your furrowed brows always gave Pierre the ultimate satisfaction, dick twitching at your shallowed breath and tiny moans. You were beautifully unholy, panting and clutching at the necklace hanging loosely around his neck, whispering expletives and praising the lord for the best dick of your life.

It was nearly too much for him.

“Good girl – take all of me. My god.”

You fell forward and pressed your forehead to his as you got reacquainted, the fullness really pushing you to the limit as you bounced. The sound of Pierre moaning against your parted lips was perfect encouragement and as hard as he tried to stay still and let you take control, his rutting hips had other ideas. He couldn’t stop himself from nudging you along, meeting you halfway as you circled your hips, ripping moan after moan from his perfectly pink lips.

“Don’t do this to me,” He practically whined with a stupid smile, hands clutching for power as you fucked him into a muttering mess. His flushed face was covered by his messy hair until you reached up and pushed it back, eyes locked and riddled with lust.

“Aw,” You cooed and pinched his chin between your thumb and pointer, angling his gorgeous face up to yours, “I know you can take it, handsome.”

Pierre’s raspy laugh echoed through the stifling car as he bucked his hips and sent your flying into his chest. You’d missed these brief moments of joy and the unadulterated pleasure he could give you. And it was moments like this where you wondered why you ever fought the desire to have him.

Because he could give it to you – every which way you wanted.

thoughts? feelings? let me know! askbox masterlist if you want to read more x

[silverzoomies]

Ok so I've been a fan of Evan since days of future past came out. Like, the day it came out. I saw the premier or whatever it's called in theaters so DUH I LOVE QUICKSILVER SO MUCH 😞😞 anyways I know you're not taking requests but like I'm a little bit chubby (this is relevant I swear) and I CANNOT stop thinking about Peter and reader! being in a serious long term relationship, but they haven't gone all the way yet. Like, heavy make out session? Yes! Peter getting painfully hard during said make out session? Check. Make out session turns into peters desperately grinding, letting out the neediest little whines. Absolutely. Him definitely busting in his pants at readers! breathless little moans? Every. Single. Time. Never all the way though. He desperately wants to bone but he's willing to wait as long as he wants to because he thinks reader! doesn't want to, but they're just as desperate as he is but scared of what he would think because they're chubby. During one of their heated.. laundry day inducing make out sessions one thing leads to another and reader! ends up telling Peter why they haven't wanted to go all the way, and Peter proves to them he doesn't think that [;)] and talks reader! through it the whole time.

YOU DONT HAVE TO ADD THIS TO YOUR REQUESTS OR TURN IT INTO A FIC IF YOU DONT WANT TO. I just had to share this with somebody and OBVIOUSLY because you're one of my favorite writers I had to come to you with this (hi I've sent u a lot of messages 🎀) and since you're another huge quickie fan I thought you'd enjoy this :3 SORRY IF THIS WAS SUPER LONG OR IF IT DIDNT MAKE SENSE I'm mad at typing sometimes smh

helllooooooo anon, my lovely !!! i love you so much !! forgive me, i haven't written in a while !! i tried my best to make somethin' out of this because it was such a cute idea !! i hope a headcanon list will suffice !! also, please don't ever apologize for sending me long asks. i'm not kidding when i say they make my day, i love them so much !!

headcanons || peter maximoff x chubby!reader

to preface, i think we should consider some key things about our speedy goofball

peter’s a mutant. he knows exactly what it feels like to be alienated for something he has no control over

second of all, the guy’s a little bit of a weirdo

i legitimately doubt he would judge, or think less of anyone for something as superficial as looks

seriously. If he vibes with you, and you’re patient enough with him - you’re sexy as hell

it’s as simple as that, sorry. just bein' honest

so what if you’re a little thicker? he can’t get enough of you

he’s so addicted to you, in fact, you’ve got him trippin’ a little bit

like, he’s kinda goin’ cuckoo

the two of you make out a lot. so much. it’s like you’re glued to one another. any free time you have together usually consists of hanging out, and making out. not that he’s complaining

it’s definitely awesome. and it feels totally great. he does this freaky thing with his tongue that makes you squirm under him every time 

and the way you whine into each smooch - oh, man - you have him longing to get even closer

make outs eventually turn to dry humping. it’s kind of humiliating the first few times...

...since the grinding always seems to end with him busting a load in his jeans. and he whimpers too much...jeez...

but you always praise him for it, which never fails to turn him on even more

things get so heated between the two of you, escalating so often - peter finds himself confused

like…why haven’t you let him…y’know…

once or twice, he hints he wants to go down on you. and there’s no way you misread his signals. he’s pretty blunt about his needs

but you’re always so reluctant. you feign ignorance, or try to distract him with more intense kisses and pretty moans

peter’s never been a patient guy. the fact that he’s willing to wait this long for you says a lot. like, shit…he must really really really like you

but even now…fuck…he’s so worked up. he’s getting a little too bored of being limited to smooching

like, c’mon…do you think he’s ugly or something?? does he smell?? what’s the deal??

he never considered you might be self conscious. his brain doesn’t really operate like that. he’s all impulsivity and living in the moment

in the midst of making out, his hands travel where they don’t usually dare to go. he takes confident chances, fondling your tits over your clothes. but just as things heat up, you redirect his attention again

his blood almost boils. he’s way too hard for this, aching to get closer, and you’re just…gah! why’re you holdin’ yourself back? 

at last, you confess…you’ve been self conscious the whole time

ah

why didn’t you just say somethin’ before? peter tries not to laugh at how silly you sound. obviously, he’s super attracted to you. why else would he spend all his free time with you, tryna get up close and personal?

as things finally move forward, he dials up the sweetness a few notches

and damn, the wait for this was more than worth the uptick in laundry days (thanks to one too many nuts busted in his boxers)

he covers every last inch of your gorgeous body in kisses, as you let him shed you of your clothes

his masculine hands are more gentle than you expect

unclothed together, he doesn’t hesitate to get as close as he possibly can

you’re soft and cozy, and his body is like a furnace

months of pent-up desire leave him so horny, he can’t hold back anymore

through it all, he’s quick to remind you how much of a fox you are. peter teases you with his tongue in ways you never imagined possible. before rocking your world, flowing with the motion of the ocean

and by that, i mean…you bone. balls deep. hellz to the yeah

embarrassingly enough, it ends just as soon as it starts. but as usual, he recovers fast. and his endless stamina means he’s willing to go at it for hours

which he does. until you’re so exhausted, your limbs are like limp noodles. whoops...sorry about that !!

say...uh...no chance you'd wanna go another round, is there?

peter hopes you’ll be more up front with him from now on. so he spends less time dreamin', and more time goin' at it 🤍

[viridwns]

Do you know when you'll be able to finish Miscommunication, part 3 with Yan!Douma, Yan!Akaza, Yan!Kokushibo, Yan!Muzan x FEM!Reader?

I have a draft saved rn. It still needs loads of editing and I still need to write the ending. In the meantime, I'll give you a small sneak peek as a reward for being so patient with me ;)

THIS WILL BE EDITED IN THE FINISHED PIECE! IT IS BUT A ROUGH DRAFT

-

Shut up shut up shut up—

Your fingers clench around the fabric that was covering your chest.

It was soaking wet; having absorbed most of the water that was percolating down your hair and skin.

Your heart, it was beating too fast. It was loud in your ears, and by the gods, it hurts.

You pushed yourself even deeper into the hollow trunk of a rotten tree. Your breaths were shallow and uneven.

Calm yourself. Otherwise, they will find you.

You tried to scare yourself into absolute silence, but you were already frightened enough.

You knew everything you did was too loud. With their inhuman sense of hearing and smell, this wouldn't cut it.

You hoped the deer blood that coated your body would suffice as a scent blocker. The still moist substance mixed with your sweat, tears, and even blood if you were unlucky enough to have cut yourself while running.

You begged that the dead of the innocent prey wouldn't be in vain.

Splinters dug into your abused flesh. You bit your lips and squeezed your eyes shut. All to keep a sob from spilling over your lips. You just had to wait for first daylight, the first few rays of sun. Then you would be free.

No,

Not even then.

You had to escape this hell bound country. Maybe then you could find peace.

It's mid summer already—it was still early autumn when I visited Japan.

Has it really been that long? You felt your hands starting to shake at the thought of having disappeared from the face of the earth for so long.

This was the first time you were successful in avoiding their grasp. All it took was pretending to play house with them and gain enough trust.

You had to hold yourself back when they allowed you to go outside the first time. It was hard not trying to leg it the first few times, but it got easier over time when you were carefully working out your escape plan.

Muzan should be recovered by now.

Instead of wallowing in self-pity and feeling miserable, you stopped fighting them. They had been suspicious, which you expected them to be. It took you months to break the armor around Muzan and take his trust in your hands. You had twisted it, played with it, and made him think that you loved him. You felt yourself leaving your body whenever you sweet talked him, fed him delusions; it pained you too much to be mentally present.

You knew how keen Muzan was on having a routine. You gently merged your outside time in his regular schedule, so instead of having to beg to go outside, he almost forced you. It was routine, was it not?

It would be at dead of night when you walked through deserted woods. Taking in every path, every misplaced branch, anything that could make you recognize where you were. The number of monsters walking with you variated every night. Usually, it was all four of them. Sometimes, it started with just you and Muzan, and the rest joining mid walk.

The minute you saw the lake, your plan was set in stone. You subtly suggested cooling down in the water, already loosening your kimono a little. Douma answered with throwing you over his shoulder and almost teleporting to the lake.

The rest didn't really know the intent behind it. You were never this bold with them, certainly not bold enough to suggest skinny dipping.

Your lips started to twitch due to having strained a smile for too long, but you had to pull through. Even when Douma started to undress you, his fingertips adressing every curve with care, you pulled through.

This went on for weeks. It would have been suspicious if you wanted to go swimming every night—you just waited for Douma to suggest it again, which he did, a lot. Even Kokushibo made a subtle comment about it once.

But you knew tonight was the night to make all gears turn.

Muzan had been the one wanting to go for a swim. You had purposely riled him up the whole day long just so he would make this suggestion. A calculated action turning into a wanted outcome.

The other three were out on a mission, just like you had planned.

It was just him and you.

Your legs were wrapped around him, your lips on his, your mind out of your body.

Muzan was in a state of delirium when you cried his name, begged him for more. You knew what he liked, what he expected, and like no other night, you gave it all. You defiled yourself, made your body an object he could own.

Just for this one chance.

When he was at the peak of his high, when you knew his senses were jumbled and overloaded, you pushed a mouthful of wisteria into his mouth—death's kiss.

-

Hihi

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for asking out my manager?

Hi there. Trust me this is a WIBTA and not just dating advice.

So I (35F) am basically working at my dream workplace. I cant say what exactly, because I know people follow this account there, but suffice to say its in a desirable industry with a lot of passionate folks, and while its a big (~150 people) place, there's an atmosphere of kindness and joy I've never seen anywhere else. I know a lot of you probably hate me for this, but I am truly aware how rare a workplace this is, and I am grateful. I dont take it for granted. Sometimes the work itself truly sucks, and the pay is outright atrocious, but when your coworkers have your back, it makes all the difference. They accept me even tho I'm trans, and when I've been sick or injured they make sure I'm taken care of. I feel like they are a family of sorts, and I've been working there for over a year now.

Anyways, this wonderful place is held up by a lot of wonderful people, but one in particular is my manager (30F). When I first got hired, I noticed she was cute, but more importantly she was welcoming and accepting. I set aside those feelings, of course, because its a workplace, but they havent gone away.

But lately, this all started to change. We now spend a lot of talking! We have lots of common interests, and there have been nights when both of us will stay for HOURS while the other works, just to chat about whatever! We even text a bit, even about not-work things. Sharing fandom stuff, whatever. The more and more we talked, the more I fell for her. I could hear her go on for days, even if its something I dont care about. Hell, she could read the dictionary and I'd be sitting there grinning because I get to hear her talk. I've got it bad! And then, a few weeks ago, she even brings up how she's given up on dating...but before I could ask more or say anything really, a coworker interrupted and the moment passed.

And here I am, weeks later, smitten like crazy. And I'd say "oh she obviously likes me, she sticks around for you, shares stuff with you" but she's like this with everyone. She's a bit airheaded honestly about it, I mostly find it endearing, but she could absolutely just be doing it because she talks like that to everyone. She's bisexual, and very pro-trans, so I dont think that would be an issue in any way.

But here's where the WIBTA part comes: I have told a couple other coworkers, and they brought up not only that its a dangerous move to date a manager, but also that it could hurt the workplace itself. I mean, this is a place where so many people get to have a joyful opportunity at life, and as I've said this is tremendously rare...what if I take up too much of this manager's time, and she cant be there for other workers? What if this manager gets fired for dating an underling, and gets replaced by someone awful? There's a whole lot of what-if's floating through my mind.

And then I start thinking, if I ask her out, wouldnt that be putting her in an awkward position? I mean if she doesnt like me, and has to turn me down, she still has to work with me, and I her. I can compartmentalize that, but...she might have more trouble. Is it selfish of me to even try, when I could just let well enough be? And on top of that, what did she mean by "giving up on dating"? It didnt sound like she was aromantic, just that she decided it wont happen, but maybe its just going to be a problem if I ask her out. It feels like the stakes of even asking her out are so high. So I keep chatting with her in hopes that I'll catch a lead, but...idk.

Anyways, I am primarily concerned with if it would be a dick move to anyone in my workplace, especially her, but genuinely I am just lost here. I've never dated anyone at a workplace, but like. The dating apps suck, and I dont think I've ever felt this way about anyone before. I've even thought about quitting or finding another workplace to make it an easier decision, but I feel like thats even worse; like it would put pressure on her to date me because I quit for her or something. So how about it? Should I keep my mouth shut, or is love truly worth all risks?

What are these acronyms?