#SHOUT OUT TO ECHOS EARS

[greyangelpain]

The fact that echo abandoned his neuro implant so he could more effectively save omega HAS ME IN TEARS

He abandoned the one thing that keeps his brain his and safe from being controlled again without hesitation to save his family!

(AND YOU CAN ALREADY SEE HIM STRUGGLING TO UNSCOMP WITHOUT IT)

[dumbbitchgalore]

Happy Wife, Happy Life 🤷🏽‍♀️ (🌽 Link)

Old Man!Price with a huge beer belly is always excited when you cook him a home cooked meal.

During his time in the SAS, John would absentmindedly fantasise about the bliss of domesticity. Of coming home to a well-loved house filled with knick-knacks with you giving John a soft smile while telling him that dinner will be on the table in a few.

Sometimes John tries to think about what religious good that he has ever done to have you in his life and he is fully convinced that domestic bliss does not exist without you in it. Pride and pity fills him up when he thinks about all the sad bastards out there who have never had the privilege of seeing you.

With all those years of training, he's developed some self restraint. He doesn't pounce straight away, wanting to take his sweet time with you.

John will sit in the living room watching you cook a hearty meal for the two of you, in your apron and not so cute pyjamas underneath which gives you such a wifely hue that he can never get over.

You plate dinner up and fix the dining table for dinner before you beckon him to sit down and eat. The mundanity of the conversation is what makes John's mind run a mile a minute. Having a beautiful wife, a delicious meal and talking about anything and everything that does relate to work. He can finally switch his mind off, he's away from the screams and shouts of the battlefield and is in the security of the four walls you share together,

Instead of the cries of the innocent and the ricochet of rockets banging in his eardrums, it's your sweet voice and loud laughs that echo in his ear like the melody of sirens. He's entranced and he only falls deeper. After dinner, John will help you clear the table, wash the dirty dishes and put away the leftovers for tomorrow's lunch.

You and John both walk to your bedroom and make your way to the en suite with John tailing behind you. Getting started with your nightly routine, he'll walk up behind you slowly yet purposefully, resting his hands on your hips before snaking his burly arms around your waist with your back flush against his chest, earning a chuckle from you. 

A searing kiss on your shoulder, making his way to the curve of your neck, licking and nipping. Your face begins to flush and feel hot. A quiet, content sigh leaves your lips as John nuzzles into your neck with one hand squeezing your tits occasionally pinching your nipple. 

“Come on, petal. The bed’s right there.” He’ll murmur against your skin like a lovesick puppy. 

You try to protest only to have John already tugging you away from the bathroom sink to the bed. He’ll push you into the bed, settling in between your thighs. John will look up, hungry, desperate and absolutely pathetic. Peppering your inner thigh with chaste kisses, he makes his way to your clothed cunt. 

“Been missing this good girl.” John buries his face into your cunt as it begins to soak your panties slightly. Groaning at the scent of you, he sucks on your panties. His saliva mixing with the arousal staining your panties. Eyes dilating as your soft mewls reverberate off the walls, John gets drunk of your noises. 

“Forgot to take Viagra, hun. It’s just my mouth and hands for the night.” He looks at you apologetically. 

You groan, hastily taking off your panties before shoving his face forcefully into your sopping pussy.

“More than enough, big bear.” A shudder gasp leaves your lips as John sucks on your clit, your thighs lock his head in place, pulling him even closer than before. 

Blissful domesticity. John’s addiction.

[strangerstilinski]

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 +𝟏𝟖

you're pleasure is so important to eddie. his one goal every time you fuck is to give you the most blinding, intense orgasm possible, but once he makes you cum all bets are off. that's when he really lets loose because then he's just chasing his own end. his whole weight comes down against you. crushes you beneath him and it's slick and warm with your combined sweat and his thrusts get wild, earth shatteringly hard. just plowing home in desperate search of release and it's so goddamn overstimulating, his hips slamming little ah ah ah's out of you with every frantic hump

you can practically feel his moans echoing in your skull, hardly dulled by his face buried in the pillows beneath you, his sweat-damp curls tickling at your face

and oh man.. thinking about him just pressing you so deep into the mattress. he's so sweaty. it's hard to keep ahold of him, your fingers scramble, nails biting into his slippery skin in an effort to keep him in your grasp. you can barely breathe, you're still winded from your orgasm and he's laying on top of you, he's panting and whining into your neck, POUNDING into you so so desperately because shit he's close

his thrusts get erratic but simultaneously harder and so much more powerful. his balls are slapping your ass and it's sloppy. it's loud. he's making noises into your ear that have you losing your goddamned Mind

and when he finally cums? it's borderline fucking violent

his moan is practically a shout against the curve of your throat. he slams into you so hard that it pushes you up the mattress a little. it has him gripping your shoulder and hip to keep you in place m, to force your further onto his cock until you're nearly crying at how deep he is and, god, he just KEEPS CUMMING. tightening his arms and rutting into you with these little groans that practically vibrate your skull and-

[suguann]

Ex-husband!Gojo who doesn’t understand that the parents (mostly the moms who try to hide behind their giant sunglasses) at Mio’s soccer games talk, and he chooses today to pull you into his lap. Several sideways glances cast your way at how cozy you both must look as you watch your four-year-old daughter run in the wrong direction across the field because she got distracted by a butterfly.

He doesn’t hear what they talk about—aren’t they divorced? I’ve never seen anyone divorced act like that—or (worse) when they try to be subtle about their probing into Satoru’s dating life while you stand there with a stilted smile plastered onto your face. 

(More than likely, he’s listened to every word and doesn’t give it the same amount of thought or care as you do.)

“Gojo,” you hiss, trying to move off his lap to no avail. “I have my own chair.”

“Can you still call me that if it’s your name too?”

A huff. “Go bother somebody else—”

“Shh,” he tells you, tugging you further against his chest. “You’re missing the game. Mio’s finally found her way back onto the field again.”

“But everyone’s staring at us.” You catch the eye of a mother tearing into a pack of fruit snacks.

“So? Let them stare.”

Everyone starts cheering, and you both watch Mio chase the ball down the field, her little body ducking between the taller kids. 

“That’s my girl!” Gojo shouts over the other parents.    

And then Mio kicks the ball into— 

The wrong goal.

“Maybe we should have let her join t-ball,” you whisper, though you both clap as your daughter starts doing not-quite cartwheels in the middle of the field.

Ex-husband!Gojo who still does work around the house every Friday, and to your dismay, shirtless now that the weather is warmer.

The plate in your hands has a few scuffs, half of a cartoon character’s face scrubbed off to oblivion that Mio will have something to say about later. Doing everything to stop from staring out into the yard where he’s mowing the lawn because the window is right there, above the sink, to tempt you.

It’s difficult when his chest glistens with sweat from the early-summer heat and how those stupid gray cotton shorts (that you know he picked out with the sole purpose of torturing you) sit dangerously low on his hips— 

He looks towards the kitchen window, a crooked smile stretching across his lips. The blood rushing to your brain, that must be what makes you give a sudsy wave and cause heat to creep into your middle.

Ex-husband!Gojo who strolls into your room while you’re putting away laundry one afternoon, and unsurprisingly shirtless as he crowds you against the dresser. Front to back. His mouth at your ear.

That steady resolve you pride yourself in crumbles at your feet, and you swallow the tiny, helpless sound working its way up your throat. A slippery thing that slips out. “Satoru…”

“You know, these little shorts were always my favorite,” he tells you, his fingers playing with the elastic waistband.

“Were they?”

“Don’t you remember? Couldn’t get them out of the way fast enough.”

Your mouth is dry, something playing in a loop in the back of your brain. Early morning, breakfast cooling on the stove, crumbs stuck to your cheek, these shorts dangling off the leg propped up on the counter—

“Where’s Mio?”

A kiss to your nape, a knowing smile. “Taking a nap.”

Ex-husband!Gojo who works your shorts and underwear off your legs before pulling you to the edge of the bed. 

“Satoru, we—we can’t keep doing this—”

Your words trail off into a moan when he slaps your clit with the leaky tip of his cock, and wet sounds echo in the room.

“Yeah? Go on, baby,” he tells you, slowly splitting you open, stuffing you full, two puzzle pieces slotting perfectly into place like it should be (how it’s always been). “Tell me some more why we can’t keep doing this.” 

You can’t, not with how he’s filling you up in the way only he knows how. Not when he hooks two thick fingers into your mouth because you’re getting too loud, pinning you against the bed with your cheek buried into your pillow, every sound choking into nothing.

You wriggle underneath him, fingers clawing at the comforter and your back arching.

“Christ, look at you,” he growls, leaning over you, teeth bared. “Fucking look at you. You needed this, didn’t you?”

Ex-husband!Gojo who presses what leaks out back inside you with his thumb after he pulls out, wet and sticky circles between your legs until you fall apart again with a soft cry. His thumb is there again, at your entrance, pushing and stopping like a plug, muttering something under his breath that sounds like, “Can’t waste it.” 

And quieter, “Maybe it’ll take.”

(Who knows?

Maybe it will. Worse things have happened.)

Ex-husband!Gojo who stays for dinner for the fourth time that week, and none of the reasons have been because Mio asked if he could. It’s more about the fact that you’ve enjoyed how whole your family feels again, that you can pretend for a moment this is what you do every night.

(How it was probably always going to come back to this.) 

That your wedding ring doesn’t sit in the back of your sock drawer, and his isn’t tucked away in his wallet. That you don’t feel guilty when you think about saying I love you or wishing he’d stay longer—

“Daddy, you gonna lose,” Mio tells Satoru as Mario Kart appears on the screen.

“We’ll see,” he laughs, tugging on one of her pigtails until she’s giggling and swatting his hand away.

You lean back against the couch, watching them with a small smile you share with Satoru over your daughter’s head.

[uzurakis]

NEARLY C★UGHT IN THE ACT!

featuring: fushiguro megumi. itadori yuuji. gojo satoru. geto suguru. (characters are all aged up)

NSFW MDNI. fuck! ya almost got caught screwing . .

n. been in the drafts for way too long.. cz i needa clear my reqs but idc! i’ve been wanting to write this for the longest time. enjoy my lovelies <3

GOJO SATORU. “s-shit, how much i’ve missed this view,” gojo was sitting in his office desk, slighty pulling your hair to guide you to the rhythm he wanted. you felt yourself melting into him with his warm shaft in your mouth, ever soo big and too much for you, bobbing your head up and down.

just then, a sharp knock echoed through the room, startling you both. your heart raced as you instinctively tried to pull back from gojo. “s-satoru, we—“ his hand gripped your scalp more firmly than before, making you swallow his shaft until it hit the back of your throat. in other words, he didn’t fucking care. “just do your job, darling. and relax, they won’t come in.”

“even if they do come in, we’ll just say we were having a very hands-on discussion.”

GETO SUGURU. “i’m sorry, princess,” he whispered beside your ear as he hit you raw from behind, both pressed against each other in the dim light of a public restroom. his hands gently putting your hair to the side, “i just, ngh, need you so badly,” whilst his lips found yours again, silencing any further protest.

the sound of footsteps outside the door made you freeze, heart pounding in your chest as the door handle rattled. “someone’s out t-there,” you tried to say as you held back the moans. yet not only your heart was pounding like crazy, it seemed your boyfriend was also still pounding your walls despite the chance you two will get caught screwing in public.

“j-just a little longer,” he pleaded as the groans left his lips again. “i can’t get enough of you.”

ITADORI YUUJI. watching movies together was the original plan, until itadori’s cock twitched because you were sitting on his lap. your ass brushed against his bulge and that’s it. he couldn’t hold it any longer.

a split second later his boxers are on the floor, your panties pushed aside as he rocked your waist front and back. better than the movies, he thought, “i’m havin’ a nice view, baby.” you circled your hands on his shoulders when suddenly you heard a knock on the door. “shit,” itadori murmured as he panicked, slowing down the pace a bit. “i’ll handle this.”

“uh, 10 minutes! don’t come in!” he shouted deafeningly, you were certain that if the person still opened the door, they must have hearing problems to miss that loud shout. “see? problem solved. now, where were we?”

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI. with a frustrated groan, he hovered above you, laying your leg on one of his shoulders and pumping two digits in and out of your hole while he ran a hand through his hair. “why did you have to sneak in here? tsk,” a groan fell from his mouth, “you’re going to get us caught one of these days,” he grumbled, but his fingers playing around your pussy said otherwise.

“because i—ah,” you were the one squirming under his touch, “i-i wanted to be with you—“

“fushiguroo, are you there?” came the voice from the other side of the door. megumi sighed, his expression quickly shifting to one of annoyance. “busy!” he called out, forcing his other fingers over your throat to stop you from making any noise, and tried to keep his voice steady while fucking your insides. “idiot, just keep quiet, okay?”

@uzurakis

[agirlsguidetolove]

I THOUGHT YOU KNEW

pairings: theodore nott x reader

word count: 0.9k

summary: “i thought you knew?” “you thought i knew we were dating?” “yes!” “how would i know that, nott, you never told me.”

Theodore Nott had dead eyes. That was something you had learned early on in your friendship with the boy; never expect his eyes to tell you anything. But, right now, you couldn’t help but wonder if your own advice was wrong because the look he was giving you in the moment was the farthest thing to dead. Alive.

Theodore’s eyes were ablazed, like you had lit a match in his face just as he had done with his cigarettes the night before. They looked on fire as he glared off at you, standing and chatting with some Ravenclaw boy who had decided to make the stupid of going to a slytherin party and talking to Theo’s girl.

It was a common fact that you and Theo had something, everyone knew. Well, maybe except for you.

Maybe that’s why you hadn’t expected for Theodore to waltz up to you and your new friend and throw an arm over your shoulder, and stand and listen to you too talk, not saying a word.

“Think we should get out of here?” Was the first thing he said to you, well, whispered into your ear, pulling you closer.

“I’m okay here, Teddy,” you said. Theo visible softened, melting into you at the nickname only you were allowed to call him. “You can go, though. I’ll be alright, promise.”

Theo smiled at you as you patted his arm that was wrapped around your shoulder, watching as your attention drifted back to whoever this guy was. He sighed.

“I know,” Theo started before your Ravenclaw friend interrupted.

“Yeah, mate, we’ll be okay,” he said. Theo hardened, dead eyes becoming colder as he took his arm off your shoulder, stepping forward and shoving the guy.

“Was I fucking talking to you, mate?” he spit.

“Woah!” you cut, pulling Theo back with your hand to his chest, “What the hell, Theo?”

“Yeah,” the Raveclaw pants. “What the hell, Nott? Calm down!”

Theodore sneers, glaring harshly ate the boy before hissing, “Fuck off,” and pushing past him and bumping his shoulder aggressively as he makes his way out of the common room.

Staring of at his fuming figure you quickly apologize to the boy before chasing off after Theo. When you find him, he’s angrily pacing through the hallway, running a hand through his hair.

“Theo,” you state angrily. Theo’s head whips to where you stand before shaking his head and choosing to walk away from you and down the hall.

“Theo!” you yell, walking quickly behind him. “What the fuck was that about? Can you wait for a second and talk to me?”

Theo stops, allowing you to catch up to him. You can practically see the steam coming out when he turns to you. “What am I supposed to do?” he asks bitterly. “Just let him flirt with you?”

“What?” you ask, just as bitter. “What are you talking about? Why’d you have to fucking shove, Dylan?”

Dylan. Theodore scoffs, getting madder by the second. He takes a step closer, towering over you. “So I’m just supposed to stand there when some prick is running up on my girlfriend!”

Girlfriend? What the hell was he on about. “Girlfriend?” you question, softer.

“Yes! You’re my girlfriend!” Theodore shouted. He just wasn’t getting it, was he?

“What?” you spluttered. “Since when?”

“What,” Theo got quieter.

“i didn’t know…” you said. “when did we start dating?…o-officially?”

“You didn’t know?” he repeated, incredulous. “I… I thought… I thought you knew?”

“You thought I knew we were dating?” You were getting louder, voice echoing off the walked.

“Yes!” Theo yelled, eyes getting sadder.

“How would I know that, Nott, you never told me!”

Theodore shakes his head, again getting gentle. “Don’t start calling me ‘Nott’ now, angel, you don’t do that.”

“Theo,” you reiterated, taking a breath. “When did we— when did we start ‘dating’.”

Theo looks like a kicked puppy when he says, “Last trip to Hogsmeade. We kissed.”

Looking at the ground, you say, “Just because we kissed doesn’t mean we’re dating.”

“To me, it did!”

“You kiss plenty of girls that you’re not dating!” you argue.

Theo scoffs, “They’re not you, now are they?”

“Teddy,” you say, tears quickly forming in your eyes. Looking up at him, he purses his lips, heart breaking in his chest. “Why couldn’t you have just asked me to be your girlfriend?”

“Love, I… I thought you knew, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” you swallow, hugging yourself with your own arms, still holding in your tears. “Well, I didn’t.”

It’s silent between you both for a moment, nothing but you staring at the floor and Theo staring at you. Theo takes a small step forward, his hands touching where you hold yourself. “Would you?” he says, “Be my girlfriend, if I asked?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, looking up at him, “if you’d ask, you dick.”

Theo chuckles, dipping his head low and putting his lips against yours. His lips are so soft, despite how he tastes like liquor and cigarettes. He breaks apart from you, hand coming to caress your cheek. “Would you be my girlfriend?”

“Yes, I would.”

not proof read 🧸

i 🫶 theo nott

[a-ikuoliver]

happy birthday to the man!! — katsuki sees your sex toys once and is haunted by what you look like using them

pairing: bakugou x f!reader w/c: 1.5k warning/s: nsfw 18+, m! & f!masturbation; sex toys, i think that's everything notes: this is a bit short BUT i had to get something out for the man, this took me like 2 weeks to write but hopefully now i'll be out of my slump a little bit! pls enjoy c:

crossposted to ao3 • masterlist • wip updates & voting • kofi • askbox

fuck… he really doesn’t know when the lines started to blur between friend and fantasy, from wanting to hang out with you to wanting you, from talking to you about your day to being bricked up hearing your voice. yet, here he was, hot water streaming down his neck, plastering damp hair to his forehead; the water pouring over his head nowhere near enough to wash his mind of you.

he’d been plagued by you, morning to night, even in his damn dreams since he tried to find a phone charger at your place.

it’s not like he was snooping, he wasn’t trying to find that sort of thing, bakugou was only trying to find your spare charger, he’d seen you put it in one of these drawers before, how was he meant to know you left your spare chargers right below all of that?

he’d slammed the drawer shut the absolute second he realised exactly what he was staring at; the bedside drawer stuffed to the brim with bright, phallic toys, a collection of smaller, rounder vibrators, something that looked awfully similar to a gag, and he heard the telltale metal clinking of at least one pair of handcuffs against the wood when he slammed it closed. embarrassing heat crawled up his neck, burning his cheeks and setting the very tips of his ears alight. stuck in the same spot, mouth half opened dumbly, his eyebrows creased in the centre of his face, all blood rushing from his brain down to his half-hard cock already straining against his pants, the need making him ache.

every hour since that, he’d spent thinking of what your wet cunt looked like swallowing the toys; so pretty and drippy, how it looked tensing around nothing when you came from the buzzing of your vibrator, how you’d look writhing and moaning handcuffed with that gag in your mouth, how your drool would stain your shirt, sticking the fabric to your skin. god, it was just so lewd, even under the purifying water, he felt dizzy, sticky, hot, sweaty, the image of your toys burnt into his retinas, no matter what he tried to distract himself with, he always saw your toys at the forefront of his mind, the perverted imagery refusing to budge from its newfound home.

bakugou groans, a deep, rough sound drowned out by the even buzzing echoing in his ears, the sound slowly building, kicking to a new level when your whine drowns it out. you always start nearly silent in his dreams, just tiny gasps escaping your parted lips when you’d nestle the toy right against your clit. you only get louder from there, your eyebrows scrunching together like his own were, marking two little tallies in the middle, tilting upwards at the centre as you pulled your lip up between your teeth. the motion did absolutely nothing to muffle your sounds, your whimpers and moans only growing louder with every heave of your chest, every passing moment with the vibrator pressed to your pulsing clit making your hips jolt into it.

you reach between your thighs with a whine that sounds all too similar to his name torn from your lips, dipping your fingertips in your slick cunt, collecting all the cum gathering at your trembling hole without even taking a breather from humping your vibrator like your life depended on it. your movements grew jerkier and jerkier the longer the intense vibrations were held to your drooling pussy, your eyes fluttering closed with a breathless shout of his name, shaky, wet thighs squeezing around your hand, even as the vibrator slipped from your grip, falling forgotten onto the sheets beneath you, the constant stimulation growing too much for you—

“fuck.” he really couldn’t help it, his hand travelling lower down his abdomen, trailing behind droplets of water still running down his torso to his hard cock, the tip already leaking from the thought of you. wrapping his fist around the base of his cock, he squeezed once before twisting his wrist, slowly jerking his cock, wondering if you were in your shower doing the same, fucking yourself on one of your toys imagining him in its place just as he wished it was your warm cunt squeezing around his dick instead of his hand.

“katsukiii—” bakugou can feel you beside him, your figure displacing the dense steam surrounding him, a heavy, thick silicone dildo hanging from the glass wall of the shower, your figure slick and soapy from the shower, damp hair sticking to the soft skin of your neck and face when you bent at the waist, lining the tip of the plastic cock up with your drooling hole. the head of the cock would slide into your cunt all too easily in his fantasies, always greedy to watch you take more and more, inch by inch sinking onto it. your mouth falls further open the more you take of the toy, the pleasure too much for you to even hold your head up by the time your ass was pressed against the cool glass, your back arching with the tip of the dildo nestled deep inside your cunt. he wonders if the curve of it would rub on your g-spot at this angle, if it would drive you crazy grinding against the glass, whining when you can’t take it anymore.

bakugou’s head falls back thinking of you reaching for the shower head, his cock pulsing in his hand when he grips the base, his muscles tensing and relaxing while he tried desperately not to cum; the image of you playing behind his eyelids making that a near impossible task. even with his eyes squeezed shut, there you are at the forefront of his mind, switching the settings of the shower head to a concentrated stream, aimed directly at your aching clit, your broken moan jolting his hips forward into his hand, stroking the length languidly. your voice wavered, repeating his name again, the stimulation inside and outside your cunt just so overwhelming.

bracing against the tile with your spare hand, you lift yourself back off the toy, the base suctioned to the glass remaining stuck as you grew quicker in your movements, starting to bounce and roll your hips in a smooth tempo. he matches the pace of your hips with his fist, his breath coming out in nothing but deep huffs. his uneven groans were nothing compared to your sweet chorus of moans and whines, an endless symphony playing in his head of “ah-ah-ah”’s and “mmmng”’s the closer you got, your cum coating the toy just like his pre was smearing all over his fist.

he can’t help the guttural sound that escapes him next, a garbled, broken version of your name when your thighs tremble, your knees only moments away from buckling from the pure bliss; the water is still aimed at your clit, even when you can’t bounce on the dildo anymore, wave after wave of pleasure drowning you until your eyes rolled into your skull and your cum gathered in a creamy ring at the base of the toy, your ass flattening against the glass as you greedily took more of the toy, intensifying the euphoria wracking through your body. he knows your toy fills your cunt so perfectly, knows how you’d hump the air to get more and more of the water aimed at your clit, unrelenting in chasing your orgasm, jolting and jerking until your knuckles turned white against the tile wall, until your voice was so high and loud it didn’t even sound like you anymore.

he wonders if you’d ever screamed taking the fake cock, if you’d ever been so overwhelmed you squealed, your pretty cunt clenching around the toy, milking the poor plastic for everything it can’t give you, or if he’d be the first to make you cum so intensely.

“ka-aa-ki—” you can’t even spit his name out, your name the same mess on his plump lips, caught so hard between sharp teeth he worries he’ll split the thin skin. all his muscles tense, his abdomen clenching low on his stomach, the veins stretching along the underside of his cock throbbing with the need to join you in the throes of pleasure, to cover your cunt in milk white cum you desperately tried to squeeze from the silicone.

your name is a choked mantra tumbling from his lips, over and over again, dark crimson eyes rolling into the back of his skull the longer you bounced on the toy, pinching sensitive nipples between your slippery, soapy fingers, dragging your orgasm out as long as you could, as long as he would, until your knees were weak and your couldn't even manage to dumbly spit out his name anymore.

“fuck.” he damn near whines, a mess of cum covering his fingers, coating his knuckles as he kept fucking his fist through the waves of his own orgasm, shivering even with the hot water running down his body, cleaning his hand even as he continued to stroke his cock, relaxing his muscles as his toes still curled, his knuckles stark white against the tile.

his head fell forward onto the cooling tile, a temporary relief for the haziness swirling around in the steam.

shit, how was he meant to look you in the eyes after this?

© all works belong to @a-ikuoliver, @gwen0m, and dlirious on archive of our own, do not plagiarise, translate, repost, feed my works into ai or recommend my work on other platforms, or bind my fanworks for sale.

[mostly-imagines]

At Least I’m Not Alone at the Wake

jason todd x fem!reader

aka how jason feels safe even when he feels like he’s dying

HEY today we’re going to play a game where we practice reblogging fics: if you read this and like it—reblog!! ie, if you like and dont reblog i might block bc im getting sick of the lack of decorum

warnings: angst w comfort throughout

It took less than thirty seconds for the silence of the night to drift into sounds of shrieks echoing off the buildings along the street. The sharp contrast had you and Jason bolting upright on the couch, ears on alert. It only took a few seconds more of listening for you to realize you’re not hearing shouting—it’s laughter. Maniacal, uncontrolled laughter. 

There’s a beat as you both freeze upon the implication, the unsettling realization dropping in on you. You barely have a moment to process it before Jason’s pushing up from the couch and heading towards the bathroom.

“Close the window,” he grumbles.

You blink as you register his words before jumping up to do as told, quickly sliding the frame shut and locking it. He returns soon with an armful of towels in hand, and you stand back as he stuffs a couple along the window sill with rough movements. He goes throughout the apartment, doing the same to the other windows. He rounds back to the living room window, looking down at the street with a heavy look on his face. 

You trust that the towels will do their job in preventing the laughing gas from getting in the apartment, but they’re unable to block out the bellows of hysteria.

He backs away from the window, letting the living room wall hold his weight. You both listen to the harrowing echoes with still bodies. 

You watch him, waiting for a reaction. You don’t mean to, but you know you’re looking at him like he’s a loaded spring. You try not to, you know how much he hates how his family does that to him, but fuck, it’s hard not to worry about him.

When Joker incidents have come up, they’ve usually been something you’re able to ignore or even get ahead of and drive out of the city. But this is raucous and chaotic, clearly enough to shut down the city from the inside. Besides, Jason would be booking it out of here if he thought there was any chance of a clean getaway in this.

But you know he’s got no interest in inserting himself in anything Joker related, especially something so destabilizing.

While you know Jason’s family cares about him, of course they do, but you’ve noticed they sometimes put Gotham’s needs first and his second. So the severity of this attack is concerning for you for two reasons.

“Will they…” you shuffle, “Will they need you?”

He’s quick to answer, voice firm. “No.” A long moment passes before he adds on, quieter, “They won’t want me out there.”

You nod to yourself, trying to relax your body. You being on edge isn’t going to help him.

You watch as his head thumps against the wall, eyes squeezed shut. He’s tough—you know he’s tough. He can withstand a hell of a lot more than you’ll probably ever even know. But even for Gotham, this is a lot. And even for someone who hasn’t been through what Jason has, the ringing repetitions of laughter are maddening. You wonder if this is what the Joker hears in his head. You wonder if this is what Jason heard.

The intensity of the laughing increases, more people likely becoming exposed to the gas. You think you can hear it in one of your neighbor’s apartments too.

He thumps his head against the drywall again, hands clenching at his sides. It takes one more forceful thud for you to move over to him, cradling your hand to the side of his head, holding him still. He lets you, though he still doesn’t open his eyes.

“Jay,” you say softly, stroking his hair. “Let’s take a shower, yeah?” Normally you’d try for a bath to calm him instead but you hope the waterfall from the shower might be enough to drown out the noise.

He takes a second to respond, letting your hand bear the weight of his head. “Yeah.”

His voice is splintered though, and his shoulders droop as he stands up fully. He waits to move until you start to lead him, flinching at every spike of laughter. You reach back and take his hand, giving it two squeezes. He squeezes your hand back but doesn’t loosen his grip.

As you enter the bathroom he wastes no time getting straight to the shower nozzle and turning it on. You press the door shut behind you, sealing out a decent portion of the chaos. You decide against turning the overhead light on, opting instead to let the small pink-shaded lamp provide a warm glow that you can easily maneuver throughout the shadows in. You figure he needs a more tranquil atmosphere than the harsh white light the bathroom ceiling can provide.

You turn to him in time to catch him pulling his shirt up harshly, movements jerked and impatient.

You place a gentle hand on his forearm, “Hey.”

He pauses his actions, eyes on the floor.

You don’t say anything else, but he understands your objection regardless. You remove your touch and he peels his shirt off slower, kinder to himself. 

You wait to make sure he continues this method with the rest of his clothes before you start to remove yours.

The downpour of water on the tiles does it’s intended job in creating your own little sanctum away from the noise. You climb into the shower after him, standing in the stray mist sprays that made their way past him. The bits of water that do manage their way to you are hot—not scalding, but hot enough that you know his chest is going to start getting numb very soon standing in front of the stream like this. 

You trace lines over the muscles of his back, outlining them and every little indent of a scar. When you run out of canvas on his back you move onto his arms, right then left.

It’s not until you trace down his wrist that you realize his head is angled down. You don’t need to be standing in front of him to know that his focus is zeroed in on his scar and you’re not sure how long it's been that way. Too long, in any case.

“Jay,” you say so softly that the water nearly drowns you out. “Will you look at me, please?”

He does turn to you, slowly, but he doesn’t look up.

You hold his face in your hands, nudging him to look up at you. He looks tired, drained. 

You know he has to hear that laughter in a different way than you do. It’s uncomfortable and frightening for you, but for him, it’s layers upon layers of the sound he heard while he was being beaten to death. And even beyond that horrible trauma, the reminder of it brings forth every memory of what happened afterwards, not to mention the heavy baggage you know he feels over being here at all. And you can see it all mulling behind his eyes.

“You know I love you,” you tell him with sincerity. His gaze stays heavy and you can tell it’s a struggle for him to hold the eye contact.

You lean up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, catching his bottom lip slightly. Your next kiss meets his lips fully. You have to push up on your toes a little bit but he does the work of meeting you halfway. It’s a slow, intimate exchange, as fluid and serene as breathing.

“I love all of you,” you murmur against his lips. You let your hands fall to his chest, resting as gently as they can over his pecs. “Everything about you.”

You kiss the top of his Y scar, trailing down soft pecks to where it forks off. You feel his shoulders sag a bit, tension forcing its way out of him. You lean down to continue your kisses down the vertical line marking his abdomen, your hands lightly following in your wake.

He says your name painfully, like he’s begging you to stop. You’ll give him partial reprieve, taking his hands in yours and kissing his scarred knuckles. It’s his instinct to push affection away, you know that, but you also know that he needs it. That’s why he doesn’t stop you now—he knows he needs it—it’s just a lot for him all at once, emotionally. Which is why he gives no warning before he picks you up by your thighs and pulls you close. 

He’s got you a full head higher than him and he uses the difference to hide his face in your neck. Sometimes he feels like that’s the only place he can go. He maneuvers you around so your back is pressed up against the wall as you hold each other tight.

You stay in there like that until the water runs cold, and then some. You have to nudge him a bit into setting you back down then, but he does, letting you collect and wrap the both of you in towels. The second the water turns off you can hear the cackling through the walls. 

As you return to the bedroom, he only bothers to pull on a pair of boxers before collapsing his weight onto the mattress. The lack of layers won’t help him any, but you know why he did it.

He can’t always look after himself the way he should—he disregards his own needs and has trouble even thinking of what could help him. You’ve developed a mind for it though—for him—and you know that being exposed and vulnerable like this isn’t going to help him calm down. He prefers being covered up when he’s stressed, it gives him more security, you think.

You open up the dresser and dig through for his most comfortable hoodie and sweatpants. He takes them from you, but he looks remiss at the thought of exerting anymore energy right now, so you help him tug on the clothes, successfully blocking out the now icy air from the AC. 

Once he’s fully clothed he pulls you forward to sit on his lap. You stumble a bit on the way but he compensates by holding you very tight, not giving your body any option to fall. His grip on you tells you that he’s not concerned with you getting dressed too, which you’re perfectly willing to oblige.

You have to force him to let you break away a little bit so you can reach over to the nightstand and grab your phone and earbuds.

“Movie or music?”

He doesn’t say anything, only nods his head once at the end of your sentence. You take that to mean music and open up your playlist on your phone, handing him the headphones.

There’s a harsh spike in the hysterics outside, mixed with what sounds like screams, and it has Jason flinching hard. You think you can see tears welled in his eyes as he fumbles to get the headphones in his ears. He takes the phone from you and picks the first song he sees and turns the volume up, up, up.

You shift yourself around so that you’re laying back against the pillows, giving him room to lay down over your legs, wrapping his arms around your waist with a firm grip. You pull the hood up over his head, but keep your hands woven underneath, threading through his hair. 

His cheek mushes against your bare stomach, and with the way he’s laying, you’re sure the earbuds are digging uncomfortably into his ear. He makes no effort to move in any case. You can hear the song playing word for word, and while the noise exposure concerns you, if there was ever a time to let it go, it would be now.

You’re both wrapped up nicely in the blankets and you can only see the tip of his nose and a few strands of ivory hair strewn past his forehead. Despite all the snug layers, he shakes a bit under your touch.

He falls asleep before the problem outside gets wrapped up, and you turn down the music. Not all the way, just enough that he can rest in peace. 

After a while the giggles die down and aside from a few first responder sirens, things get quiet again. About twenty minutes later, Nightwing ducks in through your window and scares the hell out of you. The interaction does not, however, wake Jason up, which is how you know tonight took a very heavy toll on him.

Even though the lights aren’t on in your bedroom you slide down from the pillows a bit more and let the blanket and Jason drown your chest out from visibility.

Nightwing gives you a silent, if not awkward, wave and scans over Jason. Even in the dark can see the worry in his eyes. He looks back up at you and throws up a questioning thumbs up with a tilt of his head.

You nod and he nods back slowly as he takes one more look at his brother before hopping out the window.

You peer down at Jason and brush his curls back gently. His hold on you tightens just a bit as he turns in his sleep.

reblog or get out seriously

[rafecameronssl4t]

Missed me? || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader (love island au)

Summary: Rafe arrives at the villa as the newest bombshell 😝

Warnings: nothing rlly!!

Word count: 1,609

A/n: im so glad you guys are enjoying my love island au, put thru any requests you might have!

MASTERLIST (love island au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

"I'd rather that than-" Theo’s about to finish his sentence when his phone suddenly dings, snapping you both out of the moment. Your eyes widen in excitement as you sit up, and Theo’s face lights up. "I got a text!" he shouts, his voice carrying across the villa. Instantly, everyone around the pool and loungers lets out thrilled squeals, rushing over to where you and Theo are perched on the sunbed, eager to hear the news.

Theo holds up his phone dramatically, soaking up the attention, then reads aloud, “All islanders to the garden deck!” He pauses for effect, raising his brows as everyone hangs on his words. “Hashtag fun and games, hashtag don’t be scared.” His teasing smirk only fuels the buzz, and the whole group erupts with another round of happy cheers and squeals, all of you giddy at the idea of a game.

As the blindfold slips over your eyes, Theo’s fingers graze your cheeks, adjusting it gently. “Can you see anything?” he asks, a chuckle lacing his words. You can’t help but giggle, feeling the warmth of his hands as you hold onto his wrists for balance. “Nope,” you reply, playfully tugging his hands away.

Before you can say more, another familiar ding sounds from across the deck, and Leo clears his throat to read the message. “All boys to the balcony immediately,” he announces. A wave of gasps echoes among the girls, and you instinctively tense, butterflies fluttering as everyone tries to guess what this means. A bombshell, surely—it has to be.

“Girls, stay where you are with your blindfolds on,” Leo continues. Your jaw drops, excitement sparking as the tension in the air thickens. You can feel the guys shuffling around, some making teasing comments, others exchanging quick words. Suddenly, Theo’s hand is on your cheek, steadying you, and then his lips press against yours in a familiar, gentle kiss that makes your stomach flip.

“You better not enjoy it,” he murmurs against your lips, his tone carrying a playful but unmistakably serious edge. You let out a soft laugh, unable to help yourself. His hands linger for a second longer, and then you hear his footsteps retreat as he joins the other boys, leaving you and the other girls alone, blindfolded, and eagerly wondering who is about to walk in.

It takes only a few minutes before you hear the villa doors swing open, followed by the whispers of the boys on the balcony. Anticipation curls in your stomach as you wait, feeling every second drag out longer at the end of the line. The girls beside you giggle nervously, and you try to calm the growing thrill in your chest.

Suddenly, you hear the boys erupt in a chorus of surprised shouts, and confusion spikes—what could be causing such a reaction? Then, out of nowhere, a firm hand grips your chin, tilting your head up. Before you can even process what’s happening, warm, insistent lips press to yours in a kiss that is as bold as it is demanding.

The kiss catches you off guard, yet you find yourself instinctively leaning into it, feeling the urgency and heat of his touch. His hand tilts your jaw, deepening the kiss, while your fingers cling to his shirt for stability. The kiss is almost dizzying, and there’s something achingly familiar about it—the way his mouth moves over yours with a teasing, all-consuming intensity.

As he finally pulls away, his breath is warm against your ear. “Missed me?” The low, unmistakable voice sends a rush through you. Rafe. You let out a small, surprised laugh, giving him a playful shove, though your lips can’t help but lift in a smile. Rafe here? In the villa? As the new bombshell?

“What are you smiling for?” Theo’s voice cuts through the air from the balcony, irritation evident in his tone. Biting back a laugh, you hear Rafe’s deep, confident chuckle as he reaches up, pulling off your blindfold. Blinking in the bright sunlight, you see Rafe before you, grinning with a finger pressed to his lips, urging you to keep quiet.

Your eyes widen, the thrill of the situation hitting all at once. Without another word, he takes your hand, guiding you toward the steps with an air of cool confidence. Your gaze darts to the balcony, catching sight of Theo’s expressionless face, though the way his hands clenched at his sides told you he wasn't happy.

But before you can react, Rafe’s already leading you down the stairs. When you finally spot the villa door, it all clicks—you’re about to go on a date with him. Heart racing, you follow him outside, your head still spinning from the kiss and the whirlwind of it all.

~

“Your hair’s different,” you blurt out as soon as you both sit down, the words slipping out before you can filter them. Rafe chuckles, rubbing a hand over his freshly buzzed hair. “Yeah, wanted a change, y’know?” His gaze holds steady on you, and you feel the intensity as he takes in your features, studying you like he’s trying to remember every detail.

It’s surreal, sitting across from him after all this time. It’s been two years since you walked away from him, two years since you left the Outer Banks and everything that came with it. And now here he is, in Spain, on Love Island of all places. You try to shake off the memories and give him a warm, genuine smile. “So… how are you?” you ask, curious but careful.

Back then, Rafe had been drowning in a world of drugs and alcohol, and now you can’t help but wonder if the man in front of you has changed. His response is immediate, almost as if he’d anticipated the question. “I’m clean. If that was what you were wondering.” His tone is steady, but there’s an underlying edge, as if he’s been waiting for this chance to prove himself.

The swiftness of his answer catches you off guard, and he seems to notice, softening as he continues, “Since you left, I got my shit together. Took over Dad’s business. I’ve changed, Y/n.” His voice carries a sincerity that you can’t ignore, and for a moment, you see a different side of him—a version of Rafe who’s fought his own battles and come out the other side.

You reach across the table, your fingers brushing his as you give his hand a light, reassuring squeeze. “I’m glad to hear that, Rafe. Really.” His eyes drop to your hand, a flicker of something unspoken passing through his expression before you release him, pulling back. But he clears his throat, shifting slightly. “You’re with Theo?” he asks, his tone laced with curiosity as he leans back, watching your reaction.

You nod, meeting his gaze head-on. “Yeah? Didn’t seem like your type,” he says with a hint of his familiar teasing edge, though his eyes betray a flash of something deeper. You smirk, taking a sip of your drink. “Maybe my type changed when I moved to the city,” you tease, raising an eyebrow. His mouth quirks up, but before he can counter, you find yourself asking.

“Why me? You could’ve chosen any other girl to pull for a date—” “Because it’s you,” he cuts in, his voice soft but firm, like he’s been holding back those words for ages. The air shifts, and your lips part in surprise, your mind racing to come up with a response. But before you can, he leans in, his gaze piercing. “And because I’ve missed you.”

The sincerity in his voice leaves you momentarily speechless. Two years, miles apart, and yet here he is, still managing to unearth that old feeling buried deep inside. You don’t know what to say, the memories flooding back, bringing a rush of emotions you thought you’d left behind. “Give us another chance,” Rafe says, his voice filled with conviction as his eyes search yours.

You press your lips together, glancing down as a flood of emotions tugs you in different directions. A part of you wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all. After everything, after two years apart, he’s here in Spain asking for another chance. He looks different, sounds different, and maybe he’s changed, but the past still lingers, and you’re not sure you can trust him, or even yourself, to dive back in.

“Rafe…” you begin slowly, lifting your gaze to meet his. “I’m not going to lie—I’m skeptical. Things were messy between us before, and I don’t know if that’s something we can just… fix.” He nods, an understanding smile playing at his lips. “I get it. I don’t expect you to just jump back into this. I know I messed up. But I’ve worked on myself, and I want a chance to show you who I am now.”

You sigh, your fingers toying with the stem of your glass as you process his words. “I do see a difference in you… and I don’t want to just shut you out. Maybe we can give it another try, see if there’s still something here.” You bite your lip, feeling the flicker of hope you’re trying to keep under control.

“But I need you to know I’m not doing this lightly. If I’m going to open that door again, I need to be sure you’re all in.” Rafe’s expression softens, and he reaches across the table, his hand gently covering yours. “I’m all in. Whatever it takes. I just want a chance to make it right.” A small smile forms on your lips, and against all the doubts, you nod. “Okay, let’s try.”

[peachsukii]

✮ content. pro-hero!bakugo x pro-hero fem!reader. late 20 somethings + married w/ a toddler. family fluff while he’s away on a mission. slightly suggestive (aka Katsuki’s down bad for his wife). ;)

“Momma!” Your daughter shouts from the living room, the little pitter patters of her feet echoing down the hall as she sprints toward you with glee. “Phone’s ringing, pick it up, please!”

Her small hands shove the phone against your thigh, bouncing up and down in place with excitement. You tuck the folded towel in your arms into the closet and bend down to her level. When you take the phone from her, your husband’s name —💥Katsuki 👑💕— is displayed across the screen, accompanied by a photo of the three of you on your last beach trip. Clicking the “Accept” button, the visual of Katsuki in his hero costume appears, his attention focused on removing his gloves while waiting for you to answer.

“Hey handsome,” you greet, heart swelling when you catch him smirk at the compliment. “Someone’s been waiting for you to call.”

“An’ where’s my little girl at?”

Your daughter hops into view, jumping up and down with her hands waving frantically.

“Hi Daddy!” She giggles, dancing back and forth on her tip toes. “Did ya beat up the bad guys today?”

Katsuki laughs heartily, finally sitting on the bed in his hotel room. “Sure did. I’m keepin’ you and Momma safe. How’s school goin’?”

“S’good! I got a gold star today for my drawing.”

“Yeah? Proud of you, sweetheart. Can’t wait for ya to show me when I come home.”

The time on your phone reads 7:30PM, and like clockwork, your daughter begins to stretch, yawning the same way Katsuki does when he’s exhausted after a long shift.

“Why don’t you get ready for bed, sweetie?” You suggest while rubbing her back. “I know you’re tired.”

“Okaaay,” she pouts, trying to fight off her sudden sleepiness. “G’night Daddy. I miss you!”

“Only two more days. Love an’ miss you, Princess. Sweet dreams.”

With a wave and a smile, she trots off toward her bedroom to change into her PJs, leaving you with a few minutes to talk with Katsuki before tucking her into bed. You walk back into your joint bedroom, leaving the door cracked as you lay on the bed. Katsuki does the same, shifting the camera to follow his movements as he stretches out across the sheets.

“Goddamn, I miss you somethin’ fierce,” he admits, sighing into his forearm as it crosses his face to hide the soft dusting of pink on his cheeks. “You put a spell on me or some shit?”

“Not this time,” you chuckle, feet swaying in the air behind you like a giddy schoolgirl. “I miss you, too. How was your day?”

“S’alright, nothin’ crazy. Can’t wait’ta be back home, sleepin’ alone sucks.”

“Yeah, the bed is cold without you.”

There’s a short lull in the conversation before it shifts into something more sensually charged. Katsuki tends to get clingier the longer he’s stationed away from home — all the telltale signs of it are reflecting in his eyes through the camera, sparkling under the dim moonlight from his hotel room window.

“Good thing I know how to keep ya warm,” he purrs with a wink, the mischievous grin stretched over his lips telling you how he’s truly feeling. “S’how you got knocked up the first time.”

There it is, that familiar warmth flooding into your belly and heat spreading from your ears to your toes.

“Kaaats!” you whine, shyly tucking your head into your chest. “Shut up.”

“Don’t get shy on me now, Peaches,” he teases, laughing quietly at your bashfulness. “S’cute how easy ya are to rile up.”

You wave him off and roll your eyes lovingly. “I should go put her to bed. Are you gonna be up in an hour?”

His brow furrows curiously. “Prob’ly. Why?”

“Gives me time to get her settled, put away the laundry and finish the dishes. Up for a little late night date?”

Oh, Katsuki knows exactly what that means. Why was the thought of watching you doing chores around the house and taking care of your daughter making him suddenly break out in a sweat?

“Earth to Katsuki?” You call again and recollect his attention. “If you’re too tired—”

“Never too tired for you, baby. Go do what ya gotta do, I’ll be waitin’.”

“Okay, I love you!” You sweetly sing as you roll off the bed. “Get comfy, bye babe.”

“Love you too, Peach. See ya.”

The “End Call” screen flashes briefly in front of Katsuki’s eyes, the darkness of the hotel room returning once the screen dims into nothingness. He mumbles a breathless ‘fuck’ into the air before jumping off the bed to stomp toward the bathroom.

Only you can leave him hanging by a thread on simple promises, even when he’s miles away. And damn, did he love it.

[luviwon]

CLASSROOM HOOK UP | n.rk

kinktober day 8! back to the masterlist here!

☆ classmate!niki x reader

; you really hated the physical education class, and so did your classmate niki. but skipping it together didn’t keep you from finding another way to burn some calories.

genre ; smut

taglist ; @blushbunini @moonpri @blackp1nkfan @mitmit01 @pasteltheghost16 @harukayoiiiiiiizzz @mlywon @lhspeachie @seraphira @kaykay11sworld @winuvs @yuniesluv @shhth @rizzki09 @mylettterstoyou @d-dilemma @aanniikkaa

the sound of your footsteps echoes down the empty hallway as you and niki run, the muffled shouts from the gym growing quieter behind you. your heart is pounding, a mix of excitement and nerves tightening in your chest as the two of you make your escape. skipping PE wasn’t the plan when the day started, but niki had given you that mischievous look, the one that always spelled trouble, and somehow you ended up here—racing through the hallways, trying not to get caught.

"this way," niki whispers, pulling you around a corner and into your classroom. the door swings shut behind you with a soft click, and the sudden silence feels almost too loud after all the rushing.

you’re both breathless, hunched over slightly as you try to catch your breath, the air in the classroom still and cool compared to the heat of the gym. niki straightens up first, running a hand through his tousled hair, his grin wide and unapologetic. he looks like he’s done this a thousand times before.

"we're good," he says, glancing around the empty room, the rows of desks standing like silent witnesses. “no one saw us.”

you lean against the teacher's desk, trying to calm the wild thumping of your heart. the thrill of skipping PE is still fresh, mixing with a bit of guilt at the back of your mind, but niki’s excitement is contagious. he moves to the window, peeking through the blinds like he’s checking for any sign of pursuit. when he’s sure the coast is clear, he turns back to you with that playful glint still in his eyes.

"think they'll miss us?" you ask, half-joking, though there’s a small part of you that wonders how long it’ll take before someone realizes you're gone.

niki just shrugs. "probably not for a while. besides, who needs dodgeball when we’ve got the whole classroom to ourselves?"

you can’t help but smile at that. there's something freeing about the idea of hiding out in here while the rest of your classmates are still sweating it out in PE. the quiet feels almost too peaceful after the chaos of the gym, the soft ticking of the classroom clock reminding you of how much time you're stealing away.

"so... what now?" you ask, not entirely sure what to do with this unexpected freedom.

"well," he says, his voice low and teasing, "i guess i have an idea."

he walks towards you slowly, a smirk playing on his lips as he closes the distance between you. before you can even process it, he reaches out, his fingers brushing lightly against your face as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. his touch is gentle, almost too intimate for the moment, and for a second, you feel yourself drawn in—heart pounding, pulse quickening, your mind going blank under the weight of his gaze.

but then reality snaps back like a rubber band pulled too tight. you take a small step back, your breath catching in your throat as you shake your head. "niki," you murmur, your voice coming out softer than you intended. "we said we wouldn't do that anymore."

his smirk doesn’t falter, though you can see the flicker of something else in his eyes—something darker, more persistent. he takes another step closer, and suddenly the air feels heavier, the space between you almost nonexistent. his presence is overwhelming, and you realize, with a slight jolt, just how close he is now.

"do what?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper as he leans in, the warmth of his breath brushing your skin. his body hovers near yours, not quite touching, but close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him, pulling you in despite yourself. his eyes lock onto yours, challenging, daring you to say it aloud.

your throat feels tight, the words lodged there as you try to hold onto the distance you’d promised to keep between the two of you. but standing here now, with niki so close you can feel the thrum of his heartbeat in the air between you, it’s almost impossible to think straight.

you swallow hard, your lips parting to respond, but no sound comes out at first. niki’s gaze never leaves you, watching, waiting.

your breath is shallow, every part of your body hyperaware of how close he is. you should step back, break the moment like you’ve done before, but for some reason, your feet feel glued to the floor. niki’s eyes haven’t left yours, his head tilting just slightly as if he’s reading every thought racing through your mind. you’re trapped in this moment, caught between what you promised yourself and what you can’t seem to resist.

he takes another half-step, his body now almost brushing against yours. “you didn’t answer,” he murmurs, his voice low and smooth, pulling you in further. “what won’t we do anymore?”

you swallow hard, trying to steady your breath, but it only gets more difficult as his hand moves again, this time lightly trailing down your arm. goosebumps rise in the wake of his touch, and your pulse quickens. the weight of his question hangs in the air, thick with all the things left unsaid between you two.

“niki, we can’t…” you finally whisper, though the words come out weak, lacking the conviction you’d hoped for. you know what you’re supposed to say, what’s right, but in this moment, with him standing this close, logic feels slippery.

“can’t what?” he presses, his lips curving into a soft smirk, his voice still that same, teasing drawl. “you’re gonna have to spell it out for me.”

before you can answer, his hand shifts to your waist, not grabbing, but just resting there, warm and solid, like he’s testing the boundaries. your skin burns under his touch, and your mind races, torn between pulling away and staying exactly where you are. the intensity of his gaze pins you in place, and for a brief moment, you wonder if he feels it too—the way the air crackles between you, like something electric, something inevitable.

you manage to shake your head, your breath shaky as you force the words out. “we agreed… no more of this. it’s just… too complicated.”

niki’s smile softens just a little, but he doesn’t move away. instead, his fingers tighten just the slightest bit against your waist, as if daring you to push him away but knowing you won’t. “complicated doesn’t mean bad,” he murmurs, his voice so close it sends a shiver down your spine. “maybe it means we’re just figuring things out.”

your heart stumbles at that, but before you can react, the sound of footsteps from the hallway sends a jolt through both of you. without warning, niki grabs your waist tighter, and instead of stepping back, he pulls you down with him in one swift movement. you barely have time to stifle a gasp as the two of you fall into the cramped space beneath the teacher's desk, his body pressed close against yours.

your heart is racing, both from the sudden fall and the way your knees bump together awkwardly, his arm wrapping around your back to steady you. the footsteps get louder, closer—someone must have opened the door. you hold your breath, trying not to move, trying not to make any sound. but niki’s face is so close to yours, you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, his lips hovering just an inch from yours.

the space under the desk is small, too small for the both of you to fit comfortably, and you’re forced even closer, your bodies practically tangled together. his knee presses against yours, your hand accidentally resting on his chest as you steady yourself. you can feel his heartbeat, quick and steady beneath your palm, matching the erratic rhythm of your own.

his gaze flickers to your lips, then back to your eyes, and you can’t help but notice the way his breath hitches slightly. the tension between you is unbearable, your lips almost brushing, the heat radiating from his body making it impossible to think about anything other than the fact that he’s right there, so close you could lean in just a little and—

a shuffle from the door snaps your attention back. you try to focus, but your head is spinning, the mix of adrenaline and proximity making your pulse thrum in your ears. whoever entered the room pauses, their footsteps slow as if they’re scanning the space. you don’t dare look, too afraid that any movement will give you both away.

niki’s hand tightens slightly at your waist, his fingers pressing into your skin as if to remind you to stay still. you can feel the tension in his body, but there’s something else too—something more deliberate in the way his thumb brushes lightly against your side, sending a shiver up your spine.

his lips part as if he’s about to whisper something, but the closeness is unbearable. his mouth is just a breath away from yours, and the way his eyes are fixed on you makes it impossible to concentrate on anything other than him. the silence stretches out, heavy, charged with everything that’s unsaid between you two.

you swallow, your throat dry, your body betraying you as you lean just slightly closer, almost instinctively, your lips brushing against his for the briefest second—

but then, the footsteps retreat.

the second the door clicks shut, the tension snaps.

before you can even process it, niki’s lips crash into yours, fierce and demanding, igniting something deep inside you. it’s not soft or gentle—there’s nothing careful about it. it’s raw, desperate, like every unspoken feeling between you is pouring out all at once, burning through any hesitation. his hand tightens around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, his fingers digging into your skin like he’s afraid you might slip away.

your body reacts instantly, like instinct, melting into him as the kiss deepens. his mouth moves against yours with a hunger that sends a rush of heat through your veins, his lips demanding, relentless. you kiss him back with just as much force, your hands gripping the front of his shirt as you pull him even closer, desperate to close the distance between you.

there’s no space, no air left between your bodies as you press against him in the cramped space under the desk, your legs tangling together awkwardly but neither of you caring. all you can feel is the heat of his body, the way his lips devour yours, like he’s been waiting for this as long as you have. every inch of your skin feels electrified, your pulse pounding in your ears as the intensity of the kiss takes over.

niki’s hand moves from your waist, sliding up your back, his touch sending shivers down your spine. his fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt, tugging you closer still, like he can’t get enough of you. his other hand cups the back of your neck, his grip firm, keeping you locked in place as his lips move against yours with a fire that consumes every thought, every bit of logic.

you respond with equal intensity, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer as if you can’t get enough, your body burning with a need you didn’t realize you still had. his teeth graze your bottom lip, just enough to make you gasp, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours, setting your whole body alight.

the space is too small, too tight, but it only adds to the heat, the desperation between you both. your back presses against the desk’s edge, but you don’t care—you don’t want to stop, don’t want to think about what this means, only that niki’s mouth is on yours, his body against yours, and it feels like fire spreading through every nerve.

his lips leave yours for a second, trailing hot kisses down your jaw, his breath heavy and ragged as he moves. every brush of his lips against your skin sends sparks through you, and you tilt your head back slightly, giving him more access as his mouth moves to your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there.

you bite your lip to hold back a moan, your fingers tightening in his hair as his lips return to yours, crashing back into another kiss, this one even more urgent, more desperate than the last. it’s like you’re both trying to make up for lost time, for every moment you’ve spent holding back, and now there’s no going back.

with a natural swing, niki pulls both of you up from under the desk, and without any second thoughts, he is carefully pushing you down the teacher desk, making sure you lie down properly as he opens your shirt buttons, licking his lips hungrily. he reveals your chest, hidden behind a basic white bra, yet so hot from his view in that moment, when the tension reached roof height and the passion grew over the minute.

he stuck out his tongue, running it down on the middle of your chest, from top to bottom. niki acted playful now, even untightening his tie for a second, feeling out of air. if you were caught, then you could simply say goodbye to graduating in 2 months, but this moment felt to die for, so no expelling would be worth pushing this moment away.

niki spread your legs apart, his lips moisturised again by his tongue. “let’s do it fast, okay?” he asked on a caring tone, palming himself in front of you for a second. he looked incredibly sexy, his tie loosened, his hair messy, his bulge enormous. all you could want right now is feeling him all the way inside, no break, no mercy, just taking your minds away.

niki swallowed and pushed down his pants, his hardness shocking you once again. not to be pathetic of you, but you could have sworn it didn’t look like this last time. “niki-“ you meant to whispered, but he told you to close your mouth, his index finger against his lips. you nodded and let your head fall down on the desk, legs starting to cross from the nervousness.

“i didn’t say you could close them” he whispered, following to spit on the tip of his dick, spreading the liquid all around his length to make sure you get a bit of comfort. niki pushed your legs open again, this time holding your left thigh down with his hand. you closed your eyes, not ready to have your cunt ruined by him, yet they opened immediately when you felt your walls stretched out slowly, his thrust full of care and adjustment.

you looked at him, eyes already unable to control, not to roll back, and you smiled naively, just the perfect time for him to start thrusting into your harder and pushing all of himself inside you, your bodies making a beautiful harmony with the clapping sounds. his cock felt incredible inside you, stretching you out, making you clench around him, feeling your soul living your body each minute.

“n-niki” you moaned his name, louder than you would have expected, and he let a quiet “fuck” leave his mouth as he sped up his rhythm, his eyes only staring at the way his dick was sliding in and out your pussy, fitting so perfectly inside you, like you were made just for him.

“harder? faster?” he asked, biting his lower lips and moving his gaze to you, making him go harder on you before you could even give him a response. but how could he wait? you looked so beautiful lying on the desk, your chest exposed only for his view, your neck with fainted marks and your mouth moaning his name like it’s the only word you know.

“s-slower-” you ask him, whining inside your mouth while trying to grab onto something. “what was that?” niki said on a sarcastic tone, his smirk never disappearing from his face “did you say harder?”. you disagreed, closing your eyes again and trying to deny but he was faster, so was his pace, each thrust sending electric shivers through your body, your chest bouncing along.

yet you are not the only one that feels so affected by his choice, he himself feeling like your walls will be painted white any moment now. and careful as he is, he pulls out just in time, pumping his dick fast enough to shoot all of his cum on your chest, throwing his head back and moaning while his hand going up and down his dick. “fuck” he whispered again, looking at your fresly new coat of sweetener.

[nightingale-prompts]

Incomprehensible Horrors

Inspired by that one scene from Vanitas no Carte

Another day another cult that wants to summon a god.

"You're too late Justice League! The dawn of a new age is here!" The leader shouted from the suspended platform.

"You idiots you can't open that portal! Awakening him will kill you too!" Constantine shouted back.

The entire base shook as the portal splintered open leaving a gash in reality. Green speckled black tar spilled out onto the platform and dripped down to the floor like rain.

"Come to us!"

A figure entombed in black tar rose out of the portal chained by black tendrils.

"You must not free him unless you can kill him! He will end our reality!" Constantine's words fell on deaf ears.

Gravity in the room fluctuated paralyzing everyone in place. It was like a black hole had opened up in the room. Streams of black smoke rose out of every corner. Unknown voices echoed around them each sounding different to everyone. Hallucinations of eyes appeared in the darkness and gazed at them.

"Constantine, how do we stop them?!" Superman shouted over the white noise of the voices.

"Fuck all! It's here now!" Constantine said though clenched teeth.

The cultist raised his knife and cut open the tar bubble.

"Watch now! The rebirth of a god!"

A wailing echoed silencing the voices. The distorted crying sounded eerily like that of a baby.

The figure emerged covered in the remnants of the inky womb that contained him. Its skin shined like black opal stone, embedded with starlike speckles of color. Glowing green eyes stared from behind a curtain of wet and stained white hair.

"My god, I offer you these souls so that you may regain your strength-" The cultist was suddenly stopped when the god grabbed him by the neck.

"YoU sHoUlD nOt HaVe DoNe ThAt."

[altruisticalastor]

↳˗ˏˋAlastor x Readerˊˎ˗ ↴

☒ Summary: You tend to Alastor's wounds after the fight with Adam. The weight of almost losing him nearly breaks you.

☒ Warnings: gn!reader, hurt / comfort, implied established relationship, descriptions of injuries and stitching them up, mentions of anxiety, the reader cries a bit, comforting!alastor, and also soft!alastor, one kiss, non-sexual undressing, soft touches

☒ Word Count: 1,010

All you could think of the moment the battle ended was Alastor.

The last you saw of him, he was going head-to-head with Adam. But witnessing Nifty stab the lowly man made you worry something terrible happened to Alastor.

The moment you had a second to breathe, you rushed toward the Radio Demon's tower. A trail of blood leading toward his sanctuary sent a wave of fear down your spine. Your steps quickened at the sight, and all the worst-case scenarios flooded your mind. 

When you swung the door open, the view of Alastor blanketed your body with a cold sweat in the weight of a moment. He was doubled over the control panel, ears pinned flat to his head as the crackle in his voice echoed through the space with each breath he took. 

"Alastor!" You cried out, rushing over to his side in an instant. The sound of you calling his name caused his head to whip around. You wasted no time assessing his injuries, scanning your anxious gaze over his frame. 

"Worry not, my dear," Alastor coughed, blood spilling down the corner of his mouth. Your eyebrows knit in concern as you began raiding his radio tower, frantic to uncover a first aid kit. "Of course, I'm going to worry- you're bleeding all over the place!" You exclaimed, letting out a breath of relief as you found the emergency medical kit. 

Hastily, you began pushing Alastor's torn overcoat past his shoulders. The injured man simply gazed down at you, a weary smile decorating his visage. "Darling, I can handle this myself," Alastor clamored through gritted teeth, stopping your hands with his own before you could start unbuttoning his dress shirt. 

You shot your head up to meet his gaze, frustration evident on your face. "No, you can't! You need to let others help you when you need it! Stop trying to handle all these battles on your own. Please, Al," Your voice softened toward the end of your sentence. You didn't want to shout at him while he was wounded so badly, but Alastor's stubbornness got under your skin. Especially now. 

Alastor closed his eyes for a brief moment, taking in a shaky breath before releasing his grasp around your hands. "Alright, my darling... I won't stand in your way any further," His voice was barely above a whisper as he presented you with an apologetic look. You offered him a weak smile in return before undoing the buttons on his blood-soaked shirt. Peeling it off his frame with great gentleness. 

Your eyes widened in fear as you finally saw just how gnarly the gash across his torso really was. Your hands shook ever so slightly as you began threading the needle you uncovered in the first aid kit. "Tell me if it hurts too much, and we'll take a break." You expressed softly, eyes meeting his crimson ones. Alastor only nodded at you as he gritted his teeth harsher than before, bracing for impact. 

Alastor's grip on the edge of his desk tightened, leaving deep claw marks in his wake. You tried to make the stitching process as painless as possible, but there was only so much you could do. "I'm almost done, my love. You're doing so well," Alastor endured the grueling treatment, letting out a breath he wasn't even aware he was holding as you finished patching him up. 

You generously applied ointment before wrapping gauze all the way around his frame. Alastor let out a hiss as the bandage came in contact with his gash. "I know, my love... just hold on a little longer for me," You snuggly secured the gauze before bringing your hands down. You grasped his hands. Clutching his large palms comfortingly as you beamed up at him. 

"There, now you're as good as new." You quipped, massaging the pads of your thumbs into the back of his palms. Alastor grinned wearily, his crimson eyes holding much adoration for you. "Thank you, my darling... I reckon I should apologize for being so uncompromising before," A slight chuckle escaped his lips as Alastor squeezed your hands right back.

You let a laugh of your own fill the room as you leaned in closer. "Ah, don't be... I'm just glad you're okay," Before you could catch up, your head came flush against his shoulder. The adrenaline finally wore off, leaving your body shaky and weak. Alastor didn't miss a beat. He gripped your hips to stabilize you instantly. "My dear, are you alright?" His voice was laced with concern, radio static crackling out ever so slightly.  

Tears began brimming in your eyes before you could stop them, and a lump formed in your throat. One that you couldn't seem to swallow down. "Sorry, I just..." A hiccup shook your body as your hands came up to his chest, being careful not to graze his injury. "If you would have died... I couldn't bear it!" 

Alastor felt his heart ache at your sorrowful cries. Your solemn words only added fuel to the fire. One of his hands unhurriedly came up to the back of your head, cradling your neck as Alastor cooed at you. "Oh, my dear," He allowed you to sob into his shoulder for as long as you needed, only releasing his grasp around your head when he heard your cries fizzle out. 

You slowly pushed yourself back against Alastor's chest, sniffling softly as you looked up at him. Before you could process it, Alastor captured your lips with his. Pouring all of his love into the chaste kiss. Your heart fluttered as he rubbed soothing circles into your hips. Your worries seemed to melt away from his embrace. Alastor was your everything, and the fact that you nearly lost him today scared the fuck out of you. 

Alastor pulled back unhurriedly, still keeping his face close to yours. He nuzzled his nose against your own before he whispered, "I'm not going anywhere, my darling. You're stuck with me for all of eternity. I expect you haven't forgotten that already!"

[lovebugism]

how abt eddie x shy reader , she meet’s wayne accidentally & she brings like sm food for the week he LOVES HER but shes so shy

a request deep from the archives that i haven't stopped thinking about since i got it hahah please enjoy xoxo — you spend a fluffy morning in with the munsons (established relationship, fluff, 1.2k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

Eddie rouses from his sleep like a king on a sunken-in couch. 

Saturday morning cartoons play on the TV just ahead of him, mostly on mute ‘cause you’ve got the radio going in the kitchen. Something soft and soulful and too low for him to hear. The trailer swells with the scent of something sweet, of syrup and cooked sugar. 

Speaking of sweet…

His flushed cheek rubs against the arm of the couch when he looks up to find you. He can see you just over the top of the counter, like a scene from a movie. You’ve got a bowl of something wedged in your elbow, and you stir at it with your free hand — half-distracted because your nose is stuck in an open recipe book on the counter. Your glasses fall slowly down your nose. You try to push them up again with your shoulder, but they slip back down a second later.

Your gentle humming fills his ears, and Eddie figures this is what heaven must be like. There’s no greater nirvana than this.

He rises and stretches and walks the very short distance to the kitchen. Still warm with sleep, he wraps himself around you, chest flush to the expanse of your back. “Whatcha doin’?” he lilts, muffled into your sweater.

“Cookin’,” you answer in the same tone, only softer and a little more sheepish.

Eddie breathes hard once. You think you feel him smiling. “Dumb question, huh?”

“Did you sleep good?” 

“Too good to be passed out on the couch for an hour.” He lifts his head to prop his chin on your shoulder. It bobs against you with every word. “You were supposed to be sleeping with me, by the way.”

“I tried. But then I wanted to make you breakfast.”

“Correction. You wanted to make Wayne breakfast.”

Your giggling is as soft and sweet as the cinnamon concoction you’re stirring at. “Well, I don’t want either of you to starve, actually. So sorry for making sure the Munson’s are taken care of.”

Eddie’s chest swells. His heart starts to warm so much he’s scared it might burst. He tucks his face back into your neck and holds you tighter. “Don’t apologize, sweet thing. ‘M just being stupid.”

“That nickname’s not gonna stick, Eds,” you tease, tilting your head until your cheek meets his wild hair. “You can stop trying now.”

He scoffs and pulls back from you. His eyes, still softly swollen with sleep, are wide and glittering. “Why not?” he shouts, a bit too loudly to be so close to your ear. “You’re sweet and you’re my thing— it’s literally the perfect nickname.”

“You’re thing?” you echo with a distant laugh. “I’m not a toy, Eds.”

“Not all the time—” His boyish giggling is followed by a scoffed breath when you elbow him with your free arm. You shove him away halfheartedly, pushing him out of the tiny kitchen. “What?!” he exclaims, laughing loudly.

“Get out of the kitchen!”

“What’d I do?”

“My french toast tastes good ‘cause it’s made with love, and you’re tainting it.”

“How? I love you more than anything in the whole wide world.” He gravitates back to you despite your efforts to keep him away. He plants a smacking kiss to your lips and grins wide when he pulls away. “See? Now it’ll taste extra sweet.”

You’re glaring at him one moment, then happily accepting another one of his kisses the next.

The front door opens, squealing in protest and rushing in the cool morning air. It’s unsurprisingly Wayne. His work boots stomp heavy on the carpet. He holds a greased hand over his forehead. “My eyes are still closed,” he jokes, voice deep and gravelly. “You two have about three seconds to stop touchin’ each other.”

Eddie scoffs but steps back from you anyway. “That was one time!” he argues boyishly. “And we weren’t even doing anything!”

Wayne laughs a sharp breath, just like Eddie had, but a little bit gruffer. He forgoes the petty banter and shoots you a smile — tightlipped, barely-there, and weighed down by the exhaustion of the graveyard shift. “How ya doin’, sweetpea?”

“Good,” you answer, shrinking into your shyness. “I’m makin’ french toast.”

“That’s my favorite,” the older man grins. “How’d you know?”

“‘Cause it’s my favorite,” Eddie insists.

“It’ll be done soon,” you tell him, all quiet in your sheepishness. “If you wanna get changed or whatever.”

Wayne heads to the hallway, stopping short in the kitchen to muss at Eddie’s curls and pat you gently on the shoulder. “Thank ya, sweetpea,” he murmurs, voice dripping with fatigue. His accent always gets real heavy when he’s tired.

“You’re welcome…”

Eddie doesn’t say anything until he hears the bathroom door shut. “So Wayne can call you sweetpea, but I can call you sweet thing?” he asks, features swirled with offense.

“It’s different!”

The boy follows you to the cabinets like a lost puppy. Then, when you have trouble reaching the vanilla extract on the top shelf, he leans over you to grab it. “No, you just have favorites,” he argues, passing you the small container.

“That’s not true!”

“Whatever,” he grumbles, still pouting as he leans against the counter beside you. He mourns the lack of your attention when you give it all to the french toast mixture on the counter. You spoon in the vanilla with a practiced touch. “…Are you staying over again tonight?” he mutters, shier than you are now.

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “If it’s okay with Wayne, then—”

“Wayne! Sweet thing’s staying the night— is that okay?” Eddie shouts before you can blink. The trailer rings with the volume of his voice.

“Eddie,” you scold quietly.

The bathroom door squeaks open. A grunt sounds from the hallway, a nonverbal answer you’re not totally sure what to make of. The man returns in the pajamas he pulled from the hall closet — a thin t-shirt older than Eddie is and a pair of plaid pants.

“I’ll make dinner before your shift tonight,” you tell him with a soft grin that neither of the Munsons can say no to. “I promise.”

Wayne makes another scoffing sound. A laugh, maybe. A smile hints at the corner of his bearded mouth as he pours himself a coffee across the counter — in the painted mug Eddie made him for Father’s Day, several years ago now. 

“Well— In that case, I’m afraid I have to insist on you stayin’, sweet pea.”

“Thanks, Mr. Munson.”

“Call me Wayne,” he tells you, playfully chiding in a parental sort of way. He gives you a pointed look over the cup he sips from and heads back towards the living room. “You’re feedin’ us too good to be so polite all the time.”

You smile to yourself and laugh a quiet, slightly forced laugh.

The sofa squeaks when Wayne settles onto it, sprawling out the same way Eddie had before. Too tired to reach for the remote on the coffee table, he watches He-Man re-runs with heavy eyelids.

“Alright, sweet thing— what do you need me to do?” Eddie asks with a clap of his hands, making a very pointed effort not to drop the nickname. You get all flustered when he calls you that — smiling softly to yourself and then ducking your gaze to hide it from him. You’ll have to pry the name from his cold, dead hands.

You turn to peer at him from beneath your lashes. “You dip the bread, and I’ll fry ‘em?”

“Sounds like a plan, sweet thing.”

“Eddie.”

[sweetangelgirl7]

the clean scent of your skin and the toasty candle lit on the bedside table filled chris’ senses as he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, your body still warm from the shower. his arms wrapped naturally around your waist as he began to doze off into a light sleep.

laying his weight comfortably on top of you, his legs sprawled across yours as his body gently twitched every once in awhile, causing his eyelids to repeatedly flutter open.

“relax, my love” he heard your voice coo softly, your fingers slowly raking through his messy brunette waves as he resisted falling sleep. the soft pitter patter of rain droplets against the window aiding the silence as chris hummed absentmindedly, “baby” his voice low and raspy as he pressed his lips gently against your neck.

the feeling of your nails tracing patterns up and down his exposed back and the dim light of his bedside lamp illuminating the room, a part of his nightly routine that he wouldn’t trade for the world.

“baby” chris mumbled, his voice buzzing gently against your skin as he planted another warm kiss up your neck. his arms wrapping tighter around your waist as he groaned tranquilly to himself, your bodies aligning seamlessly. he began to pepper soft kisses against your skin, working his way up your neck.

the smell of your freshly washed hair now lingering in his nose as the damp strands brushed against his face. his lids weighed down as soft content hums rolled off his lips, against your neck. the embrace of your arms wrapped around his upper back and the warmth of your body acting as a blanket. the rise & fall of your breathing together comfortably reassuring him of your presence.

“baby” he groaned again, his tone sleepy and soft as he waited for your response, planting a kiss beneath your ear. the room remained still besides the melody of raindrops drumming against the roof.

the soft sound of your sweet laugh echoing through his head — “baby?” chris groaned, causing his body to jerk involuntarily as he inhaled heavily. lifting his head off the plush white pillows, he scanned the pitch-black room with hooded lids as the light of the moon filtered in through the curtains, casting a shadow against his empty bed. the white sheets crumpled and creased, imprinting the long night of tossing and turning.

laying atop of a smushed pillow, chris’ arm reached over to the right side of the bed, finding it vacant in your place. his fingers lingering over the wrinkled sheets, as his head gently dropped against the pillow once more.

chris’ eyelids half open as the sound of the ticking wall clock and heavy downpour outside filled the room, his body warm from perspiration in contrast to the freezing cold air blowing through the vent.

his eyes fluttering shut as visions of his dream, visions of you, flashed in his head, the same dream he’d had for days, a dream that was far out of reach by now. choosing to envision the memory of your body between his arms in attempt to drown out the sound of your voice, raw with hate-filled words, and the sight of tears streaming down your cheeks as you shouted, just inches from each other’s face.

every night, like clockwork, chris found himself jolting awake — searching for your presence next to him in the dark, only to be met with the same reality every single time.

lethargically searching for his phone amongst the void of his mattress, the screen lit up to cast a harsh glow against chris’ face. the bright light revealing the bags under his eyes as he squinted at the screen, adjusting to the brightness.

1:27 AM

the lock screen displayed, above a picture of you and him — seemingly the only piece of you he had left.

© sweetangelgirl7

[gogogodzilla]

day 31, sex pollen

peeta mellark x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, dubcon, unprotected sex, fuck or die, semi-public sex, slight dirty talk, reader gets sad at the end, multiple orgasms, dedicated to @omgbrcat hope you enjoy it bestie kinktober ☠︎︎ main masterlist ☠︎︎ read on ao3

You didn’t think you’d ever run so fast and wildly in your life. Well, except for last year when you were fighting for your life and running away from everything that was trying to kill you. 

Peeta was a few steps behind you, slower and stumbling a bit due to his prosthetic leg. You threw a glance over your shoulder every few seconds, just to make sure he was still there with you. 

The various leaves and foliage of the jungle hit you as you ran. You hardly even notice as the foliage shifts from a  normal lush green to unnatural shades of pinks, purples, and blues. You did notice, however, when one of the plants shoots a dusty substance directly in your face as you run past it. 

You lost your footing as you attempted to wipe the dust off your face. Peeta came up beside you, arms outstretched and ready to pick you up. 

“Don’t!” you shouted as you slowly stood, slightly relieved that your face didn’t immediately burn off. “I don’t want it to affect you, whatever it is.”

Your ears strained as you tried to discern if the mutts were still on your tail. 

“Do you hear them?” Peeta questioned, echoing your thoughts. “Y’know since you have a Capitol-engineered ear and all.”  

You huffed out a laugh as you listened. You couldn’t hear the familiar rustle of leaves, and you relaxed slightly. You knew never to get too comfortable in the arena, but your lungs were burning and you needed to get this stuff off your face. 

“Do you still have the spile?” you asked, attempting to avoid the way your body felt like it was on fire and your heart was pounding in your chest. 

“Yeah,” he breathed, as he began to hammer it into the trunk of a nearby tree. You prayed that the trees wouldn’t be as hazardous as whatever was covering your face. You watched as he stuck a finger under the liquid flowing out of the spile, checking to make sure it was safe. 

He wrapped his hand around your elbow and it felt like fire bloomed under his touch. He was gentle as always as he guided your face under the water. You dragged your hands over your face as you washed off the dusty substance that had covered it. You attempted to rid yourself of the inferno burning under your skin. 

Your cheeks flushed as you pulled away from the stream of water. Peeta’s touch was fleeting but your entire body ached for him. It was a strange feeling, unlike anything you’d ever felt before. 

Your heartbeat pounded in your chest with every shaky breath you took. You hunched over, attempting to calm yourself. A thin sheen of sweat begins to cover your skin, and your eyebrows furrowed in something akin to pain. 

You heard Peeta call your name, but the only thing you could get out was a whimper. He was on you within seconds, gripping your shoulders and shaking you slightly. You scrambled out of his touch, thinking clearly enough to know that you needed to get away from him. 

“What’s wrong?” he questioned, voice desperate and eyes frantically searching over your form. You hurriedly crawled away from him. 

You shook your head, as you pressed your back against a tree. “I— I don’t know. I feel hot,” you breathed, conflicted between clenching your thighs together and spreading them for him. 

 Peeta kneeled in front of you, eyes soft, “How can I help?” 

You remembered before you’d entered your first Games together how he didn’t want the Game to change him. You were thankful that he was still the same sweet boy you entered the arena with. He was different in some ways, of course. No one left the arena unscathed, but who he was at his core was unwavering. 

Your vision was becoming hazy, and a dull ache where you’d never felt it before emerged. You let out a low groan as the heat blistering down to your bones becomes almost unbearable.

Peeta crawled between your legs and cupped your face. You hissed at his touch, leaning into him. You gripped onto his sides, nails digging into the soft flesh through his suit. His touch felt heavenly against your skin, a ravenous hunger for more filled you to the very brim.

“Touch me,” you whimpered out, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “Please, Peeta.”

He swiped a thumb across your cheek, and your grip on his tightened. You tugged him closer, your limbs seeming to move on their own. You made a small, strangled sound in the back of your throat. 

Peeta’s lips were hesitant against yours as he kissed you. He was always so gentle with you, never wanting to cross a line. You moaned against him, and swiped your tongue across his bottom lip, desperate to taste him. 

You wrapped your arms around his back and clawed at the zipper to his suit, tugging it down as much as you could. He sucked in a breath as you yanked his suit off of his shoulders, practically manhandling him. You were giving the Capitol exactly what they wanted, but you didn’t care. 

The ache deep between your legs was growing with every moment, and your body temperature rose along with it. Your kisses increased in desperation until you were pleading against Peeta’s lips and writhing against him. 

“It’s okay,” Peeta soothed, reaching behind you to unzip your suit. “I’ll help, it’s okay.” 

You hurriedly peeled your suit off your shoulders, letting out a sigh as Peeta’s fingers trailed over the newly exposed skin. Your cheeks flushed as he leaned down to press open-mouthed kisses against the column of your neck and your chest. 

You ran your hands over the smooth expanse of his chest, the feeling doing little to quell the electricity crackling under your skin. His tongue circled your nipple, eliciting a breathy whine from you. 

You raked your hands through the hair at the nape of his tugged and tugged on the strands. A groan vibrated in his throat, and his hands splayed against your ribcage. 

“Peeta,” you whined as he kneaded your other breast and you clenched your thighs around him. 

You couldn’t stand not having him for a second longer and you hooked your arms under his, gripping him tightly as you rolled to the side. You landed on top of him, straddling him. You panted as you finally got a good look at him. His eyes were half-lidded and he was flushed and breathing heavily. His pupils were blown wide as he looked up at you. 

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, “Is it getting to you, too?” 

He nodded, attempting to steady his breathing. You stood and shimmied out of your suit, tossing it to the side. You leaned down to hook your fingers into the waistband of Peeta’s suit and looked up at him through your lashes. The quick dip of his head was all you needed, and you were practically ripping his suit off of him. It wasn’t the first time you’d taken off Peeta’s pants, but you flushed all the same. You were too focused on saving his life last time to worry about being embarrassed. 

You were back on him faster than your hazy mind could process, your hips moving on their own accord as you ground against his thigh. His length pressed against your belly, warm and unbelievably hard, as you dragged your hips against him. 

You reached down and stroked him in time with each rut of your hips. He let out a mix between a whimper and a sigh as you did. Your movements quickened, and you buried your face in the crook of Peeta’s neck. With each twist of your wrist around his cock, he was letting out noises that had heat pooling in your belly. His tip was leaking, and you loved the sound he made when you ran your thumb over it. 

Peeta’s fingertips dug into the plush of your hips so hard you didn’t doubt that he’d leave bruises. The animalistic part of you that had taken control wanted him to mark you in every way possible. Your slick had begun to cover Peeta’s thigh, allowing you to easily grind against him.

Your strokes became more erratic as your pace against Peeta’s cock increased. You both were so wound tight you might burst. You’d never been so aware of your pulse pounding in your ears, and you came with a strangled cry. Tears coated your cheeks as warmth encased your entire being and you spasmed against Peeta. You had a moment of respite as you thought the plant’s effects had subsided, but the drive to ravish him returned with a vengeance. 

He followed you off the precipice soon after you calmed down, back arched and head thrown back as his release covered your knuckles. The fog that surrounded your head cleared just enough for you to realize just how pretty Peeta looked like this. If you were going to die, you didn’t think you’d get a better view. 

Your pace slowed but Peeta was still hard in your hand. The boiling heat still lingered under your skin, and your pulse quickened. You wondered if that was the Capitol’s goal; to make you so fucked out you succumb to exhaustion or burn you from the inside out. 

Peeta looked utterly exhausted and a coil of guilt settled in the pit of your stomach. 

“Just one more, please,” you begged, trailing kisses down his neck. He nodded against you, and you could’ve cried from the relief that washed over you.

You lifted your hips and aligned the tip of his cock with your entrance, gasping at the sensation. Peeta’s hips bucked up unconsciously, shoving himself deeper inside you. A pained hiss left you, and Peeta cried out a thousand apologies, his iron grip returning to your hips once more. 

“I’m sorry. You’re just— Fuck… So— tight,” he babbled out, brown eyes glazing over. You pressed a featherlight kiss against his cheek, thoughts too consumed with his cock inside you to reassure him properly. You slowly lowered yourself onto him, sighing when your hips were finally flush. Peeta had his eyes screwed shut, gritting his jaw in thinly veiled restraint. 

Your hands settled on his shoulders as you began to rock your hips against his. Peeta rested his head against the tree as you rode him, releasing little pants and moans with every thrust of your hips. 

With each moment that passed your movements became more erratic, desperate to reach your peak once again. Peeta’s hands frantically roamed your body, grasping and kneading whatever inch of skin he could reach. 

He reached a hand between the two of you and drew hurried circles around your clit. He lifted his hips to meet yours, jutting himself deeper inside you. The sounds of skin slapping against skin filled your ears, and you prayed you were the only ones trapped in this portion of the arena. 

It took no time for your release to hit you, practically knocking the wind out of you as you clenched around Peeta’s cock. Your vision went hazy, and for a moment you feared you’d pass out. 

Peeta finished with a few more rolls of your hips against his. He filled you to the brim, his release hot and steady coated your walls. 

Your vision cleared as you came down from your high. The fire within you had finally dissipated, and you breathed a sigh of relief. You felt exhaustion consume you as you slumped against Peeta. 

“I’m sorry,” you slurred out, clinging onto Peeta like your life depended on it. Your face screwed up and you felt your throat tightening. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” he rushed out, running his hands over your body, attempting to soothe you as quiet sobs wracked your body. Your last thought before drowsiness overtook you was of how much you didn’t deserve Peeta Mellark. 

Your heart pounded as you awoke, adrenaline spiking as you heard someone calling your name. You jumped to your feet, eyes frantically searching your surroundings. Your movements caused Peeta to stir and his eyes shot open, the same panic gracing his features. 

You tugged on your suit, grimacing at the dried cum that covered your inner thighs. You tossed Peeta his suit and pulled him to his feet. You didn’t know how long you’d been out, and the thought turned your stomach. Someone could’ve easily come along and killed you both. 

You grabbed your weapon while Peeta removed the spile from the tree. 

“Let’s just hope our sponsors enjoyed the show,” you joked, immediately cringing as soon as the words left your mouth. 

The corners of Peeta’s mouth quirked up, “I’m sure they did.”