#and carried it over here. it could be subject to change

[gingericywolf]

A new brooklynn design

Following this previous one

Kinda wanted to give a first impression of her being a villain

This is both my wishful thinking on her showing up in the next seasons and also just what she will look like in my mind/sequel fic essence of chaos

[luveline]

hey jade! maybe this is a tad more angsty than you'd like but could I request prison!Spence getting a visit from bombshell!reader and Amy? or a phonecall with them? q

ty for your request <3 mom!reader, 1.4k

“Best behaviour,” you’re whispering, hand on Amy’s small back, her shoe digging into your hip. “I’m serious, baby. Big feelings are okay, but we can’t be loud. We can’t shout.” 

She frowns. Amy’s been a little against you these last few weeks. “I’m not shouting.” 

“I know.” You try and fail to divide your attention between her and the line you’re following. You almost miss the sound of the buzzer that ushers you forward. “Okay, I’m right here. I know everything has been super scary, and you’re my brave girl, but I’m right here. You can tell me anything. Okay?” 

She rubs your chin with her nose. “Okay, mom.”

“Okay. Let’s go see daddy!” you cheer under your breath, enthusing your voice with some false joy. 

Your nerves threaten to make you sick, but you have to be the put together one. This is the strife part of the marriage you’d signed up for. Though no one can blame you for handling it poorly —who could ever expect Spencer to be where he is right now? 

You carry Amy into the penitentiary visitor’s room with apprehension, shoulders stiff, fingers aching against your little girl’s rough denim jacket. The room is laid out strangely, but there’s a clear division between the prisoners and the visitors, though there’s no overarching perspex. There are dividers, sure, but you can touch him. You can see him sitting near the middle of the room, his hair in violent disarray, his eyes locked onto you already. 

You speed up your walking. 

Desperate, your knee knocks into a chair as you try to touch his face. 

Spencer lets you for a half a second, before he moves away. “You’re not allowed to touch me,” he says, voice laden with a raw apologeticness that threatens to trip you up immediately. 

“Daddy!” Amy says, squirming in your arms, her foot on the desk as she tries to shove herself over the short partition. 

Spencer, in a dads instinct, reaches for her without thinking. “Amy, Amy,” he says. 

“No touching!” a guard shouts clearly. 

Spencer pushes Amy gently back into your arms and holds his arms up in surrender. The guard veers his way, but walks off again when he sees Spencer’s compliance. 

“Daddy,” she whines, holding out her hand. 

“Sit down,” Spencer says to you. 

You sit down. The gap between both you and Amy and Spencer widens, her little legs pumping restlessly into your thighs. You’ll be bruised as a soft pear when you go home, but you barely feel it now. 

“Shh,” you say, wrapping your arms around her like a straight jacket. You don’t really have a choice. “Shh, baby, shh. Remember what mommy said, okay? We have to be quiet, or they won’t let us see your daddy anymore. We have to follow the rules.” 

“It’s okay,” Spencer says. He clears his throat. “Hey, Amanda?” 

She looks up in surprise at her full first name. “What?” she asks. 

“God, it’s so good to see you.” His voice thickens with emotion, but he keeps a tight handle on it. “I miss you so much, sweetheart. So much.” He looks at you. “I miss you,”  he says again. 

“We miss you too.” You wipe your nose. “It’s weird just being mom and Amy at home.” 

Weird isn’t the right word. Amy has cried herself sick five nights a week for the last month, because if her mom is home, why isn’t her dad? Why can’t she talk to him? Where did he go? 

“When can you be home?” Amy asks, reaching toward the glass again. 

Spencer looks around the room before he reaches over the half-partition to hold her hand. He gives you a look: watch my back. 

“I don’t know yet,” he says, holding her hand tightly, and giving her fingers little squeezes, “I’m sorry, princess.” 

You give him a look of your own: change the subject. 

You miss Spencer more than you’ve ever missed another person. There’s never been a feeling as acute as this in your life, you don’t know what to do with yourself when you aren’t with him. The only thing you can do is be Amy’s mom, and you’ve always felt that Spencer made you better at it. Without him, you’re struggling. 

He looks like he can tell. 

He diverts his attention from you to Amy again, ducking his head, his face posed into his most loving smile. “You’re so pretty, just like your mommy. You’re getting prettier every day, aren’t you? Mommy told me you’ve been helping make your own dinner. That’s amazing. You’re my smart girl.” 

“I make– made our favourite last night.” She struggles over ‘favourite’, but she’s as smart as her father. The words come easily. “We had, uh– butter chicken! And mommy made…” 

You blink a small tear from the corner of your eye. “I made garlic naan. We toasted them under the grill, didn’t we?” you ask with a sniffle. 

“Yes!” She looks back at you. “Dad’s plate.” 

You wipe your cheek quickly. “We kept you some,” you say, fighting as hard as you can to stop yourself from crying at the table. You can’t break down here, and you won’t. “Amy was worried you’d come home and be hungry, so we saved you some.” 

Spencer leans far over the table to squeeze your wrist. Behind him, the prison guard begins making their way to your table.

“Spencer.” You lean away before he can get caught. 

Spencer snatches his hand back to grip the partition. 

He smiles. “Angel,” he says clearly, looking you straight in the eye, “you’re doing so good. I can’t believe how amazing you are.” 

“I’m gonna fix this,” you promise. 

“No, no, angel, I just need you to look after yourself, and my princess.” He gives Amy a smile dripping with affection. “She needs lots of looking after. Don’t you, Amy? I know mommy’s doing such a great job looking after you.” 

“I miss you,” she says. 

“I miss you too.” 

“Can I have a hug now?” 

He looks back, right into the watchful gaze of the guard. He turns back with a smile that’s nearly convincing. “Not right now, I probably don’t smell very nice, and they don’t want me to get my gross smell on you.” 

“Ew, daddy.” 

“Ew,” he agrees, wrinkling his nose. “I wish I smelled like you and mommy. What smell is it today, baby?” 

“Persimmon,” she says. She preens at the suggestion that she smells good, relaxing against your chest. 

You kiss her temple. 

“Persimmon,” Spencer says. He couldn’t sound more proud. “You know what? Persimmons have lots of meaning. They’re a symbol of perseverance.” He remembers to dumb it down. “People who eat lots of persimmons are strong, they can get through anything. Maybe when you and mommy go home, you can share a persimmon, and I can eat one here, and together we’ll be strong while we wait for me to come home.” 

“You can come home now,” Amy says. “Come home with us!” 

“I can’t,” he says gently. “It’s complicated.” 

“I think daddy has the right idea,” you say, interrupting his explanation unapologetically, “I think we should go to the market when we leave and pick all the different fruits, and I’ll send some for dad here, and we can eat them at the same time.” 

“Like a picnic?” 

“I can make little sandwiches, and we’ll get your teddies,” you agree. “Whatever you want. But first, I think you need to tell daddy all about this week. What book have we been reading? Oh, and we got you some new shoes ‘cos your feet got bigger!” 

He smiles lovingly. “Oh, they did?” he asks softly. 

You know he’s gutted.

(Spencer gets out of prison almost two whole months later. He gives Amy a huge box of tangerines (with the white lie that they are persimmons, hard to find in DC, and your sweet girl doesn’t know the difference yet) with a new pair of converse wrapped in a red silk bow, promising that he will never miss another fitting. He doesn’t know where to start with you, that much is obvious, he’s so grateful to be home and he’s sick to his stomach with guilt, too. He doesn’t realise the only thing you needed was for him to come back. 

The diamond necklace is a nice gesture, though not half as valuable as his face pressed to your neck as he sleeps, Amy on his stomach, their long fingers sticky with orange peels. It makes all your silent crying worth it.)

[batsycline69]

Full

Summary: You find out Bruce keeps closer track of your menstrual cycle than you thought. You also find out why.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x reader

Words: 4.8k

Content/warnings: description of scars, baby fever, established relationship, thigh riding, strength kink if you squint, mentions of having children/getting pregnant, breeding kink, p in v sex

“Are you kidding me?”

The sounds of wings rustle above head as your voice carries through the Batcave. Your arms are crossed tightly over your chest as you glare at Bruce. On the monitor of the bat computer, over a year’s worth of your menstrual cycle is displayed, carefully cataloged by your husband.

When Bruce came back from patrol, you gave him some time to clean up, hoping to pull him away from work. You’d mentioned seeing the cutest baby while you were out for coffee this morning, to which he replied, “is this because you’re ovulating?” To which you replied, “excuse me?”

Bruce took only a few seconds to pull up his records; little black boxes around the days you’ve had foul moods all courtesy of your luteal phase, little red boxes around your period weeks. He has little ciphers on certain days, and you suspect he’s logged the days you’ve had sex.

His expression hasn’t changed a bit despite your reaction. He’s still just as serious and unreadable as ever.

“We have sex. It’s smart to track.”

“It’s invasive! You could have at least told me you were doing this.”

“Do you keep track?” he asks pointedly.

You scowl at him. “What does that have to do with this?”

“How soon would you know if you missed a period?” He sounds smug without changing his tone; it’s one of his many astounding abilities. You hate that he’s made a good point, even if it doesn’t fully justify his prying. Then again, you were fully aware of Bruce’s endeavors as Batman when you got married. Prying came with the territory.

“I don’t know. A week or two. It’s not always that exact. But it’s not like I wouldn’t notice.” You bristle at the minuscule movement of Bruce’s eyebrow as it quirks up. To think you’d come down here to fuck him. “Point being, I don’t need you to keep track of my body. I’m perfectly capable.”

He stands up from his chair, taking a step towards you. Silence. You hate how well Bruce does silence, hate the way he weaponizes it against you. But you’re not backing down. Not until he expresses some sort of awareness that he went too far.

The look in his eyes tells you not to hold your breath. He still looks just as serious as ever, yet a slight change of the glimmer in his eyes suggests he’s arriving at his point. He steps within arms’ reach. You have a feeling leaving just enough space is part of his plan. He’s upping the anticipation. But he’s going to have to try harder than that.

“If I came in you tonight, you could end up carrying my baby.” His voice rumbles in his chest, eyes unwavering.

Fuck.

You feel your face get hot, still trying to keep your composure. He wants a reaction—manipulative asshole—but you’re not going to give him the satisfaction. He’s not going to change the subject just like that.

“Thanks, Batman, but I know how ovulation works,” you snap, turning over your shoulder. You’re not making any progress, and even if Bruce’s proposal has you feeling that familiar ache inside of you again, you can’t let him win now. You only stop when he catches your arm with his sturdy hand.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks. You’ve never been out with him while he’s doing his Batman business—that’s his world, not yours—but you imagine this is how he treats his prey when he knows they don’t stand a chance. A cocky air without being showy. He doesn’t need to prove he could take you down in an instant; you already know it’s true.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Back upstairs.”

“I thought you came down here for something,” he replies, voice smooth. He tugs you so you’re at his side. He’s not gentle about it, but the movement is controlled.

“Yeah, well that was before I found out about your little project.”

His hand slides down your arm before running up your shirt, stopping at your waist. You shiver from the cold cave air that brushes your skin. “It’s practical,” Bruce says.

“Practical.” You scoff.

But then again, Alfred does always make your favorite cookies around the time the boxes are shaded in gray. There are also those days when Bruce is a little more willing to follow you when you entice him out of the cave.

Even if you weren’t expecting this turn of events, the more you mull it over, the more it begins to click. Dick’s been out west for months now, leaving Wayne Manor feeling emptier than ever. Bruce has been burying himself in work to make up for the loss, not that he’s admitted that to you. He probably hasn’t even admitted it to himself.

You narrow your eyes a little more at him. “Is this a thing for you or something?”

He smirks. You hate it when he smirks like that. Except you don’t, not really, because he looks so good when hes smug. That’s the worst part. As you stare back at him, unwavering, you curse his stupidly handsome face. A guy that gets beat up every night shouldn’t look that good. It’s just not fair.

“What if it is?” he asks, pompous attitude lingering.

His voice is low, using his ability to have all the control in a conversation all while hardly speaking above a whisper. He knows he has your attention. Knows his words are having an effect on you. Warmth pools back into your core, familiar ache between your legs. You remember why you came down here to begin with. His gaze is bright. Hungry. Fixed on you.

God, are you and Bruce going to have to talk about kids? It’s not like you’ve never noticed the way his eyes soften whenever there’s a baby around. He loves kids. But he doesn’t have a night life conducive to having a child.

But he’s keeping track of your cycle, so I guess how surprised can you be, really? Alfred’s cookies are a nice perk, but he’s three steps ahead of you. He’s thinking about the future like always. And apparently that future has babies.

“Then...that’s a conversation we could have,” you reply, quirking an eyebrow up at him.

“Some other time,” Bruce murmurs, his breath brushing against your lips. In other words, hes already thought about it and has a plan.

He wraps his arm around your waist beneath your shirt, drawing you close. His chest presses up against your crossed arms, unconcerned with your attitude towards him. He isn’t actually smirking, but his eyes give it away, which means he wants them to give it away.

Water rushes from the falls across the cave, dropping down to the pool of water at the bottom. The air is cool and smells like wet rock. Your familiarity of the space hasn’t made it any less dark or cold, but the foreboding nature had dwindled. You grew to associate it with a young boy’s laughter, listening to it mature over time. You think of how many nights you’ve sat up, huddled beneath a blanket, waiting for Bruce to come back home among the stalactites. You think of messy arguments and fights and of family.

The glow of Bruce’s monitor lights up only half his face. He looks tired, though you couldn’t be able to say so without him shutting down the conversation entirely. But the exhaustion he won’t admit to doesn’t change the fact that he’s probably picturing you with his cock buried all the way inside you.

He doesn’t say a word as his head dips to meet your lips softly. His hands, calloused by the years of his mission, hold you like an ever-present reminder of why he does what he does. His touch is reverent, large hands splayed out across your sides.

Despite the hunger in his gaze, he takes his time with you. Lips capturing yours with expert precision, as he approaches all things. It isn’t long before Bruce whisks you off to the bedroom. Expensive, luxurious cotton surrounds you, contrasting with Bruce’s rough hands as they run up the length of your bare skin. His lips trail the length of your neck, hands devouring the surfaces of your curves. It’s not often you manage to capture his attention so completely, but god, do you revel in it when you do.

Like so much about him, Bruce’s undivided attention is intense. He’s told you once you tether him to the light; he’s bound to you because without you, he’d be lost. You’re used the dramatics. As much as you could tease him for that, you never did because he believes it. He thinks, on some level, you’ve saved him just as much as Dick has. You’ve never seen yourself as something so extraordinary, but when Bruce puts aside the masks, you become something else entirely new in your own eyes.

It’s late now, and your body squirms against Bruce. He’s taking his time with you, depriving you both of what you’re after now. His lips pay service to their admiration of you, tasting every inch of your skin. Bruce is firm with his movements. He’s controlled, but gentle. You wanted him up here, and he wants to prove to you he’s here.

“Bruce…” you whine, his kisses peppering over your chest, stomach. He shifts down to the waistband of your sleep shorts, the only thing that remains on your body. Thin cotton is now all that prevents Bruce from full access to you.

He pays you no mind, focused on the task at hand, regardless of whether it’s what you want of him. You asked for this. You asked for him. “Don’t be too eager,” he mutters, voice muffled against you.

Cocky bastard. Don’t be too eager comes out easy when he’s the one drawing things out. You’re sure that’s his plan, too. He wants to see how far he can take this, how long he can make you wait before you’re fully coming undone beneath his fingertips. It’s one of his favorite games.

You think of Bruce’s words in the cave, wondering what the sounds of little laughter would sound like echoing in these vast halls. Wondering how far a baby’s cry would be heard.

Bruce senses your mind beginning to wander. You’re not sure how, but you’ve learned better than to question these sorts of things. He has his ways, has his years of training, has his ever-focused mind. His fingertips dip beneath the waistband of your shorts, brushing over the sensitive skin of your lower belly.

Your hand rakes through his thick dark hair, tangling into the curls. He showered after patrol. His hair is free of its usual product to keep it slicked back. He looks more undone than most in Gotham would be accustomed to, but this is your favorite way to see Bruce. Wild. Less burdened by the masks he wears. He’s not trying to be Bruce Wayne, nor is he trying to be Batman.

He’s in nothing but his sweatpants, the outline of his hard-on clear in the faint moonlight.

“You can’t put a baby inside me from out there,” you say, your voice needy. You already know your half-baked attempt at getting what you want isn’t going to work, but you can try.

You do get a reaction out of him, but it’s far from what you’d hoped. The weight of the bed shifts as Bruce sits up onto his elbow. His steely eyes fall to your lusty expression from beneath his heavy brows. Your eyes are glossed over with the weight of your want. “I’m the one doing the teasing here,” he says sternly, his Batman side showing a little more. But you can tell you’ve definitely struck something.

“I’m not teasing,” you whine.

A possessiveness intensity grows on Bruce’s face. You’ve spoken the magic words, and there’s something feral within him that crawls up to the surface. It’s a side of him you’re perfectly aware exists, but not one you often see first hand. This is Batman; this is the predator that stalks to get what he’s after.

You gasp as you’re pinned down before you even blink. Bruce has your wrists above your head. His hips cage you in, bulge pressing where you want him most. But he doesn’t move. You try to roll your hips, try to give yourself more of what you seek, but you’re stuck beneath Bruce’s weight, his erection pressing up against you with little you can do.

He smirks down at you, and if he hadn’t gotten you so worked up, you’d be able to think about how insufferable he really is. But right now, you’re too wound up, hips just barely grinding against him in search of friction that just isn’t enough.

Bruce’s lips brush up against your neck. Shivers run down your spine. His teeth bite down, not quite hard enough to hurt, but strong enough to show he’s not messing around. Hard enough for your breath to hitch, your hips bucking up to meet him to no avail. You’re not moving unless he wants you to.

“Bruce…” you pout.

“Be patient. I’ll take care of you.” His muttered assurances do little to ease the aching inside you, however. The soft grumble into your ear only makes it worse. The sound of his voice after a long patrol, body fighting sleep he’s been putting off for far too long. But he won’t let that stop him; you’ve called for him, and he’s here in your time of need.

He nibbles on your jaw as his hand slides up, calloused fingertips softly circling your sensitive nipple. You let out a needy whimper, mind dizzy with desire and deprivation. Your fingers curl into the sheets, back arching for more contact.

“We would make a beautiful baby,” he mutters. Your eyes are closed, brows pressed up, but you can hear lingering amusement in his voice. Your body lurches with longing, its biological drive being stroked by Bruce’s words. “I’d fill this manor with our children if it meant getting to see your face in all of them.”

Your husband isn’t one to mince words, but when he wants to pull out the stops, you fall victim to him just as much as anyone else he’s ever charmed. You hate to admit it, but he knows just the right words to turn you to putty.

Bruce’s fingers finally dip beneath the waistband of your shorts, softly trailing down to run over the seam of your pussy.

Your breath hitches. Even the softest brush causes your hips to jerk, and this time, Bruce obliges.

His fingers dip between your folds, collecting your slick to trace agonizingly slow circles around your clit. Your eyes are closed, but you know he’s studying you, cataloging every minor movement of your expression, looking for all the best spots. These are the skills that’s earned him his playboy reputation in Gotham. The people who give rave reviews about fucking Bruce Wayne aren’t lying.

But Bruce so often sees his body as only a tool. A means to fight crime or gain information. A body may be a tool for creating children, but this is more than just that. Bruce uses his skills, longing to make something good of them. Desperate for more than blood on his hands, more than violence and fear.

It’s not long until he has you at the precipice of your climax. One of many, if this encounter is to be like any of your others. When your moans get needier, louder, indicating you’re close to your tipping point, Bruce stops. His fingers pull away, tracing up your stomach, splaying out over the skin. He’s perfectly aware of how badly you need this; that’s exactly why he’s putting it off.

“I told you to be patient,” he warns. He’s not going to rush through this. He plans to take his time with you. He pushes himself up, and from this new angle, you see the bulge in his sweatpants, half-hard cock pressed up enough to see a very clear outline.

Longing pools in the pit of your stomach, eyes skimming the scarred surface of his skin. Scar tissue puckers, each one even lighter than the rest of Bruce’s sun-deprived complexion. Deep bruises scatter across his body, some faint and green, fading away to nothingness, while others are dark; blue and purple, splotchy and angry.

He pulls down the sweatpants. His cock springs out, illuminated beautifully by the moonlight pouring through his window. You watch the muscles on his perfectly sculpted ass move as he tosses the sweatpants to the floor. He looks like a warrior carved out of marble, even in the darkness of his bedroom. The thick muscles tense as he moves.

You spread your legs, eagerly awaiting for him to slot himself inside, but he doesn’t. His thick fingers wrap around his length, grasping tight, slowly stroking himself. A soft grunt comes from the back of his throat, and you sigh just from hearing it. He slips a thigh between your legs, pressing up against you, a breathy groan following after as you begin to follow Bruce’s wordless command.

Your hips grind against the muscles of his thigh, watching as he works himself harder and harder. His free hand comes up, working through the hair that’s fallen in his face. Yet again, he looks like artwork. Muscles clear against his skin from a long night of patrol. Scarred flesh across his rippling torso, across his arms and legs.

You’ve never adjusted seeing Bruce so scarred; each time, you think of how much is at stake when he goes out at night. The scars are a testament to Bruce’s loyalty, but not to you. To his city, whenever she needs him.

She is the woman he’s given his heart to, no matter the ring on your finger. You could bare his child, fill up Wayne Manor with adorable giggles, and he would still turn to her each and every night. As difficult as that is to accept, it’s one of the things that had driven you to Bruce in the first place.

His eyes don’t stray from the sight of you before him, grinding against his leg, smearing your slick over him. Ever observant, but telling nothing. You used to worry when he stared at you like that during sex; the ferocity was unnerving. Were you doing something wrong? Making an awkward face? But you’ve since learned the honor of capturing Bruce’s attention. Such a fleeting thing, so often preoccupied with his mission, so seldom letting dedication give way to pleasure.

But then there are these times when the call of your body outshines his endless duty. When he isn’t thinking of the future, but thinking of right now. Thinking of you. And, apparently, fucking a baby into you.

Bruce coats the tip of his swollen cock with precum as he works himself. He drops, catching himself against the mattress with one hand, still pumping his cock in the other. “Do you want it?” he asks, voice low. Eyes wild. You feel him brush up against your entrance.

You nod, mouth agape in a raunchy display of how badly you want him.

His tip pushes inside and you gasp. He holds himself up on an elbow as he half-thrusts into you. You squirm beneath him trying to satiate the urgent need to be full. His head ducks down into your neck; his breath is hot against your skin as he lets out a sigh. Bruce will never ask for safety, nor will he admit he needs it. But even when he dons the batsuit, there is still some part of him that’s a terrified child, alone in an alley.

You are safety he won’t ask for. Shelter he’s never known to seek. Security he is terrified to lose.

He eases himself in slowly, making sure you feel every vein as he sinks deeper into you.

Your hands land on his back, nails digging into the skin. Breath catches in your throat and your back arches against Bruce.

“Does that feel good?” he asks, already perfectly aware of the answer.

You let out a breathy affirmation, eyes fluttering shut as he hits something blindingly sweet inside of you. All day, you’d been wanting this, aching to feel him. Daydreaming of being split open on his dick. Now you have it, and it’s even better than you were thinking.

He holds himself in you for a minute, and your walls flutter around him. Lips brush over skin, quickened breaths hold space in the silence as you both grasp onto one another until eventually he starts rutting against you, nudging at the already aching spot deep within you.

Bruce’s resolve never crumbles, fucking you with the same level of intention as he does anything else in his life. He keeps his pace steady, his face concentrated. His eyes slip shut, brows pinched together.

“Feels so good,” you whimper against his shoulder.

“I know it does,” Bruce coos, hand gripping the back of your neck. “I want it to feel good when I put my baby in you.”

And god, does that do something to you. His movements feel even more blissful, your biological urges getting stroked just as much as your pussy. Whether this is a wise decision or not remains to be seen, but you’re too fucked out to think straight, and it’s not like your baby fever brain is going to tell you anything contrary.

He holds onto your hips, practically folding you to thrust in deeper. You cry out, pleasure causing something syrupy to build within you yet again.

“Take it slow, darling,” he says. “I want us to cum together. You can wait, can’t you?”

His dirty talk is the one thing that didn’t seem to change once you knew he was Batman, the one thing that hadn’t dissipated from the persona. As usually non-verbal as Bruce was, he loved to dirty talk.

“Not like this…” you reply breathlessly. Not when he’s hitting just the right spot, not when the warmth inside of you feels absolutely molten and you can feel yourself squeezing around him.

Bruce grunts, a characteristic sign of his disapproval. “Do you need a break?” He doesn’t mean to sound patronizing; it just comes naturally to him. Like it’s your fault he fucks you like a man deprived. But before you can call him out on it, he takes a hand away from your hips, lowering himself onto an elbow yet again. “Do you need to cool down?” His teeth graze your earlobe gently, his voice growing just slightly sweeter.

He dips his head down back into your neck, nipping at the skin, a hand trails up your side, cupping a breast in his palm. “I don’t want to rush.”

“Of course not,” you scoff, still working to catch your breath. Your hips jerk towards him again, trying replicate his thrusts somehow, but he doesn’t allow you what you seek. You squeeze around him, trying to persuade him to fuck into you again, but Bruce’s iron will doesn’t give.

“Breathe,” he whispers. His fingers brush up against your pulse point, shivers running down your spine from the gentle gesture. “I’ll let you cum soon. I promise.”

You’ve learned a long time ago that Bruce’s promises only go so far. He promises to show up for the dinner reservations he booked, only for Alfred to tell you he stepped out as soon as you’re ready. He promises for a day without Batman, only for him to sneak down to the cave as soon as he thinks you aren’t paying attention.

For all you know, he means to draw this out until the sun rises. It’s not like it’d be the first time.

He leans in until he’s just a breath away. He nips at your bottom lip, capturing it between his teeth. You hear his deep chuckle as he tugs on the lip, his cock twitching inside of you. Once again, you try to grind down, try to seek more of his length. He frees your lip from its arrest before diving back in. He kisses you, passionate yet soft. Back to that devout touch.

You respond greedily, legs still bent at his hips. Your fingers curl into his hair, holding him against you.

He pulls back. He raises his hand, cupping your jaw in his palm. Eyes fixed on you.

“I love you, you know.”

Bruce doesn’t say it often; he’s admitted so himself. You’ve known for a long time now to expect the unconventional with your husband. Love confessions while he’s buried to the hilt inside of you is the closest the two of you get to normal.

“If you love me, you’d let me cum,” you pout.

He chuckles softly. “I thought you liked it when I’m sweet.” Taunting you again. He’s lucky you do love him otherwise you would never put up with all his bullshit. Coming home bleeding. Leaving you to worry about him while he runs around Gotham. Putting off your orgasm when he knows how badly you need it.

He pulls back, his eyes meeting yours. You feel his heart pounding against your chest. His cock jerks against your walls.

Without warning, he sinks back into you. You gasp, nails digging back into his skin at the sudden movement. His movements are deep and sure, hitting that same spot inside of you. “Oh fuck!” you cry, head thrown back against the pillows. “Fuck, Bruce, just like that.”

“I told you I’d take care of you,” he growls into the shell of your ear. “I wouldn’t leave you so desperate.”

Bruce thrusts into you, pushing deep, hitting the spots he knows will leave you too fucked out to move once he’s finished with you. Warmth pools back in your core as your pleasure builds back up from where Bruce left you. You clutch him against you, demanding your release. And this time, he shows you mercy.

Bruce moans against you. Even for his expert precision, you feel his thrusts getting sloppier, more frantic. He’s close.

You bite down on his shoulder. Bruce’s groans louder.

“Do you want me to come inside you, darling? Do you want me to give you a baby?” His voice is rough, a sign that his composure is cracking.

“Uh-huh…” You nod, gripping onto him like a vice so he doesn’t even consider pulling away from you.

“I will,” he murmurs.

Your sighs and pants join together, both of you wrapped so tightly around the other where you truly do feel like one. Being deprived of your orgasm has you frenzied, chasing after your high. And this time, Bruce follows through.

Your climax hits you like a train. For a few seconds, your ears are ringing, and you stare up at Bruce blankly, too blissed out to see.

He slams into you, hips stuttering. His hand cups your neck, eyes pinched shut. As he tosses his head back, you think of the rareness of this moment. Expression pinched with pleasure, Bruce makes good on his promise, spilling into you. You feel his cock pulsing, softly grinding against you, making sure every drop fills your pussy.

He falls on top of you, cock still buried inside of you. His weight is comforting, if just a little suffocating. But your body thrums with the electricity of your orgasm. Fingertips tingling, sweat beading up on your skin. Your walls throb around him, his seed warm inside in hopes of taking root.

The two of you are silent as you catch your breath, coming down from your bliss. The room is dark, and yet you feel absolutely bathed in light, warm and heavy.

You let out a soft whimper when Bruce finally pulls out, feeling cold and empty in his absence. He rises to his knees and observes his work, eyes sparkling as he watches his cum leak out of you. He swipes his thumb along your clit. You squirm, still sensitive from your peak.

“You’re irresistible, do you know that?” he asks you, still kneeling above you. Cum drips from his tip, sliding down his still-hard shaft.

Had you any energy left to speak, you’d remind him how he’s usually quite able to resist you, but you don’t want to ruin the afterglow of all of that. Not when you can watch Bruce’s scarred belly rising and falling from his exertion. Not after feeling his heart beating in time with yours as he pumps you full of his cum.

You hum contentedly, too spent for words, laying in the afterglow of the sex. The sounds of Bruce moving about the room only partially register in your mind until the bed shifts with his weight again. You jolt slightly, shaken from your stupor as Bruce gently cleans up the cum leaking from you.

“I meant what I said.” Bruce doesn’t look up as he speaks. “We’d have beautiful children.”

A tired smile crawls on your face as you look back at him. “We will,” you reply.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider giving this a reblog 💛

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Week

1. A branch of the flu family tree has died and won't be included in future US vaccines

A type of flu virus that used to sicken people every year hasn't been spotted anywhere on Earth since March 2020. As such, experts have advised that the apparently extinct viruses be removed from next year's flu vaccines.

The now-extinct viruses were a branch of the influenza B family tree known as the Yamagata lineage. Scientists first reported the apparent disappearance of Yamagata viruses in 2021.

2. Hospitals must obtain written consent for pelvic and similar exams, the federal government says

Hospitals must obtain written informed consent from patients before subjecting them to pelvic exams and exams of other sensitive areas — especially if an exam will be done while the patient is unconscious, the federal government said Monday.

New guidance from the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services now requires consent for breast, pelvic, prostate and rectal exams for “educational and training purposes” performed by medical students, nurse practitioners or physician assistants.

3. Germany approves new law that will allow adults to carry up to 25 grams of cannabis for their own consumption and store up to 50 grams at home.

Germany's upper house, the Bundesrat, cleared the way to partially legalize cannabis on Friday. Adults aged 18 and over will be allowed to carry up to 25 grams of cannabis for their own consumption.

4. Tick-killing pill shows promising results in human trial | Should it pan out, the pill would be a new weapon against Lyme disease.

Tarsus Pharmaceuticals is developing a pill for humans that could provide protection against the tick-borne disease for several weeks at a time. In February, the Irvine, California–based biotech company announced results from a small, early-stage trial showing that 24 hours after taking the drug, it can kill ticks on people, with the effects lasting for up to 30 days.

5. Thailand moves to legalise same-sex marriage

Thailand has taken a historic step closer to marriage equality after the lower house passed a bill giving legal recognition to same-sex marriage.

It still needs approval from the Senate and royal endorsement to become law but it is widely expected to happen by the end of 2024, making Thailand the only South East Asian country to recognise same-sex unions.

6. French Revolution: Cyclists Now Outnumber Motorists In Paris

Official measurements have found that Paris is rapidly becoming a city of transportation cyclists. In the suburbs, where public transit is less dense, transport by car was found to be the main form of mobility. But for journeys from the outskirts of Paris to the center, the number of cyclists now far exceeds the number of motorists, a huge change from just five years ago.

7. 'Miracle' operation reverses blindness in three-year-old girl giving her 'promising' future

A three year old with a genetic condition that causes blindness is doing incredibly well after unique pioneering operation to restore her sight.

The UK is the only country performing keyhole eye surgery to inject healthy copies of a gene into sufferers’ eyes. It is being used to reverse blindness in children born with a rare condition which means they can only distinguish between light and dark. And it has given little Khadijah Chaudhry, born with Leber congenital amaurosis-4, a chance at seeing properly again.

---

That's it for this week :)

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Also don’t forget to reblog this post with your friends.

[satoruly]

𝘿𝙍𝙀𝙎𝙎 𝙃𝙄𝙈 𝙐𝙋 .ᐟ.ᐟ

costumes that the jjk men would wear for halloween

includes. toji fushiguro, satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami

tags/warnings. fluff, no curse!au, i like to think gojo's is a college au too, suggestive, mentions of oral in toji's, gojo is called a slut (jokingly), fake blood.

a/n. i love satoru i swear and suguru's is so cheesy idk if i cringe or not idc i think he's lovely. mdni banner by @/cafekitsune

got a request? click here !!

𝘀𝗶𝗺𝗼𝗻 '𝗴𝗵𝗼𝘀𝘁' 𝗿𝗶𝗹𝗲𝘆 ₊˚⊹ 𝘁. 𝗳𝘂𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗴𝘂𝗿𝗼

“I look ridiculous.”

“I bet you don’t,” you spoke from where you sat on the bed, legs crisscrossed as you waited for your boyfriend to come out from the bathroom “Just show me”

He had taken longer than you thought to get ready, longer than you had, but in retrospect, you guess you should’ve seen it coming with the amount of belts you had handed to him and no instructions to work with, you guess it was really on you. 

“This was a mistake.” He mumbled through pursed lips once he came out, looking off to the side, his slightly overgrown hair obscuring his eyes. Without the vest and belt, it was practically an everyday outfit for him, a navy blue hoodie with a pair of blue cargo pants. The latter did differ from his day-to-day wear but it was okay, he was gonna wear his New Balance sneakers once you were ready to leave so it cancelled out. 

“I want to suck your dick so bad right now.” 

“I look like a glorified back-pack”

“Where did you learn the word glorified?” You joked, though only half-heartily because you were too busy staring at your boyfriend’s thighs concealed by not only way too tight pants but by very tight garters. You wished he would keep them on the daily. Luckily though, your primitive brain had no completely taken over and so you were able to process his lack of response to your off-handed blow job proposition.

“Im wearing kneepads like a fucking loser.” He raised his knee to emphasize his point, letting his foot rest on the ottoman at the end of the bed and practically throwing the skeleton mask you hadn’t noticed he had been holding on top of the covers. 

You stood up, gave him a once look over and walked towards him cupping his face with your palms. One of your thumbs rubbed the skin of his cheek now coated by a very subtle pink, one you’d only be able to notice if you squinted. 

“You don’t look like a loser, personally I think you look very very hot,” you assured him, “but if you really don’t like it you don’t have to wear it, we can find something else for Satoru’s party.”

He huffed, unconsciously leaning against the warmth of your palms, eyebrows still twisted into a frown. “It’s not that, just— you’d really suck me off dressed like this?”

You hummed, giving him a light peck on the lips before trailing your hands down his chest, ignoring the plate carrier that bulked him up more than he already was. 

“Like now?” You could hear the smirk in his voice, the usual sultriness it carried back where it was meant to be.

“Depends,” you pondered, biting back a smile at the suggestiveness. “How long ‘till we have to leave?”

He cursed at the number of pockets he had to go through before finding his phone stashed on the back of his pants, eagerly examining the time and then showing the lit-up screen to you. “Like 30 minutes.”

“Then sure,” you looked up at him, not breaking eye contact as you undid his utility belt, letting it fall to the floor before slowly working to unzip his pants. “I’ll be quick."

𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗴 ₊˚⊹ 𝘀. 𝗴𝗼𝗷𝗼

“I was gonna buy the tights but the imprint of my d—”

“Okay! We are changing the subject…” You almost slapped your palm over your boyfriend’s mouth before he could continue. Successfully [stopping] Shoko and Utahime from hearing the not-so-safe-for-work details of your costume shopping trip.

Looking back, it was kind of funny. Satoru wasn’t all that fond of superheroes but one singular video of a hot guy on his fyp was more than enough to convince him he was willing to commit to the transformation. In reality, you’re sure he just wanted to wear the tights. That's why he almost cried when all the ones at the costume shop turned out too small to cover his ankles.

He had tried his best to make it work but to no avail and had settled instead for a black pair of cargo pants, and though they weren’t the classic Nightwing tights he had envisioned, you swore they were so much better.

“It’s nice,” Shoko pointed out, taking a drag of her cigarette, directly juxtaposing her surgeon costume. The scrubs and lab coat she wore were likely taken from the faculty of medicine last minute. “Thought you’d use Halloween as an excuse to dress up sluttier though.”

His offended gasp almost made you burst out laughing, the hand you had used to shut him up still muffling his dramatics.

“Oh, he���s a slut alright.” You joked, now resting your hand on his chest and taking a sip of your drink to hide your smile as your boyfriend decided to run with your joke.

“Yeah exactly,” he chuckled, leaning against your head and smushing his cheek in the process and circling one of his arms around your waist. He couldn’t spend a single moment not touching you, and though you played tough, you couldn’t help but lean against his touch every single time. “It’s the energy.”

And it sure was. Even if his current costume was way more tame than the bunny boy one he had chosen last year, he was still giving ‘slut’.

Although you were quick to shut down his previous comment, you’d be lying if you said the mildly accurate costume didn’t do things to you. For one, props to him for making progress at the gym. The loose material stretched out over his thighs every time he made the slightest flexing motion. Sitting, standing, going up the stairs, no matter what he did was a sight for sore eyes. Then, you had the compression long-sleeved he wore. Though it technically was a “costume” and not a compression shirt, it still hugged his arms and chest so deliciously you swore you could moan. 

And of course, how could you forget about his ass. 

“And what are you supposed to be?” Utahime asked, looking at your pleated pants, loose light blue shirt with most of the top buttons undone, and a pair of sunglasses.

“A slut.” You shrugged, enjoying their confusion until it finally clicked.

“You’re dressed as him!”

𝗵𝗼𝘄𝗹 𝗽𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗮𝗴𝗼𝗻 ₊˚⊹ 𝘀. 𝗴𝗲𝘁𝗼

“Nope, we need another one.” 

Suguru groaned in dismay, so close to banging his head against the door frame as you rejected yet another costume you had suggested, or more so, insisted he should wear. At this point of the day, he was sure his skin was sore from the constant friction of multiple garments’ fabrics. 

“Why? I think this one’s good.”

You tilted your head, looking him up and down before pursing your lips. You won't deny he looked good. He always looked good. But, “We’re going to a costume party.”

“So? This is a costume.” 

“Yeah but…” You trailed off, wondering if he’d take personal offense for the comment you were about to make regarding his fashion sense. “It kinda just looks like you.”

Now it was time for him to tilt his head in confusion, squinting at you as if to prompt you to elaborate and you sighed before continuing, “Besides the boots, actually, no, you do use those, it's pretty much a normal outfit for you.”

He looked down at himself, eyes meticulously scanning every inch of his body to then look up at you. “I’ve never worn a poet shirt before.”

“But the vibe,” you pointed at him up and down with your hand, “is there.”

“What vibe? Suguru Geto from the 19th century?”

“Ish? Yeah.” You agreed, standing in front of him to fix the collar of his shirt. “You look like you belong in a romanticism painting minus the high-waisted pants, which fyi make your ass look great.”

He chuckled, turning around to stand in front of the full-body mirror next to your vanity to check himself out, subtly taking a peak at his ass. It did look really good in those pants.

“Let me try the necklace and you can decide.” He grabbed the thin chain and gave it to you for help. Holding his hair up, he couldn’t yet again chuckle at the reflection as you tried to stand up on your tip toes to hook the clasp around his neck. 

It added some depth, he thought. The white shirt and black pants combo was something he would wear. The added jewellery made it look a little less like him, but the matching earrings were still missing.

“—and I know what you’re thinking, so I got these.” 

You stretched your palm in front of him, a pair of new gauges resting on it. Unlike his, they weren’t black, more so a pale golden color. 

“They match the color of the necklace and if you want to wear the earrings you can loop them through there.” You pointed out, and upon closer inspection, once he held them in his hands, he could see there was a little hole at the bottom of them. “But you can also not wear them if you don’t wanna, thought it'd be a nice detail.”

“I thought you weren’t sure about the costume,” he kissed the top of your head, mumbling ‘thank you’, and carefully slipped off the ones he was wearing. The way you beamed as he started doing so didn’t you escape him, and it made him all the more eager to try them on even if they felt cold against his skin and were out of his comfort zone. He had never really been a fan of gold on himself.

“Eh, I might’ve been more committed than I let on.” You hugged his waist, looking at him through the mirror as he grabbed Howl’s dangly earrings. He looked pretty. “What do you think? Looks good?”

He hummed, shaking his head slightly and chuckling at the earrings swishing against his skin. He wasn’t used to wearing those, it felt funny. “It’s still missing something though.”

“What’s missing?” You asked as he moved fully in front of you. He pressed his thumb in the middle of your furrowed brows before kissing your forehead and then giving you a quick pick on the lips.

“The matching promise rings.”

𝗽𝗮𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝗯𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗺𝗮𝗻 ₊˚⊹ 𝗸. 𝗻𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗶

“You’ve always wanted to murder your coworkers, now you can pretend you have!”

“I’m never wearing this outfit again.”

“See! You can even make the references, it’s perfect.”

But you had to give it to him, it would be much more of a costume if he wasn’t wearing a suit that closely resembled what he used to wear for work. A fitted black suit, a crisp, freshly ironed shirt and a red tie, everything covered up by a transparent raincoat. And to be fair, the plastic did make a funny noise whenever he walked. 

The only missing piece of the costume was the blood, which led you to where you were, standing over old newspapers in case you stained the kitchen floor. 

“You’re enjoying this way too much.” He shook his head as you walked around him with a bottle of fake blood, excitedly pouring the runny liquid into strategic places for it to look organic like he had actually killed someone. He wasn’t a Halloween nor a dress-up fanatic per se, but the promise of a good costume party had set you off into a never-ending search for the perfect costume until you had finally settled on one. The perfect one.

You nodded at his words, carefully creating a couple of splotches with a paintbrush before you could finally admire your masterpiece. “Now the only thing we are missing is your face?”

“Pardon?”

“We gotta put some blood on your face.” You said sitting up on the counter, careful not to knock down the FX makeup kit you had gotten. Making space between your legs, you pulled him from his belt loops towards you, and automatically, his hands positioned themselves right on top of your hips. Without you needing to tell him, he leaned closer to you, lowering his height just enough for you to reach his face properly.

“That was not part of our deal.” Yet, he stayed as still as possible as you used a smaller dropper to carefully apply the liquid to his temple close to his hairline. 

“Close your eyes.” He did as you said, and you proceeded to imitate the splotches without staining his whole face, just his forehead and cheeks. Some of it dripped down his eyebrow and towards his eye, but you caught it fast enough for it to not stain his lashes. Hopefully, that’d be the only ‘liability’ you’d experience for the night, you really didn’t want his shirt to stain. “And we are done!”

You grabbed your phone and turned on your front camera for him to look at himself.

“What do you think?”

He stared at his reflection for a couple of seconds trying to figure out if he liked it or not. While he did so, he couldn’t help but subtly flicker from you back to him a couple of times, looking at your eyes creasing in excitement. The warm smile on your lips was contagious, the way you scrunched your nose when he kissed your forehead as if scared he’d get ‘blood’ on you too cute, and so he couldn’t help the gentler one that appeared on his. 

“I like it a lot.”

© all works belong to satoruly

[writtenbymoonflower]

hii!! i hope this is where requests go! but i was wondering if you could do either a remus x reader or poly x reader- (would rather poly but idk what you prefer) where they’ve been getting bruises from somewhere, but they don’t rlly notice it until it’s like finger prints somewhere, it could be like an ex harassing them or something? something along those lines of them being protective and hurt/comfort <33

hi sweetness! sorry it took so long! poly!marauders x gn!reader

cw: mentions of physical abuse from coworker. post-trauma stress, swearing

1.1k words

You had been growing increasingly skittish. Before these series of incidents, your boyfriends had been able to touch you whenever and wherever with little reaction. (with the exception of pleasant shivers). Sirius seemed to always have his hands in your back pockets, James had a habit of coming up behind you and nuzzling into your neck, and Remus, though not very tactile, would brush his hands appreciatively over your hips and waist. But in the past few weeks, your boys had been pulling back. And you knew the reason, you knew it was your fault. 

It had started with slight flinches. When Sirius gripped your shoulder affectionately and you jumped, eyes wide with fear. At any other time, the press of his fingertips would be pleasant. But when he squeezed the broken skin- broken skin he had no knowledge of -you winced and whimpered in pain. He immediately pulled his hand back, concern notched between his dark brows, and you immediately began reassuring and apologizing. You told him that you were just tense, that his touch was unexpected but not unwelcome, but he had still been careful since then. After a string of similar circumstances with James and Remus, they had all been handing you with kid gloves. 

Your behavior had changed as well. You had swapped your normal tank tops and tees for crew neck hoodies and sweaters, long sleeves to cover the purple and green spots littering your arms. Your face had been permanently tense in an attempt to stifle grimaces from rising up. You were sore, mentally exhausted, chronically anxious, and your boyfriends could tell. You had been constantly reassuring them of you being fine, but you could see their suspicion growing with every attempt. You could feel the tension thick in the air, attempting to rear its ugly head. 

Despite every attempt to seem normal, you still flinched when James touched your back, trying to pass behind you. 

“Right behind you, lovely” instead the usual comfort James’ voice carried, it put you on edge, making you inhale sharply, tensing your whole body. 

“Sorry.” You mumbled, shaking your head and squeezing your eyes shut, urging the panic to leave your body. Only when your breathing slowed down did you realize the crippling silence that had taken over the room. 

“Are you sure you’re okay, sweet thing?” Sirius probed, unusually careful. He was eyeing you suspiciously over his laptop screen. You quickly fixed your face, grateful for the distance the bar island put between you and your investigating boyfriend. 

“Yup. I’m all good, just startled me ‘s all.” You went back to chopping the vegetables in front of you with slightly too much vigor. The boys were still silent. You quickly changed the subject. “Remmy, can you grab the turkey from the fridge for me, please?” 

“Sure, dovey.” He walked behind you to get to the icebox. You made sure not to shudder as he made his way. He stopped, looking over your shoulder. Every nerve was standing to attention.

“You okay, honey?” You did everything to keep your voice from coming out strained. 

“I’m okay.” Remus sounded slightly confused. “Here, sweetheart. Your sleeves are going to get in the way.” He reached over to roll your sleeves up. A sweet gesture at its core, but you still froze in panic. He pulled them all the way up to your elbows. You just stared at the cutting board, wincing when James hissed, quickly making his way over to inspect further. Sirius took his computer glasses off, nearly catapulting himself over the bar. 

“Fuck, baby. What happened to you?” Sirius went straight to the issue. He grabbed your wrist, tilting your stained flesh towards the light. There were small, round splotches on the delicate skin of your wrist. Before you could find an excuse, Remus took your wrist. When he held your arm, his fingers fitting almost perfectly into the marks, he inhaled deeply.

“Who the fuck did this.” Remus bit out. James reached over to place a hand on his shoulder and Sirius gave him a pleading look, but nothing was going to calm him. Usually it would be Remus calming Sirius down, but when Remus’ fierce protectiveness comes out, nothing can pull it back in. In these cases, Sirius acts as the calmer one. 

“Rem, it’s ok-” You started.

“It’s not fucking okay! Someone put their goddamn hands on you and I need to know who did it.” Despite his voice growing in volume, he was still handling you ever so gently. James still moved between you and Remus, suspecting that Remus’ extremely visible stress would only put you more on edge. 

“Sweetheart,” James started, keeping his voice calm, even as it wobbled with worry. “Is this why you’ve been so tense lately?” Before another denial could form on your tongue, James continued. “Please, lovely. You can tell us. We won’t be mad, we just want to help you.” His dark eyes were searching your face, looking for any shred of emotion to cling to. 

Everything just felt so raw. You knew you were being ganged up on, drowned with affection and it was all too much. You pressed your lips together to keep them from wobbling but it was no use. Your eyes filled with hot tears and sobs started to wrack your body. Weeks of pent-up hurt came spilling out. 

“I just-” You struggled to get the words out between too-fast breaths. The boys caged you in, but for the first time in weeks, you felt comforted rather than clutched. 

“Take your time, baby. It’s okay. We’re not going to leave you.” Sirius smoothed your hair out of your damp face. 

“T-they hired someone at work. I-I used to know them.” You struggled. Pausing to suck in small bits of air. You could see questions spinning in their heads, but they didn’t interrupt. “I guess I make them mad. I’ve always made them mad. I don’t mean to, but I just d- do.” 

“Nothing.” Remus’ voice was sharp, but terribly kind. “Nothing you could do would make this okay. This is not your fault. Never has been, never was. No matter how upset they are, they don't get to hurt you.” You kept shaking, hot tears dripping off of your jaw. 

“I-” You struggled. “I’ve been so scared.” When you said this, Sirius caged you in his arms. You knew this struck a nerve with him too. 

“I know, baby. I know. I’m so so sorry you’ve been dealing with this yourself. It must have been so hard. But we’ve got you now. You’re going to be okay.” You couldn’t get words out anymore, but it was okay. They would stay with you until you could. 

“We aren’t going to let them do this to you anymore, you hear me?” James pulled your face out of Sirius’ neck to make you look at him. “We’re going to fix this.” 

[redeemingvillains]

the playlist - mattheo riddle

summary: enzo overhears something about you he shouldn't have and when he tells his friends, all hell breaks loose.

word count: 1.5k

soundtrack: dress - taylor swift

a/n: just some fun, sweet and silly banter with our favorite boys! i made enzo italian? not sure if that's a thing. and i definitely took some liberties with italian, so please forgive me!

warning: the group is lowkey mean to enzo about his english not being very good; this in no way reflects my personal views about that. anyone that even attempts to speak or learn more than one language (esp english!) is amazing ♡

"Alright, I've got another one"

Pansy's voice carried from your bedroom into the bathroom where you were curling your hair, getting ready for your girls' night. She was fiddling with your phone, playing music through your bluetooth speaker.

"Fuck, marry, kill: Blaise, Mattheo, Theo."

"What is the actual matter with you?" you responded, laughing. "I'm not answering that, none of them" you said resolutely about your best friends, even as your heart trilled in your chest at the very obvious answer you had in your head.

She laughed deeply, "Gods they would simply die. Any of them would be on their knees to marry you, I swear to Salazar... or fuck you for that matter."

"Pansy!!"

"Ok, ok, I give up."

"Anyway, how are things with you and Draco?" you asked, looking to quickly change the subject.

A heartbeat. No response.

"Pans?" you asked, your ears listening intently for her answer before you became worried. "You okay?" you asked, concerned as you carefully set down your curler and peered around the doorframe to find her with a shit-eating grin on her face, staring at your phone.

"Pansy..." you said cautiously as you slowly approached her.

"I just found a very interesting playlist on your phone. 'M.R.'? Gee, wonder what that could be?" she said slyly.

Your feet started moving quickly towards her. "Nonono, nope that's not what you think –"

Now she was on her feet, running away from you. "Oh, GIRL, ohhhhh my goddddssss!"

"Give it back!" you shouted, lunging for your phone as she dodged out of your grasp.

"This is all Taylor Swift! Down Bad, But Daddy I Love Him, DRESS!?! I KNEW IT, I FUCKING KNEW IT!!!!" she shouted as she scrambled on top of your bed and jumped up and down. "This is the best thing that's ever happened to me, please, Mattheo is going to lose his mind!!!"

"Oh gods, Pans, please, please you cannot say anything, not to Draco, not to anyone."

Her eyes flicked from you over your shoulder and your heart dropped into your stomach as you turned to see Lorenzo standing in your doorway.

"...Ciao bellas..." he said hesitantly, eyebrows raised as he took in the scene in front of him, Pansy, out of breath, standing on your bed, you clambering up beside her as you were both shouting at each other.

"Uhh, hey Enz, what's up?" you said as casually as possible as you climbed off your bed.

"I'm here to borrow your potions textbook, you said I could?–"

"–Yes, gods, yes I did" you said, scrambling to search for it from the pile on your desk before brandishing it at him.

"Thank you bella" he said as he left, a cheeky grin on his face.

"Fuck how much of that do you think he heard?" you said, looking up at Pansy.

"Babe, he barely speaks English, you're fine" she said nonchalantly. "But as for me, you have a lot of explaining to do."

Enzo made his way into the common room where the rest of his friends were gathered around the TV playing a video game as he plopped down onto the couch beside them.

"Where the hell have you been?" Draco asked without breaking his concentration on the screen.

"I was with la dolce e la piccante, eh, I needed her book" he said, using his affectionate nicknames for you (sweet) and Pansy (spicy). "Amico, she was talking about you" he said suggestively, his eyebrows wiggling.

"Yeah, what did she say?" Draco asked, his curiosity piqued.

"No, not you, la dolce, she was talking about Mattheo."

Mattheo had been sprawled in a large armchair with his hood over his head and eyes closed, but they fluttered open at that. Be cool he thought to himself, even as his heart raced in his chest. Enzo immediately registered his reaction and smirked.

"Care to share?" Theo grunted, jamming the buttons on his controller.

"She has music for you" Enzo said, his eyes never leaving Mattheo.

Mattheo's heartrate slowed.

"She sends me songs all the time, we have a shared playlist, Enz" he said, waving him off as he pulled his hood back up.

"No, no, it was not for sharing, it was a secret."

"You mean a surprise?" Blaise tried.

"No, no, la picante, she found it and la dolce was upset, it was a secret playlist."

Mattheo sat back up.

"A secret playlist... for me?" he asked.

"Yes!" Enzo said, happy to finally have gotten his attention and the message across.

Enzo's confirmation was met with some chuckles and ooohs and aahhs.

"Did you hear it?"

"What was on it?"

"I bet it was the same depressing alternative shit you two always listen to" Theo said.

"Shut the fuck up" Mattheo snapped back, narrowing his gaze at him.

"–It was Taylor Swift!" Enzo announced proudly, and four sets of eyes shifted to him, with three blank stares.

A pause.

"Ok, but like what era are we talking about here? Lover? Folklore? TPD?" Theo said and four sets of eyes shifted to him.

"What the fuck?"

"Bro, what are you talking about?"

"Am I supposed to know what any of this means?"

"Che cosa??"

"Taylor Swift is a fucking icon and anyone who says otherwise is either deaf or ignorant" Theo retorted before snapping his gaze back to Enzo, the video game in the background long forgotten now.

"Tell me exactly what you heard."

"Ehh, Down Bad, Daddy something something, and Dress" he said, nodding as he remembered each.

Theo's controller fell off his lap as he leaned forward intensely, eyes narrowed on Enzo, "You are fucking certain that's what you heard?"

"...Yes..?"

Theo let out a noise somewhere between a howl and a laugh.

"Oh my fucking gods Matty you lucky son of a bitch!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Mattheo asked. He was sitting upright now on the edge of his seat and he could feel his pulse in his neck as he'd watched the conversation going back and forth between Theo and Enzo like a fucking tennis match.

"Dress by Taylor Swift? But Daddy I Love Him? Hellloooo???!!" Theo was cackling now, falling back on the couch, his hands on his stomach.

And then panic ensued.

"Put it on! Someone pull it up!" Blaise shouted, scrambling to his feet in search of his phone.

"Gods" Draco muttered, his hands on his head as he tried to process the information as tears streamed down Theo's face with laughter, and maybe a small bit of bitter jealousy.

Enzo looked around with wide eyes at their reaction, somehow more dramatic than the girls'.

"No!" Mattheo said finally, standing up and grabbing Blaise by the arm as he was frantically trying to find the songs. "All of you, just shut. the. fuck. up" he said firmly, his voice low and serious as he enunciated every word, causing each of them to stop what they were doing and look at him.

"This is bullshit, he doesn't even speak English" he continued harshly, gesturing halfheartedly to Enzo. "I'm not wasting my time with this shit, can we please just get back to the game?"

He sat down resolutely, picked a controller up off the floor and moved to restart their game.

The group exchanged quiet glances with one another before settling back into their places.

Mattheo had been able to project a semblance of controlled anger the rest of the night, despite the sideways glances he received, but on the inside, he felt like a kettle full of boiling water, ready to scream.

He was fuming that Enzo repeated what he'd heard in front of everyone, furious at the way Theo laughed and annoyed at everyone else's reactions. His life, his feelings, and especially his friendship with you were private; it was none of their godsdamn business.

He also didn't like the idea that Theo knew your music better than he did, music was something the two of you had always shared with each other... since when did you listen to Taylor Swift anyway? And why was her music such a big deal?

He was tossing and turning in bed now, playing and replaying the evening's events in his head until finally he reached for his headphones, shoving them in his ears as he grabbed his phone. He needed to know, needed to understand why Theo was making such a big deal out of it. Theo's voice echoed in his head: "Matty you lucky son of a bitch!" and excitement and jealousy stirred in his stomach in equal measures.

It doesn't mean anything he told himself, tampering his expectations. The last thing he wanted to do was get excited, like one song was going to change anything anyway.

Dress he typed - tapping play.

Decent beat he thought, she's got a nice voice...

And then he hit the bridge.

Say my name and everything just stops I don't want you like a best friend Only bought this dress so you could take it off

He had stopped breathing.

Everyone thinks that they know us But they don't know nothing about All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation My hands are shaking from holding back from you –

He ripped his headphones out of his ears and sat straight up in bed, his hand falling subconsciously to his beating chest as he tried to catch his breath. He swallowed. He blinked several times, trying to register what he'd just heard.

I don't want you like a best friend?

Well fuck he thought, me either.

T H E P L A Y L I S T

🏷️ tagging a few of my beautiful mutuals: @girllblogging777 @draco-dormiens @dracosbabygirl8 @leona-hawthorne @noble-serpent @sectumsempraaa @reys-letters

[russo-woso]

How could you? Part 2

If you haven’t read part 1, I’d suggest reading it first. It might make it a bit clearer.

It had been years since you last spoke to Alessia.

You’d seen her since, of course.

I mean, with you playing for Chelsea, playing Arsenal was a big match.

But since the divorce, the matches got even more climatic.

Both teams got even more aggressive, your teammates wanting revenge on Alessia for what they did to you, and Alessia’s teammates getting back at your own.

The pitch turned into a boxing ring when it was blue vs red.

But at the same time, you hated playing Arsenal because you had to play against your ex-wife and your current fiancé.

Your current fiancé, Arsenal’s own, Leah Williamson.

You didn’t seem to leave the house after the divorce, only leaving for things you had to, such as training and matches, but when you were invited to a charity event, there was no way you could say no.

And you were glad you didn’t because you met the love of your life that night.

You were aware that other footballers had been invited but you weren’t aware that Arsenal royalty had been invited.

You remember that night so clearly, you don’t think you’ll ever forget it.

After walking the red carpet, you found your assigned seat, next to Leah.

“Oh no, not you. I’m allergic to Chelsea players. I’m gonna die.” Leah exaggerated, clearly joking.

You rolled your eyes at her before responding, “Oh so dramatic. Why are you here as a footballer? You should be with all the actors, Williamson.”

“Yeah and you should be at church praying that we don’t batter you in two weeks.”

“Oh, really? I don’t think it’s me that should be praying.” You said back, a genuine smile resting on your face.

“You look good in red. You should switch to the right side of London.” Leah pointed out, changing the subject. You were wearing a red dress whereas Leah was wearing a suit that hugged her figure.

“Thank you, but I’m a blue through and through and anyway, I wouldn’t go to arsenal. Not when she still plays there. But you look good too.”

“I’m sorry about what happened with Alessia.” Leah apologised, her eyes softened as she rested a hand on your back.

“You don’t have to say sorry. You have a past and a future for a reason. She’s my past, I’m just looking for a future now.” You explained to Leah

“Although you’re a blue, You deserve someone who can make you happy.”

“Hmm, have someone in mind?”

“Maybe.” Leah sent a smirk over to you and a blush took over your cheeks.

The night carried on, flirtatious comments and touches from both of you.

It was safe to say that you didn’t end up in your own bed that night.

From that night onwards, Alessia was your past and Leah was your future.

And when you saw Leah more and more, you slowly forgot about Alessia.

Memories you made with Alessia got replaced with memories made with Leah.

The best memory happened two years after the charity event.

Leah took you to Greece on holiday and on the final night, she got down on one knee and made you hers.

————————

“My girls going to England camp today.” Leah mumbled into your temple before pressing a kiss there.

Your eyes flutters open and you smiled at the sight of Leah cuddling you.

You had received your first England call up from Sarina for the international friendliest coming up.

You had worked so hard over the past couple of months that you knew it wouldn’t go unnoticed.

Leah was by your side as soon as your phone rang.

You got off the phone from Sarina and Leah tackled you into a hug, placing kisses all over your face.

To say she was proud was an understatement.

“I’m nervous about it, Le.” You admitted to her, tears welling in your eyes.

“Why you nervous, pretty girl?” Leah looked at you, concern written on her face. She stroked loose hair out of your face and placed a kiss on your cheek.

“I’m scared I won’t be good enough. And seeing less again. I’ll be playing with her this time.” You admitted and Leah cradled you in her arms.

“My girl, you have nothing to worry about. You are such a good player. You’ve scored 9 goals for the c word this season and we’re only half way through the season. And you don’t have to worry about Alessia. You’ll be okay, I’ll make sure of it.”

“Thanks, baby.”

“Time to get up?” Leah asked and you replied by cuddling into her chest even more. “I’m taking that as a no.”

————————

As captain, Leah had an advantage when it came to rooming people together.

Normally, couples weren’t allowed to room with each other, but Leah made sure that you and her were together.

You and Leah unpacked your things before heading down to the lobby, hand in hand.

“Here’s the love birds. How have you been Y/N? How’s Leah been treating you?” Kiera asked, pulling you in for a hug.

“I’m great, thanks, kie. Leah’s been incredible, like always. How are you? How’s the Spanish weather been treating you?”

“It’s amazing. You can move there, I can put in a good word for you.” Lucy offered, joining the conversation, but Leah was quick to refuse it for you.

“As much as I hate seeing her play in blue, she’s not moving away from me. She’s staying in London.”

“I’ll never move away Le. I’ll never leave.” You giggled at her protectiveness.

“I’ll never leave either.”

You pressed a kiss to her lips. When you broke apart, you turned to face Kiera and Lucy but when their eyes widened, you followed their gaze and saw her standing there.

“Alessia, hi.” You said, awkwardly, panicking a bit but as soon as you felt Leah’s hands squeezing yours, you calmed down.

“Hi. Do you mind if I quickly talk to you? I know you’ve got lots of introductions to do and probably a whole lot of media. And the fact that you probably don’t want to talk to—” Alessia’s voice got quieter the more she rambled on which made a small smile appear on your face. She hadn’t changed at all.

“Less, of course I’ll talk to you.” You said and turned to face Leah, placing a kiss to her cheek. “I won’t be long, baby.”

You followed Alessia round the corner just so you were somewhere a bit more private.

“It’s good to see you, you look good.” Alessia broke the silence that had overtaken you Both.

“Thanks. I am good. How are you?”

“I’m also good. I just…I didn’t want this camp to be awkward between us. I never got the chance to formally apologise. I’m sorry, Y/N. And I know that you’ll probably never forgive me, but I just want to know that you don’t hate me.” Alessia explained her reasons for wanting to talk to you. You could tell she was panicking so you rested a hand on back, gently rubbing it to calm her down.

“Less, I’ll forgive you. I forgave you the day I met Leah. But it doesn’t mean I’ll never forget it. I think me and you, we weren’t meant to be for each other. We got married young. We didn’t have the chance to explore anything. I’ll never forget you and me. You were my first everything so you’ll always have a place in my heart. I could never hate you Alessia. Not even a bit.” You told her, tears starting to stream down her face. “Hey, no crying. It’s all in the past. Come on, say it with me.”

“It’s all in the past.” Alessia and you said together as she let out a laugh and wiped her tears away.

“There we go. Now, no awkwardness between us, okay? You’re my friend, less. If you need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

“Thanks, Y/N/N.” Less smiles and you brought her in for a hug.

“My god, Leah’s scary when she stares into your soul.” Alessia announced as she looked past you and saw Leah starting at the encounter.

You turned around and sent Leah a look, her face immediately softening and a smile was sent your way.

“You broke Leah, you know. Everyone says it. One day she was this woman who always frowned. It’s like she had a curse on her, and then she comes into training and she all smiles. You broke the curse.” Alessia said, and you smiled at Leah who was catching up with Georgia.

“She makes me so happy.” You admitted and Alessia smiled at you.

“I’m glad.”

“How’s you and Cooney-Cross?”

“We’re good. I’m planning on proposing to her next month.” Alessia revealed and you hugged her once more.

“That’s amazing, less. See, this is why we weren’t meant for each other. We both had other people out there for us. Leah’s my happy ever after, and Kyra’s yours. I never thought these words would leave my mouth, but I’m happy for you lessi. I wish you, and Cooney-Cross all the best.”

“Thank you so much, Y/N. I wish you and Leah all the best too. You deserve someone who treats you with respect and gives you all the happiness in the world. I’m just sorry I didn’t.” Alessia apologised again and you nodded your head, accepting the apology.

“Right, enough apologies. Let’s start fresh. Hi, I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.” You put your hand out and Alessia giggled before shaking it.

“Hi Y/N, I’m Alessia.”

“Nice to meet you, Alessia.”

————————

“How did the conversation with less go?” Leah asked as you laid your head on her chest.

It had been such a hectic afternoon full of introductions, that you didn’t get to catch Leah up on the conversation.

“It’s went perfect. Better than perfect. She apologised, about a million times, I told her that I’d forgiven her. I mean, I did as soon as I saw you at that event. We got talking about you and Kyra. We both agreed that you’re our futures. And we introduced ourselves all over again, as if we’d never met each other before. Alessia will always be my past, you will always be my present and my future.” You explained to Leah and she pressed a kiss to your head.

“I love you so much, pretty girl.”

“I love you too, le.”

————————

“…You are my present and my future, Leah. I love you so much.” You finished, tears flowing down your cheeks as you stared into Leah’s eyes.

“I may now present you wives. You may kiss the bride.”

Leah leaned in and connected your lips.

The memories built up over the years playing in your head.

When you first met Leah, your first date, your first kiss, when you were able to call Leah’s house yours, when she was down on one knee, and now, when you broke apart from the kiss and Leah knelt down and kissed your stomach.

All your family and friends cheered.

It was your first time announcing the pregnancy.

You wanted to wait until you were 12 weeks, and it just so happened that it fell on your wedding day.

Leah stood back up, a massive smile on her face, and connected your lips once again.

“My future.” You whispered against Leah’s lips, a hand on your small bump, and an identical smile taking over your face.

“I love you, my girl, and my prince or princess.”

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Village: knight!price x princess!reader

A little longer than intended but hope you guys enjoy

"Pardon?"

“I want to go to the village and you’ll be taking me there today.”

Sir John Price blinked owlishly at you. You rarely ever went to the village unless it was for a procession or to speak on behalf of the Queen, and the fact that you asked him instead of taking off on your own caught him off guard as well.

Especially because you met him in the stables wearing a cloak.

He glanced down at the wicker basket with a blanket in your hands before he met your expectant eyes and he sucked in his lips.

"If that's what you wish." He pulled your horse out of the stable and then his.

"It is." You flipped your hood over your head and held out the basket for him to take. "Make sure to tie this securely."

Before long Price walked close behind you as you led the way towards the market. He raised an eyebrow, both because he didn’t understand what you were doing but also because it seemed you weren’t trying to stand out.

“Is there a reason why we’re going to the market, your highness?” He wondered and you gestured for him to keep his voice down. “And why you’re acting inconspicuous?”

“You’ll see.” You told him with a small smile. “And I don’t want much attention today.”

Price hummed and couldn’t help but notice that some of the villagers stared at you both with confusion before recognition spread across their faces, their voices going hushed as they stared at you.

“I doubt you can escape the eyes of your people, your highness.” He mumbled and you frown.

“It’s because of you.” You huffed and he raised an eyebrow. “You stand out, everyone knows you, and knows that I’m around where you are.”

“You asked me to escort you.”

“Because you would’ve made a bigger scene trying to catch up to me.”

You were right and he knew that. Though he found it almost comical that you thought everyone was looking at him rather than you, especially when a few villagers stopped what they were doing to stare.

Price took it upon himself, however, to make sure that none of them interrupted you with a polite nod and smile towards them.

When you made it to the market, you immediately began to peruse the stalls. Fresh produce and other items were laid out in front of you as you began to look for the best out of them.

“I thought the servants had recently bought food for the castle.” Price wondered as you studied the fruit in front of you.

“I wanted something fresher and I was bored.” You shrugged and he scoffed.

He watched you pick out the fruits you wanted and deny the peasant who said you didn’t have to pay. He watched the joy spread across his face when you gave him extra coins for the food before you walked to the next stall with the basket in the crook of your arm.

Price slipped it off your arm and carried it without a second thought. He pointedly stared at the vegetables on the stall as your eyes widened..

“You never answered my question.” He grunted to change the subject. “Why are we here?”

“It’s a surprise. Learn to have a little fun, Sir John.” You chided him when his face fell into a scowl.

“A surprise from you could mean anything, good or bad.”

“Would I ever surprise you with something bad?”

Price gave you a look and the corners of your lips twitched upward. He let out a sigh when you chuckled and prepared for the worst as he continued to follow you.

“It’s a good surprise, you’ll like it.” You assured him.

“I’ll believe you when you tell me.” He grumbled and you rolled your eyes.

“Have you ever met a knight so stubborn?” You joked with a peasant who couldn’t hold in her amusement which made Price scowl even more.

“No, your highness, but that’s what makes him the best.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

Price felt his cheeks warm and he clutched the basket a little tighter. He quickly shooed you away from the stall before he embarrassed himself further.

He watched you navigate the market and couldn’t help but think about what you had said the night before the king had been sent away.

Despite his past reservations about you, he knew how the village and your people felt about you. They loved you, adored you, and though they spoke about your lack of engagements or about you not having produced an heir yet, you were still in their good graces. And it was especially true as you treated them kindly and paid them extra for the food you bought from them today.

You thought you were worthless, a failure because of those around you. Because of him…

It plagued his mind and weighed heavy in his stomach. He didn’t like knowing that he had made you feel that way, that he had hurt you.

He hoped you still didn’t think that way about yourself now.

“Your highness,” he began and you hummed for him to continue as the two of you walked back to the horses. “Is what you said that night true?”

You paused and your face fell. You averted your eyes from him as you nervously threaded your fingers together in front of you.

“I had hoped you’d forgotten about that.” You licked your lips. “But…yes. It think about it too often, I fear.”

“I never realized the lords and princes made you feel that way.” A seed of anger bubbled in his stomach.

“How could you? It doesn’t concern you, do I don’t blame you for that.”

“It concerns me because ‘I’ve done the same.”

Your eyes widened and you stared at him with surprise while he found it hard to look at you.

Shame settled within him but he forced himself to push past it. He couldn’t allow it to stop him from making things right and though he was stubborn he could admit when he was wrong or when he had wronged someone.

“I don’t think lowly of you, your highness.” He began softly as he stared deep into your eyes. “I’m sorry. I haven’t been kind to you and it’s hurt you in a way that I wish I could take back. I won’t ask you to forgive me but I can’t allow you to believe that I would think you a failure.”

You couldn’t help the absolute shock on your face as you slowly became more and more flustered as you stared at each other.

He found himself getting flustered as well the longer you stared at him. It was hard being underneath your gaze and when you looked away it was as if he simultaneously could and couldn’t breathe.

“I-I’m sorry your words caught me off guard.” You placed your hands over your heart and let out a nervous chuckle.

“It’s the truth, your highness.” Price stated firmly and you nodded.

“I know.”

He felt a little relieved but still the guilt stayed inside him. He knew it would be a little while before he finally found the courage to let it go.

The silence between the both of you was thick and awkward but you quickly tried to defuse it with a smile that made him nervously suck in his lips.

“You’re very sincere for a knight.” You pointed out and he scoffed.

“I follow a code.” He said and you raised an amused eyebrow as you snorted.

“Do you now? What does it say about being ornery all the time.”

“Unfortunately I can’t change that about myself.. I can hardly lessen it as it is.”

You giggled and he couldn’t help but chuckle as well. You began to walk towards the horses again and he walked beside you.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. Who else would entertain me with banter?”

“Many of the lords and princes of you ask them to.”

You groaned softly and rolled your eyes in a playful manner while you absentmindedly waved the thought away.

“Dreadful isn’t it?” You said and he smiled. “I could tell them to wear a bucket on their head and they would.”

He wasn’t going to deny any of that to you. He had seen so many lords and princes make fools of themselves to get your attention and to please you.

Price has made a fool of himself because of you as well.

“I’m glad I can entertain you, your highness.” Price teased as you made it to the horses.

He tied the basket to the saddle and prepared to help you onto your horse only to be met with you giving him an inquisitive look that made him narrow his eyes.

“Would you wear a bucket on your head if I asked?” You wondered and he puffed out a laugh.

“And subject myself to a life of torment?” He avoided looking at as he checked your saddle.

“But would you?”

Price cleared his throat and gestured to the basket as he gave you an expectant look this time.

“Are you going to tell me what the surprise is or do I have to guess?” He changed the subject and hoped you would as well, which you did.

“It’s a picnic.” You smiled proudly and allowed him to help you onto your horse, his hand tingling from your warmth. “One you will be join game on not only as my protector but as my friend. Call it a peace offering.”

Price wouldn’t deny that the idea made him feel lighter and when he thought about it he couldn’t help but feel his heart race just a little faster.

But he knew how improper it would be if he joined you in a way that was any less than him protecting you, how it might seriously hurt your reputation and how it might cost him more than his title.

“If someone sees…” he began but you shook your head.

“That’s why we’ll be dinning in the forest.” You explained and though it didn’t ease his worries, he knew you were already set on the idea.

Stubborn.

“Now, we must get going or we’ll miss lunch.”

“As you wish, your highness.”

A/n: the answer is he would

Tags: @deadbranch @makayla-666 @glitterypirateduck @dumbbitchgalore @m0chac0ffee @dragonbe-writing @sleepyoriana @twismare @blush-haze @waiting-so-long @rmikaelson01 @panikk-attackkk @sofasoap

[floralcyanide]

𝟑𝟎,𝟎𝟎𝟎 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐭 - 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐧𝐞𝐫

jackson rippner x f!reader

Usually, airports were the bane of your existence due to your career and the constant requirement to travel. But when you stumble upon a handsome man at the airport bar, your disdain for flying seems to change.

warnings: smut, nipple play, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, public sex, mile-high shenanigans

word count: 2780

author’s note: not proofread again lulz but when do I ever?? anyway I got a request for this and had to write it right away because I love jackson sm omg. please lmk if you enjoyed and send some feedback <3

main masterlist | cillian murphy masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

You wouldn’t mind it if you didn’t have to step foot inside another airport for the rest of your life.

Unfortunately, your career requires you to travel every month, so your escape from airports will have to wait. You doubt there’s anything that will make your experiences with the liminal spaces any brighter or more profound- you doubt there’s anything that would make them even a smidge exciting. But, who knows, maybe one day you’ll eat your words. So, until then, you’ll fast-walk through airports and terminals with your carry-on with the deepest resting bitch face you can conjure up. And it appears that today will be yet another day that you muster up one.

Deciding to hit the best bar in the DFW airport during your routine TSA spiel, you weave around the other flyers in the corridors in a hurry. Even if your red eye flight has been delayed about two hours, you figure two hours in an airport could be better spent drinking. After scouring the entire airport numerous times on each trip you’ve taken from DFW, you finally settled upon a corner bar near your gate. After passing by it a few times, you decided to give it a chance. Its appearance is initially off-putting- it is dark and moody. Still, it had an oddly comfortable atmosphere and good drinks, obviously. You stroll up to the bar, smiling and nodding to the bartender you’ve come to know here. Going to sit in your usual booth, you discover there’s someone already seated there.

“If this were middle school, I’d tell you this is my spot,” you joke as you approach the man, whose face is covered by his long bangs.

A pair of sharp blue eyes glance up at you from their place on the cocktail menu in his large hands, and a sweet smile graces his lips when he looks you over, “I certainly apologize for stealing your spot. Care to join me? I can buy you a drink to make up for it.”

You give him a questioning look, half-joking with your tone, “What’s in it for me?”

“A free drink and your spot back,” the man says haughtily, a mischievous gleam in his eye.

“Deal,” you reach a hand out for him to shake.

“Deal,” the man says, accepting your hand and shaking it firmly.

You slide into the booth, sizing the man up, “What’s your name?”

“Jackson,” the man says, his eyes nearly piercings into yours, “Jackson Rippner.”

“Oh,” you raise your eyebrows, suppressing a giggle, “your parents must hate you.”

Jackson laughs, shrugging, “Yeah, you could say that. But you can’t hate anyone if you’re dead.”

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry-”

“No need. Finished them off myself,” Jackson says, deadpanning.

You pause before laughing at his joke, “Gotcha.”

“So, what’s your drink of choice?” Jackson asks, changing the subject lightly.

“Hmm, I don’t think I’ll tell you just yet,” you let your eyes roam everywhere but Jackson’s face until you land your gaze back on him.

“You want me to guess, then?” Jackson asks, “I’m good at that, actually.”

“Oh, really? Prove it, then,” you say with a playful edge to your tone.

Jackson puckers his lips, furrowing his eyebrows in thought, “I’m thinking white liquor,” he trails off, “Maybe vodka, something fruity but not too skimpy.”

“You’re close, but not quite,” you bite your lip.

“I think you’re the type to have a classic no one considers.”

“Which is?”

“Dirty Shirley,” Jackson snaps his fingers, pointing at you confidently.

“Nope,” you say, grinning, “Just a vodka and Sprite for me.”

“Ah, but I was close.”

“Yes, you were very close,” you say, having the urge to flirt with this man you don’t even know.

“I’ll go grab that for you,” Jackson says, getting up out of the booth and heading to the bar.

While he’s gone, you rummage through your bag for a perfume roller, quickly rubbing some on your pulse points. Then, you unbutton the first two buttons of your blouse, revealing your cleavage just enough to be subtle. Turning around for a second, you see Jackson heading back to the booth, and you brush yourself off before slipping the perfume back into your bag.

“A vodka and Sprite for the pretty lady,” Jackson places your drink down in front of you before returning to his spot across from you.

“‘Pretty lady,’ huh?” you raise an eyebrow, taking the two black straws into your mouth.

“What can I say?” Jackson raises his hands in defense, “You are a pretty little thing. I’m glad I sat in your spot.”

“Oh,” you say, trying not to let your face heat up at the compliment, “Well, I’m glad too.”

The both of you silently sip your drinks after that, sharing fleeting glances while giggling. You decide to be cheeky, slipping off one of your heels and running your foot underneath Jackson’s pant leg. You nonchalantly look around the bar, chewing on your straw as if you weren’t up to anything. Jackson is staring right at you with a smirk as his eyes stare holes into your off-cast ones. 

“Feeling a little naughty, are we?” Jackson whispers, just loud enough to hear over the music.

You move your eyes toward him, “How do you mean?”

“I see,” Jackson looks down at the remainder of his second drink, “You wanna play like that, huh?”

“Play like what?” you challenge him, pushing your foot farther up his leg, now going over his pants and toward his thigh.

Jackson chuckles, about to say something, but he’s interrupted by the airport intercom. Your flight is a few minutes from boarding.

“Oh, that’s me,” you frown, downing the rest of your second vodka and Sprite before looking at Jackson, “What do I owe you?”

“For the drinks? Nothing,” Jackson licks his lips, “But for the teasing? We’ll have to see about that.”

“Oh really?” you ask, your heart rate now picking up at the obvious flirting.

“Really.”

“And what will you do about it?” you daringly ask.

“Well, we are on the same flight,” Jackson says, “So we’ll have to see.”

The two of you head over to the gate, getting in line to board. You boredly flip through a book your friend suggested for you to read on the flight. Jackson takes notice of this.

“Bookworm? Didn’t pick that up about you,” Jackson asks, rolling back and forth on his heels and toes. 

“Depends on the book,” you say, pursing your lips as you skim over the words, “Don’t think I’m a fan of this one, though.”

“That’s a shame. Any ideas of what you’re gonna do on the flight?” Jackson inquires, a flirty undertone in his question.

“Hmm,” you wonder, “Probably sleep. Unless I find something else to do.”

“Ah,” Jackson nods, “Hopefully, you will.”

“Hopefully,” you chuckle.

You and Jackson get separated during boarding, but you do a double-take when you arrive at your seat.

“Are you in the right seat?” you ask.

A familiar pair of striking eyes look up from a book to meet yours, “Did I steal your spot again?”

“No,” you shake your head, laughing, “I’m seat fifteen B.”

“And I’m fourteen B,” Jackson closes his book.

“Interesting,” you say, “Small world, huh?”

“Small indeed,” Jackson exhales, about to say something, until a lady a few rows down asks for help with her carry-on.

You move to the side, allowing Jackson to scoot by you. As he does, he puts a gentle hand on your waist, sending goosebumps up your spine. You watch as he helps the lady, and you try not to laugh when she tries flirting with him. Jackson returns to the row, moving past you again and plopping into his seat. 

“I know we talked for what, two hours? But I never asked, why are you headed to Miami? Work or play?” Jackson asks, buckling his seatbelt as the flight attendants announce preparation for take-off.

“Work, unfortunately. I take this trip often, red eye and everything,” you say, resting your head on the headrest behind you.

Jackson nods, “I’m here for work too. I hate flying, not going to lie.”

“Me too,” you grumble, “I hate everything about flying, including the airport and everything that comes with it.”

“Everything?” Jackson presses jokingly.

“Well, today was different. I actually had a nice time at the airport, especially since I got to meet you,” you say, keeping your eyes on the flight attendant as she goes over the safety precautions and flotation devices under the seats. 

“Good to know,” Jackson says, placing a hand on your knee.

You look at his hand, feeling very warm all over. The plane begins to speed up and ascend, and you relax in your seat, Jackson’s hand still on your knee. His nose is in his book as you try your best to read your friend’s book suggestion. When the plane finally reaches 30,000 feet, the seatbelt light turns off, and the lights dim. Flight attendants offer pillows and blankets, and you take a blanket, tucking your book away and covering yourself with the blanket. You’re on the verge of sleep when you feel Jackson’s hand slide up your thigh. You pretend you’re asleep, not moving or reacting to his touch. His hand is hidden by the blanket, so no one can see his hand move further up, dangerously close to your core. You’re wearing a dress, so there’s easy access. Not that you were complaining that Jackson was touching you. You were feeling him up earlier at the bar, so now it’s his turn. 

Jackson sneaks his hand back down your thigh and over your dress, slowly making his way over your hip and waist, up to your clothed breast. The blanket‘s hem was tucked behind your shoulders, covering up your entire body, so no one could see Jackson’s hand crawl underneath your dress again. This time, to squeeze at your breast. You try not to move or make a noise as Jackson takes your nipple between his fingers, pinching it lightly. Pretending as if he woke you up, you rouse and sit up straight.

“What are you doing?” you ask, acting as if you were asleep.

“I know you’ve been awake the whole time, sweetheart,” Jackson whispers.

“No, I wasn’t,” you say innocently.

“Don’t lie to me,” Jackson chastises, twisting your nipple harshly.

You bite your lip, muffling a moan. You squeeze your legs together as he continues to tweak the bud. 

“Is this what you want? Hmm? Teasing me earlier with your foot, I figured I’d play with you too.”

Jackson’s hand moves to your other breast, flicking your nipple. His other hand travels under your dress, his fingernails pressing into your skin. You bite your lip to stifle a moan from the sharp sensation on the sensitive skin of your thigh. His fingers ease to your core again, ghosting over your clit as you open your legs.

“Be quiet like a good girl,” Jackson says, eyes darting around to ensure no one is looking despite the lights being off.

You nod as he presses two fingers to your clit, rubbing slow, soft circles. Warmth gradually spreads in your lower belly at the sensation, and you widen your legs further. Jackson pulls his fingers away momentarily to slip them inside your underwear and continue his movements on your bare bundle of nerves. You cover your mouth, exhaling shakily at the stimulation. Jackson slips a finger inside you after playing with you for a while.

“Already so wet?” Jackson teases in your ear, his lips brushing against it.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath.

Jackson slowly pumps his finger in and out, eventually adding a second one. You shutter from the delightful stretch. You look around before subtly jerking your hips forward, riding his fingers.

“Fucking yourself on my fingers so good,” Jackson nibbles at your ear lobe, “Can’t imagine how you’d feel around my cock.”

You bite your knuckle to hold in a desperate whine at his words, “Please,” you whimper.

“Please, what?” Jackson asks, his fingers picking up the pace.

“Fuck me,” you whisper, “Take me to the bathroom and fuck me against the wall.”

“What a brazen little one you are,” Jackson grins, pulling his fingers from you and sucking your arousal off them, “It’s gonna take a little more than that, though.”

You groan at the loss of fullness, “Like what?”

“Beg.”

You pull Jackson’s hand back to your soaking slit, “Please touch me, fuck me, do anything you want to me. Please.”

“Keep going,” he pants, circling your clit with his fingers again.

“Jackson,” you sigh, “God, I need you inside of me. So bad,” you hiss.

“Go,” Jackson whispers, “I’ll meet you there.”

You hurry to pull down your dress, pulling the blanket off you before quietly walking to the bathroom. You check the vacancy before pulling the door open, leaving it unlocked for Jackson. You sit on the toilet, waiting patiently as your pulse thumps in your ears. A few moments pass, and the door opens slightly, revealing Jackson before he slips inside the bathroom. You stand up, but before you open your mouth to say something, he picks you up and presses you against the wall. You wrap your legs around Jackson’s waist, kissing him with a bruising force. Jackson slides his tongue through your lips and into your mouth, exploring it as his hands grip your ass. You reach a hand down and unzip and unbutton Jackson’s pants, your hand snaking past his underwear band and wrapping around his cock. 

“Fuck,” Jackson seethes, already hard from previous events in your seats earlier.

He pushes up the hem of your dress around your hips, pulling your underwear down far enough for him to slowly enter your throbbing core. Both of you gasp at the feeling, hours of pining hitting the climax. You thought Jackson was attractive the moment you laid eyes on him. You aren’t passing up the opportunity to join the mile-high club with such a gorgeous man. Jackson pushes further into you, and you relax more so he can press his hips into yours. Your fingers grasp at his hair as he pulls almost all the way out before thrusting back in. Your back roughly hits the wall behind you, but it wouldn’t be the last time. You have to hold onto the wall with one hand to not bang into it, your other hand holding onto Jackson’s hair for dear life as he fucks you without mercy. 

“God,” you say, the word drawn out as you and Jackson’s hips slam into each other. 

Jackson covers your mouth as you stare into his blue eyes, now darkened with lust, “Stay quiet.”

You nod, “Mhmm,” you hum from underneath his hand.

Your eyes stay on each other as you move your body forward in time with Jackson, his cock hitting that spot inside you perfectly, sending shockwaves over you. Jackson wraps an arm around your waist, holding you steady as his other hand moves between the two of you to rub tight figure 8’s on your bundle of nerves. You squeal, eyes rolling into the back of your head as Jackson continues to fuck into you like you’re a sex object. You feel yourself clenching around him as your orgasm creeps up. You pull on Jackson’s hair harshly, causing him to moan as his hips stutter. You do it again, and he has to bite your neck in order not to moan out loud. 

“Are you gonna cum?” Jackson grunts into your ear, “Huh?”

“Yes,” you gasp, “Fuck yes, I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum around my cock, pretty thing.”

Your release smacks you in the face, sending your body reeling as it nearly convulses against the lavatory wall. Jackson cums right after you as the feeling of your walls squeezing his cock sends him over the edge. You milk him for all he’s got, rutting your hips through both of your orgasms. You both catch your breath as Jackson lets your legs collapse back to the floor weakly. He holds you up as you regain your posture.

“I suddenly really like flying now,” you push your hair out of your sweaty face.

“Me too,” Jackson says with an expressionless face, which you match.

Suddenly, both of you burst out laughing but cover your mouths quickly before anyone can hear in the plane. After cleaning yourselves up, you both successfully sneak out of the bathroom and back to your seats, covering up with the blanket.

“Ever barhopped in Miami?” you ask Jackson, trying your best to hold your eyes open.

“Nope. You?’

“Nope. Want to?”

“Absolutely.”

taglist:

@baizzhu @aporiasposts @hjmalmed @queenshelby @amanda08319 @naty-1001 @orijanko @raineeace @nela-cutie @cutexlr

[mlm-writer]

Tears of Lust (Dick Grayson x M!Reader)

Pairing: Dick Grayson aka Nightwing (YJ ver.) x Demon!Male!Reader Rating: Explicit Words: 3447 POV: Second Summary: If a demon is not majority of their time in hell, they get a rut once a year. You try to keep your human boyfriend out of your ‘weird’ demon things, but Dick has never wanted to be involved more. Note: Writing so many Young Justice fics and I don’t even remember the plot anymore. Should rewatch that some time. Sequel here. Tags: smut, ruts, heavy dacryphilia, we are entering monsterfucker territory, established relationship, super long tongue, anallingus, deep penetration, bit of magic, overstimulation, degradation, slight dumbification (?), maybe a bit humiliation???, breeding, throatfucking, pleasure dom reader, begging, anal fingering, anal fucking, and still sweet I promise, reader is so in looooove

Hell could go fuck itself. The cold of Earth was easy to deal with when you had three blankets wrapped around you. Usually it took that and a thick hoodie to keep you at your preferred temperature, but as your eyes stayed trained on the TV in front of you, sweat gathered on your back. You frowned and removed one of the blankets, only now noticing your leg had been bouncing this whole time. A sigh left you as you saw what time of the year it was again. 

You had no time to think about the arrangements you needed to make. You could hear Dick fumble with his keys outside the door. From the way the keys jingled, you could tell he had his hands full of groceries again. You paused the TV with a snap of your fingers and strutted over to the door, blankets around you like a cloak. When you opened the door, you were greeted with the exact sight you were expecting. 

Grocery bags hung from Dick’s wrists. You took them all with one hand, the other holding the blankets around you. “Are we hosting a dinner party? Why did you buy so much,” you questioned as you easily carried the bags inside and put them on the kitchen island. You pushed one of the plastic bags open to peer inside, seeing a lot of ice cream inside.

“Because this year, you are spending your rut here with me,” Dick replied in a matter-of-fact tone, like you had already agreed to do that, but you had forgotten. You froze. With a slow breath you turned around to see Dick leisurely taking his shoes off. The idea alone was enough to shorten the time for your rut to arrive. 

“Since when do you know about that?” Your words were all carefully picked, spoken slowly with a weight hanging on each of them. When Dick approached you to give you his usual welcome kiss, you took a step back, not allowing him to change the subject. 

Dick looked hurt, but his patience seemed to be endless with you. He did not try to get closer and instead walked over to the kitchen island to get started on putting the groceries away. “It is kind of hard not to notice that you have a ‘business trip’ every year around the same time. I did some digging in the Justice League database…” Dick paused, staring at the canned soup in his hand as if it offended him. “Why did you never tell me?” His eyes raised up to meet yours, the look of disappointment no longer directed at the chicken soup, but at you instead. 

You swallowed and sat down at one of the barstools, unconsciously picking the one that put some distance between you and your partner. “The ruts just occur because I don’t spend the majority of my time in hell anymore. I know how much you value monogamy, so I just go back and tough it out,” you defended yourself, afraid Dick thought you were secretly fucking people on the side. Now holding a huge bottle of lube, Dick gave you the side eye. You understood immediately that you were not answering his question. “I was afraid you would think it too much. You’ve been dealing with so much. I was afraid another demon thing would be asking too much of you.” You held your head high, owning up to your shortcomings. The fact that Dick had bought all this stuff was enough proof that you had been wrong. “I’m sorry, I should have thought more highly of you.” 

Dick sighed, putting down the cup noodles he had just retrieved from one of the plastic bags. “Apology accepted,” he muttered, before looking at you again. He then paused. “But wait, you’re not gonna tell me your rut is dangerous or something? No ‘oh I might lose control and I don’t wanna hurt you’ or something? You’re just going to let me?” You chuckled and shed the blankets, so you could more easily circle the kitchen island to wrap your arms around your lover’s waist. 

Dick twisted his head to kiss you and you happily complied. After a short kiss, you started helping Dick with the shopping. “You’ll be fine. I’m centuries old now. I won’t be an unstoppable animal. 

The apartment was made rut-proof by Dick and you did not have the heart to tell him that the Justice League database might contain some anti-demon propaganda, because some of the preparations were even beyond your comprehension. Dick had stored away all breakable items. Your cabinets were full of cereal for some reason. What was up with that? 

You enjoyed the cold temperature Dick preferred for once as you lounged on the couch with Dick snuggled up beside you. You wanted him ten minutes ago, but he was so cosied up that you felt bad if you were to turn off the TV just to fuck him senseless. You thought you were doing well until Dick spoke up. “You’ve been hard since like five minutes into this episode. When are you carrying me to the bedroom?” He had said it so casually, like he wanted an actual answer like ‘oh around 10pm’ or ‘after this episode ends’. However, you knew better than that. This was your lover’s way of saying ‘take me now’. 

You did not even bother turning the TV off. In a flash, you had Dick off the couch and in your arms. With a shadow dash you were in the bedroom in an instant. Dick bounced on the mattress as you threw him onto the bed. There was no room for words as your clothes ripped and you captured Dick’s lips mid-transformation. “Sorry,” you mumbled between filthy kisses, “I can’t maintain my human form during the rut.” 

“I know,” Dick replied, hands grabbing at the muscles that tore through the fabrics. He helped rid you of the confines you found yourself in. He reached for your cock, but you grabbed his hand, gathering the other one as well to pin them both above his head. “Holy shit, this is so hot,” he said in a breathy chuckle, his face stretched in an excited smile. 

You held his wrists above his head with a single, large hand, while you took his lips between your fangs. You gently toyed with them, before sliding your long, thick tongue into Dick’s mouth. He moaned like a pornstar. You could smell his arousal, his excitement and his precum leaking inside his underwear. 

Normally you would play with him more, but not today. You had a hunger that had to be satiated, so you penetrated his throat with your tongue and with a snap of your fingers, got rid of Dick’s clothes. The textiles evaporated like water on the stove and you were pretty sure Dick had no idea you could even do that, but he was too busy deepthroating your tongue to care. You fed him your saliva, thinking he could use the aphrodisiac effects of it to get through the night. When you finally let his mouth go, Dick was gasping for air. He looked happy as he was panting on the bed.

You grabbed his ankles and flipped him over like a pancake. Dick was giggling like a school girl seeing her crush. He followed your lead, allowing you to put a pillow under his hips. Your huge hands could fit a round cheek in each of them as you pulled them apart, revealing Dick’s plugged little hole. “Why does it seem like you’re the one going through a rut?” You scolded him teasingly as you lightly tugged at the plug. You pulled a little bit out, just to push it back in. Dick was humming in reply, loving the nails that were leaving animalistic marks on his bum. 

“I am promised a whole couple of days of endless fucking. How can I not be excited?” You gave his butt a light slap as a sort of reprimand, but Dick just seemed to enjoy it. Eventually, you had enough of just watching his hole stretch over the plug and you pulled it out roughly. Dick gasped, the sound dissolving into a cry as your tongue entered his slick hole. Your senses got filled by your lover. His scent was like gasoline on the fire that produced your hormones. His cries, as you swirled your tongue around inside him, were like an open tap above a clogged sink that was already full of lust. His taste… My god, his taste was like the first time you hit the high on drugs and everything feels so good and you feel like you could stay in the moment forever, never wanting to return to normal life. 

Little by little, your tongue penetrated him deeper and deeper. Dick was humping the pillow underneath him and letting out small cries of pleasure. You did not know how long it took for Dick to take it all, but by the time you had all 20 inches of your tongue inside him, Dick was desperately humping the pillow and your face. “Feels so good, so good,” he kept muttering, body overtaken by pleasure. He seemed to be unable to think of anything else but his upcoming orgasm. You helped him fuck himself on your tongue, your claws leaving bruises on his ass. When you could feel him on the edge, you pulled him close and started violently wiggling your tongue inside him. 

Dick groaned as your tongue milked him through his first orgasm. No amount of twitching and squirming could free him from your grasp. His cum had long stained the pillow, but you did not stop, pressing on all his sensitive spots repeatedly. “Please, baby! Mercy! Please!” None of those words have ever been your safeword, so you kept going. 

Dick’s voice reached a crescendo as you kept stimulating him. He was near-screaming when you smelled it, the thing you needed most. You retracted your tongue and climbed over Dick. He fell on the bed like a puppet with its strings cut. You grabbed him by the hair and forced his head up. There they were, glistening on a line from his eyes down his cheeks. You licked the tears off his cheeks, before giving him an appreciative kiss on the lips. “Why?” Dick shuddered, eyes hooded and a quiver in his lips as he struggled with just a single syllable. 

You grinned down at him and caressed his pretty face. “I’m disappointed you didn’t study better,” you mockingly cooed at him as you moved. You sat down against the headboard, gently lifting Dick to sit in your lap. “You just read you were gonna get fucked and your dumbwhore brain just turned off, didn’t it?” You whispered as you scooted him forward until his dick was flush against yours. He was fully flaccid, but you did not need him to be hard at all. Dick nodded with his mouth slightly open, arousal painted on his face. You morphed one of your clawed hands into a more human shape, something without any sharp edges. You did not harm Dick as you inserted a single, thick finger inside him. His breath got stuck in his throat and he fell forward against you. You held him cradled against your chest as you thrusted that single finger inside him. “I’ll try to explain in a way my dumb little slut will understand,” you whispered, adoring how he had his hands in fists resting against your chest. “If I spend a rut with a human, the only thing that will satisfy me are tears produced during sex,” you entered another finger, “now most demons would choose some barbaric way to get those, but me… I have you.” You curled your digits, finding Dick’s prostate with ease. Whether it was your hellish nature or due to how well you knew him, you were not sure, but you always found it right when you were looking for it. 

Dick writhed against you as you rubbed his prostate relentlessly. “I’m going to make you feel so good, my love,” you promised, “I’m going to melt your brain with pleasure, so all that is left of you when I’m done is a pretty, mindless, little fuckslut.” Your dirty words hurled Dick towards his second orgasm. He was biting his lips until the very end, where a loud moan broke his silence. His limp cock poured his cum over your hard length, but even when that little bit of cum ran out, you held him in place with one hand, while violating his prostate with the other. 

Dick wailed in pleasure, but you could tell he was on that border of where too much pleasure was indistinguishable from pain. He gripped your shoulders, blunt nails digging in you as he seemed to hold on for dear life. He raised his head, eyes big and pleading. “Please, please, please,” he cried out. It did not take long for his limp cock to twitch in another attempt at spilling cum over you, but it was too soon and Dick had nothing to give, except the big, juicy tears that started pouring from his eyes. You leaned down, lapping them up as you continued your assault. Dick’s whole body was shaking at your onslaught. “Stop, please!” Dick eventually screamed. That was not the safeword, but you understood he needed a break, so you pulled your fingers out of him, while licking the last of his tears off his face. 

Dick leaned against you, still sobbing. You wrapped your arms around him, stroking his back gently. Everytime a tear escaped him, your tongue automatically darted out to lap it up. “Shh, you did well, rest a little,” you cooed. You waited patiently as his breathing slowed, until Dick eventually let his hand wander down to take a good grasp of you. He stroked your cock lazily, spreading his own cum over your length. 

You lifted your lover up and turned around, sitting him against the headboard. You stood on the bed, looming over him with your big cock pressed against his cheek. “Ready for more?” You asked with a wolfish grin. Dick responded by taking the head of your cock in his mouth. You let Dick ease into it on his own, watching as he went from sucking the head to licking it all over, eating his own cum off your cock. However, your patience was not endless. You grabbed him by the jaw and let a finger trace along where his head and neck connected. Dick felt the tingle of the spell that temporarily disabled his gag reflex. He understood and his mouth fell open, eyes looking up at you expectantly. 

You braced yourself against the wall and leaned forward to shove your cock inside Dick’s mouth as far as it would go. Though he could no longer gag, there were still limits to his human body, so it was simply impossible for him to take you balls deep. Not that it mattered. His throat bulged and you moved back again, gently fucking his throat at first. Dick kept looking up at you with those obedient eyes as if he had accepted his fate as permanent cocksleeve. It was hard to keep the pace gentle. Before you knew it, you were fucking his throat like it was all he was, just a cocksleeve. “Look at you, just taking my cock down your throat like you’re a human fleshlight,” you grunted as you pushed in a little past what you knew was Dick’s usual limit. His eyes watered, but he could not gag. When you pulled out, he gasped for air. While he was panting, you leaned down to lick the tears off his face that had formed. 

Then you did it again and again, alternating between degrading Dick while you fucked his throat and letting him breathe while you sated your hunger with his tears. It was so hot, your lover taking it so well. However, you did not want to cum in his mouth or on his face. There was only one place your cum belonged. You pulled out and grabbed his hair, savouring the tears, before you roughly manhandled him onto his back. You bent him in two, knowing how flexible he was. Dick put his feet behind his head, hands on his ass to show you the best view. With a swipe of your thumb over his hole, Dick’s ass started producing slick based on how aroused he was. It was unsurprising that he immediately started leaking like you had already bred him full. 

“Such a good, dumb, bitch. Look how fucking horny you are, even after I made you cum 3 times. You’re leaking like a slut.” Dick had no reply, not that he would have been able to say anything while you rammed your cock inside him. The slide was easy, but the stretch was so sudden. You did not start out with gentle thrusts this time, wanting it to hurt a little. 

Dick had been prepped, but there was no amount of fingering that made taking your cock not bordering between pain and pleasure. He threw his head back, moaning and whining. “Breed me, please, please, I need to be full, please,” he begged and begged in between your harsh thrusts. The wall got a beating too as the headboard slammed against it and the bed creaked under you. Dick could not stop begging. You were tethering on the edge, but you wanted to see him cum once more. 

Dick’s hard member twitched against his stomach. Not a single touch had been required. You grabbed Dick by the back of his head and pressed your foreheads together. “Cum for me, now.”

Dick shook his head as much as he could in your grip. “Together, please,” he begged, tears already forming in the corners of his eyes. You gave him an evil smile that showed your disagreement. “Please, you’ll keep going, I don’t know if I can…” 

You cut him off with your free hand that grasped his cock. “I said now,” you growled. He howled as you mercilessly fucking him to orgasm with your hand and cock. You were impressed by the two drops of cum that still managed to come out of his cock. And then, of course, you kept going, fucking him balls deep while you stroked his cock. Dick screamed, his legs coming down, but between your foreheads pressed together and your cock in his ass, he had nowhere to go. He begged, a string of “please” endlessly spilling from his mouth. He writhed. He cried. His tears were delicious, filled with lust, desperation and pleasure. 

You could not get enough of it, the flavour consisted of the most exquisite mixture of emotions that you ever tasted. However, you were not untouchable yourself. Dick came again, his ass spasming around your cock and your knot inflated, locking you in as you spilled your seed deep inside Dick. He could feel it, crying out as his walls were even stretched more by the influx of cum. You let go of his cock, watching his belly that clearly showed the outline of your cock inflate a little. 

You wrapped his legs around your hips, trying to make him as comfortable as he could be, while waiting for your knot to go down. Meanwhile, you licked the remaining tears off him and stroked his hair. “There you go, so good for me, my love,” you whispered. You pecked his cheek, concerned by how Dick was still shaking and looking like he fought seven planets worth of evil aliens at once. His eyes were still closed, mouth open to catch his breath. “Say something, my love,” you murmured, concerned by his silence. 

Dick’s body went slack and he finally opened his eyes to look at you. “Promise me something,” he spoke softly, voice a little hoarse. You nodded and let your hands wander, giving him gentle touches all over to comfort him. “I can’t actually die from too much pleasure, right?” 

You tried to hold back your laughter, knowing that too much movement would be really hard on Dick’s ass right now. “Silly boy,” you mused as you leaned down for a loving kiss. Dick could not do much right now, but he still tried to reciprocate. “I would never let anything happen to my special human.” 

Dick smiled and nodded. “Good, good…” He clearly wanted to say more, but did not have the energy for it. You did not press; he needed his energy for later.

[selene-ella]

"Relics of the Past| II"

Summary: Qimir offers you the chance to confront your hidden emotions buried deep within

Pair: Qimir×female!reader

Notes: This might have one or two more parts.

Warnings: mention of food(?), force choking, angst.

You can read Part One here

Word count: 1.7k

Part I Part III Part IV(final)

Qimir’s eyes traced the delicate curve of your spine as you stood there, bathed in the soft glow of the morning sun. The salt-laden breeze ruffled your hair, and he wondered how many secrets it carried—secrets that perhaps even you didn’t know.

Descending the rocky stairs, he moved closer, admiring you from behind. He knew you felt his presence; the Force connected them in ways mere words couldn’t convey. A small pebble found its way into his palm, and he tossed it toward you. You stopped it effortlessly before it reached your proximity.

“Meditation, very Jedi of you,” he teased, his voice a low rumble. You emerged from your meditative state, your eyes meeting his. “It helps with the racing thoughts,” you replied, turning around.

He took a step closer, “What could bother your serene peace?” he asked, his tone both mocking and curious. You remained silent, the weight of what happened last night hanging between you. Qimir had always been skilled at reading people, but you were an enigma—a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve.

“Hungry?” he offered, changing the subject. The wind tugged at your loose strands of hair, framing your face. “Quite a bit, yes,” you admitted, brushing the hair away. His eyes lingered on your lips, and for a moment, it seemed as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

“What do you have?” you inquired, and he smirked. “Some stew,” he replied. “Old stew? Is that what Sith Lords eat?” you quipped, and he chuckled. “Got anything better?” he challenged, closing the distance between you. His fingers itched to touch you, to trace the contours of your face, but he held back.

“Actually,” you said softly, “I do. I have some rations in my ship. I’ll get them.” You turned away, and Qimir watched you go, the ache in his chest growing. He’d lost you once, and he wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

As you disappeared into the direction of your ship, he clenched his fists.

Turning away, you swallowed the lump in your throat. The urge to touch his face warred with restraint, and once again, you abstained.

You hurriedly retrieved a few portions of food from the drawers and returned to his side. There he stood, bent over a pot of steaming stew, two empty bowls waiting patiently next to him.

“Here,” you broke the silence, tossing the air-compressed packets to him. He caught them, curiosity in his eyes. “What’s in here?” he asked.

“Vegetables and some porridge,” you replied. He deftly opened each pack, pouring their contents into the bowls. As the hot stew mingled with the vegetables, they softened, transforming the porridge from a clump of sandy rocks into something more palatable.

He extended your serving, and you moved closer, taking a seat beside him. “Thanks,” you murmured softly. The silence enveloped you both as you ate, the smell of warm food lingering in the air. For you, it had been a full 24 hours since your last meal, but for him—well, you had no idea.

Once you finished your meal, Qimir extended his arm, collecting the empty bowl. He placed both bowls on a nearby countertop. A few inches away lay your belt and lightsabers, their metallic gleam contrasting sharply with the dark stone surface.

As he eyed them carefully, his gaze lingered on a peculiar item protruding from one of the leather pockets.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing toward it. You rose to retrieve your belongings, deft fingers extracting the object. “A Sith holocron,” you answered quickly, its dark energy palpable even in your palm.

He stepped closer, extending his hand. “Can I?” he asked, his eyes never leaving the ancient artifact. You hesitated for a moment, then placed it into his palm.

“Any intentions of opening it?” he inquired, turning the object around. The intricate carvings seemed to pulse with suppressed energy.

You exhaled, the weight of your past choices pressing down on you. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “I’m not entirely sure about all the information contained within. Besides, I’m not fully equipped to access a Sith relic.”

His gaze bore into yours, searching for answers. You had sworn never to touch the dark side again, to resist its seductive pull. So why this sudden change?

“Wanna give it a try? Together?” Qimir suggested, his voice filled with anticipation. You looked up, meeting his eyes, and a small smile formed on your lips. “Yes,” you replied. “It sounds good.”

"After you,” he said, clearing your way ahead. You settled onto the cold, rocky ground, and he followed suit, the relic placed between the two of you.

“Did you decipher the inscriptions?” he asked, his eyes fixed on the ancient markings. You felt quieter than ever before, anxiety flooding your body. “Yes,” you replied, your voice barely audible. “It offers teachings on obtaining the skill of prophetic visions.”

He lifted the object, examining it once more. Curiosity danced in his eyes, and though he wondered why you sought to foresee future events, he refrained from asking. Perhaps opening the relic would reveal answers.

"Your hand please" his whisper cut through the tension. You extended your hand, palm up, and he took it gently. Your gaze fixated on the point of contact, the warmth of his skin against yours.

“Good,” he continued, his voice steady. “Now I want you to focus on anything—past or recent—that could evoke feelings of loss, despair…” He paused, drawing out the moment, “…desire.” His words hung in the air, and you lifted your gaze in surprise. Could he truly delve into your mind? The thought sent a shiver down your spine.

But there was no time for hesitation. With a swift movement, you closed the gap between you. You delved into your emotional depths, seeking the raw, unhealed wounds hidden within. He lent you some of his energy, a silent partnership. This task was yours, a delicate balance. The Sith relic threatened to open to him instead, its glow intensifying as if aware of the impending revelation.

The pyramidal object trembled, red light pulsating around it. You mirrored Qimir’s actions, channeling your intent. Together, you would pierce the veil of consciousness that could regain what was lost to time.

The energy surged, filling the room like a maelstrom. It engulfed both of you, pulling you into a sickening trance. Whispers echoed—the voices of those who had held the relic before you. Their screams of pain and the clash of battle reverberated through your mind.

The relic’s power surged within you, intoxicating and overwhelming. It made you feel invincible, as though you could challenge the entire galaxy and emerge victorious. But you clung to your purpose—to glimpse the future, to unravel the threads of destiny.

As the room spun around you, you focused on that singular purpose: to pierce the veil of time, to see what lay ahead. The past and present merged, and you braced yourself for revelations that could alter everything.

Qimir watched as you became ensnared by powerful emotions and the dark side. Possibilities of past and future events mingled with your own history, weaving a web of alternate endings. Suddenly, you were back in the moment you had left him—a distant voice echoed in your mind: “I want a pupil, an acolyte.”

Weren’t you enough for him, as an equal? What purpose would a third person serve? And what knowledge could he impart? He was still learning himself.

Your eyes snapped open, a threatening glare directed at him. “You! It was your fault! You pushed me away!” The voice that emerged wasn’t yours; the eyes that looked at him belonged to a version of you from the past. A time when Qimir had yearned for absolute control, seeking mastery of the dark side alongside you. That had been the breaking point—the reason you left—when he expressed interest in having another to teach. You interpreted it as betrayal, fearing he would replace you.

Qimir wanted to confront your memories, but an invisible grip pressed upon him. Suffocation filled his chest. Weapons scattered nearby now pointing at him.

“This isn’t you,” he struggled, desperation in his voice. “Put these down. This power is clouding your perception.”

Your retort thundered through the air. “Who is it, then?” you rushed toward him. “Isn’t this your greatest wish? To wield power as you see fit, to do whatever you want? I’m merely following the example- Master ” you mocked, a sardonic twist to your lips.

He seized your arm, attempting to break the Force grip you had on him. “I only wished to be left alone, to teach myself and other lost souls. You were already ahead—I had nothing to teach you.” His cough echoed, voice barely steady. “Your jealousy interfered. It was your choice to leave!”

Your focus wavered; past memories intertwined with glimpses of future events, alternate endings. In some, you ended him cold-blooded; in others, a Jedi struck him down. His old master? A young girl? No, he wasn't that weak. This isn’t right.

While your mind grappled with the visions’ messages, he snatched the floating device. You noticed, panic rising. “No!” you screamed as it collided with the wall, shattering into pieces.“What are you doing?!”

Your exhausted body collapsed onto the floor, the collection of blades you had pointed at him falling in tandem. He tossed them aside, striding toward your limp form.

He cradled you in his arms, wiping away the droplets of sweat that clung to your forehead. His thoughts circled back to the accusations thrown earlier. If anyone understood betrayal, it was him—but this was different. There had been no emotional entanglement with his last pupil; he hadn’t even revealed his face to her.

For the first time in years, anger toward you simmered within him. Why hadn’t you disclosed the true reason for your departure? Perhaps you had concealed it even from yourself.

Qimir gently places you on his bed. A second pillow is positioned under your head, and his hand rests on your chest. Signs of the dark possession linger—the red and purple markings tracing across your neck, chest and arms.

As he leans down, pressing his lips to yours, a soft moan escapes from your lips—a fragile bridge between past turmoil and what the future has to offer him.

The Sith holocron lies shattered, but its echoes resonate within you. Has it altered you? Changed the contours of your soul? He wondered, fingers tracing the lines of your face.

[nananamiin]

Can you write a realistic short fic about Gojo? And being in a romantic relationship with him. The positives & negatives about it

𝐔𝐩𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐬 - 🩵

tw || some angst, some gojo being gojo. mostly fluff. NOT proofread fuck it we die like haibara. tell me what yall think.

He’s late, again. Why is he always late? Does he know how much it worries you? Actually, wait—He does know, and he knows very well. It’s been the subject of many arguments and it’s been something that’s sort of loomed over your relationship with him. Whether it’s him dismissing your worries or you simply not feeling the need to argue with him any longer. It’s something that digs at you both.

It scares you. It scares you how much the world has changed. You had met Gojo when you were both teenagers and there was something just so captivating by the tall, lanky guy with beautiful eyes. Eyes that were magnificent, small ethereal portals to the infinite beauty of the sky itself. Sometimes, you swore that if you looked deep into his eyes, you could see the swirls of the painted cool clouds. He was enchanting, mysterious and confidence. Safe to say your teenage self was left swooning in the wake of the new boy with those precious eyes. And by the way he looked at you right back, you could tell he was enchanted right back by you. He had changed your world for the better, his large hand taking yours and dragging you to the next fruit stand or the next restaurant that had a discount for couples. He swore it was just pretend for those discounts, he swore on those stupid Digimon cards he always carried in his back pocket for luck, and yet.

The soft glint of his ethereal eyes, the pearly shine of his white teeth, the small crinkles near his eyes, that should’ve told you enough that it wasn’t just pretend for him. One parlor date became another parlor date. Then it became walking you home, then it melted into him nervously standing at your doorstep with an inhuman grip on a bouquet of blue chrysanthemums. You swore you hadn’t ever seen him so nervous, so human. Of course you said yes to his stutters for a date.

Now here you are, at home. The apartment isn’t gigantic like most assume Gojo would have, what with all his luxuries and money. It was quaint and quiet, a bit messy but manageable. His apartment had white walls with photographs here and there, mostly untouched photographs of smiling families still in the frame. Others had badly framed photos of those rare captures of him, Shoko and Geto. He never really explained why some photos still had the families, nor why his potted plants were positioned so…perfectly. His couch, his TV, his carpet, it was neat and clean.

And yet still sometimes when you were alone, it’s as if his home lacked the agency of personality. When you entered Nanami’s house, it was dangerously organized even to the salt and pepper. When you entered Shoko’s house, it was comfortable with a warm wall color that she claimed ‘soothed the nerves after a bad mission’. It’s not as if you’re saying Gojo had no personality, he had plenty. But his home was just so barren at times, lights off. It was almost a poor mimic of what he thought was a regular apartment, an attempt to make everything normal even when everything about him and his life isn’t. You stare off into the hallway leading to the master bedroom, the families smiling so hard in their frames for what seems like years. You wonder, do they ever get tired of keeping that smile? Do they ever wish to do anything besides smile? Is Gojo ever tired of who he is? It’s hard to be him. You see it in the way he mellows down at home, silent and thinking to himself as you both watch a movie. His face was so handsome, sculpted by Aphrodite—no, created by her very hands delicately adorning his blank canvas with his complimenting features. So handsome yet so troubled. A constant conflict raged within him; the man he was vs the man he wanted to be.

And so deep in thought you were, you almost didn’t get excited by the sound of the door unlocking. It’s sad, really. The fact that the door opening doesn’t arouse feelings of relief or comfort. Why is it always so difficult with him?

Silence. His blindfold was off in his hand. His brilliant eyes, pupils surrounded by the captured blues, so very tired.

“I don’t want to argue. I’m sorry. I tried to come home on time but they dragged me around.” He says, his deep voice not carrying the chirpy or the singsong tune he always had to tease Megumi.

“There’s nothing to argue about, Satoru.” You say softly. His hand rests on yours and gently holds it. He had turned off his Limitless, something he always did to just feel close and personal with you. Sometimes, and he would never tell you this, but he uses his Limitless in his sleep to trap you within the confides of the invisible spaces that shielded him. His lean, muscled arms kept you close and protected like a layer before the second layer of his ability.

“Then are you mad or no?”

You paused. You’re not mad at him, why does he always think you’re mad at him?

“No.”

Gojo stares at you, his movements sluggish as he settles himself next to you on the couch. His blindfold forgotten on the counter, his long legs spread as he leans into his trained thighs.

“You sure? You sound a little upset.”

It was a work in progress, talking about relationships with him. It was always a work in progress with Gojo. “It’s fine, really.”

“Just making sure.”

He’s gotten better at managing himself over the years, what used to be a rampant rage at Geto and the higher ups has now seemingly burned him out. He still had it in him to get angry, but not like how he used to. He found too many wrinkles on his brows and forehead to continue that way. You gently put your hand to his, seeing him sluggishly blink. He hummed and picked his head up at you.

“Are you okay?” Your question is simple but so very effective.

He scoffs. You stare hard. You hate it when he does that.

He blankly stares off, “I guess so.”

“Gojo.”

“It’s a work in progress, baby. Y’know how it goes.”

He’s blanking on what to say. He always ends his sentences in ‘yknow how it goes’ when he doesn’t know what to say. So to help him, you exhale and bite the bullet. You lean into his shoulder. It’s probably been a looooong while since you have rested your head on his shoulder. Through your hair and through his black uniform, you felt how stiff and firm his shoulder was. If that was from muscle or from stress, you didn’t know. You can feel just how he halts before returning to his normal state. Has it truly been so long that he doesn’t expect it? God, sometimes you hate those higher ups for dragging Gojo around like he was some puppy to pass around. It wasn’t fair to you or him. His arm stretches out around the back of the black couch, laying behind you so comfortably. He stares at nothing in particular, simply enjoying you.

Gojo adores you, you’re everything to him. So why is it everytime he thinks of you, he thinks of Geto? Why is his mind trailing to that black haired man, broken beyond repair now and a shell of what was once. He adores you, he’d destroy everything around him to get you back, he’d go to the ends of Everest to rescue you, but why does Geto haunt him so much? Sometimes, he’s so afraid that your difficulty to connect with him could be grounds for you leaving him. His fingers dig into the plush couch as he thinks about that. No, you’ll never leave. You promised. But so did Geto.

“You’re in your head again, Satoru.”

Silence.

“Satoru?” You ask gently, noticing he’s spacing out.

He stays quiet before his lips quiver gently. “I miss him, yknow. Geto. I know it sounds weird because I-I don’t know why. I just, I don’t know. I’m talking weird shit.”

His eyes hold so much sorrow you know you can’t fix alone, and it hurts you on the fact you can’t help more. You look up at him, no pity. He hates pity more than anything—he already got enough of it when Geto ditched him. Suddenly, his arm wraps around you and he just melts into you. Desperate his fingers cling to you, his strong movements taken you by surprise. He’s breathing raggedly as he breathes you in, his face furrowed deep into your neck. It’s your turn to sit stiff as he finds deep comfort in you, in your warmth and softness. Gojo loved it, he loves just how you’re everything to him. He loves you so so so fucking much, you’re everything. He desperately wants you.

“Baby…” His whimpers are rare, since he dislikes to show any type of expression that can be taken wrong. But here he sits, gripping you so tightly and whimpering your nickname. He’s a mess tonight and you don’t know what happened to make him like this. Your gentle hands wrap around his body, rubbing his back you knew had scars from previous fights with Special Grades. He exhales something he was holding in, almost panting into your neck. It tickles but you keep a steady face.

“Satoru, is everything okay?”

“Not really. I-I know I’m flip flopping I just—I-I’m sorry.”

You hum in understanding. Hands on his back, you lean into his warmth. So familiar and inviting. It’s okay, you want to say. It’s okay to feel, it’s okay to exist beyond what the higher ups expect. You want to kiss his beautiful face, reassure him, adore him, love him, but he needs the peace and mellowed, calm moment. His emotions were all over the place and you had to be the anchor in his chaotic world. You hesitantly move his head, those cascading white locks making his eyes look so enchanting. Like deep pools hidden by hanging white flowers.

“It’s okay, Satoru.”

He was a lot of things. Annoying at times, confusing other times, but he was always the same man he was. Gojo Satoru, your adoring boyfriend who was dealt an unfair hand in this world. His trembles subside, his desperation relaxes almost as if he relaxes you won’t disappear if he lets you go. He leans back properly enough to stare at you. And he just stares. He thinks you’re the most amazing, most gorgeous thing humans have ever made. The incredible being holding so much patience and love he’s never even seen from another. Gojo can’t ever let you go. No, letting you go isn’t ever an option. You’re staying with him regardless of what happens. An intrusive thought crosses his mind fleetingly that tells him that he’d probably maim any man who dared to try to take you. But he quickly brushes it away. He’s learned to separate himself from those desperate intrusive thoughts. He exhales shakily while both hands remain holding you in that tight grip you’re so familiar with.

“I’m a wreck.” He scoffs with a deep, bothered expression. You simply smile, stroking his bangs away only to watch them fall back onto his forehead.

“It’s okay. I love you.” You mean it. You love him.

Silence. Before his grip solidifies. “I love you too.” And he means it too.

[therealcocoshady]

awwwww i forgot i sent those prompts in!!! lily having a crush is gonna be hilarious i already know😂 cant wait coco!!

-😛😛😛

Author’s Note : Thank you for sending these many prompts ! Lily having a crush was way too cute 🥰. I hope you enjoy it !

Daddy’s girl

Marshall was lounging in the couch when you came home after picking Lily up from school. She was carrying a tiny bouquet of flowers and it immediately brought a smile to his face.

- That’s a nice bouquet, he said. Did you pick these for me ? He asked.

- No Daddy, they’re mine ! She said proudly.

- Our baby received flowers today, you said with a soft chuckle.

- Who gave these to you, bug ? He asked.

- My boyfriend, she said proudly.

- Your what now ? He asked with a scoff.

You neatly choked upon seeing the change of emotion on his face. When Lily told you she had a boyfriend, in the car, you didn’t think much of it - she was five after all - but you knew Marshall would absolutely lose it. You thought it was adorable that your baby was smitten with a boy but, obviously, not everyone shared your opinion.

- My boyfriend, Daddy, Lily shrugged.

- When did you get a boyfriend ?! He asked with a raised eyebrow.

- At recess, she said proudly. Theo came, and he held my hand, and he gave me flowers, and he said he would marry me.

- Well I think our friend Theo is forgetting something important, he pointed out.

- The ring ? You asked.

- Dad’s approval, Marshall said with a glare.

- He needs your approval ? Lily asked with a raised eyebrow.

- Of course he does ! He replied. Evan and Matt asked for my permission before proposing to Hailie and Lainey, you know ?

- Maybe he will ask on Wednesday, you shrugged. Theo and his mom are coming over for a play date.

- You invited him ? He asked with a frown.

- What’s the big deal ? You asked as you crossed your arms. Lily has friends over all the time.

- Girl friends, he pointed out.

- Marshall… they’re five, you giggled.

- This, I will remind Theo about on Wednesday, he mumbled. Before he married my five year old.

- You will do no such thing, because you have a recording session, you said.

- I will do whatever I please because A its my house and B I cancelled the recording session, he shrugged.

- When did you cancel it ? You asked.

- Just now, he shrugged.

- As your collaborator-, you began.

- As the mother of my child, I think you’ll agree it’s important I’m here for milestones like this, he said with a smirk. Lily’s first play date with a boyfriend. Yes ?

- Don’t you dare pull something and scare off that little boy, you warned. I like Theo. He’s cute.

Marshall simply shrugged and switched subject, asking Lily how school went, casually reminding her that she should focus on learning how to count higher than 50 instead of getting a boyfriend. On Wednesday, you welcomed Theo, who came with his mom, into your home. You didn’t know too much about her, but she seemed nice. They even came bearing gifts, flowers for Lily and pastries for you. The play date went great and both kids spent the afternoon in the garden, playing with the dog while you enjoyed coffee on the terrace, getting to know Danielle. They had recently moved to the neighborhood and she shared a bit about her struggles as a single mother. Her move being recent meant that she had no idea Marshall was Lily’s dad and you could see she was a little star struck. However, you did everything you could to put her at ease.

- Thank you again for the pastries, you said.

- I figured you’d enjoy a few sweet treats, she replied.

- I’ll happily blame the sweet tooth on the pregnancy hormones, you said innocently as you cradled your baby bump.

- Oh I didn’t know you were expecting ! Congratulations !

You felt the color drain from your face. You were, indeed, in the early stage of pregnancy but you were definitely showing. Or maybe you just looked like a fat lady who enjoyed pastries a little too much ? You weren’t too sure anymore. You tried to stay calm and composed and took another bite of macaron. You spent the rest of the afternoon feeling self-conscious, and it wasn’t helped by Danielle’s flirting with your husband, who was either completely oblivious or enjoying the whole thing way too much. You had to suffer through two and a half hours of her batting her eyelashes at Marshall and complimenting him on his physique (« I can tell you work out »).

- Lily is the spitting image of you, Marshall, she said. She is absolutely adorable.

- I can’t take the credit, he said with a grin. She looks just like her mom.

- Either way, she is really cute, she commented. Theo is absolutely smitten with her. It looks like we’re going to see a lot of each other.

Up until now, you thought the whole « Lily having a boyfriend » thing was pretty cute but the perspective of having this woman over on a regular basis was making you nauseous. Marshall, on the other hand, seemed to have softened to the idea liking a boy. At the end of the play date, Theo brought up the topic of marrying Lily.

- Mom, can Lily come over next week ? He asked. We want to get married in the backyard !

- Of course, Bunny, Danielle said with a laugh. If Mr and Mrs Mathers agree, that is.

- Before thinking of marrying my daughter, you might want to learn how to tie your shoelaces, Theo, Marshall said with a frown.

Theo made a comment about wanting to learn as soon as possible and you agreed to call Danielle to set up another play date. Lily was happy about her afternoon and gushed over the fact that Theo held her hand while they were petting Winky.

- He did what ? Marshall asked.

- He held my hand, she repeated proudly.

- I didn’t see that ! He said. Babe, did you see that ?

- I didn’t, you shrugged. But that’s cute.

- Held my daughter’s hand ? In front of me ? In my own backyard ? In a house that I paid for ? He grumbled. Someone better teach this boy some manners !

- You’re funny, Daddy, Lily giggled.

- Did he at least ask before he held your hand ? Marshall asked.

- No, but I liked it, she replied.

- You know, baby, it’s important to ask people before you touch them, you said. I’m glad you liked it but Theo should have asked.

- You never ask Daddy before you hold his hand, you pointed out.

- That’s because we’re married, you explained.

- But before, you asked him ? She questioned.

You heard Marshall chortle, probably reminiscing your first kiss. You definitely didn’t ask for his permission. In fact, you went for it and apologized after. You shot him a glare, forbidding him to say anything.

- It’s always important to ask, you simply said. That way, if you’re not comfortable with people touching you, you can say so.

- Ok, she simply shrugged. But when I marry Theo, he won’t need to ask permission anyway.

You chuckled and moved on to another topic, not really wanting to be reminded that you had to set up another play date and deal with Danielle. You went to the kitchen to make dinner when Marshall came to find you.

- So, that was a nice play date, he commented. In spite of the hand holding, I mean…

- I guess, you shrugged.

- Theo’s mom is pretty nice, he continued.

- Glad you think so, you said dryly.

- Are you alright, honey ? He asked.

- I don’t know, you snapped. You make a big deal about a five year old holding Lily’s hand in front of you but you certainly have no issue with flirting with his mom right in front of your wife.

- I… what ? He asked with a puzzled look on his face. I was being nice to her. I wasn’t flirting.

- Right, you chortled.

- I just felt sorry for her, he shrugged. She’s raising her son on her own, that’s not easy…

- So, you have a type, then ? Single moms ? You asked with a raised eyebrow.

- Yes, exactly, he said sarcastically. I was attracted to you because you were a single mom. Not at all because you’re smart and beautiful with the greatest hip-hop culture ever.

- Don’t try to be funny, you said as you rolled your eyes.

- Babe, that’s ridiculous, he sighed. I’m not attracted to Danielle.

- Really ? You don’t like her huge fake tits ?

- I’m pretty sure they’re real, he said before he could catch himself.

You stared at him in disbelief for a second before scoffing and putting the knife down on the cutting board and making your way out of the kitchen.

- Where are you going ? He asked.

- To lie down, you said without looking at him.

- In the middle of making dinner ?

- If you care so much about dinner, make it yourself, Marshall. I’m not hungry anyway.

An hour later, Lily came to find you in your bedroom, asking that you read to her before bed. You happily obliged and, once she was asleep, you went back to your room, where you found your husband waiting for you in bed, with a tub of Ben & Jerry’s and two spoons.

- Brought a peace offering, he said with a smile.

- Thanks, you said sheepishly.

- I’m sorry I made that dumb comment, he said apologetically. But in my defense… you’re the one who commented on her tits first. Which means you stared.

- With the low-cut top she wore, no need for staring, you said. They were pretty much on display.

- So we agree that I didn’t stare at her, then ? He asked with a grin.

- I guess, you shrugged as you sat in bed. I’m sorry. But I hate this woman.

- Why ? He asked.

- Because she was here, in our home, batting her eyelashes at you, right after she made me feel fat, you said. She was here, looking hot while I’m… looking like this.

- So ? He asked. You’re gorgeous.

- I’m fat, you replied.

- You’re pregnant, he chuckled. And you’re the hottest pregnant woman I’ve ever seen.

- Yeah ? You asked. You really think so ?

- Have you seen yourself ? He asked. You’re gorgeous. You’re glowing. I’m so lucky you’re carrying my babies. And your tits are even greater than before. Which is saying something.

- You like them ? You asked with a smile. They’re so tender, lately, though…

- I heard applying something cold might help, he said with a smile, pointing at the ice cream.

You giggled and kissed him, whispering apologies in his ear for your earlier outburst. He kissed you back with passion before gently cupping your breast. His mouth traveled to your neck, to your chest as he helped you undress. He grinned at the sight of your bare chest, gently tracing your skin with his fingers. He opened the ice cream tub and proceeded to apply some of it on your nipples, before making sure to lick it gently. He made you cry in pleasure, from the simple stimulation of your breast, before making love to you, whispering to you just how beautiful you were, worshipping every part of your body.

A few days later, Marshall saw Danielle again when he picked Lily from school. They were waiting for the kids to come out as they made small talk. He was polite, though he picked up on the flirting right away, realizing you were right after all. He made sure to mention you every chance he got. They agreed on a play date for next Wednesday. As soon as Lily walked up to him, he could see she was clearly upset.

- What’s up, bug ? He asked as he hugged her. I saw Theo’s mom earlier. We’re all set for next Wednesday.

At the mention of the play date, so immediately started bawling. He hugged her tight, trying to wipe her tears. Seeing her tear-stained face broke his heart. Every time he saw her cry, it hurt deep in his soul.

- What’s wrong, Lily ? He asked.

- Theo… h-he… he doesn’t love me anymore, she sobbed.

- What do you mean ? I’m sure he does, he said. He held your hand, remember ? That has to mean something…

- He married Emma at recess, she cried.

- Emma… your best friend Emma ? He asked in shock.

Now, he was getting a little too involved in that drama. Lily simply nodded and burst into tears again. She was only five and already having her first heartbreak. It took everything he had in him not to walk to Theo and give him a piece of his mind but, at the same time, he knew he couldn’t be an adult bullying a little child, so he just held Lily while she sobbed.

- I hate boys, she said.

- I know, baby, he said as he rubbed her back. But all boys aren’t like this, you know ?

- They aren’t ? She sniffled.

- I mean… they grow up eventually, he said with a smile.

- When ? She asked.

- When what ?

- When do they become nice ? She questioned.

- Around thirty, thirty-five, he hummed.

He was absolutely telling a white lie but, at the same time, his little girl had no business being interested in boys at such a young age.

- I’ll never get married, she said. Boys suck.

- They do, he chuckled. How about I take you for ice cream ?

- Yes, she said with a smile.

He took her to her favorite ice cream place and they had a daddy-daughter date of their own. He wanted to make sure to show her how she should be treated by a boy. He let her get as many toppings as she wanted and even took her to the toy store so that she could choose a new doll. When they came home to you, she had a smile on her face. She quickly kissed you and went to play in her room.

- You guys are back later than usual, you pointed out.

- We went on a date, Marshall said before kissing you.

- That’s nice, you said. Speaking of date, have you seen Danielle ?

- We’re not doing playdates with Danielle and Theo anymore, he said.

- Oh, that’s too bad, you said even though you failed to hide a smile. What happened ?

- Jesus Christ, you can’t hide what you think, can you ? He chuckled. Theo basically cheated on Lily.

- He WHAT ?! You asked as you started to get worked up.

- He married Emma today at recess, he explained.

- Emma… Lily’s best friend ?! No he didn’t ! You said in a scandalized voice. I can’t believe she did that to Lily !

- Apparently, we’re not blaming her, we’re blaming Theo, he chuckled. Just so you know, Lily hates boys now.

Now he was the one who failed to hide his smile. Of course. Proud Girl dad that he was, he was too happy to remain the number one man in his baby’s life for the time being.

[cherryrainn]

DINNER .

; pairing ; alastor & human! reader

; note ; hihi! this is a request i got on wattpad! (yes i changed my format again)

; warnings ; chasing, captivity, predatory behavior, he ate you

the moon hung low in the night sky, casting an eerie glow through the twisted branches of the abandoned forest. the air was thick with a palpable sense of foreboding as you venture deeper into the darkness, your footsteps echoing in the silence that surrounded you. the only sound that cut through the stillness was the rustle of leaves under your feet as if the very earth beneath you shivered with a sense of unease.

your senses heightened with each step, the crunch of leaves beneath your shoes making you acutely aware of the isolation that enveloped you. it was said that this forest was cursed, abandoned by both the living and the dead. yet, curiosity drove you forward, a reckless desire to explore the unknown.

as you pushed deeper into the heart of the forsaken woods, an unsettling sensation crept up your spine. you felt eyes upon you, unseen and malevolent. a chill ran down your spine, and the shadows seemed to dance with a life of their own. you quickened your pace, aware that you were no longer alone.

a low growl reverberated through the air, causing you to freeze in your tracks. the atmosphere thickened, suffused with a sinister energy that seemed to emanate from the very heart of the forest. before you could react, a figure emerged from the darkness, its form illuminated by the pale moonlight.

a demon, grotesque and menacing, stood before you, his sharp, yellow teeth glinting in a predatory smile. his red eyes bore into yours, the sinister glint betraying the facade of charm he so masterfully wore. the tufts of hair on his head resembled the ears of a deer, and his entire presence exuded an otherworldly aura.

"well, well, well," he purred, his voice dripping with amusement. "what do we have here? a lost lamb wandering into my domain."

you felt a shiver run down your spine as alastor circled you like a predator sizing up its prey. the air crackled with tension as he continued to appraise you, his eyes flickering with a hunger that went beyond the mundane.

"you've stumbled into something you shouldn't have," alastor mused, his tone taking on a dangerous edge. "this forest is my territory, and those who enter uninvited are subject to my whims."

as he spoke, a disturbing realization struck you -a bestial urge, a wendigo-like hunger, flickered in his eyes. his internal struggle played out before you, torn between devouring you and keeping you as his plaything.

a sinister smile played on his lips as he spoke, "now, my dear, the question is, shall i indulge my appetite and feast upon you, or perhaps, keep you for my amusement?"

fear gripped your heart as the words of the demon hung in the air. without waiting for a response, he continued to circle you, reveling in the uncertainty of your fate. in that moment, a surge of adrenaline coursed through your veins, drowning out the fear, and a single thought echoed in your mind – get out of here.

without a second thought, you turned on your heels and sprinted through the twisted trees, the forest becoming a blur around you. the crunch of leaves beneath your frantic footsteps reverberated through the night, and the distant laughter of alastor followed, a haunting symphony to your desperate escape.

"oh, run, my sweet little morsel! run as fast as your fragile legs can carry you!" his voice called out, a mocking lilt underscoring his words.

panic set in as you desperately searched for an escape, but the once-visible path had vanished into a disorienting labyrinth of darkness.

your breaths came in ragged gasps as you stumbled over roots and rocks, the relentless pursuit of alastor's laughter pushing you to the brink. the forest seemed to warp and twist, playing tricks on your senses, and every desperate turn only deepened the sense of entrapment.

just as hope threatened to abandon you entirely, a gnarled branch shot out from the shadows, its twisted form snaking around your ankle. you yelped in pain as you fell to the ground, the cold earth meeting your face. the branch tightened its grip, preventing any further escape.

alastor emerged from the darkness, his eyes alight with sadistic glee. "my, my, it seems our little game has reached its climax," he mused, sauntering toward you with an unhurried pace.

you struggled against the binding branch, panic coursing through your veins. alastor leaned down, his face inches from yours, the twisted smile never leaving his lips.

"oh, my dear, did you really think you could outrun me? how adorable," he sneered, relishing in your desperation.

your chest heaved with each breath as you glared defiantly at the grinning demon. gritting your teeth, you looked up at him, defiance burning in your eyes. "yeah? well... you might be surprised," you retorted, your voice steady despite the fear that coursed through your veins.

alastor chuckled, his amusement growing. "bold words. perhaps there's more fight in you than i anticipated." he circled you, his presence looming like a dark specter.

in that moment, a flicker of hope danced in your chest. maybe, just maybe, you could defy the odds and escape the clutches of this sadistic demon. if you showed him you weren't afraid, perhaps he would release you.

"you see," you continued, keeping eye contact with alastor, "i don't scare easily. you might think you have control, but i won't be just a victim in your stupid game."

alastor's grin widened, the challenge seemingly invigorating him. "oh, how fascinating! a morsel with a spine. i do love a good challenge."

for a brief moment, it seemed as if the tables might turn. alastor hesitated, his gaze narrowing as he considered your words. the hope that had sparked within you was like a fragile flame, flickering in the darkness.

he considered you for a moment, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the handle of his cane. the silence hung in the air, pregnant with uncertainty.

then, with a sudden, guttural laughter, alastor shook his head. "you entertain me, but amusement can only go so far," he declared, his demeanor shifting.

alastor's form began to change. the air crackled with dark energy as he transitioned from his charming, dapper persona to his full demonic form. the tufts of hair on his head extended into formidable antlers, and his eyes transformed into swirling, demonic orbs.

a sinister smile stretched across his face as he loomed over you, the shadows of the forest seeming to bow to his malevolence. the once-playful atmosphere twisted into a palpable sense of dread.

"in the end, my appetite reigns supreme," he declared, his voice now a guttural growl that sent shivers down your spine.

before you could react, alastor's demonic form lunged forward, engulfing you in darkness. the forest bore witness to the macabre spectacle, the moonlight flickering in the twisted branches as your defiant words were silenced by the abyss.

moments later, the moonlit forest stood eerily silent, the shadows slowly retreating as alastor returned to his more refined, dapper self. the antlers retracted, and the demonic aura dissipated, leaving behind the sly, self-assured grin on his face.

with a flick of his wrist, alastor produced a small, pristine napkin from seemingly thin air. his eyes glinted with a semblance of amusement as he delicately dabbed at the corners of his mouth, cleaning away the residue of his meal.

"ah, what a delightful diversion that was!" he mused, his voice back to its smooth, radio-like cadence. the forest, having borne witness to the dark spectacle, seemed to exhale a collective sigh.

with a snap of his fingers, he vanished into the shadows, leaving the moon to cast its cold light upon the desolate landscape.

[rafesveryrealgf]

JJ Maybank x pregnant!reader

Summary: no plot fr, just a cute moment w jj and his pregnant gf

Warnings: pregnant reader, mentions of sex (no actual sex), cursing, dad!jj, pet names (baby, sweetheart + princess)

“J, can you please take a break for a second,” you yelled from the living room in hopes it would carry all throughout the hallway and into your unborn baby’s room where JJ had been working on building the crib for hours at this point and he’d barely had any luck. JJ wasn’t the type to follow directions and the nerves of being a dad soon sure as hell made it harder to focus on anything for more than a minute.

He was scared. He was nervous. but he was excited too.

The clacking and banging stopped for a minute so you could hear him speak clearly. “Just a minute, baby.” He yelled back.

You groan when you hear things banging around some more, crib pieces hitting the carpeted floor. You throw your head back against the couch, rubbing your stomach in hopes it would make you less miserable.

“You said that an hour ago, J. If you don’t get your ass over here, I’m coming to you.”

“Don’t- don’t move! M’coming!” He’s drops everything instantly, afraid that you’d injure yourself by simply standing.

As soon as you told JJ you were pregnant, doing anything for yourself was absolutely out of the question.

When you hit your third trimester, JJ was even worse. You need water? JJ will get it. You need to go pee? JJ is either carrying you there or holding your hand the whole way. If he had to work he’d make Sarah and Kiara take turns checking up on you throughout the day until he was back home.

You were now seven months pregnant and he decided since he was off of work for the day, that today would be the day he finally puts up the crib.

He ran to the living room just before you could stand up all the way straight.

“What do you need, baby? You hungry? Thirsty?” He questions whilst out of breath, now standing in front of you. He grabs your shoulders and sits you back against the couch. “Stay put. I’ve got it.”

He’s a second away from making his way to the kitchen to get whatever you need before you speak again.

“No,” You whine, throwing your head against the couch once again in annoyance. “I miss you, J.”

“Baby.. we don’t have much time left before the baby gets here. I’ve gotta put this crib together now.”

“Let’s just get Pope to do it.” You plead. “He’s good at following directions and shit.”

“You want another man working on my kids crib?” He scrunches his face up, waving you off and shakes his head. “S’not happening, baby.”

You look up at him and roll your eyes. “JJ, if you don’t get help, it won’t ever be put together.”

JJ scoffs at that, offended by your choice of words. “Wow.. okay, rude.” He presses a hand to his heart dramatically.

“I’m serious, J.” You inhale deeply following it up with a huff.

“Baby, have some faith in me.”

“Last time I had faith in you, it resulted in a pregnancy. So, I’d rather not.” You referred to the time JJ promised to pull out.

You were now seven months pregnant with his child.

He cringed at that, ashamed that he had such a weak pull out game. “Anyway,” he changed the subject quick. “It’ll be done by tonight, baby. Just wait and see.” He bent down to give you a quick kiss to your cheek before running off to the baby’s room again.

You exhaled sharply. You just wanted attention.

You got up from the couch quietly, afraid he’d come running to you before you could make it down the hallway.

When you got to the baby’s room, you stood in the doorway, admiring the way he looked while deep in his thoughts. He was sitting on the floor, his back turned to you and his back muscles moving as he picked up pieces from the white crib, from off of the floor. His biceps straining as he tried piecing them together.

“Baby,” you said quietly, leaning your head against the door frame, placing your hands on your swollen belly.

He looked back quickly. “Sweetheart, what are you doin’?” He questioned, standing up swiftly to grab you. “Go sit down.”

He put his arm around your waist to walk you back down the hallway.

“I need to walk around. Stop hovering.” You twisted your body so that you were no longer in his grasp.

He was a little taken aback by that. “I’m not hovering.” He scoffed. “I’m just tryin’ to care of my girls.”

You were silent for a bit. He was hovering. “I wanna be able to move around, J.” You whine. “I’m bored of just sittin’ on the couch. If you won’t spend time with me, I’d like to at least be able to walk around.”

“Alright, m’sorry. I’ll spend time with you, the crib can wait.“ He wraps his arm around your waist again. “What you wanna do princess?”

The corners of your mouth pull into a smile. “Wanna cuddle?” You say excitedly.

“Yeah.” He looks down at you, his ocean blue eyes staring into your soul, his lips form a big closed mouth smile. “Yeah, of course I do.”