#and i tried to read it and immediately was like oh

[wlwloverwrites]

Routine Check Up

Pairing: Dr. Natasha Romanoff x Reader x Nurse Wanda Maximoff

Summary: After doing some research, you find the perfect gynecologist, Dr. Romanoff and her lovely assistant nurse, Wanda Maximoff.

Warnings: dark themes, medical kink, fingering, humiliation kink, dubious consent, light bondage, vaginal dilators, relaxant drug with use of injection, brief needle mention, 18+ only

Read on ao3

To be transparent, you feared walking in Dr. Romanoff’s office today.

You’ve heard the horror stories, heard about the pain, and the embarrassment. Friends mumbling how they had to scoot down until it felt like they were going to fall to the floor just so their gynecologist could have a ‘good look.’

So you did your research.

You scouted the internet for doctors, reading hundreds of reviews, inputted the addresses into your phone and restarted when you saw they were miles away. Finally, you found Dr. Romanoff.

Stellar reviews, clean office, close to home, and a woman.

When a picture of a beautiful redhead loaded on your screen, a sense of relief filled your body. You figured everything would be more comfortable if your doctor was a woman, so that’s how you found yourself in a medical gown, panties neatly folded - hiding beneath your clothes on a lonely chair.

You tried to leave your panties on, but Nurse Maximoff insisted you took them off, stating it ‘makes things better for the doctor.’

The thin medical gown did little to protect you from the cold and did little to stop the breeze from hitting your backside.

“Are you scared?”

The voice makes you jump, still you reply softly, “A little.”

Not wanting to rip the disposable paper covering the medical table, you carefully turn your head to face the nurse. Still the paper rips and the first wave of embarrassment floods your veins.

“You could always hold my hand. For when it gets too much. How does that sound?”

Your eyes light up immediately by her kind offer and you shyly nod your head.

“Yes please, I’d like that. Personally, I’ve never heard of a great experience at the gynecologist,” you’re rambling, “but I saw Dr. Romanoff - well, I found her online and she had really good reviews…”

”It can be scary, but Dr. Romanoff is very good at her job. She and I will do our very best to keep you comfortable,” she winks.

The smile she sends you has you suppressing a giggle as she walks out of the room, she mumbles that she’s going to bring the doctor.

It isn’t long until you hear muffled voices behind the door, shortly after you hear a sharp knock.

“Come in.”

Oh gosh.

She even more beautiful in person.

Dr. Romanoff sends you a flirty smile. Her red hair is curled, unlike her picture. Long enough to rest just above her collarbones but short enough to let you read her embroidered name on her white coat.

“How are you doing today, sweetheart?”

On autopilot, the doctor washes her hands with proficiency, looking over her shoulder to hear your answer.

“I’m doing good, Dr. Romanoff,” you nod awkwardly as you fiddle with your thumbs.

“That’s nice to hear, sweetheart,” she pauses to look at the clipboard her nurse holds in front of her before looking up at you again, “And please, call me Natasha.”

You only nod, making a mental note to call her Natasha.

”I take it that my best nurse, Wanda, walked you through everything?” She assumes as she puts on a pair of latex gloves - careful not to break the sterile field.

Instead of answering, you stare at her gloved hands, mesmerized by their black color rather than their usual bright blue. The soft call of your name from Wanda has you shaking your head, bring your eyes back up to your doctor.

“Sorry, yes, she walked me through the process.”

“Legs up, feet in the stirrups, and then I need you to scoot all the down.”

The sound of the delicate paper beneath crinkling fills the room as you scoot down, looking up at Wanda who stands next to you. Her hand folds down, telling you to scoot even more, more, more, and stop.

“Just as a precaution we’ll need to strap you down.” Natasha leaves no room for discussion as she signals to Wanda to strap your thighs.

You watch as the nurse clicks the restraints, trapping your thighs - already minimizing your range of motion down to zero.

“Okay,” you mumble, however, your breath hitches when Wanda tightens similar buckles around your ankles, walking between your split thighs as she does. With your feet on the stirrups and the medical gown stretched over your bent knees, you feel exposed.

Wanda then walks back to you, taking your hands, tricking you into submission as she binds them to the table. She only sends you a soft smile as you gape at her actions - surely they didn’t need your hands tied, right? It has to be a mistake?

”It’s just a precaution,” Natasha reiterates with strong eye contact, soothing you by rubbing her hands down your thighs.

”R-right.”

You avoid eye contact the second you see Dr. Romanoff’s eyes peek between your legs. With your wrists locked in place you have no way of covering your face the second you hear the two redheads whisper to each other. Your muscles tense when you catch their eyes looking between your thighs.

“Oh no honey, are you shy?” Natasha coos at you as a latex-covered hand goes to your naked thigh to soothe you.

“A little b-bit,” you stutter shutting your eyes, praying you can just disappear.

Unbeknownst to you, Natasha motions for Wanda to comfort you.

Once again, you jump when a hand reaches for yours. The friction caused by the same latex she wears on her hands feels silly, nevertheless, the soft circles she draws on your hand comforts you enough to open your eyes.

“Better?” Natasha questions from between your legs, only her bright hair is visible over your gown.

“Mhmm,” you nod smiling at Wanda, but choke on your breath when you feel fingers glide between your folds.

“Seems like she’s wet enough.”

”That’s good doctor.”

They speak to each other as if you’re not in the room. Nevermind that it’s you they are looking at, nevermind that it’s you they are touching.

Biting your tongue, your eyes widen when you see Natasha grab a rather large speculum, but lessen when she also reaches for the lube.

You don’t see her use the lube, but you feel it.

”Wanda?”

A pair of green eyes look up from your sex and into yours, you swear you almost see a look of awe on her face.

”Can I hold your hand?”

Your hands waves for hers and she is quick to follow your request, only this time she’s seems annoyed. As if you took time away her new favorite activity - admiring your pussy.

Sighing happily at the comforting hand, you relax enough to let Natasha continue only this time a soft laugh escapes Natasha’s lips when you shiver. Similar to before, her fingers glide between your folds, only thing time it’s easier. It’s obvious she was more than generous with the lube, something you’re thankful for. Again, you’ve heard the horror stories.

Wanda’s hand slips into yours more comfortably the same time Natasha whispers a soft apology when you hiss at the cold metal that’s forced between your legs.

Natasha tries her best to insert the speculum, but it doesn’t budge. She tries harder, pushing the tip inside despite your fluttering walls and the pained whine you let out.

It hurts.

Your hold on Wanda’s hand tightens enough to make your fingers cramp - you can’t imagine how her hand must feel. Restraints wrapped about your ankles and thighs only tighten with every flinch.

Trying your very best to stay quiet, you sniffle and fight the tears that form in your eyes. Wanda catches a glimpse of your tears and shakes her head at her superior.

“I’m hurting you too much,” Natasha sighs, defeated.

You want to tell her it’s okay, you can take it, but when you move to look down and reassure her, the tears fall down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. It won’t fit.”

”I know a way it will feel better, okay?” Natasha hums.

”Yes, Doctor.”

The relief is immediate when she carefully pulls out, only being shoved half an inch the pain is still there.

”Call me Natasha,” she demands sternly.

There’s no please, it’s an order, so you nod.

“And if that doesn’t work I have something else we can try,” she shrugs casually as she shuffles through a drawer next to her.

”Yes, Natasha,” you nod, blinking away your dried tears - anything but that.

Glossy eyes glance up at Wanda, even with her mask on you can see how beautiful she is.

Subconsciously your walls clench around nothing when she sends you another wink. Shy, you break contact and try to close your legs, again you hear Natasha’s familiar chuckle.

“Wanda?”

”Yes, Doctor?”

”Clean her up.”

Almost as if she’s excited, Wanda drops your hand and takes Natasha’s place.

You hear the plastic before you see it. You watch as Natasha hands a small pack of wipes to Wanda. You throw your head back connecting the dots. This has got to be the most humiliating thing ever.

You want to protest, tell your doctor and nurse that you’re more than capable of cleaning yourself, but your hands are tied. A second wave of embarrassment floods your veins when you feel it.

Wanda is gentle as she swipes the wet wipe over your inner thighs, then the lube that’s pooled beneath you left behind from your doctor.

Mentally, you count in your head, trying your best to block out the two intelligent women who seem to have no issue with your nakedness or discomfort.

“I know they look scary, but we will take it slow.”

Natasha’s words bring your attention to the package she holds in her hand. You barely have the chance to read the label before she tears the box open. With new sterile gloves, she sets the multi-colored, silicon inserts, which one more colorful than the last, on the table.

Mesmerized, you stare at the five rod-like devices, each longer, and thicker than the previous, yet all share the same rounded tip.

Before you can ask what they are, Wanda explains Natasha’s upcoming process or inserting the ‘vaginal dilators’ in rounds. You nod, but give your verbal approval when Wanda raises her eyebrows at you.

Finding her familiar spot, Natasha settles between your legs holding the smallest dilator in her hand.

She’s quick, mindful of time, she most likely has another appointment.

You gasp when she pushes the smallest dilator past your entrance. The stretch is minimal, almost non-existent.

The strong and bracing hold on the table loosen when you realize this is much easier.

Whispers are shared between the two scholars as they make the decision to up the stakes, switching to the second smallest.

There’s a sting when Natasha pushes it in. Your chest rises then falls when you feel the base press against your clit.

Despite this only be the second round, there is a fluttering feeling in your lower stomach. Experimentally, Natasha pulls out a few inches, then pushes it back inside you.

“Oh!”

Protected by your gown, Natasha’s smirk is hidden, but Wanda’s isn’t.

”Too much?”

“N-no, I’m sorry, I just wasn’t expecting that.”

Instead of replying, Wanda hands Natasha the third dilator, taking back the glistening second.

The third one comes with a stretch. The blunt tip is pressed into your hole, but hardly budges, similar to the speculum.

Peeking down, you watch Wanda staring between your legs and Natasha’s curls bounce when she tilts her head towards you.

The gasp that falls past your lips is loud, your moan is even louder.

Following Natasha’s silent orders, Wanda presses her thumb on your clit. The embarrassment that floods your veins is replaced with pleasure as she rubs meticulous circles on your swollen clit.

Taking advantage of the pleasure that seeps through your veins, Natasha shoves the third inside. The two redheads watch as your walls clench uncontrollably around the thick dilator. The base glistens, similar to the two previous ones, with your wetness.

It feels like hours before Natasha makes the decision to try the fourth dilator.

Same as the large speculum, you get nowhere.

The pleasure fades and is replaced with pain once more.

“I can’t- hurts again.”

Another silent conversation is shared between the medical professionals. Wanda makes her way to the corner of the room, busy searching for something. As a way to distract you, Natasha’s hands sliding her hands up and down your inner thighs, almost in a soothing manner.

It works because you barely notice Wanda reappear between your thighs. Whatever she found is past to Natasha and you swear you hear a finger flicking thin glass.

“Okay, we are going to try that last thing I mentioned before, okay?”

“Yes, Natasha.”

”You’ll feel a small pinch,” she squeezes the meaty part of your inner thighs before continuing, “but we will give it a couple minutes to kick in and everything should feel better.”

You whisper a soft ‘okay’ and that’s when you see it, a large needle in Natasha’s gloved hand.

“Eyes on me,” Wanda calls as the needle disappears between your legs, “This is just going to make you feel relaxed. Your muscles will loosen up, some people say it makes them feel numb. It’s temporary and will allow for Dr. Romanoff to perform her routine check-up.”

You only nod then wince when you feel a painful poke which triggers immediate tears.

“You said a small pinch.”

”I’m sorry, did that hurt?” Natasha’s voice is taunting and dark as she smiles at your glossy eyes.

“That hurt a lot.”

”Promise the rest won’t hurt. Might feel good.”

Her sudden suggestive tone makes you look at the nurse who only shrugs playfully.

“How does that feel?”

Clueless, you look down at the woman between your legs, “Feel what?”

The three of you share a soft laugh, a laugh that’s cut short when you see Natasha reach for the fourth dilator.

Little do you know, the resistance that was there before is gone.

The stretch is painless as Natasha slowly pushes it inside, testing to see how your body accepts it.

It’s silly, how the pain is gone with the help of the relaxant.

Although you wouldn’t describe the feeling as numb, there is no discomfort, only pressure.

“You okay?” Wanda asks, looking at your furrowed brow.

“Uh-yeah. Just feels weird.”

Not only do you feel it, but you hear it.

Sounds of your wetness fills the room as Natasha thrusts the dilator inside you. You watch as fascination fills both Wanda’s and Natasha’s eyes. Even more so, when Natasha replaces the dilator with three of her fingers.

As if your wetness wasn’t loud enough, it’s even louder now. Like your body, despite not feeling most of the pleasurable sensation, is retailating to her touch, leaking at the act of her curling her fingers.

You wait for either of them to address it, but are only met with praise.

“Very good,” Natasha mumbles softly.

“Much better now, huh?”

You nod in agreement, dropping your jaw when you see Natasha stretch her glistening fingers to Wanda’s mouth.

You watch, mortified, as Wanda’s tongue peeks out just seconds before her lips wrap around Natasha’s dripping fingers. You don’t know what you’re expecting, but you most certainly do not expect her to hum and rush to jot down her notes on your file.

Similar to her nurse, Natasha hums rather loudly at your taste.

Your gown has found its new home bunched around your hips, giving you the perfect view of the doctor who stares between your legs, lost in deep thought.

Her fingers dip inside you once more, getting another taste, she hums again, scribbling the words ‘tastes sweet’ next to Wanda’s vulgar words.

Finishing with their notetaking, Wanda moves to point, “Doctor, what about this area, here?”

Pointing to the bud that sits, swollen, begging for more attention, Natasha is quick to follow. With her gloves soaked with her spit and your wetness, her fingers almost slip over your clit making you jump.

“Oh, looks like the injection didn’t work here,” Natasha pouts with deceptive tone. Still she rubs her thumb over your clit, making your eyes roll back and your mouth fall open. “Sensitive, huh? But that doesn’t seem to be a problem.”

Her words barely register in your head as you struggle against the tight straps pinning you down, suddenly realizing what position you’re in. The pressure between your legs builds rapidly.

Panic starts to set when you hear the wet noises paired with Wanda’s encouraging words.

“She’s so wet.”

Your whole body rocks with each thrust of your doctor’s fingers, jolting at every circle she rubs on your sensitive clit. It’s too much.

“Too much? If I didn’t know any better I’d say she’s a whore.”

You shake your head at Natasha’s words, pleading for her to stop, just to give you a second to gather yourself.

“Look here, she can’t even control it.”

You can’t bear it. The way the two woman have no shame in disregarding your begs.

“Wanda?”

”Yes, Doctor?”

“Bring over a mirror,” with a mocking tone she continues, “and bring a tissue for your sweet patient.”

Naively, you mistake her words for love, sniffling your tears and look at her as if she offered the world and Wanda was the one to give it.

Her touch is gentle as she dabs away your tears, shushing you softly until your heart rate goes back to normal. Assessing your calm nerves, Wanda follows the doctor’s next order, holding a round mirror just above her curls - giving you the perfect view of yourself.

You watch, in real time, Natasha’s fingers shove inside you, not three but four of her fingers. You see the way your body reacts to her touch, to the stretch. Your hole strains to fit them.

Again you watch your hole clench involuntarily around nothing when she pulls her fingers out. Wearing the same face of fascination, you stare at your gaping hole. A sinful view that only makes you want to shut your legs.

“Nowhere to hide,” Natasha tuts when you strain against your restraints. “Just look at how pretty you are and come for me.”

Before you can ask her what she’s talking about, her fingers slide inside you. Her other free hand rubs firm circles on your clit that has your body jerking once more, chasing the pleasure.

Without knowing, your eyes fall shut from the overwhelming feeling in your lower belly. As a result a firm slap lands on your clit, “Eyes on the mirror.”

The heat and pressure grow as Wanda whispers encouraging words, urging you to let go, humming on how you’re such a good patient, so good at following orders as you whisper a soft, ‘Yes, Natasha.’

You see Natasha’s fingers curl faster, watching as a clear liquid squirts onto her palm. Finally getting the reaction she wants, Natasha praises you.

“Come on, sweetheart, you can do it.”

Masking her order as encouragement you’re forced to listen. She holds all the power, she’s the one calling the shots.

Nodding your head you try your best to listen, but it’s not enough. As if Wanda can read your mind, she whispers something short in Natasha’s ear. As a result, the view of yourself is blocked by her curls. 

Innocent eyes search for Wanda’s, yearning for her gentle comfort. 

Like the good nurse she is, she drops the mirror and goes by your side. Her fingers intertwine with yours as the pleasure builds. 

This time a loud moan escapes your lips when you feel Natasha’s lips wrap around your clit. She’s brutal. Laps her tongue on your clit without warning, desperately seeking out your orgasm. 

The heavy coil threaten to release as expert fingers repeatedly hit the sweet spot inside you. Pressing against the spot that triggers more tears to paint your cheeks. 

“I’m gonna come!”

Her tongue only perfects her rhythm, rolling over your throbbing clit, teasingly letting her teeth join the mix. Looking down you see the hunger in her eyes, craving everything she’s forcing you to give her.

With a sob you whine Wanda’s name, you’re not sure what for, but she seems to know the answer. 

A soothing hand is pressed against your cheek and Wanda tilts your head to face her. Just as you’re about to give your doctor a second warning, Wanda’s lips press against yours. 

The kiss is messy, her tongue moves like Natasha’s. Licking at your lips, pressing against your drooling tongue, sucking it into her mouth with a soft moan. Spit dribbles on your chin, it’s exotic and has you falling off the edge.

Your thighs shake within the constraints, your pussy clenches around Natasha’s latex-covered fingers that still expertly curl inside you. The coil snaps and you spill onto her tongue, so much you drip between your thighs and onto the floor. 

“Such a sweet girl.”

It’s hard to ride out your orgasm, panting into Wanda’s mouth, your hips stay in place - still they try their best to squirm away from Natasha’s torture. Maybe if you play nice.

”Thank you, doctor.”

Your thanks fall repeatedly past your lips, a beg for her to stop, to pull away from between your legs. Tuckered out, you collapse onto the table. 

Oh, you are quite the sight. 

Your pussy is drenched, inner thighs glisten under the harsh light above. Your chin is wet with a combination of yours and Wanda’s spit, and your eyes flutter close as the wave of exhaustion hit you.

You don’t know when your eyes fell shut, but your attention is back on the woman when you feel the straps loosen. The skin that was bounded is decorated with indents of the buckles that held you down. Knackered, you make no move to cover yourself, make no move to stand.

“Is that usually what happens during your routine check ups?”

Your serious question is answered with a serious tone, “Always.”

“When you’re ready you can schedule you next appointment with Wanda at the front desk.”

my last fic, everything’s in check, got flagged. this is my second attempt at it :)

[mediumgayitalian]

The funniest thing about the whole ordeal is that he sits by the window, mooning.

Like a Victorian maiden.

"Stop teasing," Cass scolds, visibly choking back laughter. "He's -- little."

"He's down bad facetious," Lee argues. He gestures to Will's feet, which are -- and he cannot emphasize enough -- swinging back and forth. He even --

Gods.

He is twirling his hair.

Cass lets a bubble of laughter through, clamping her hand over her mouth.

"Oh my gods," she says, shoulders shaking. "It's so cute, I'm gonna --"

Will sighs to himself. Deep, long, lovesick; it takes everything in Lee's body not to join Cass on the floor, holding himself to limit the shaking. She keeps her head carefully bowed but even then Lee can see the tears streaming down her face.

"Goober," Lee calls, tongue in his cheek, "what the hell are you doing."

Will startles. He goes, quite immediately, startlingly, pomegranate red, sliding a worn journal against his chest and out of sight. Only, he misses, because he's a klutz, and launches the journal halfway across the cabin, narrowly avoiding smacking Cass clean across the face.

For a moment, there is nothing.

Stillness.

Silence.

Lee glances over at the journal. Will holds his breath. Lee moves his hand, ever so slightly.

They bolt at the same time.

"Nothing!" Will shouts, diving for the book. He is, unfortunately, a pipsqueak, and easily lifted to the side and dropped, screeching and clawing, on Michael's top bunk. "Nothing, nothing, I'm doing nothing --"

"If you're doing nothing, then it's fine if I look," reasons Lee, knowing that if he kept a diary and any of his rat ass siblings tried looking through it he'd kill himself. "Just blank pages, right?"

Will lunges, but Lee is stronger than he is, and his arms are longer. He plants a hand on his squishy face and holds him there, struggling, arms scrabbling for the journal, Cass's wheezing echoing through the largely empty cabin.

"Cass! Tell him -- tell him to give it back --"

Cass looks up, maybe, to tell him off, but she sees Will's squished, roan face and loses her shit all over again. This time she doesn't even bother staying on her knees, she hits the full, total ground, clutching her stomach, tears streaming down her face, choking in agony.

Lee flips open the book.

Will screams.

"Dearly beloved," Lee reads, voice trembling. Will claws at him. In what is, perhaps, divine intervention, the scratch marks disappear as quickly as Will makes them, glowing a soft gold. Will screams again. "We are gathered here today --"

There is laughter, and arguing, outside, and Lee pauses. Will stops struggling. His face drops. He whips toward the window, faster than Lee can even think of stopping him, and brings his clasped hands to his face, head bowed, and begins rapidly to pray:

"Dad, please, if you love me, smite them all, please, do not let them come in, turn off their ears, please, I promise I will scrape off every brownie I get for the next fifty years if you --"

But it is for naught. Because in a great, energized gaggle, the rest of their siblings pile through the door: Michael, scrabbling at Diana's flexed arm, flailing his way out her head headlock; Kate and Pheobe, heads bent over a script; Melody, Mercury, and Leanna, harmonizing over Michael's cursing; Gabriel and Laurel, tossing a basketball back and forth; and, finally, Amir, trailing quietly behind them, bow in hand.

They spill out onto the giant carpet by the door, and pause.

Lee clears his throat.

"--to celebrate the union of --" His voice wavers. Will shrieks, lunging again, but Kate in Phoebe are faster, lunging forward and grabbing one arm each.

"Oh, no you don't," says Kate, grinning, and Phoebe, unusually bold, pokes his ribs until he stops squirming, snickering to herself.

Lee continues.

"-- Nico di Angelo and Will Solace, in the sight of -- oh for fuck's sake, capital-G God -- to join them in holy matrimony."

Will puts his pudgy little hands over his face and yells. He begins, ever so, to glow, like he does when he's healing, and it is the perfect moment to set everyone off: several of their siblings join Cass on the floor, who, at this point, looks genuinely unwell, and several more -- mostly the girls -- rush forward to hang off Michael's bunk, cooing at poor Will, who glares at Lee with all the vitriol his ten-and-three-quarters body can muster.

"I hate you," he croaks. "You are -- the worst brother ever --"

"I'm just trying to have it memorized," Lee says solemnly, "you know, so I can recite and when you and Nico get --"

There is a quick, painful flash. For a moment, Lee is genuinely blind -- his eyes are open, he can feel the air of them on his drying sclera, but he can see nothing but pure, white light -- and it takes a solid minute of blinking to get anything back in front of him, even if it's blurry.

The first thing he sees is Will, off the bunk, with the journal in his hands.

The second thing he sees is Amir, quick and quiet, poised behind him.

"I don't even like him," Will says hotly, "I'm just -- did you know that there are friendship marriages, and --"

Lee meets Amir's eyes and nods. The curve of his oft-stoic mouth incites genuinely glee in Lee's wicked heart, and in a flash their third youngest darts out his deft pianist hands and grabs the journal from Will's hands. Before Will can even shriek, he tosses it across the room, where Laurel catches it, and she sprints across the cabin, scurrying up the wooden support beams, and hangs from the highest rafter. She flips through the pages and opens a new one.

"Oh-hoo-hoo, this one is good," she says evilly, wiggling her fingers. "He even got all the letters right, ahem, Mr. Will di Angelo --"

Will is short, but he's fast and he's slippery, so he's out of Kate's attempted half-Nelson in seconds and ripping across the cabin, spider-monkeying up the beam. Laurel shrieks and tosses the journal to the waiting Gabriel, who slides himself in the spot between his bunk and the wall and flips to a new page.

"It's a drawing!" he reports, delighted. "Aw, man, he even got the shine of his hair on here --"

"All of you hate me!"

"It's cute," Leanna coos, scooping Will up from the ceiling. Laurel damn near cries in relief, dropping down and muttering about evil, punishing little brothers and pointy fingers. Will tries to squirm free but Leanna presses a million exaggerated kisses to his cheeks, to his hair, and on reflex, he leans into them. "Baby's first real crush --"

"I do not have a crush on him!" Will squirms free, eventually, standing on his own -- unmade -- bunk and hollering until his face is read. "I just think he's -- cool, okay, he can control zombies and ghosts and --"

"'Makes your heart flutter?'" Melody suggests. She holds up the journal Gabriel has passed to her and traces her hand over an older page, tapping her electric-blue nails. She clears her throat, upping up her own slight drawl to match Will's heavier one: "'Symptoms: sweaty palms, dizziness, rapid heartbeat, high fever -- potential tachycardia? Or plague. Revisit next appearance.'" She closes the book and grins. "Think you're a touch ahead of yourself, kiddo."

Will, as he always does, chafes at the nickname, snapping a reflexive you're four years older than me! Not even! and crawling under his bed. Belatedly, an arm scrabbles up on his mattress, patting blindly until it makes contact with his pillow -- crumpled into the corner under half a metric ton of stuffed toys -- and drags it down with him, screeching into it.

"All I ever do in this stupid cabin is suffer," he bemoans.

Their siblings, for the large part, ignore his wallowing. More interesting is the journal, that they circle around, flipping through the various drawings and doodles of Nico di Angelo, enigma, and the hearts around every strand of hair.

Lee starts feeling a little bad.

A little.

"Dork," he says, peeking under the bed. Will kicks him. Lee grabs his foot. "Come out."

Will pouts. "No."

"Are you embarrassed?"

"Obviously!"

Lee looks down and sighs. He is eighteen, and feeling every year; his knees, actually, have wear equivalent to that of a seventy-year-old man. Michael checked. Michael could, also, have been lying, because he's a tool, but there was a particular gleam of unbridled glee in his eyes when he reported back so Lee is inclined to believe him.

All this to say: he is too old for this nonsense.

And, yet.

"You have not been sweeping under here," he grumbles, pulling a face at the (numerous) dust bunnies. "You have, like, two chores."

"I have so!"

Will coughs.

Lee sighs and holds out his hand. Will's throat is, indeed, closing up, so he fires off a quick hymn to lower the swelling but leaves it itchy in penance.

"I don't know why you continue to lie to me. Your tell can literally, actually kill you."

Will opens his mouth to lie again. Lee pokes him, hard, in the stomach, and he closes it, choosing instead to scowl.

"Get out of here," he complains. "You smell like dookie and I hate you also."

"I do -- I do not!"

Just in case, Lee sniffs, and he -- well, he doesn't smell like roses, but dookie is an exaggeration and after a moment the little shithead snickers, dodging Lee's pinching fingers. Lee rolls his eyes and scoots closer, crushing him against the wall.

"We're not trying to embarrass you," he tries.

Will scoffs. "Lie!"

"Okay, well, we are a little." Lee turns over and stares until Will meets his eyes. He is relieved to find no genuine hurt in them, only annoyance, and maybe a touch of frustration. He searches for Will's hand and squeezes, holding tighter when someone in the peanut gallery cackles, and Will scowls. "But, like. Embarrassment of love and affection."

"That's not a thing!"

"It is. You know how Diana likes to put a curse of truth on Michael and ask him leading questions about his weird love for Orlando Bloom in public?"

"That's different," Will says after a pause. "Diana only does it to punish him for his crimes."

"Of which there are many," Lee agrees. "But it is the same concept."

"But I'm not evil like Michael!"

"No? It wasn't you and Cecil that rigged Jake Mason's birthday cake to explode last week?"

Will's mouth opens. It closes.

"I will speak no further without an attorney," he decides on, and Lee laughs out loud. Will grins, forgetting his anger, and leans in when Lee curls into him, snorting. Lee presses a kiss to his hair and tugs him even closer.

"We are teasing you because we love you and you are being a massive goofball," he says quietly. He squeezes when he feels Will scowl. "You tease me for crushes and foolishness too, brat. You're just suffering because it's your first time."

"I don't have a crush on him," Will insists, muffled. "...I just think he's cool."

"Right. And all the drawings --"

"Anatomy practice!"

"--and the poems--"

"I can't control those! They just come out!"

"--and the marriage vows --"

"I -- okay. That one -- gimme a second." Will screws up is face, considering. He brightens when the idea comes to him. Lee snorts. "Connor and Travis were telling us about levying the marriage system to benefit you and I think Nico would be a willing participant."

Will beams, proud at his quick thinking, and Lee cannot help but try to crush him a little. Will, used to it, sighs and grumbles and tucks himself smaller so he can fit into the shape of Lee's arms, tights against his chest.

"You -- are -- so goddamn cute, you know that?" Lee says, punctuating every word with a loving poke. "Gods."

Will squirms. "Everyone keeps telling me that. That's why I'm studying Nico. So I can get cooler."

"You're studying Death Boy because you have a big fat embarrassing crush on him."

"No."

"Yes, and it's ridiculous, because you've met him, maybe, twice."

"I have met him three and a half times."

"I don't know what a half is and I'm afraid to ask. Kid, you're whipped."

Will tips his head to rest on Lee's shoulder, groaning. He stays there long enough for the wheezing, riff-raff, and general mischief to quiet, for some of the most hyperactive kids in camp to get bored and move on, poking at another available sibling. Will stays there long enough, breathing heavy, eyes squeezed shut that Lee hears Cass humming as she makes her rounds, tucking in the younger kids, who insist that they are too old for such nonsense but allow it anyway, and brushing her gentle hands on the foreheads of the older kids. She comes to Will's bunk last, kneeling outside of it, matching her breathing to theirs.

"All good?" she whispers, hand coming out to squeeze Lee's shoulder.

Lee nods. "Yeah. Tired out."

He can hear the smile in his sister's voice. "Okay. Don't fall asleep down there, Lee. You'll ache in the morning."

"Won't," Lee promises, knowing full well it's a possibility. Cass snorts, squeezing again, and Lee hears he pad away, pulling back her unreasonable number of comforters -- for a child of the sun god she is always freezing -- and floating off a final night, fireflies.

Lee smiles as all thirteen of them -- including Will, who mouths it silently against Lee's shoulder -- wish her goodnight back.

"I don't." Will makes a quiet, keening noise. "I don't understand why my chest feels so big."

Lee buries his face in coily, tangled hair, breathing deeply.

"You got a big, giant heart," he murmurs. "And Nico needs a friend. I think you, uh, I think you might also have a thing for brown eyes and basket cases, but that's none of my business."

Will giggles tiredly. Lee smiles, holding them close and scooching them gently out from the dusty underbed. His knees, as he correctly assumed, scream when he stands, but Will's little hand is warm in his, and his eyes are cloudy and soft. He is ten years old and too big for it but he reaches his hands up and Lee lifts him, anyway, exhaling at the wrap of his legs and arms around him, at the shift of his head in the crook of his neck. He takes a minute to hold the weight of him, memorizing, before leaning down and easing him onto the softened mattress, tucking the creased, messy sheets around him the way he likes.

"Sweet dreams," he says softly, pressing a kiss to his freckled forehead. He grins. "Of wedding bells, and death-breath smooches."

"Go away."

Will pushes him, scowling sleepily, and Lee lets him, smoothing out his pillow and yawning his way over to his own bunk. He flicks Michael awake in passing just to be a jackass and dives into the bottom mattress, before he realizes, wrapping himself in his blanket and pretending to snore. When Michael has re-settled, muttering mutinously to himself, Lee opens his eyes, squinting over to where Will is curled up, across the cabin, blankets pulled up to his forehead and feet sticking out the other end. He smiles.

He can't wait to bring this up at their wedding, one day.

[cathnospam]

Bakugo, but he steals your romance books.

I still have no clue if it’s ACTUALLY canon he reads romance books/manga because the fandom loves to gaslight popular hc’s as canon (i.e. him wearing eyeliner/smelling like burn caramel), but let’s say he does and you’re the only one that’s knows about it.

…

You kind of found out on accident when he was in your dorm and he kept making comments about your manga shelf.

“How the hell did you get ALL books of Nana, they’re like sold out everywhere.”

“You’re missing book 4 of Erased.”

“When did you get Ao Haru Ride, the cover looks fucked up.”

“You need to organize your Paradise Kiss collection , dumbass they’re all in the wrong order.”

You never really pointed it out, it took you years to finally get him to be a bit more comfortable with you and now that it’s your final year in uni you want to keep it that way, you know from seeing others do it that if you make notice of the little things he does he’d either curse you out or never allow himself to open up to you again so you just nod and keep your responses short.

until you caught him in your room reading one of your books.

He tried to play it off like he didn’t know what exactly he was reading, you could even see his cheeks get warm, but upon walking into your dorm you just lock the door, shrug and head to the bathroom.

“Just put it back when you’re finished, please.”

It threw him off guard a little he was completely prepared to gaslight you and calling you a dumbass for thinking he’d ever read something involving LOVE.

EUGH.

But he does, and you don’t care.

Since then Bakugo started a daily routine of coming to your room to read, some days he’d bring over your favorite food as a way of thanks.

Especially since he typically takes a book when he goes back to his dorm.

You honestly didn’t mind the company, you had one of the cleanest and quietest rooms in the entire dorm, plus many people didn’t bother you to hang out, because you preferred being alone to relax most of the time, so he came to visit more.

You even ordered a big bean bag chair near your books for him to lay down and read instead of on your rug,

“If it’s too small i can order another one, i wasn’t sure if it was big enough.” You pointed at the seat as he walked in to grab another book while you walked to your desk to play a video game.

“Whatever….these books came too, huh.”

“Oh yeah. I’m still on the hunt for book 4 of Erased, but found more of A Sign of Affection to get.”

Bakugo probably wouldn’t admit it, but one of his favorite parts of the day after training and work studies is coming to your room not just to read, but your presence was a plus too. He hated that he began feeling himself drawn to you, he never does that, but you never seemed to get on his ass about it.

He liked it.

He liked it so much that one day after a long and stressful week of lectures and sparring you see a book wrapped with a note on top of it laid on your bed.

when you pick it up you immediately felt your lips curl into a shaky smile;

“Found book 4 for you, idiot.”

[tweetybaird]

Playing Pretend

this is a part 2 to Daddy’s Girl! could maybe be read as a stand alone? it might be a bit confusing without reading pt 1

tw: smut smut smut smut smut, traumatized angel!reader, sleepy sex, daddy kink (duh), usage of ‘dad’ during sex (😏), i think that’s all!

credits to @hibscubus for the pngs!!

i don’t remember where the flower dividers came from so if you know pls tag!!

it’s been a week since you called carl dad, and he’s been fighting for his sanity ever since. the main issue? you didn’t even remember saying it. he’d asked you the next morning ‘why’d you say that when we were going to bed angel,’ but you just tilted your head at him, having no clue what he was referring to. carl assumed you were too close to falling asleep for you to even register what you had said, and brushed it off.

tonight was another successful movie night, and carl was dead asleep. he was so exhausted that he didn’t even stir when you abruptly sat up next to him in bed, sighing loudly. you laid back down, chin propped up on his bare chest, as you whispered his name. it took a couple tries, but eventually the young man awoke, rubbing his eyes as he sleepily mumbled.

carl looked at you, eyebrow raised in a silent question. “i have the feeling again,” you mumbled, wiggling your body against the sheets. see, carl had taught you ages ago what it meant when you felt like this, that it was normal to be horny. but you were stuck in your ways, embarrassed to talk about it. simply sticking to calling it ‘that feeling.’ it didn’t matter what you called it, carl always understood.

carl let out a puff of air, moving up against his pillow a little more. “c’mere little angel,” he mumbled, pulling you to straddle him. you immediately sighed in relief, reaching down to remove his boxers as his fingers pulled your panties to the side. using a hand under your ass carl lifted you up just slightly, pressing his tip to your center. you moaned when he pressed in, filling you up quickly.

truthfully, carl should’ve known better.

“atta girl,” he sleepily mumbled, not even thinking before he spoke as his hips began thrusting up against yours. “let daddy take care of you angel, so sweet.” a loud gasp fell from your lips, carl feeling the motion right next to his ear. the brunette was too tired to think about what he said, just letting himself lean into the moment.

“mhm,” he grunted as his thrusts sped up, hip slamming into yours as his dick filled you. “take it so good angel,” he whispered, “always so good for daddy.” carl slid his hand up your shirt, squeezing your breast and toying with your nipples. “gonna cum, angel? hm?”

all you could muster was a whiny “uh huh,” brain to mush from how deep he filled you, thoughts consumed only by his words. it didn’t matter, you didn’t need to talk, not when carl knew everything about you. “cum f’me,” he grunted. you cried out, mumbling next his ear as thoughtless words poured from your mouth. “please dad fill me up, oh! mh, please please plea-“

cut off by the sound of your own cries you came, the tightening of your walls around him had carl following close behind. warmth spread through your body as you felt his release filling you. you sighed, once the two of you caught your breath, slumping against carl. “th’nk you dad.”

carl couldn’t help but feel extremely disappointed when the sun rose, popping the little bubble of softness that had surrounded the two of you since last night. the young man felt extremely irresponsible when he realized he was still inside of you, pulling out gently as he woke you up to make you go pee.

when you returned from the bathroom carl was sat on the edge of the bed, now dressed in his jeans, yet left unbuttoned. “hey angel,” he whispered, “c’mere.” the soft patting of your socked feet crossing the floor made a small smile rise to his lips, his gentle hands pulling you to sit in his lap as he spoke. “we gotta talk.”

immediately you tensed up, the words bringing you nothing but anxiety. carl squashed your fears instantly, gentle hands caressing your back underneath your (his) t-shirt. “i just need to make some things clear, alright?” carl began, clearing his throat. you simply nodded your head, too worried to speak.

“you’ve done nothing wrong angel, but,” he mumbled, “i…i’m not your dad. and i know you know that, and i know this sounds contradictory since i called myself daddy last night.” immediately your brows furrowed, head tilted to the side like a puppy. “if that’s something you think you’re into, bedroom wise, than we can talk about it. and i understand why you’d be confused, considering i have been very parental towards you. but, i cannot be your dad. … do you understand?”

it took a few minutes, carl nervously fiddling with your shirt as your head remained down, eyes burning a whole through his lap. eventually, you nodded, a cheesy grin showing through. “i get it!” you cheered, “you’re my pretend dad! that’s ok, i like to pretend.” carl just stared at your smiling face silently, unsure whether to correct you or fuck your dirty little mouth.

…

he chose the latter.

ugh i hate this. i feel like this isn’t what everyone was hoping for. anyways i tagged you below if you commented asking for part 2 but lemme know if you want your tag removed!!

@rassmentalism @stellalaylas @princess312

[godricgryffinsnore]

To My Favorite Victim, With Love ♡ : A Fred Weasley Fan Fiction.

pairing : Fred Weasley x fem!reader

summary : A poetic, heartwarming story filled with laughter, mischief, and growing affection as Fred Weasley turns pranks into love notes—and chaos into something unexpectedly tender.

warnings : Light prank-related chaos, Secondhand embarrassment (mild), Excessive fluff, Teasing banter, One (1) very flirty redhead, No major triggers—just a magical whirlwind of soft humor and affectionate mayhem. Please let me know if I missed any.

author's note : English is not my first language, so please forgive me for any grammatical errors or spelling errors. Re-blogging is completely fine with me, but please don't copy my work. I love you all. Enjoy <3. This is a drabble, i.e., an extremely short fan fiction.

della’s note : Guys, I am really sorry if it’s bad.. I had to write in a hurry, since I had classes the next day. I had started this fan fiction last night, and finished it in 3 hours. This is the fastest I have ever written, lmao. Had these ideas flowing in my mind and had to type it out in a hurry.. Also, I haven’t rechecked anything, so please excuse if there are any grammatical mistakes or spelling mistakes. I promise the next fiction will be thoroughly checked and properly delivered. Thank you for your patience. <3 Again, hope you enjoy <333

word count : 0.6k

main master list <3

banners : @anitalenia and @cafekitsune

The first time it happened, you thought it was an accident.

Your quill burst into violet ink mid-Charms class, painting a constellation of splotches across your essay—and your forehead. You had sputtered and gasped, wiping at your face with the hem of your sleeve. Professor Flitwick, bless his tiny heart, gave you a handkerchief and a sad, sympathetic smile.

But tucked under your textbook, you found it. A tiny square of parchment that read, in curling, careless handwriting:

“To my favorite victim, Consider it art. Love, Fred.”

You’d blushed so hard, you could’ve ignited the entire Ravenclaw common room.

And that was just the beginning.

── .✦

Week by week, prank by prank, Fred Weasley turned your days into mayhem dipped in sugar. Your morning scrolls would unfurl with whoopee cushions. Your socks would chirp if you walked too fast. One time, a bouquet of tulips in Herbology screeched “Marry Me!” every time you touched them.

Each time, the same note:

“To my favorite victim, I’ve missed you. Love, Fred.”

── .✦

“Why me?” you groaned one evening in the library, picking green glitter out of your hair. “Why not Lee Jordan? Or one of your brothers? Or literally anyone else on this godforsaken planet?”

Fred, sitting across from you and pretending to study (he was clearly drawing a dragon wearing glasses), grinned.

“Because,” he said, not even looking up, “you make the best expressions. Like a tragically beautiful pigeon being startled mid-flight.”

George snorted from beside him. “He’s lying. It’s because he’s in love.”

Fred kicked him under the table.

You choked on your tea. “Excuse me?”

Fred didn’t even blink. “He’s clearly projecting.”

“On what?” George asked. “Her lips?”

Fred kicked harder.

── .✦

You tried to resist him. Oh, you did.

But it was hard not to smile when Fred’s pranks began shifting from harmless chaos to heartfelt mischief. A scarf that tightened when you were sad—just enough to hug. A chocolate frog that sang your favorite lullaby. An enchanted journal that doodled little hearts when you wrote his name (which you definitely did not do intentionally, thank you very much).

And always, those notes.

“To my favorite victim, Don’t disappear. Love, Fred.”

── .✦

The moment of surrender came on a Saturday morning.

You stepped into the Great Hall and were immediately bombarded by soft, floating bubbles. Not just any bubbles—each one contained a snapshot of you. Laughing. Reading. Twirling your hair in the library. Staring dreamily out a window. All moments you hadn’t known anyone else noticed.

And in the center of the room, standing tall on the Gryffindor table, wand raised like a conductor, was Fred.

The hall erupted with laughter and a few “awww”s, but all you could see was him.

His grin faltered just slightly when he saw you weren’t running away or turning red.

You walked right up to him, climbed onto the bench (to a chorus of “oooohs”), and stood level with his face.

“Fred Weasley,” you whispered. “I’ve been plotting your downfall for weeks.”

He leaned in, lips a breath from yours. “You’ve been plotting mine? Sweetheart, I’ve been writing poems about yours.”

You kissed him.

Right there. Among bubbles and giggles and floating, glowing moments of your own joy.

── .✦

Later that evening, he handed you one final note.

No glitter. No ink trap. No prank.

Just parchment that smelled faintly like cinnamon and honey:

“To my favorite victim, You were never the punchline. You were the reason I started laughing again. Love, Fred.”

── .✦

And this time, you wrote one back.

“To my favorite mischief-maker, I love you too. But if you dye my hair purple again, You’re sleeping outside with the garden gnomes.”

[redpulsive]

Sylus Affinity 145 Secret Times: Midnight Feast

18+ Minors DNI | SPOILERS ↑ ↑ ↑

‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋

Writing my thoughts about it while listening to it again for the THIRD TIME! (Insane)

OH BOY this has to be one of the most interesting Secret Times audios for Sylus and I NEED to talk about it. Once again, this includes spoilers so don’t read if you want wait to get it yourself!

I’ll include time stamps for each portion I’m talking about, and if you want to listen to it yourself here’s a YouTube link to an upload of it :•) have fun!

0:54-2:17

I love how right off the bat we get Sylus being his usual loverboy self, literally saying he wants to hear his wifey say she was waiting for him. Even cuter knowing that he finds out MC was, at the very least, thinking about him! Even if she jokingly denies that she had ordered food via room service for the both of them. But oh my god, the line “you better be as bold as you are insatiable today” after all of that is CRAAAZZYYY! The word Insatiable was an immediate clue to where the climax of this Secret Times was going, as it can mean both appetite and desire.

2:21-3:32

MC CANONICALLY WEARING SYLUS’ CLOTHES?? HIS CHUCKLE WHILE SAYING “I’m not trying to mock you” ??? THE WAY HE TEASES HER BY SAYING “do I look like I’m… anticipating something?” AFTER ASKING WHAT HES SUPPOSED TO WEAR BC SHES IN HIS PAJAMAS???? Something is in the goddamn air!!!

4:00-4:09

MC calling Sylus a bad boy and him repeating it questioningly is all I ever needed to hear. His voice actor’s delivery on “You’re calling me a ‘bad boy’ again?” is SO velvety.

4:38-6:20 atp I’m just summarizing what’s happening and throwing my thoughts in there

Sylus literally putting his hand SOMEWHERE on MC’s body under the pajamas (people seem to think it was in her pants) and saying “This here... it’s very warm… oh? This isn’t the fabric? Then what is it? Tell me.” AND SHE FUCKING BITES HIM FOR BEING A TEASE BC HIS HANDS WERE COLD?? I really love how Sylus says “don’t bite” like he’s scolding an animal, it’s so funny how much he’s influenced her because when has she EVER attempted to bite him in the current timeline???? HE’S the biter. And then of course she tries to get back at him and he USES THE PAJAMA SLEEVES TO TIE HER UP!??!?! Then after he says “won’t you be a good little hand warmer now, kitten?” (crazy) she seemingly rips the pajamas by trying to break free? At first I thought he was taking off a ring and putting it down so he could use his fingers on her, but after listening closely it sounds like a button snaps off of the pajamas and lands on a table. This is also supported by Sylus talking about how she’s very strong and the pajamas are too flimsy. He also removes her pants and underwear at some point during this section bc the next part…

6:21-8:30 I GOTTA MOVE ON TO THE FEAST

The way he says he’s hungry and you immediately hear him pulling over a chair/stool?? Or maybe he’s pushing away furniture so he can get into a comfortable position before you hear him START TO INDULGE IN HER KITTY!!!! Just kissing sounds and open mouth noises but COME ON! You know what he’s up to. BUT THEN THEY GET INTERRUPTED BY FOOD SERVICE </3 it’s silly that MC got up to get it and Sylus was like “do you actually plan on opening the door like that?” bc she’s literally in torn pajamas while her pussy is facing the world. He tells her that he’ll get it and to wait for her late night snack, but once she’s done eating it’s his turn to munch. Oh my god. Actually fucking insane. Bro doesn’t even care about the food, he just wants to eat HER SO BAD!!!!!

‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋

[xiaomero]

pairings: scaramouche x reader

genre: angst.

word count: 806.

trigger warning: suicide, arguing / yelling.

art credit: sherisuu on x.

scaramouche wore his mask and placed his camera onto his desk to start the stream. as seconds passed by the chat started to flow with comments saying hi and asking how he was doing.

“hi,” he greeted them and started to read the chat out loud. “-how are you?- i’m good i guess. -are you going dye your hair?- nah, not anytime soon. -what are you going to play today?- i will play something i wrote…i was going to release it officially but i think i won’t….” he answered and watched people going crazy over a new song.

he sat down to the chair and put his notebook in front of him.

he took a deep breath, looked at his band aided fingers for a moment and lined them correctly on the strings.

and started playing and singing.

he was giving all of his heart into his voice. chat was silent for the first time this afternoon because they never saw him like this.

now all the birds have fled, the hurt just leaves me scared.

losing everything i've ever known…

he took a deep breath again.

it's all become too much…maybe I'm not built for love.

the breath stuck in his throat.

if i knew that i could reach you, i would go…

it's in my heart and in my head, you can't take back the things you said.

so high above, i feel it coming down…

she said, "In my heart and in my head, tell me why this has to end?”

oh no, oh no!

it was hard to breathe.

i can’t save us, my atlantis…

we fall, we built this town on shaky ground-!

bang!

the door slammed to wall and his his mom entered the room. she was looking at him with disbelief and anger in her eyes.

“didn’t i tell you to stop playing with such nonsenses and be serious about your life!?” the woman yelled at the boy and tried to get his guitar out of his hands.

“stop it!” scaramouche yelled at her back while trying to keep his guitar. “don’t touch it!” he was getting furious.

“you are just wasting your life with shit like this! i won’t let you turn out like him, okay? do you hear me!?” she said with agony and threw the guitar to the ground.

he watched his guitar, split in two pieces, in silence for a few seconds.

his vision started to get blurry and his head was spinning.

“i…” he whispered. “i hate you.” he got up and grabbed his guitar and the camera and closed it, which ended the stream immediately.

then he ran up to the door and got outside.

it was raining like crazy, but he did not care and started running to you, his only escape from this reality he was stuck in.

he ran, ran and ran until he got to your home. he opened the door and scanned for you. when he saw you were sleeping, he sighed and lied down next to to you.

your bed was wet and dirty. there were flowers all around. he looked at your sleeping figure.

“look what she did to my guitar…” he put the guitar next to you. “if she knew how hard you worked for this secretly every fucking day for months just to gift it to me, would she do the same thing? you know, she used to love you.” he looked at you for an answer but you didn’t say anything as usual.

“i wrote a song. with the music we produced to be a love song…you wouldn’t be angry if it was a little…sad, instead of being a happily-ever-after love song, right?” he waited in silence.

“i didn’t release it tho, i just sang a little…which ended horribly. i didn’t know she was home, she shouldn’t have been home until tomorrow.” he whined a little.

“wanna listen to some music?” he looked at your dead stare. “oh yes, you always loved more when i sing it myself…but i kinda lost my voice because of all the…y’know.“ he said and chuckled a bit.

and then, a single tear fell onto his cheeks.

“i wish…i could hear you.“

he watched you, for hours. without seeing your face.

his clothes were dirty because of the mud.

his hair was soaking wet because of the rain.

he was freezing cold because of your grave stone he was leaning towards.

more hours passed by,

rain has stopped.

sky was clear,

his heart was beating fast.

he got something from his pocket,

and swallowed it with joy.

he closed his eyes,

he fell asleep.

he opened his eyes…

he smiled,

he was with you again.

do not copy / translate or use my work.

[candiyaa]

𝐈 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐏 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔…

I JUST CAN'T STOP LOVING YOU...(even if I try to.)

Pairing : Kokushibo x gn! reader

CONTENT WARNING ❃ : Intimacy ; explicit words ; overall cuteness ; NSWF

Kokushibo was the best companion you could ever wish for, under his stoic mask and cold personality, indoors, he was the most loving person you had ever seen. You had the chance to witness things that none of the other fellow moons and Muzan even got to catch a glimpse of. Yet something was amiss.... the way he looks at you , the way his six spider-like eyes gently fall upon you at the slightest movements of yours. The way he held you like you were pure crystal, as if, if held too tight you could crumble under his palms. He had this way of making your heart beat. With him, life felt easy, secure, calm if not magical. His kisses like petals, his touch so tender yet firm and needy, that's all you could ever dream of and oh gosh his smile...but so then..why did he seem so against intimacy ? Or at least that's what you thought. You both had been seeing each other for quite the years already, so why is he so...reluctant abt it ? Perhaps unsure would be the word. He never said it out loud, but it showed subtly : whenever a body part of yours showed he'd be the first to notice ,no matter how small and cover it at the speed of light. He would always redirect conversations whenever the topic hints to explicit matters, he would deny you showering together repeating that you need your privacy and he shall give it to you, always finding excuses over excuses, but at what cost ? All you wanted was to pass the gap, to be closer both emotionally and physically to your forever lover. You wanted to feel that love , feel him pour his love in the closest way two persons could ever be, you wanted to hear him say sweet nothings as you two were beautifuly intertwined in each other presence and love. You wanted to touch , to feel , to try...You never straight out asked him for intimacy, perhaps you were unsure too, abt his reaction or thoughts about it , perhaps scared that all the love will go away. Does he find it gross ? Perhaps demons don't engage in those activities ? Yet silly of you to never have tried to ask, not even once...until today :

It was a calm afternoon, both of you were in your quarters inside the Infinite Castle, though your chambers were quite isolated from the rest of the apartments : a secluded place of serenity and away from the cruel demon world that lurked in the shadows. Being human , Kokushibo protects you with every fiber of his being , meaning he doesn't want you to be any close to demon activities. But there you were , sharing the same bed, Kokushibo was reading next to you, his six ethereal eyes seeming to dance across the pages of whatever ancient book he was reading. You looked up at him, your mind still spiraling about his constant "denial" of intimacy. As your eyes locked. You didn't have to say anything, he knew, he knows, he sees it in your eyes, something is wrong. His eyes always did that thing, slowly squinting at you as if silently saying "What's wrong ?", yet it was also his way of simply studying you, you were used to it by now.

"I'm okay..just thinking" , you replied, knowing no matter how many words came out of your mouth, he always sees right through you.

"No. You're clearly not, you seem uneasy. What is it you're thinking about ?" , he says, as his eyes peer into yours now. He scooted almost imperceptibly closer to you, his attention now solely on you.

Yet you remained silent. You were scared, unsure, overthinking, what if he never sees you the same way after asking what has been bothering you ? Seeing your panic, he didn't hesitate and immediately, gently placed you on his lap, holding you securely in his arms, gently rearranging himself for your comfort. He was gently patting your back, his eyes never leaving your face, your eyes to be more precised, eyes are the portal to the soul : this way he could know what were you truly thinking of and read through you. He started gently combing your hair, never once breaking eye contact still. A gentle kiss to your temple and here you were giving yourself out , the intensity of your emotions just made you blurt it out, no filter, no sugarcoating :

" W..WHY DON'T YOU WANT INTIMACY WITH ME HUH!!! Am I not desirable enough ? Do I..do I not please you enough ? Why..then why you-" No, he didn't cut you off, you cut yourself off, seeing his reaction. His hand gently caressing you back had already stopped moving long ago, his eyes were widened, his body stiff, his face like a deer caught in deer lights. A small tint of blush peppering his cheeks yet it disappeared the moment you spotted it. The scene was quite humoristic and you would probably be laughing your ass off if the situation wasn't that serious at the moment lol.

"Y..You want intimacy from me..?" , he was shocked by himself, shocked by this revelation and did he just..stutter ? His heart did like a whole 360, if it wasn't for his image he wouldn't be fighting against his own body trying not to blush. He tried to process your words, but there he was just looking at you with widened eyes, oh dear how can a man be this clueless , were the hints not hinting enough ?

All you could do was shyly nod, you couldn't bring yourself to say another word. He was baffled, as if he had just heard the date of the end of the world. This state of shock lasted so long it felt like forever.

"I...w..why ?" he said while looking away, his eyes shyly darting to the side. Was the man in front of you really the Supreme Moon ? His shy side was more than endearing , you didn't see it often, but whenever it did happen it was the cutest thing ever.

"What do you mean..why ? I don't know why..I just..that's how it is okay ? Is it not what couples do ? Is it not another way to show..our love...?" That line hit him like a truck, of course it was, and he knew it. In fact he had always been wanting it, no craving it even. Showering you with his love, being as close as possible, feel your skin close to his, he wanted it all, so why..?

"I..do too. Very much at that.." , he stopped himself, realizing how needy his words sounded. He quickly looked back in your eyes before shyly looking away again as if intimidate by your gaze now, or perhaps embarrassed by his own whole new love struck behavior. He sighed, resigned to be honest, eyes locked back on yours with a newfound determination in them :

""I love you, adore you even..I don't have the words to describe what I feel for you, it goes beyond words. he gently put his hands on your hips, stabilizing you and him, grounding himself in. You're more than desirable, more than beautiful. I apologize for my foolishness, for being scared, for not knowing how to communicate how much I wanted that..closeness..too. The truth is... I'm afraid, afraid of hurting you, not doing it right... not loving you right. Afraid of not being enough to please you. I am demon yet... I just can't stop loving you, and the last thing I desire is for that love of mine to overwhelm you. So only if..only if it's not too late, may I..""

Your breath hitched, how cruel of him to not let you process his words first, how cruel of him to have that angel carved-like face, these earnest eyes that felt like the moon itself looking at you... no he didn't let you process it all, not before he finally asked :

"May I..make love to you, tonight ? Will you let me ? Will you let me love you properly ?" , his heart was beating so fast, his body stiff as if bracing himself for the most outrageous denial or any sign of repulse from you.

"You may..."

He gently lowered you down on the bed, both of your hearts beating uncontrollably, both unsure, yet both deeply in love with each other.

He climbed on top of you, careful not to crush you, but close enough your lips were centimeters away from each other. One kiss. Two kisses. A third one and here you were, your legs already curling around his sides which made his hips stutter for a moment as he just started almost imperceptibly grinding against you, slowly, gently but most of all with love. He poured all his love into those kisses, between each, there you were smiling to each other. Sometimes nervous laughs would slip in before making out again, it wasn't rough nor brutal, it was gentle, tentative and sensual.

The night had fallen already, the moon casting its glow through the window as if winking at this beautiful union. Candles were lighted, the atmosphere - romantic , the clothes - off already. It was the first time seeing each other bodies bare and your heart stuttered and his too. Your touches were tentative at first, muscles twitching at every touch, gentle caresses to ease both your hearts. He was really careful and attune to every of your facial expressions , at the smallest twitch of eyebrow he would stop all movements, silently ask for permission over and over again to make sure you were comfortable and enjoying it as much as he was.

"Beautiful...you're simply beautiful" he said in awe, his eyes seeming hypnotized by the sight before him. He was gentle with his caresses gently kissing your lips, your cheeks, your neck all while gently rubbing against you, careful not to go too fast too soon. He would gently caress your body at every shiver of yours, reassuring you that no matter how far you've gone, you can stop it all at any moment.

Then with a last gentle loving kiss, he discovered your world, careful not to shatter it. You gasped. He gasped. Both of you paused. Tears rolled down, but not from pain, but from joy , from reunion. The slight discomfort was there yes, but the love overpowered it all. You two looked like a silly mess, crying at how pure and loving it felt, you exchanged kisses, pressed against each other. He whispered sweet nothings to you, his voice barely audible from that overwhelming yet beautiful love he felt for you at this moment. He held you securely in his arms and just when you gave him the green light , there he was gently thrusting into you , each thrusts with a bit more love every time. His sounds , your sounds , his love , your love , his body , yours...all of it were intertwined in that very moment and neither of you wished for it to stop.

"I can't get enough of you...I..I just can't stop loving you.."

The night is gonna be very long 👀...

Doma , that snitching b*tch , hum hm..well.. tattler that he is , told Muzan after overhearing by mistake the moans sounds that came out of that indeed secluded space of the Castle.. However, he's the one that got scolded and punished by Muzan for, I quote :

"So you come here in my sacred office , pestering me with foolish and unimportant matters ? Is that right ? "

-Muzan

⋆˚✿˖° Heyy there wow like just wow I didn't even know I was capable of writing things like that 😭😭 I did say in a previous post that I wouldn't do nswf yet I wanted to give it a try for you guys so I hope you guys liked it !! I tried to keep it as subtle as I could and not really get into deep details but I hope it was pleasant to read still ! And pleaseee I loveee y'all comments so don't be scared to comment your thoughts on it !! Also I'll say it again , not as an excuse ,but as for you guys to go easy on me lol english is not my first language so there might quite the mistakes in my posts and my way of phrasing things may be wrong too and I'm really REALLY sorry I try my best to correct them ! xoxo ⋆˚✿˖°

[carothepoet]

The way I *desperately* need Deborah to be the one who apologizes first.

In my head, it would go like this: Deborah reaches her breaking point after the screaming match at the show taping, gets drunk, and impulsively calls Marcus. She tells him the whole story (with herself as the victim, naturally), leaving out the specifics of the Bob Lipka situation, just saying that “Ava has some sensitive information about me and blackmailed me into making her head writer.” Then she relays how awful and hateful Ava has been ever since, minimizing her own part, but of course Marcus knows Deborah and reads between the lines. So he lets her get it all out and then gently suggests that she may have played a part in this, and in fact set it off by betraying Ava at the start. He explains how it might look from Ava’s side.

Deborah is PISSED, yells at him, and hangs up. But she can’t stop thinking about it, because goddammit if Marcus wasn’t *right.* (He’s always right, and she HATES it. What a relief that he doesn’t work for her anymore.)

She sulks about it for a few days, avoiding Ava as much as possible, but Marcus’s words eat away at her and she isn’t sleeping and she’s rearranged her salt and pepper shaker collection 14 times.

And normally she wouldn’t DREAM of apologizing, but the constant fighting is affecting the show, and the magic is gone, and she’ll be damned if she loses her dream a second time if there’s any way to prevent it.

So she shows up at Ava’s apartment. And she’s there for 20 minutes before she works up the nerve to knock on the door. Ava opens it, and she immediately sees Emily and Dev in the background and feels that overwhelming surge of something like jealousy (but it’s NOT) and Ava’s standing there staring at her like she has three heads.

“Deborah? What are you doing here?”

“Can—can I talk to you for a moment?”

Ava hesitates and then steps out, closing the door behind her and crossing her arms over her chest. “Without Stacy?”

“It’ll only take a moment.” She bites her lips and takes a deep breath. “I’ve been doing some thinking, and…I don’t see how we can continue this way. “You were”—the words are physically painful coming out of her mouth—“you were right; our relationship is what makes the writing work. So I apologize.”

Ava furrows her brow. “You apologize? For what? For lying to me? For acting like I’m disposable after all we’ve been through? For screaming in my face and calling me names, in *addition* to fighting me on every single fucking suggestion I’ve made since?”

“First of all, I will *never* apologize for fighting back against objectively bad ideas, and second of all”—she grits her teeth—“yes.”

“Hm.” Ava regards her for a moment, clearly questioning Deborah’s sincerity. “Fine,” she finally says coldly. “I accept your apology.”

Deborah tries to hide the rush of relief that floods her body. “Okay. I’ll…let you get back to your guests.”

“Sooo…you’re just gonna be, like, *nice* now, or whatever?”

And Deborah’s hackles go up, in the good way, in the old way. “Oh yeah, that sounds like me.”

She proceeds to tell Ava the throuple situation is stupid and she’s going to regret it. Ava says something like “WOW, jealous much??” and they proceed to bicker in the old way, the Love Language way, and then Ava’s face softens a little and she says, “I missed this,” and Deborah says, “I did, too.”

The next day in the writers’ room, they argue all day long, but it’s different because the vitriol is gone, and everyone can sense the change in energy. They put together the best show they’ve ever done, and the ratings SOAR.

And Marcus watches the show with a smile, sipping a drink and knowing it was he who gave Deb the kick in the pants that she needed to do the right thing.

THE END

[necrotic-nephilim]

It's sladin week, what are your thoughts on Maps and Slade? Or Carrie or Stephanie?

hi! i have GREAT news for you in that not only am i doing SladeRobin week BUT: i'm doing a day for both Steph and Carrie!! today's fic (which'll be posted in a couple hours) is a SladeSteph fic and in a couple days, I'll post a SladeCarrie. i love both of these ships a lot, i absolutely adore how Slade could be into either of them for different reasons, and how they could contrast him. Steph is someone who's argumentative and fights back against authority and i think Slade would respect that. i love the idea of Slade wanting to take in Steph because he feels like her potential is being wasted by Bruce ignoring and dismissing her.

and for Carrie, i just love Carrie. something about Carrie's sass, but her still following Bruce like a good soldier slots so well against Slade and how she'd react to him depending on how they met. since Slade isn't in the Dark Knight Returns universe, it's a free sandbox to work him in and see how he'd react. i think their banter could be delightful, and i think they fit well into the whole grumpy x sunshine trope, except the sunshine is a little shit who just decided she was Robin and somehow, that worked out for her. i think it'd give Slade a fun "someone really needs to put this kid in her place" complex about her.

as for Maps, i have to be honest that Maps is too new of a character for me to know much about! the only comics i've read where she appeared significantly are Robin War and Batgirls (2022). so i don't know if i could say much about her and Slade as a ship, just bc she's so outside of my wheelhouse, but i do *definitely* see the vision. she has that sort of "untouched by the Horrors yet" vibe to her and to ship her with someone like Slade, who honestly *is* the Horrors atp, makes for a *very* fun contrast. i could totally see them fitting together and like, corruption kink vibes, i absolutely see your vision anon.

[deoidesign]

Hello! I just discovered your blog and I immediately became captivated by your webcomic, but I'm unsure where to read all of it. I know it's on Webtoons, but I can see it hasn't been updated for a while, and you still post about it.

Are your physical novels just prints of the webcomic? Are they a continuation? Is the story complete? Thanks in advance!

Hi there!

Glad you found me and are enjoying my comic!

It's only on webtoons, and the story is not complete yet! We're 2/3 of the way through right now. It's currently on hiatus, and it's scheduled to come back in about 2 months!

I'll explain why it's been so long if you're curious, but also for my followers who might also be wondering about it under the cut. Sorry, it's pretty much just me complaining haha

I took a month off I took 2 months to get the books printed I took a month to prepare my next comic and I took 2 months to write the rest of the series (I knew the character arcs I wanted, but not the time periods or mysteries!!!) I've been working on actual episodes since then

I had to take some time off because of some pretty extreme burnout due to the sheer amount of work it was to draw over 800 pages and write 6 complete stories in a year and a half... I was getting sick almost weekly due to the overwork, it was really really bad honestly. I was having to work 60+ hours every week just to keep up...

The nature of the comic itself is also difficult... Each of the arcs is a complete, self contained story which can be read (ideally) without context, and my arcs need to be about 10-13 episodes each... And since I have an exact number of episodes to work with, it's even harder.

It takes a ton of planning and a ton of refinement, and working week to week with no breaks I was forced to put out second or even first drafts, so I just wasn't happy with the work I was doing... And to do that for the rest of the series? I wouldn't be proud of the work I did.

Plus... To be entirely honest, webtoon has treated me quite badly IN MY OPINION... They deprioritized me before I launched (I had to beg for more promotion, I'm not exaggerating), they outright denied me the opportunity to even ask for a raise, I don't make any money on fast pass and they pay me less than my partner makes working at trader joes. My first editor left me completely hanging, my second editor (who I loved) was fired... And they told me I wouldn't get a third season before my first season even finished. So it was just repeatedly completely demoralizing.

I'm sorry it has taken so long, it'll have been 10 months by the time I come back. But I realized... I won't get promotion either way. I won't get more episodes either way. I won't get more money either way. So to finish everything, to make it feel good, to make it something I'm proud of, I chose to take longer to make it better.

I am fully aware I will lose a significant amount of my readership for this and it might genuinely affect my career moving forward. But it's what I had to do! So I'm sticking to my guns on it, and I'm confident long term it'll be worth it. It never could have been this good if I didn't take this much time.

[amogus-real-not-clickbait]

welp, it's done! whiteboard rules everyone, it's time to let it die o7

this was so much fun what the heck!! we gotta do it again sometime :0 thank you everyone who joined or was in some way a part of this experience!!<33333

[nerdie-faerie]

Sometimes you get jump scared with electroconvulsive therapy as a suggested alternative therapy while doing research

[roslina-w-bagnie]

astarion: *walking into camp, bleeding out and barely keeping on his feet, walking straight to whithers to resurrect THREE PEOPLE AT ONCE*

whithers: "THOU HAST NOW A BOSOM COMPANION"

[rumor-weed]

i’m sorry VOTER FRAUD?

IN MY VEGGIETALES?

it’s more likely than you’d think...

[curiosity-killed]

Is motion sickness one of those things no one tells you about getting older