#black irises tag

[nooomagnus]

black irises in the sunshine (a noir au)

a @tlt-big-resurrection fic! ft. art by @rhywhitefang @nakji and @ellevenstar and cosplay by @abhorsenkatiel!

Nova & Co Private Investigations is the best damn detective agency in all of New Canaan—and strictly a one-woman operation. No one can match Harrowhark’s sleuthing instincts, commitment to uncovering the truth, gritty aesthetic, or willingness to sleep in the office every night. But when Harrow gets shot (again) while working to expose corruption at City Hall, her friend Palamedes goes behind her back to hire her some muscle. The person who shows up on her doorstep is mouthy, annoying as hell, and distractingly attractive: exactly the opposite of what Harrow needs. But when an heiress with a mysterious corpse and a hefty purse takes a liking to her new bodyguard, Harrow is forced to keep Gideon Nav around. The good news: Harrow only has to work with Gideon until she’s cracked the case. Once she’s busted this thing wide open, they never have to see each other again….right?

coming this friday (8/4) to an ao3 near you!

[the-meme-monarch]

been rewatching hlvrai and drawing along :]

edit i fixed the last one (drew his gun on the wrong arm and it Ate At Me (yes i just flipped the drawing what are you a cop))

[ourfag]

ive had my fill of “first meeting when theyre 25 years younger” aus im moving on to “first meeting when theyre 25 years older” aus

[hiddenbeks]

hot problematic women in ur area. i mean. tagged by @katsigian to make some ocs in this picrew! thank youuu this was so fun 💜

top row: andrale (hero of ferelden), frida (champion of kirkwall), celyn (inquisitor)

middle row: sura (watcher of caed nua, pathetic wet cat) and vivinna (washed-up musician, hopeless romantic)

bottom row: isabeau (criminal), liah (war criminal), vigdis (newest oc on the block, dragonborn and possibly a werewolf idk)

tagging @pinkfey @tethris @consulaaris @hibernationsuit @yrlietlanaevyss @gwynbleidd as always no pressure to do this tho!

[opaleyedprince]

oh and he wears tinted glasses always ofc. not bc his eyes are weird but bc when he uses his powers his eyes uhhh. well they change

[alwaysoc]

This is the first Corpse Party OC I'd like to show off, here's Riko Saruwatori! She's for Dead Patient, so if you haven't played it there will be *slight* spoilers.

How she was drawn on paper (needed to separate the possible expressions and body+face because I end up screwing up the face when I draw on top of it... I'll need to practice getting over that)

Here's her body and face when digitally drawn, I'm not gonna claim it's the best, but it could be worse. It's good for someone that hasn't touched digital drawing in around 2 years, lol

Took me forever to find the English layout of the card layout.

Anyway, about Riko:

Design:

Riko is a 5'7 young girl below average weight with light blonde hair, resembling the jasmine she's named after (Riko meaning jasmine-child with certain kanji). Her hair is short, so that it won't get yanked on by her little brother, Kentaro, when she gives him piggyback rides. She also has deep emerald eyes that resemble her father's.

Personality

Riko loves to explore and find out new things and new places, adoring the quiet (or not-so-quiet, depending on if she brought her little brother) forest walks next to her home.

However, ever since her parents divorced (after an unfortunate accident involving her falling from a tree) her mother moved closer to the city, causing her to enjoy walks like that less than ever before. She has also recently become more timid and unsure of herself. Being less-social and overall making little contributions to group activities, becoming more indecisive by the day, and letting others take the lead.

Something that hasn't seemed to change, however, is her protectiveness towards her 11 year old brother. In fact, after the separation, it seemed to have strengthened considerably.

Story Integration

You'd find her in Dead Patient, in the 1st Chapter, in the normal ending. After Ayame encounters her nametag in the Locked Puzzle Room (via Ritsuko giving it to her), and after Ayame encounters Tomohisa freaking out.

Riko is running away from a walking corpse, screaming, "THEY CAN REVIVE THEMSELVES!?" Ayame, being too lawful-good for her own self-preservation, helps Riko. Riko gives Ayame a brief thank-you before telling her and Ritsuko to look away for a moment. They do so as the screen fades to black, while the graphic sounds of cutting and ripping something apart can be heard.

The screen goes back to normal as Ayame sees that Riko tore apart the zombie's head from its shoulders with a scalpel she apparently "found" in one of the rooms earlier. Riko tells the two that it's to try to ensure the zombies don't come back to life.

Ayame tells Riko about the check-in card that seemed to belong to her. Riko seems to panic for a moment before asking for it back, Ayame obliges and gives it to Riko. Riko thanks her and joins the party.

Once the group gets to the door Tomohisa was seemingly running away from, Riko decides to stick outside, while Ayame and Ritsuko go in.

Once the door shuts and the two on the other side are locked in, Riko tries her best to get the door to budge, along with Ritsuko on the other side, but there's no progress until Ayame defeats the hulking zombie inside.

After Ayame and Ritsuko finally get out, with two new members added to the party, Riko introduces herself to them, and follows along, trying to find and get through the exit.

[satoruoo]

"you're doing it wrong, baby."

the man before you only huffs in annoyance, a pout forming on his glossed lips. you stifle a laugh as he sulks, his fingers working to untie the sad excuse of a bow that held your heel in place.

"let me try again," satoru half pleads from between your legs, "i promise i'll get it right this time."

in truth, you're enjoying the view of your boyfriend kneeling at your feet while he attempts to tie your lace-up heels. your foot is strategically placed between his legs, pretty white-painted toenails on display as he tries and fails to correctly strap up your shoe.

hell, he's kneeling in a tailored suit, and it's messing with your brain.

you're going on a date tonight - it's a fancy restaurant that satoru's been dying to try out. it'd been a pain in the ass to pick out an outfit, not because you lacked clothes, your boyfriend ensured your wardrobe was always filled to the brim with the latest fashion. no, rather, it was because he insisted you wear matching outfits.

his problem, however, was your choice of shoe. your favourite pair of black lace-up heels was your pick for the evening. he'd asked to do them up for you and you thought it was going to be a 30-second thing.

you've now been sitting here for 10 minutes.

"what the fuck is this shit?" he mumbles to himself, irritated. "why is this so complicated??"

another attempt and he's given up, leaning back a fraction to critique his work. horrible, as expected.

you laugh as satoru sighs loudly, leaning his head on the exposed skin of your thigh in exasperation. his white locks tickle your flesh, and you take it upon yourself to rake your manicured nails through his hair, fingertips scratching his undercut affectionately.

you think he's adorable like this - absolute putty in your hands. he nuzzles into your skin, leaving soft kisses on the plush of your thigh as you dutifully work your fingers over his scalp.

"how about i do one, and you can watch and do the other?" you suggest.

he perks up quickly, icy blue irises sparkling. he nods, a beaming smile settling on his lips. he shifts his weight and leans back to give you space.

"so, you take these, 'round the back, and twist, then under and wrap around the ankle, twist one more time, and - boom!" you finish tying the bow on the back of your calf and smile.

satoru's eyebrow raises immediately, an expression half of disgust and half of confusion finding its place on his features. he squints at you, "you expect me to do that?"

"precisely," you respond with a smug grin.

there's a subtle challenge in your answer, and satoru drinks it like water. a challenge? he'll do it, easy. he switches your feet, sticking his tongue out as he focuses on his task.

you're watching him, amused by the way his brows furrow in concentration as he repeats the steps. around, the straps are crossed around your foot. twist, the straps are twisted. under, the straps are hooked beneath the heel. wrap, the straps are crossed and taken around your leg. twist.

he's done it. a fast learner, indeed.

you can't help the way your lips curve into a smile, applauding his efforts. his crystalline eyes are on you again - how could they not be? you're nothing short of gorgeous in that dress - pleading for some kind of praise.

"thanks, babe." you say, bending to place a kiss on his collarbone.

(he hopes to god there's a lipstick stain there so he can show everyone in that restaurant who he belongs to.)

satoru, being the most amazing boyfriend out there, helps you get on your feet, hand resting on the small of your back as he guides you from your apartment to his car.

"you look stunning tonight, love." he says while grinning like a lovestruck fool as you slip into the passenger seat.

"i know," you answer, shooting him a smile that gets him weak in the knees, "you picked the dress, after all."

you were going to be the death of him.

tagging: @sad-darksoul

[girlkisser13]

pussy drunk jason todd

pairings: jason todd x fem!reader

warnings/tags: smut (18+), pussy drunk jason, oral sex (r receiving), pussy eating, dirty talk, multiple orgasms

divider by @plutism

"may i?"

jason's pouting face hovers over your bare stomach. he'd been busy littering light kisses and bites on the skin of your thighs, his fingers teasing with the waistband of your panties but waiting until he has your permission to rip them off.

you nod hastily, making him laugh at your eagerness. you'd huff about how cocky he's being, but you find yourself biting back the remarks to watch him peel down your underwear.

immediately, his breath stutters. his pupils dilate. black eats away at his blue irises as he stares down at your pussy, mesmerized.

"may i?" he asks again, now more breathless. you thought he was teasing you at first, asking for your permission to make you squirm. but as you notice how his eyes flicker from your cunt to your eyes, you realize that he's not asking. he's pleading.

"yes." it comes out raspy, and again a bit desperate, but jason doesn't linger on it. instead, he dips his head down and kisses your clit.

"so pretty." he mumbles before flicking out his tongue. your fingers quickly find purchase of the sheets, gripping the fabric tightly as jason works his way down to your slit, mouth teasing at your hole. without warning, he slides his tongue in.

"a-ah!" your back arches, and it only pulls him closer to you, his nose poking at your swollen folds while his tongue works its way into you. he hums as he licks and swallows, the noise sending a shiver up your spine.

"taste so good." he practically moans. "why do you taste so good?"

your face cringes, both in pleasure and in slight embarrassment at how loud the sound is, your moans and his creating a cacophony that is muffled by the wet squelch! your pussy makes each time he forces his tongue into you, or by the slurp! he makes each time he sucks on your clit.

when you cum - which you do fast, way faster than you'd like to admit — jason doesn't stop. he's still busy following his motions, lost to the taste of you.

"jason, please." you push at his head, pull at his hair. "it’s too much."

he pulls back, gasping. "no. let me do this." he grasps your wrists before dipping back down. "let me enjoy this."

you let him do as he pleases. even if it means you'll cum over and over without a second to catch your breath.

[thebellearchives]

𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑

~ inumaki toge // fushiguro megumi ; jujutsu kaisen

✧˚ · . S Y N O P S I S : at night, you and your sorcerer friend take shelter in an inn room to take care of each other’s wounds

‧₊˚ c o n t e n t s : gn!reader, fluff, mentions of blood and injuries, making out, a bit suggestive maybe ?? (i’m still tagging it as fluff)

- gumi’s part: 'it’s complicated' friends to lovers, he tends to your wounds

- toge’s part : toge’s aware of your crush on him, you feel cursed energy through his kisses, onigiri ingredients in japanese, he uses harmless words at the very end, also uses cursed speech on you in the last sentence lol, you tend to his wounds

‧₊˚ a / n : wasn’t intending on posting this but anyways, this shots turned out kinda cute so, would’ve been sad to keep them to myself, also putting them together because both follow the same scenario and have many similarities

the reader feeling toge’s cursed speech was largely inspired by this 🫶🏻

also don’t question the fact that they’re in an inn room instead of the infirmary or smth okay just go with the flow bye 😭

• 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

You and Megumi somehow managed to check in the room without much questioning. Entering an inn late at night looking like you just got beat up was definitely something that would raise the front desk lady’s eyebrows, but you figured you had just gotten lucky.

You closed your eyes and sighed, Megumi’s footsteps came closer. You were sitting in the kitchen counter, knees apart from each other so Megumi could stand in between and attend to your wounds just like you had done before with his. His fingers lifted your chin up so he could see better under the room’s dim light. He pressed an alcohol drenched cotton ball lightly over your left eyebrow, making you jolt.

“Ouch!”

“Sorry” he mumbled “I’m almost done.”

Your eyelids opened slowly, finding him close to you, his dark eyes fixed on your wound. You studied his face in the meantime, long lashes contrasting with his pale clear skin, yet blending with his black irises.

“Can’t believe after all this time of being friends we just had our first mission together.”

“I’m guessing Gojo wasn’t sure of what would work well for us”

“That’s not what I mean, I mean we did great!”

He scoffed in slight amusement.

“Yeah, I knew we would”

“You mean you knew because I kicked your ass the last time we sparred?” a cheeky smile appeared on your face.

“As far as I remember, I was declared the winner” he raised an eyebrow

“Small details, truthfully it was a tie.”

“Right…” Megumi decided to cut the conversation, focusing more on wiping dry blood from your skin.

Finally he exhaled, his hand moved away, examining your face carefully. A soft frown appeared on his face as his eyes fell on your lips.

“Did you cut your lip?”

“Oh? Not that I’m aware of, it doesn’t hurt.”

“It’s bloody.”

Megumi’s fingers on your chin tensed up, sliding the cotton ball over your lip and then discarding it. He tilted your head to the right, blinking and squinting. With the same hand he was holding your jaw, he swiped his thumb over the lower lip.

With widened eyes you stared at him, alarm bells suddenly going off in your head and your irregular breathing hitting his skin, his gaze fixed on the way your soft lip molded under his fingertip. Tangled thoughts raced in your head, trying to figure out the sudden change in the atmosphere and the accelerating pace of your beating heart.

“It’s not wounded” Megumi’s voice was barely audible and you noticed the way his body had just gotten as stiff as yours, probably gaining awareness of the context you were both were surrounded by: him in between your thighs, under the cover of dim lightning and the silence of the night, being the closest to one another you had ever been.

Dark eyes wandered over your mouth, following his thumb as it now slid to the other side. Hesitantly, he moved even closer until his lips hovered over yours. The anticipation that filled the room made sure to cut off both your breathing and his. But then, Megumi closed the distance between your mouths, lashes lowering and hidden feelings bursting out into the open. Megumi’s kiss was soft, and you made sure to reciprocate slowly, easing into the unknown sensation of kissing him.

When the kiss stopped he remained still. Your shaky hands slid up his shirt, fingertips grasping the fabric to keep him in place for as long as the sweet burning sensation sat on your guts. You weren't sure of what came over yourself, maybe it was the curiosity of having him as more than a friend. Maybe it was the thoughts that had constantly whispered at the back of your head how attractive you thought he was, the thoughts you had made sure to ignore and so you never acted on them. Maybe it was the thrill of crumbling his aloof and distant demeanor in between your hands.

Maybe it had been all of those things together, but you slightly and eagerly nudged your nose against his. And so he kissed you again, with a deep sigh of surrender and his hands roaming up your thighs. The sounds of kissing filled the kitchen, your tongue sliding across his tongue, his hungry mouth now fighting against your, your fists pulling from his shirt. His fingers squeezed your skin, a breathy exhale left your throat almost becoming a soft whine.

Megumi’s hands then settled on your hips, until he suddenly stopped, freezing in place and then pulling away from you to search for your eyes. You stared back in a bit of a daze.

“What…” the black haired sorcerer tried to form a coherent sentence, but it seemed like his brain for once wasn’t cooperating.

“I…” you cleared your throat, blinking a couple of times “I don’t know.”

He swallowed, trying to find words once again.

“Listen, I…”

“It’s okay” nervously you tightened your grip on his shirt, now anxious of letting him go “we don’t have to talk about this today or tomorrow. We can just… forget it happened.”

Slowly, Megumi nodded.

“We can just let it be… for tonight.”

“Yeah” you pulled him close again, his body relaxed as he followed your movement and searched for your lips once more.

“Yeah, just for tonight…”

• 𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄

Toge’s eyes followed you around as you picked and discarded objects from the first aid kit. At first he was annoyed at how much you had insisted on taking care of the wounds your last fight had inflicted, but at a certain point he had stopped complaining and just… stared. Now, you knew Toge wasn’t one to say much, because he couldn’t, but even when he didn’t say actual normal words he also wasn’t one to shut up. There was always some 'okaka's and 'tuna's and he would gesticulate here and there, he just had to let you know his opinion on absolutely everything. But now… he was absolutely silent.

You walked over to the kitchen counter, where he had sat down begrudgingly and now he was just lazily waiting.

“Bend over a little, will you?” you sighed, wet cotton in your hand.

His lavender eyes stared curiously, but he did as you asked and moved closer so you could reach for his face. There was a bloody scrape right next to his brow, product of a bad landing during the fight with the curse. You held your breath to gain courage and put aside your romantic feelings for the boy, then reached to cup his cheek with your left hand in order to keep him steady and started cleaning the almost dry blood.

He winced, a pitiful expression appeared on your face.

“Sorry” your voice softened “I’ll be finished soon, don’t worry, this is the last one.”

You expected him to say something, he would’ve usually just muttered a 'shake' or something, and yet he didn’t. When you were finally done you sighed once again, lowering your hands and grasping the edge of the counter.

“Alright, that’s it, why aren’t you speaking to me?” Toge raised a brow, as if your question was ridiculous to him “don’t look at me like that, you know what I mean.”

He pressed his lips against each other and then shrugged.

“Are you mad at me?” your brows almost touched, his eyes widened.

“Okaka” he immediately shook his head.

“Oh, so now you’re talking” he snorted, finally letting a small smile shine through “there’s something off, I can tell…”

He bit his lip and shrugged again, this time pointing to his head with his index.

“Thinking?”

“Shake”

“About what?”

His eyes seemed to shine in a peculiar way, trying to hold back a smirk. It was almost as if he had been waiting for you to ask that question for a while. Toge pointed at you, made a small heart with his index and thumb, and then pointed at himself. You blinked about twice, blankly.

“You’re thinking… about you and me?”

He squinted and motioned 'more less', then repeated the previous gesture: you, heart, him.

“You’re thinking…” you heart him. Suddenly your eyes widened, a blush rapidly crept up your face “you’re thinking i like you?”

Toge then grinned and nodded enthusiastically.

“Huh” you exhaled nervously, eyes shying away from him “right when i thought i was the best at understanding you seems like i still don’t get what is going on inside that head of yours.”

He chuckled, his right hand searched for his phone in his pocket and then quickly typed something up in the notes app. You just expectantly watched him as he conveyed his thoughts into written words.

“I’m not thinking you like me, i’m thinking i know you like me”

“Narcissistic much?” you quirked one of your eyebrows and he snorted “what makes you think that?”

“Just the way you look at me, and the way you act around me. Panda had pointed it out before but i’m just now thinking maybe he was right”

“I treat you just like all of my other friends!” you looked up at his eyes again, this time in defiance, but he tilted his head, raising his brows in disbelief “alright then, what have i done with you that i wouldn’t have done with anyone else?”

With a smile, Toge rubbed his cheek and then placed his index right on top of yours.

“Blushing?”

“Shake”

“You’re insinuating that I have romantic feelings for you, of course i’m gonna be embarrassed!”

Rolling his eyes, he nodded. Then, he cupped your left cheek, raising your face towards his and supporting your chin with his ring finger and pinky. You frowned, quickly catching up with the fact that he was holding your face in the same way you had done just moments before.

“… I was just taking care of you…” your whisper worsened your blush.

“always”

He chuckled at your shocked expression, the sound waves of his harmless words making you shiver. It wasn’t everyday that he’d risk speaking normally.

“… well, yes, i care for you”

“a lot” you bit your lip, there was no denying that, so you swallowed your nerves and looked away, he snickered “you’re cute”

Once again the surprise froze you, the power in his voice making your body tremble, what he had said made a sweet nervous feeling flutter around your stomach. He leaned in, you held your breath. Toge placed a lovely kiss on your lips, and you delicately but firmly kissed him back, the sliding of his lips on yours enticing and elating. A soft wave of cursed energy flowed through your mouth, but the moment he slid his tongue on your lower lip and you opened your mouth it rose in intensity. You had to cling from his shirt to keep yourself steady, the moment his marked tongue brushed against yours a sharp wave of electricity ran down your throat, pulling a whimper out from your vocal chords.

He pulled back to look at you and you panicked, embarrassed.

“I’m- oh god i’m so sorry!” your face was burning red at that point “it’s just that- i can feel your cursed energy.”

His eyes widened with surprise and worry, hopping off the counter his hands grabbed your shoulders.

“Takana?!”

“I’m fine! I’m totally fine” cupping his face you tried to comfort him, and it worked, he relaxed, but you pulled him closer again, your noses brushing “it felt… really nice…”

You lips searched for his, Toge smirked in amusement to your reaction, but he complied. So slowly, he kissed you again. The feeling of his energy running trough you seemed to make the blood in your veins rush in bliss, pulling sounds from the depths of your chest. Suddenly his hand slithered to the back of your head and he deepened the kiss, the mark on his tongue making contact with yours and making you gasp and jolt against his body. Toge giggled, but caught you in his arms, resting his back on the counter.

“Come on Toge, won’t you have mercy on me?” you complained, Toge shook his head slowly, and by the way he smiled you knew he was about to pull one of his stunts.

“Be louder” his lips immediately crashed back onto yours.

[her-favorite]

SHOW YOU HOW MUCH I CARE; C. STURNIOLO

CHRIS STURNIOLO X F!READER

warnings: SMUT, player!chris, dom!chris/sub!reader, alcohol consumption (reader & chris)

wc: 3,749

a/n: REQUESTED!

SYNOPSIS: Chris was always occupying your thoughts, no matter what you did. By the time you decided you didn’t care about him anymore, seeing him only made you realize that wasn’t true.. and, for once, it was time to put yourself first..

tags!: @chrissv4mp (i hope you like it 😽) @mattybsgroupie @dev-sturns @sturni0l0

-

Chris was some sort of drug to you.

It’s been almost a year since you’ve started fooling around with him and since, you haven’t been able to cut ties with him. He’s a player, you knew that. When your ‘relationship’ started, you had convinced yourself that it wouldn’t affect you - you’d have your fun with him and not care about the other random girls he’d seduce with his undeniable charm.

After so long, you finally decided you didn’t care.

Impulsively, scissors had made their way into your hands as you snipped off the ends of your hair. As each piece fell to the floor, old memories - most of Chris - drifted as they’re disregarded and chopped off. That night, you also made the decision to go out. You needed to find someone new, someone who actually cherished you… which is why you wonder how your self control isn’t killing you as you end up in bed with him… again.

Earlier that night, you had arrived at a party you had been invited to. Walking in with a little black dress on, your eyes scan the crowded house as your heels click against the floor. Despite the sound, it’s inaudible over the loud music blasting through the place.

How coincidental it had been when you had stepped foot into the kitchen, mindlessly reminiscing on the way Chris would mock the drunk people wandering the place when you both would go out together, that he had been there as well. Your eyes had immediately landed on him, his undistinguishable figure, his clothes and eyes - that laugh - was more than difficult to not recognize.. or miss.

You noticed the way his blue eyes had glanced over to you, widening slightly when he realized who you were. His irises didn’t resist gliding over your figure, basking in the sight of that black dress that you knew always riled him up. His jaw visibly clenched as he swallowed dryly, not even trying to look somewhat interested in what the group of people that was around him were talking about.

When a random girl had sidled up behind Chris, you licked over your teeth. You hid your smirk behind your red solo cup as Chris barely acknowledged her, giving her one worded answers as he barely even looked at her, keeping his gaze on you. In any other scenario, you would’ve felt bad - it was so obvious the way he wasn’t interested in her, it would’ve made your blood boil had that been you. But it wasn’t. Not anymore.

Turning, you start to make your way into the living room. Hot, sweaty bodies danced as loud chatter tried to be heard over the even louder music. It was comical the way the house basically vibrated, as if something out of a cartoon.

All of the people inside were putting their priorities over anyone else’s.. and you decided that you should start doing that, too.

Taking another sip of your drink, your eyes scan the crowd until they land on the man taking confident, quick strides over to you. You lick your lips as you try to conceal the smirk that so desperately wanted to take over your mouth; to show your satisfaction that he was the one crawling back.

“Hey, mama.” Chris hummed, his voice a breath of fresh - yet, intoxicating - air compared to the claustrophobic heat of other people’s bodies against each other.

“Chris.” You respond shortly, your voice low. You noticed, out of the corner of your eye, the girl that had been trying to gain his attention a few minutes ago, back when you were in the kitchen. You felt her eyes glaring into the side of your head, her fingernails digging into her plastic cup.. you knew exactly what that felt like, because he was the one that used to cause it.

“Thought ya’ didn’t like this kinda shit, ma.” Chris slurs, his Boston accent becoming apparent after a few drinks in. You lean back against the wall, running your finger over the rim of your cup.

Chris used to take you to parties all time - it always lead to him having his way with you in some strangers bed, manhandling you and punishing you for something his drunk mind had made up. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss the way he tossed you around.. no one else gave you that electrifying feeling Chris did.

“People change.” You reply vaguely, bringing the cup up to your lips and taking a sip, keeping eye contact with him. Despite the dark, flashing lights, his eyes always stood out to you. He always knew how to communicate with them, given he wasn’t always the best with words. And, right now, they were revealing his secret, that they needed you, mind and body. He needed to ruin you, take you over - become his.

No one else satisfied either of you like the other did.

A cocky smirk slithers upon Chris’s lips at your words. His teeth show as he looks down at you, lips parting to show them off. Chris knew your love for his smile - let alone his smirk. He knew your body in and out, what made you feel the most pleasure, what riled you up, and exactly how to get you desperate.

“I guess they do.” He mutters, his eyes drifting down to the way your lips wrap around the side of the red plastic cup, his tongue darting out to lick his dry lips, as if that action alone will lessen his growing need for you.

Your drink was mind numbing, protruding your dirtiest, darkest secrets to the forefront of your mind as you watched him. You couldn’t get the thought of his pretty pink lips between your thighs away, or the way his cock used to slide through your wet folds, filling you up to the hilt as he made his long dick fit inside you. His guttural moans ring in your ears as your eyes portray the longing, your needs overriding the other - logical - side of your brain. You knew Chris could read you like a book.. and you wanted him to.

Chris’s smirk never faltered as he watched you carefully, eyes catching your every movement. It was as if he was analyzing your every step, trying to find out if there was anything else hidden behind your natural actions. Despite Chris having slept and played with many different girls, you were different.. you were always different. He always felt like he needed to keep an eye on you, like someone else would pick you up off your feet and he needed to stop it. He always felt this strange feeling in his gut whenever he saw you talking to someone else; this.. possessive urge to keep you all to himself. He was selfish.

Your eyes wander over to the woman on the opposite side of the room, noticing the way she stood there tensely, watching you two like a hawk. Was this what Chris looked like when you spoke to someone else?

“Who’s that?” You question, glancing back at the man in front of you, daring to take another sip of your drink as it slowly takes over your mind. Had you been completely sober, you wouldn’t have asked.. had you been completely sober, you wouldn’t be talking to him.

“Uh.. she - some girl that won’t leave me alone.” He mumbles, syllables slurring together as he glances over to the direction you tilted your head to. He was lying, of course. You could read him like a book at this point. He used to lie all the time that the girls that he surrounded himself with was their fault, not his; though, you two weren’t exactly ‘official’, so it didn’t matter.. his words.

You hum, not taking your gaze off of him. The buzz of the drink made your body tingle as bad ideas seemed to swarm you, the deafening music shutting down your good conscious. He was with someone else, he’s got a new girl… and who have you got? A wave of greed washed over you as you looked at him, thinking about how he’s let other girls see what you have.

You lick over your teeth beneath your lips, mindlessly setting your half empty solo cup on the table beside you. “What’re doin’?” Chris asks as his pupils follow every move you make, his eyebrows ever so slightly furrowing in confusion.

“We’re going upstairs.” You declare, glaring up at him as you walk by. Chris feels the air blow past him, his naked shoulders shown in his tanktop, long shorts moving as he carelessly follows you. He downs the last of his drink, crinkling the plastic in his hand as he tosses it off the side of the staircase, chuckling as it hits his friend’s head.

“Let’s go, mama.” Chris mutters, his voice low and raspy, more to himself than anything else. His eyes trail over your figure as he makes his way up the stairs behind you. He always loved the way that dress hugged you; it made his mind go fucking crazy.

After opening several doors, only to find half-naked people - some entirely naked - you hear a snap down the hall. “In here, babygirl.” Chris calls out, opening the door fully as he beckons you closer. You walk over to him, feeling his eyes burn holes into your body as you make your way inside the empty room. Once he closes the door behind him, the click of the door locking just barely grazes your ears. You take a seat at the end of the bed, looking over at him. The side of his mouth widens as he watches, neither of you speaking, though the muffled sound of the music downstairs flows upstairs.

“You been thinkin’ about me, sweetheart?” Chris taunts, crossing his arms along his chest. His head dips slightly as he looks at you, blue eyes darkening as they set onto yours.

You hated to admit he was right. There were nights you tossed and turned, feeling him underneath you. Those same nights you’d stay awake, your hands slithering down, beneath the fabric of your panties as they soothed the ache that had formed inside you.

“You make me feel selfish.” You confess lowly, your eyes sinister with lust and a hint of anger. Pushing yourself up from your spot, you take your time as you walk over to him. Chris’s hands instinctively snake along your hips, grasping the skin firmly in his palms, as if to remind him you were right there. In return, yours glide up his chest, feeling his heartbeat pass by as your palm ghosts by it. Once they make their way up, they land on the sides of his neck, your eyes meeting his equally lust-filled ones.

“Yeah? ‘S’that why you’re here, ma? You want me to make ya’ feel better?” Chris coos mockingly, pouting slightly. Your jaw clenches at his carefree attitude, biting your cheek to not let your tipsy thoughts get the better of you.

“Want you to realize what you’re missing out on.” You whisper, correcting him. Your eyes travel his face before finally meeting his eyes again, picking up the way his tongue peeked out to lick his lips, your words seeming to add to his growing desire. Your hands glide down his chest again before slowly walking towards the bed, forcing Chris to move backwards. As soon as the back of his legs hit the end of the mattress, you push, his back hitting the soft furniture as the covers puff up around him. Crawling on top of him, your legs sit between his spread thighs, looking up at him.

“Is that really how you wanna play this?” Chris asks, smirking. Chris has never let you be in control before, and you were about a hundred percent sure he still won’t. But, tonight, you didn’t care.

Not answering him, your palms slide up his thighs, the flexible fabric of his shorts following with. Fingertips graze the waistband, your eyes never leaving his - though, noticing when his chest begins to pick up speed. “You drive me fucking crazy, Chris.” You whisper, your hand tugging down his shorts. Before he could reply, that same cocky smirk appearing on his face, you lean down to pepper kisses along the dick print in his boxers. The dark fabric strained against him, your lips feeling the way he practically throbs for your attention.

A hum leaves Chris’s throat, his head leaning back against the pillow beneath him. He breathes in deeply before your fingers hook into his waistband again, tossing his boxers behind you as your hands slither up his tanktop, nails dragging against his pale skin. A light groan results, your own smirk forming on your lips at the sound. As your hands move up, they pull the thin fabric of his shirt up as well, exposing all of him to your eyes. You hated the way you missed this view, the sight of his naked body near you, aching only for you.

“Always such a fuckin’ tease.” Chris grumbles before his lips part, a sharp inhale eliciting from him as your hand grasps him. He looks down at you, jaw tensed. You keep eye contact as you let your saliva fall from your pursed lips, right on his tip. A grunt leaves him, his hands clenching into fists as he props himself on his elbows. His hat had fallen off of his head once he made contact with the bed, his shaggy hair messy and unkempt. The sight only made you greedier. You wanted to make him sweat, to make him feel the way he used to make you feel.

Chris couldn’t hold back the quiet whimpers and shaky breaths once you start to move your hand. Spreading your spit across his tip helps lather his cock, making it easier to slide your hand along him. He bites on his bottom lip, reddening the sensitive skin as he watches you, body tensing with every one of your movements.

Your touch felt like no other’s. You always managed to bring him to that precipice so quickly, just with the simple actions of your fingers. Deep down, Chris knew no one could compare to you; personality or body. He’s always liked the chase with you - times where you’d be the one that used to go out looking for him, or the occasions he would be one searching for you.. this somewhat parody of a game of cat and mouse only heightening his greed for you. Chris was never sure what drawn you most to him.. but who was he to use his mind in decisions that actually needed it?

“Mm.. just like that, mama. Sooo good.” Chris moans, his hand resting on the back of your head as you lick from his base to tip. Keeping your hand around him, you look up at him as your lips wrap around his red, aching tip, a breathless groan leaving him. “Fuuuck.. always take my dick so well.” He praises, his fingers tightening their grip in your hair as you sink further down on to him. “Keep goin’.. you can take it all.” Chris says, his eyes watching the way saliva pools at the corners of your lips, your mouth struggling to fit all of him inside. A low chuckle leaves him as he observes, always loving the way your throat molds to the shape of him.

Chris inhales through his nose as his jaw clenches, a moan bubbling up in his throat. Your nails dig into his thighs as you swirl your warm tongue around his cock, adding to Chris’s pleasure. “Shit, baby!” Chris gasps as he feels you hollow your cheeks before moving your head back up to tease your tongue over his tip. Popping off of him, your ears pick up the quiet huff that leaves his lips. “What’re you doin’, ma?” He asks, feeling the movement of your legs as the blankets on the bed shuffle together to make noise.

Slipping your dress up your body, you let your panties fall to the mattress, discarding them. Fixing your position again, you straddle his bare waist, Chris’s hands immediately grasping onto your naked hips. You brace your palms on his chest, feeling the way it moved with every breath. Grinding your hips down, your folds part as they coat his dick in your wetness.

“Jesus, ma.” Chris exhales, watching the explicit scene as the protruding veins on his cock only add to the friction. His hands help guide your movements, pushing you harder onto his dick without even being inside you yet. “C’mon, babygirl, let me help you.” He says lowly, grasping your skin tightly to keep you still. A quiet whine escapes you as he stops you, but a gasp replaces it as his long, skilled fingers slide through your lower lips, just barely grazing the places you desperately need him to satisfy.

“Such a needy girl.” Chris smirks before suddenly plunging his middle finger inside you, eliciting a gasp from your lips. “Need ta’ get’cha ready for me, mama. You always take me so well after I finger this pretty pussy.” His dirty talk makes your thighs clench, though they’re obstructed by Chris’s waist. Adding another finger, his long digits hit spots only he can as they curl inside you, only making you wetter than you already were. His fingers slip out of you as they rub your clit once or twice before gripping your hips again, forcing you to glide against him again.

Not wasting any time, you reach down and grab his cock, lining him up with your entrance as you slowly sink down on him, your lips parting. Chris watches the scene unfold as his breathing picks up, his mouth open as his eyes dart from your face to where you two meet. “Suckin’ me in so good.” Chris grunts, fingers marking your skin as they dig deeper and deeper. You hadn’t realized at the time what he was doing, but you were sure he was marking you on purpose.

Adjusting to his size, you take a deep breath before lifting yourself up and then bringing your hips down to clash against his. As you start, you realize that you can’t stop. Moving your hips atop him, the pleasure of it all takes over your body as the sound of skin slapping permeates through the room.

Chris watches with half-lidded eyes, mouth agape as his eyes never leave your body, chest heaving as the euphoria only grows stronger as seconds pass by. The sight of you like this, intoxicated with pleasure as you rise and fall on top of his dick only made his stomach tense with satisfaction. You always looked so good like this, high off of the feeling of his cock hitting just the right places inside you, pulling moans and whimpers from your lips.

Leaning down, you force your lips against his. Chris immediately reciprocates the intensity of the kiss, his tongue plunging into your mouth as you get a taste of the lingering alcohol that he had consumed. Biting down on his bottom lip, you pull away as Chris groans.

“She can’t make you feel as good as I can.” You breathe out against his lips, eyes opening as you look down at him. Your thrusts never stop as sharp breaths are taken out of you, chest heaving harshly. “No one can.” You whisper.

Despite the mind numbing euphoria that overwhelmed his body, that same cocky smirk played on Chris’s lips at your words. His fingers grip tighter, hard enough to cause bruises, as he helps guide you even faster on his cock. A choked moan leaves you, as a guttural one leaves the man beneath you. “Yeah? No one?” He taunts, though, breathless as his body relishes in the way your pussy squeezes his dick, pulling him closer and closer to the release he craved more than anything in the moment.

You shake your head. “Not her.. no one.” You clarify, a mewl sounding from you as his cock hits the deepest spot inside you, your eyes rolling back.

“Shiiit, baby.” Chris groans, head pressing back into the pillow roughly. His hips involuntarily jut forward, eliciting a cry from you at the sudden action. Continuing his movements because of your reaction, both of your pleasure heightens as you’re driven closer and closer to the edge.

Chris pushes his head forward to clash your lips together, teeth clamping, tongues dancing and saliva mixing. It was messy and tangled, but it felt right. You moaned into his mouth as Chris’s hands squeezed your skin. Pulling away, you pant against his lips, warm breaths meeting as you look down at him.

“I hate how bad I want you.” You say shakily, sounds repeatedly leaving your lips at each thrust of his hips. Your nails dig into his chest, marking him. Chris whimpers at the feeling, hissing through bared teeth.

“Mm.. you have me, baby. I’m - fuck! - ‘m’right here.” Chris groans, his eyes fluttering shut before quickly opening again, deciding that split second was too long to not be looking at you. His hips never relent as they keep their assault on your body, your thighs beginning to quiver as you feel your stomach tighten, the band inside you starting to slowly break apart.

“Chris! I.. I’m gonna cum,” you whine, your legs becoming more than tired as you thrust your hips down against him, adding to the already irresistible pleasure flooding through your veins. The sharp intake of air barely made its way to your ears as Chris breathes heavily underneath you, your hands moving with every rise and fall of his chest.

“Such a.. good fuckin’ girl.” Chris moans, throwing his hips up harder on each word. One of his hands leaves your hip and falls to your sensitivity, quickly circling your clit as a harsh moan leaves you, your orgasm hitting you suddenly as your legs tremble, his name repeatedly sounding from you. At the sight of you letting go, a few more thrusts of his hips take Chris to cloud nine as he groans, your name leaving him as his warmth fills you up.

Helping you ride out your high, Chris comes down from his as his finger keeps moving on your clit. You whimper, your hand immediately traveling to his wrist to stop him. A low, quiet chuckle rumbles through Chris’s chest as he finally stops the pleasure-full torture. Both of your chests move quickly, bodies tired from your previous actions.

“Fuck.. you make me feel so selfish.”

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

"dressing up" - hotch x fem!reader

you and aaron get ready for a party at rossi's

cw: mentions of food and alcohol! preestablished relationship! besides that... none? enjoyy

1620 words

---------------

Another soirée at Rossi’s - red wine flowing liberally from vintage bottles, unless, of course, he’s serving acqua puzza. There will be talk of work, as always, but it will shift once Penelope smacks both palms on the table and demands a change of subject. You’re betting she'll make it thirty minutes, especially after last time, when Spencer rattled on about the particular species of earthworm he saw in a corpse. 

Rossi always demands that everyone dress nicely, too - it’s a dinner party, after all, he often says with that leisurely shrug of his shoulders. That’s why you haul ass after work to your favorite upscale boutique. You need a new dress - you wore your red one to the last two Rossi parties, and though they were roughly a month apart, you still feel guilty of being an outfit repeater. Plus, there’s nothing wrong with buying a new dress, especially if it gives you that New Outfit Self-Confidence. 

Unfortunately, though, your shopping trip after work, plus the crowd on the Metro, means that you’re running dangerously behind by the time you reach home. 

You flurry in like a tornado, kicking off your sensible work flats and haphazardly tossing everything in your hands, with the exception of your shopping bag, onto the couch on your way to the bedroom. You hear your stainless steel water bottle fall off the couch and onto the hardwood with an obnoxious clunk, and grimace as you fly into the bedroom. 

Your boyfriend sits on the cedar hope chest at the end of the bed. He’s bent at the waist, tying his shoes. “I was just about to call you,” he says by way of greeting, looking up and sideways at you as he hunches over to loop the black laces of his loafers. “You’re running a little late, honey.” 

“Thanks, Aaron, that’s super helpful,” you spew sarcastically, setting the boutique bag on the bed. Unceremoniously, you tug your dress pants down over your tummy and your hips, then step out of them, kicking them to the side. Aaron’s on them in an instant, like a cat with one of those laser pointers, scooping them up off the floor and tossing them into the laundry hamper in the corner. 

“We have to be there at seven-thirty,” Aaron reminds you, crossing his arms over his chest. For most people, that’s a sign of displeasure. This is just Aaron’s default stance, though, and you can tell he isn’t annoyed. He’s just anxious about being tardy. 

“Baby, I know,” you snap. You love that he’s always punctual - five minutes early is already ten minutes late, he always says. Generally, you can abide by that rule. The cards are just not in your favor today. 

Aaron’s palms are held up as a white flag. “Sorry,” he says, then looks around the room dumbly. “Is there anything I can do to help?” 

You’re sliding the new dress on - luckily, you already had your shapewear on for your work clothes, so changing is no big deal. The dress is a lovely forest green, with golden flowers, embroidered as if they’re growing up from the bottom hem of the skirt. You smooth your hands over the bodice, and finally meet Aaron’s eyes. 

The sunset is leaking in through the blinds, catching his profile and gilding his irises. You could swim in those deep pools for hours, searching for treasure. Your annoyance has dissipated completely after one look at him. “Can you cut the tags off?” you ask him, your voice a low whisper. 

Aaron’s gliding into the en suite, to your vanity, in an instant, a testament to how whipped you have him. He’s searching for your manicure scissors, and his back is turned to you. His suit is black, different from the gray one he wore to work today. This one is just slightly more fitted, and your eyes travel shamelessly over his rear, admiring, with a dropped jaw, just how sculpted it really is, a testament to how whipped he has you. 

You lift your arm when he returns, watching his eyes as he delicately snips the tags off the armpit part of your dress. He’s so careful, like he’s performing brain surgery, and you want to tease him for it. But there’s no time.

When Aaron’s moving back to the en suite to throw the tags away and put your scissors back in their place, you have to force your feet to shuffle over to the closet. You select a semi-comfortable pair of black heels. They don’t perfectly match your dress, but you typically end up taking your shoes off after dinner, anyway. 

Aaron’s watching from the bathroom doorway as you snap on your heels. His ever-observant eyes follow you as you step past him into the bathroom. You run the comb through your hair, and touch up your makeup quickly, carefully applying a winged eyeliner and lipgloss to elevate your look efficiently. Aaron’s eyes meet yours in the mirror, and you look back at him over your shoulder, scrunching your nose playfully.

When you’re done in the bathroom, you float over to your dresser to select a pair of earrings from the jewelry box Aaron got you for your birthday. Gold hoops soon adorn your ears, and you pull a golden chain necklace from the jewelry box, complete with a charm in the middle that looks like a knot. 

You take the necklace over to Aaron, and without saying anything, you stand before him, back turned. He gathers your hair in one hand and sweeps it aside. “Hold this for me,” he murmurs concentratedly, and you reach your hand up to hold your hair out of the way for him. 

The need to rush out the door has suddenly vanished into thin air. 

Aaron’s breath is warm on the back of your neck. You feel goosebumps appear up and down your arms as he brings the necklace around. His fingers are ginormous, so you hear him fumble a little with the tiny clasp, but he finally snaps it in place. His thumb and forefinger trail along the chain to bring the knot charm to the front, so it rests in the center of your collarbone. 

You release your hair, and as it falls, ticklish against the back of your neck, Aaron steps around in front of you. A small smile twitches from his lips and you feel your knees wobble a little beneath you. Why does he have to look at you like that? You’re supposed to be in a hurry. “You look like Christmas,” Aaron says quietly, like maybe he didn’t mean to voice the thought, like maybe it just slipped out. 

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” You laugh breathily, feeling your cheeks go pink. 

“It’s a very good thing,” Aaron assures you. His fingers close around your wrist, and he’s tugging you in for a hug. You wind your arms around his neck just as his find your waist. He’s crushing you to him, constricting you in the best way possible. 

“I thought we were in a hurry?” You ask, pressing your glossy lips against the column of his throat a couple of times. Your kisses are viscous because of the lipgloss, and you know you’ll have to wipe it off his neck, but for now, you don’t really care. This is the first moment you’ve had with Aaron since waking up next to him this morning.

You inhale, your nose nudging against his neck. He smells like an idyllic autumn lake - pine, rainfall, leaves. 

Aaron’s grip around you tightens a little more, and you feel his nose nuzzling into your hair. “We can be a couple minutes late.” 

He’s not wearing a tie, you realize, as you pull away from the embrace. Your palms lay flat on his chest, straightening the collar of his white dress shirt beneath the black jacket. The top two buttons are undone, revealing the smallest bit of chest hair. You quirk your brow up when you meet his eye. “No tie?” 

Aaron shakes his head. “No tie,” he confirms. “Going for laid-back, super casual.” 

“That lines up with your personality,” you snicker, licking your thumb and using it to wipe the lipgloss off his neck. 

“Do I look like Magnum, P.I?” He asks as you step back. He straightens his jacket. 

You burst out laughing. “Absolutely not,” you giggle, and Aaron rolls his eyes. “You’re not wearing a Hawaiian shirt, nor do you have a mustache,” you remind him, taking his hand. His fingers trail along your palm before twining with yours. 

“I could grow a mustache,” he proffers, his lips a straight line, the closest thing he does to pouting. 

You lead Aaron out into the living room, shaking your head and laughing. “No, baby, you look like James Bond,” you tell him, letting go of his hand and reaching over the back of the couch to grab your purse. You sling it over your shoulder. 

You catch Aaron looking at himself in the ornamental mirror on the wall and smirk. “I think I like that better than Magnum, P.I,” he muses. 

“It is better than Magnum, P.I,” you shrug, heading for the door. You feel Aaron’s hands on your hips from behind just as you reach for the doorknob. He squeezes your hips and kisses the back of your neck. “Aaron,” you whine a little, just as Aaron guides you to the side for the sole purpose of being able to open the door for you. 

“Come on, honey,” he teases, facing you in the open doorway and tugging your hand. “Rossi’ll be mad if he has to wait on us to serve appetizers.”

Edit: read "dressing down" here

[kotias]

Your Grace is a Fire

New fic just dropped, prompted by @gleafer on her Patreon!!

Prompt:

“Hell infuses Crowley’s body with hellfire so he runs away and hides for years. Aziraphale finds him, and he thinks he knows how to put out the fire that burns his demon so!”

Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Hell's Punishments, Graphic description of torture, graphic description of illness, graphic description of violence, Stalking, fleeing, divine ecstasy, Coming Untouched, Bloodgraphic description of body failing and doing disgusting things, Shedding, Angst with a Happy Ending, angst with a porny ending, Angst and Porn

TW: I am so serious. DEAD DOVE. There is blood, torture, intense amounts of gross bodily fluids.

Word count: 7,369 words

Summary:

Laudanum! Last time Crowley would do that… Hell infuses the demon with hellfire and sends him back on Earth, where Heaven hunts him down for three decades before Aziraphale gets his hands on him and brings him back to the bookshop. There, they work together to rid Crowley from this hellfire plaguing him…

Excerpt:

Before him, Aziraphale’s irises changed. The jade colour they had been wearing until then was engulfed into a golden typhoon, thrashing against the walls of its white enclosure and devouring it until all trace of the jewel was gone. The storm passed, leaving behind it the pure, bright blue of a clear sky, almost light enough to lose itself into the rest of the eye.

Crowley only realised that Aziraphale had opened his mouth when his warm breath tickled his skin, and he followed the light appearing between his teeth.

He shook his head, letting out a plaintive whine, trying to get away, get away, get away— but the cold light glowing harder than the sun breached the space of Aziraphale’s lips and entered his, resting on the tip of his tongue and giving him a moment of soothing warmth.

That, however, did not last.

As the glowing bundle rolled into his mouth and down his throat, the cosy embrace turned into a scorching hot tear rolling into the walls towards his chest and freezing his inside with shock.

“Wha—”

“I know.” Aziraphale’s eyebrows furrowed in concern and, Crowley understood, a silent apology. “It’s going to hurt, Crowley.”

And hurt it did, like nothing he had lived through before. He didn’t need to see the light moving inside him to know exactly where it was; everything it touched caught on fire, only to be frozen over and shredded to pieces. Each nerve of his body seemed to be looking for an escape, goosebumps covering his skin like needles.

Each gasp of suffering added only more hurt as the air blew the flames of the hellfire inside him harder and harder. It felt like a battle between Aziraphale’s light and his own affliction, and the loser was himself.

He crashed to the ground, wriggling and whining, his vision turning black.

Read more here

And of course, I am not forgetting @goodomensafterdark ;)

[opaleyedprince]

oneiros sunday <3

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — TEEN DAD! GOJO x FEM READER

When Megumi gets injured on a mission, you realize you’re not capable of taking care of a child.

wc — 1.8k

tags — misunderstandings; self doubt; the pitfalls of teenage parenting when you’re all child soldiers; mild angst with a happy ending; happens post sometimes a family is you, teen dad Gojo, and the six year old child he accidentally orphaned, part I of teen dad gojoverse, in which you and Gojo raise Megumi together. 

You shove Megumi into his arms, a bundle of bloody black fabric and dead weight. Gojo doesn’t stumble - he never does - but it’s a close call as he instinctively wraps his arms around whatever you’ve pushed onto him. 

“Teleport! Teleport!” You’re so frantic you’re incoherent. It takes a full minute, a minute you don’t have, before you realize that you can’t just say things. Gojo, as invincible as he is, can’t read your mind. You have to explain what’s going on, but how can you focus when Megumi is bleeding out? His little face is growing paler and paler by the second. 

His hands are so tiny. Why is that the only thing you can focus on? They’re grasping the front of Gojo’s jacket for dear life as he coughs weakly. 

“Teleport him back to HQ! Get Shoko!” 

You resist the urge to shake Gojo by his lapels, slap some sense into him. It would only hurt Megumi. Why won’t he move?

“I can’t!”

“What do you mean you can’t? Go! He’s losing so much blood, you have to go now!” 

You know you’re getting hysterical, but Megumi is dying right in front of you. 

“I can’t teleport! There are conditions-“ 

“He’s going to die!” 

“Stop- I need to think!” 

In the back of your head, you can hear Shoko telling you in that cool and detached tone of hers that you’re hyperventilating. 

Look, she says, you see that? You’re breathing too quickly. You feel lightheaded, right? 

Gojo spreads his jacket out on the ground of the forest. “Help me get him ready. I’m going to sew up the cut.” 

“Let me-“ 

“I’ll do it. I’ve done Getou’s before. You just focus on keeping him breathing.” 

You can do that. 

Hunched over Megumi’s body, Gojo gets to work. He looks so frail, spread on the grass with only Gojo’s jacket beneath him. His eyes are normally dark, but they’re blacker with pain, his pupils swallowing up his irises. 

The first puncture of the needle makes him wail before he slaps his hand over his mouth. You peel it back and make vaguely soothing noises, trying to be comforting. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” you murmur, letting him rest his head in your lap.

“You can scream, Megumi. I know it hurts. Oh, honey, I know. I know.” He’s making this face that agonizes you. His nose is all scrunched up as he clenches his jaw. He’s the type of kid that would rather chew up his suffering and swallow it back down then let anyone see it. 

This happened on your watch. 

Sick self hatred rises in your throat. 

Gojo would’ve never let anything happen to Megumi. 

He whimpers quietly and you flinch. Without even thinking of it, you reach for his hand. You force yourself not to tremble. You’re an adult. It’s your responsibility not to scare him like that. 

His eyes are closed as Gojo grimly works the needle through, but there’s a jump in his frantic heartbeat, as tiny as a rabbit’s. You can detect it through the pulsing vein in his wrist, funneling blood to the injury only to waste it on air. 

He’s such a brave kid - your brave little boy. You smooth his sticky wet hair back from his face, damp with sweat. He moans in pain and twists away. Your heart crumples. 

It takes so much for him to be vocal about anything that hurts him. How much pain must he be in?

“Gojo,” you say. 

“I’m trying!” 

You know. Going any faster is likely to have dangerous consequences. This is the only way. How cruel. You have to hurt him to help him, and isn’t that just the story of your parenthood? 

You curl around him, protective as if your body can shield him from his own body working against itself. The more blood he loses, the harder his body fights to keep him alive. 

It’s an infinitely long minute before Gojo proclaims the grim deed finished. Megumi had passed out long beforehand, his death grip on your fingers slackening as the pain pushed him into nothingness. 

He wakes up on the long drive back to campus. Ijichi has never bent so many speeding limits in his life. Normally a careful driver, he shoots furtive looks at the kid staining his back seats red. You can feel his judgment of what kind of parent you are settling over you. 

Shoko must be thinking the same thing as she patches Megumi up in your kitchen. Her reverse cursed technique seals the cut up in seconds flat, though a scar remains, puckering the flesh of his forearm. 

“Just like Utahime,” Gojo tells him, pinching his cheek. “You didn’t cry either, so you’re better than her.” 

“Don’t talk about your seniors like that,” you say absentmindedly, though your mind could not be further from disciplining Gojo for his poor behavior. 

You can’t send Megumi to the Zenins. You know what they’d do to a sweet kid like him. They’d turn him into a monster like his father. You shudder, thinking of the creature from your nightmares who had stolen the life of a sixteen year old girl, and nearly taken Gojo with him. You could never let them do that to Megumi. They probably wouldn’t take care of Tsumiki either, unless to hold her over his head. But just because they aren’t fit caretakers doesn’t mean you are. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.” 

“Hey.” 

Gojo’s been trying to get your attention for who knows how long. When he sees that he finally has it, he sends Megumi off to bed and jerks his thumb at the door. Wordlessly, you follow him to the porch. It’s dimly lit from a singular overhead bulb without a covering. The two of you stand in a circle of light, the night outside pressing in against the walls of your home. 

“What is it?” He says impatiently. “I fixed everything, didn’t I? Why are you still upset?” 

“It’s not you,” you say. It’s so cliche, but what else is there to say? “It’s my fault.” 

“Don’t,” he says softly. 

You pull your hand back when he tries to take it. There’s a perverse sense of satisfaction in denying both of you what you want. You don’t deserve this. 

He’s silent for a long time. You let the silence stew, determined to outlast him. Quickly, it becomes clear who has the upper hand. You shift from side to side, nervous and tense, while he just waits with his hands shoved in his pockets. When you finally look over, he’s wearing his sunglasses again. His hair glows under the porch light, attracting moths. “Finally felt like playing nice?” 

He’s attractive when he’s mean. You hate that about him, the way the cruel twist of his mouth ties knots into your stomach. It would all be easier if you could hate him, but everything he does only makes you love him more. 

What a twisted little family you’ve built for yourself. 

He sighs. “Stop that. Don’t-“ he waves his hand in your general direction in frustration. “You always do that. It’s not your fault.” 

“He needs a real parent, Gojo. I couldn’t protect him.” 

“I was there too,” he says. “You don’t see me agonizing over my mistakes. It happens.” 

What mistake, you think bitterly. Gojo’s only fault is trusting you with Megumi. He’s the strongest. If it was him, nothing would’ve happened. 

“It wasn’t your mistake. It was mine. If I hadn’t been there, everything would have been fine.” 

“Again?” Gojo says quietly. 

It’s a forceful reminder of how much you sound like Getou right now. He never recovered from what that monster - Megumi’s father - did to him. Even now, your class lives with the scars of that day. Gojo’s face is wistful for a brief moment, deluged by memories. Then it’s gone, wiped from his expression like it had never been there. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you say, wondering if it’s too late to take it back.  

Gojo never falters. He’s unreasonable and childish, but he’s as solid as stone. You’ve watched him shoulder every single burden he’s ever been asked to carry since he was a child, and now he’s taken on one more. You promised Gojo that you would watch his back, regardless of whether he needed you or not. The words you spoke in a fit of anger and self pity bring you regret now. Weakness isn’t just failing to shield Megumi from all the dangers of sorcery that you wish you and Gojo had been protected from. Weakness is running away when it gets hard. 

Megumi’s your baby. 

You’re not going to give him up. 

A step forward has you pressing into Gojo’s space. He doesn’t yield, watching you with those ancient eyes. 

“I know it’ll only get harder, but it has to be us, right? Who else will keep him safe from the Zenins? I won’t leave, Gojo. I promise.” 

His relieved expression contrasts with his smug words. There’s a crooked smile on his face when he says, “I knew you wouldn’t just abandon us. You think Megumi wants to stay with me? You’re the one keeping him here.” 

“I get it,” you smack his arm. “No need for flattery. I’m with you until the end.” 

“I’m not kidding,” he protests. “There’s no universe in which Megumi likes me more than you.” 

How can you stay upset when he looks so proud of himself for finally figuring out the right thing to say to get you to stay? 

“He doesn’t,” you insist. 

Gojo rolls his eyes. “Don’t lie to me. Here, I’ll prove it.” 

It’s not uncommon for Gojo to put Megumi to bed. In fact, it’s a chore he fights you for. It’s probably one of his favorite parts of having Megumi around. He likes telling stories, and surprisingly enough, he’s good at it. He gives each character its own voice. More often than not, he ends up as invested in the bedtime story as Megumi is. Tonight, when he closes the book, he doesn’t leave. The soft light of the lamp on the bedside table shines through a crack in the door as Gojo and Megumi talk in hushed whispers. 

“I want my mom,” he says quietly. 

You lean against the door, pressing your head to the wood to try to keep yourself from falling to the ground. You want to try. You want to be there for him. But Megumi needs his mother, not some teenager who can’t even take control of her own life, much less a child’s. You’re all he has, though, and you have to make it work. You wish Mrs. Fushiguro was still alive, even if that means you would’ve never gotten to meet him. 

“Then ask her to come in,” Gojo says. 

Megumi makes a startled noise. You can almost see him burrowing into his blankets. 

“Go on,” Gojo coaxes. “Oh, come on. Don’t be shy now. You really won’t? Fine.” 

He calls to you. “Come in, sweetheart. Don’t keep us waiting.” 

The first thing you see when you open the door is Megumi’s head buried beneath the covers. Gojo’s trying to peel the sheets back. 

“What are you hiding for? I brought you your mom! You should be thanking me!”

“I hate you!” 

“I told you,” Gojo says. “He loves you more than me.”

[shalomniscient]

BAD ROMANCE || acheron x reader [NSFT][MDNI]

I WANT YOUR LOVE AND ALL YOUR LOVER'S REVENGE, YOU AND ME COULD WRITE A BAD ROMANCE !

cw. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, snuff (but not permanently), graphic descriptions of violence, gore, violent sex, masochism on part of reader, reader is honestly just fucking crazy, no lube, creampie

notes. hyv was insane for that animated short frfr also the song for this fic is obviously bad romance but the cover by halestorm specifically. check it out, it slaps !!

VERY IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE, PLEASE READ !! ↳ This work contains dark content, to the point where I must tag this as DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. I cannot stress this enough. ↳ There will be graphic depictions of gore and violence, and violence during sex. Please check and heed the content warnings. ↳ You are responsible for the content you consume.

Acheron first encounters you on a desolate planet bereft of life. You stand alone amidst withered trees and lifeless stumps, your feet bare upon grey, scorched earth. You don't react when the embers land upon your skin. Your gaze is cast to the melancholy sky as you hum to yourself, rocking back and forth on your heels. You don't even turn to her when you speak.

"We finally meet, oh harbinger of death," you hum, your tone light and airy, unbefitting this dead space. "I've been waiting for a while."

Acheron blinks, slowly, taking you in. There's something about you that's distinctly... similar, in a way. You are more than you seem. Something blessed—or perhaps, cursed—by a higher being.

"You know me?" she asks, taking a step towards you, and you finally turn to face her. Your eyes give her pause—fathomlessly deep and dark. Your sclera are pitch black, and your irises the colour of blood. An enigmatic smile stretches across your features as she stares.

"Of course," you say. "How could I not, when the voices of those you have slaughtered cry out so desperately for salvation?"

Acheron's eyes narrow. "What are you?"

Her question pulls a giggle from you. What are you, not who are you. She has a suspicion already, but she wants to hear it from you, first. You reach out towards her, caressing her pale cheek with your hand—were this any other situation, Acheron might even consider it lovely, free from scars or blemishes.

"The same as you," you whisper, your eyes half-lidded in a way that has Acheron's grip curling around the hilt of her sword. "My fellow Emanator."

Her hand shoots out to grip your wrist, pulling your hand away from her face. She squeezes, muscles in her arm flexing, and she swears she hears your bones creak. But you remain unfazed, smiling almost dreamily at her.

"Are you here to stop me?" she growls. Just a little more pressure, and she'd snap your pretty wrist like a twig.

"No," you say simply. "I care not for your mission."

"Then why have you sought me out?"

You hum, and with your free hand, trail a finger down her chest. The arm caught in Acheron's grip is starting to bruise. "Because there is something I want from you."

"And what might that be?"

You beam at her, and lean in, close enough to brush your lips against hers. It makes Acheron jolt, and distantly she can hear your wrist shatter, but the intensity of you so close demands all her attention. You speak your desire against her lips like a kiss.

"Death."

After that incident, you follow her around, much like a lost cat. Your mangled wrist righted itself within seconds, and Acheron pieced together whose Emanator you are.

Yaoshi, the Abundance.

She has heard about the favored of the Abundance, but has never encountered one—until you, of course. As she braces herself over you, your hands pinned to the floor of a dead duke's mansion, she wonders if your other Emanators are as odd as you are. Or as hungry for death.

She doesn't remember how many times she's killed you by now. How many times she's unsheathed that blade of hers and carved it through your soft flesh until all that remains of you are mangled pieces on the ground. But she does remember sitting by your side, or what's left of it, and watching as your flesh knits back together, cells multiplying and dividing and sowing sinew and muscle until you finally come back from whatever end you experienced ever so briefly, your chest jerking up as it floods with air. And despite herself, she's starting to enjoy it. Such a pretty little plaything you make, one she hasn't been able to break no matter how much she's tried.

You always look for her first when you return. And you always ask her for more.

Like now, as she has you flat on the floor, and you look up at her with the hungriest eyes she's ever seen. You had watched, delighted, as she ripped and tore apart that infernal duke, giggling all the while as his 'children' scattered to the winds. And once she was done you had pounced on her, wild and almost feral, throwing your arms around her neck and whispering into her ear, "me next."

She won't remember doing this, but right now it's difficult to think beyond the drumbeat of her pulse in her ears. She can hear yours, too. It's so fucking loud. She wonders what your heart looks like, pulsing away in your chest. She wonders what it'll do when she rips it from your ribcage and holds it in her hand.

She crashes her lips against yours like she wants to devour you. You groan into the kiss, if that's even what it can be called. Acheron's teeth scrape your lower lip then bite, drawing blood, and the taste of your blood on her tongue makes a shiver course down her spine. Your blood has a unique taste—metallic, certainly, but with a hint of sweetness kind of like peaches. She fucking loves it. You wrap your legs around her waist and grind up into her pelvis, against the growing bulge there. Acheron growls, manhandling your wrists above your head to grip them with one hand so the other can hold your hips still.

She trails her kisses lower, down your jaw and to your neck. She drags the edges of her canines against your jugular and you shiver in anticipation. She can feel your pulse against her lips, against her tongue, thump-thump-thump, and she resists the urge to sink her teeth into the artery and let the crimson liquid spill into her mouth. Instead she keeps going, lower and lower, until she reaches the collar of your clothing.

With one swift movement she tears the fabric apart, and it falls into tattered pieces around you. You jerk as the warmth of the surroundings settles on your bare skin, though Acheron offers you no reprieve. She scratches her free hand down the side of your ribs, drawing red lines as she goes. Her lips descend on your nipples, already stiff as she licks and sucks one before moving to the next. Everywhere her lips touch, dark marks bloom like brutal flowers on your skin.

You whine out her name softly, arching your back, and Acheron looks up the length of your body with electric, half-lidded eyes. Your expression is twisted into one of pure pleasure—the pain had always been something you loved, something you craved. And Acheron is all too eager to give it to you.

She moves back up, and uses her free hand to undo the buckles of her shorts. They’re almost constrictingly tight now, and she fumbles with the zipper until it comes loose and her aching cock springs free. She hears you make a pretty, breathy noise, and sneers down at you. Her hand slips down your body to your core, and her cock twitches when she finds that you’re fucking dripping.

“Getting off being used like this?” she hisses, dragging her finger through your drenched folds. “Dirty girl.”

“Please,” you moan, canting your hips into her touch. Acheron withdraws her fingers at that, then slaps your still-clothed pussy. You jolt and whine in surprise, those unnatural eyes of yours widening. “Wh—“

“I’ll do what I want to you,” she snarls, gripping your calves and manhandling your thighs open. She pulls you forward until her cock brushes along the soaked fabric of your panties. Her tip catches on your clit and you moan despite the dulled sensation. Then, her fingers hook into your underwear and tug them to the side, exposing your pretty pussy to her.

“So shut up and just take it,” she growls, before shoving her entire length into you with one smooth thrust.

You scream in both pain and pleasure as Acheron splits you open on her thick cock. She has both her hands beneath your knees, holding your legs wide open as she ruts into your clenching cunt, hardly giving you time to adjust. She’s vicious with it, each snap of her hips making the sound of flesh against flesh ring throughout the abandoned mansion alongside your shrill cries of ecstasy. Your fingers claw at the floor until they bleed, drawing red lines on the black marble.

Acheron grunts as she feels your pussy squeeze her—even here, balls-deep in your tight pussy she can feel your incessant heartbeat pulsing away. She feels like she can drown in it, in that rhythmic pitter-patter of your heart as it races like some sort of prey animal.

Yes, that’s what this all feels like—a hunt. She as the wolf, you as the rabbit. She the hunter, you the hunted.

It’s a god damn fucking frenzy. Lust and bloodlust fog her mind. Her hair is turning white. She fucks you into the floor, shifting her position so that gravity helps with each thrust she makes. She practically folds your lower half in ways that would snap a regular human, but only serves to deliriously excite you. Aeons, you’re fucking crazy, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel it too.

But the end of the hunt approaches. She feels you tightening around her, and you scream out her name with each downward drive of her hips. Your heartbeat thunders in her ears now, and she matches her thrusts with each beat, sending slick flying from your gushing cunt and her own leaking cock. She leans up, nosing beneath your jaw, right where your pulse thrums.

But here’s a thing about hunts—there’s only one way they end. So her teeth sink into your neck, the taste of iron and peaches spills onto her tongue, and the world goes white as she reaches her peak.

She’s always never felt more alive than during the moment of the kill.

When she comes to again, she’s kneeling on the floor and there’s blood on her lips and chin, spilling down her neck and onto her chest. She clicks her tongue and wipes her lips with the back of her hand. Beyond that, her clothes are in fine condition, as if nothing ever happened. And maybe she might have believed so, were it not for one thing:

It’s quiet.

That pounding drumbeat is gone, replaced by calm silence. And that’s when she remembers—you’re still here. She looks down, and there you lie, motionless in a pool of crimson liquid, the flesh of your neck torn asunder, exposing the white of your bones and the attaching tendons and sinew.

Your face is frozen in an expression of bliss, eyes half-lidded and lips curled into a half-smile. Idly, Acheron thinks it’s a rather pretty look on you.

(You come back a few minutes later, chest heaving and eyes shooting open. The scarlet halo of blood surrounding your head on the floor makes you look like a bleeding saint.

And then you smile at her, sickly sweet, and your heart starts up again, slowly restarting the cycle once more.

Acheron can’t fucking wait.)

[hatsukeii]

Today I'm thinking about...haikyuu + other anime characters who think you're just a little too sweet for them.

warning(s): nothing LOL you're safe with me again today!!

To them, life should be lived silently, like slipping between cracks that emerge amidst the lives of others. Their presence is fleeting, manifesting as a helping hand in a crowded hallway that is never seen again, a coffee order that is forgotten after the next few customers, a glossary that is skimmed through once, then never looked at a second time. A presence that you know for certain was here once before, but have nothing to show for it. When you grace their life for the first time, maybe in a library, or a bakery, perhaps a coffee shop, it is as fleeting as a comet that zips across a night sky, your presence escaping from between the seams of their own life the way they do to others. A glance shared between the gaps of leathery bookends, the dropping of change in their hand, the calling out of their name for their black coffee order. He finds eternity in the gleam of your irises, the clink of coins as they fall from your hand, the sugar that leaks from their name in your mouth. You find solace in the darkness of their tired eyes, the wrinkles and calluses in the palm that collects change, the grainy, sultry earth that echoes in their thank yous. They return to the libraries, and bakeries, and coffee shops day after day, hoping to bask in the sweetness of whatever you do and say again, mellowing out pools of black caffeine with mugs of syrup and milk, neat whiskey with crisp ice, balancing the earthy, soiled ground with a star-studded night sky. They change their order from an Americano to your recommended latte, smile at you from the opening created between books on a shelf, treat themselves to a small cake once every so often along with their usual purchase of plain bread. And when you finally chat them up one day, a wink flashing across your face as you slide your number to them on a doodled-over sticky-note across the counter, or thread it through hardbacks on a shelf, or palm their hand sneakily as you hand them change, their presence becomes an engraving on the spine of a book, a coffee stain in a worn out mug, the lingering decadence of mousse and cake that dances on their tongue, impatient for the next taste. They are a bitter canister of brewed tea, a hollow body and soul worn down by the trials of life. You are a shot of espresso in the afternoon sun, golden daylight peeking through half-lidded blinds, honey in your veins and prosperous life in your eyes. Perhaps your sweetness could accomodate for two.

Characters: Kageyama Tobio, Tsukishima Kei, Kenma Kozume, Iwaizumi Hajime, Aone Takanobu, Akaashi Keiji, Ushijima Wakatoshi, Shirabu Kenjiro, Osamu Miya, Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru, Maki Zenin, Yuuta Okkotsu but specifically after training in Africa and coming back to Shibuya, Megumi Fushiguro, Aki Hayakawa, Kishibe, Shouta Aizawa, Hitoshi Shinso, Shouto Todoroki, Tomura Shigaraki

author's note:

be honest chat do i post like a scary amount and does it get annoying </3 i have too many ideas when i should be studying for externals in two months but i DON'T CARE i need to rest for like the next week after that trials period

i had hozier's too sweet in mind with this one and i initially wanted to do like just nanami but UGH too many characters work with this i can't DO ITTTTT so i made it a general drabble EE

anyways tags!!

@chuuya-brainrot @starlysama @catsoupki @fiannee @bailey-reeds @akaakeis @hiraethwa

ok bye bye until the next one which will be soon LMFAO love u all