#but as soon as i become aware of it i just. dies

[wavetapper]

auah my chunithhm rating is finally 12+ maybe soon I will stop sucking major shit at this gay game

[umbrace-rambles]

Finished Watching Ark TAS last night and you would expect I would be super happy about getting MORE lesbian content than in canon but I can't with good conscience be happy for the sudden Helena and Mei stuff. Why the FUCK did they do that

[odinsblog]

“I first started noticing the journalists dying on Instagram. I'm a journalist, I'm Arab, and I've reported on war. A big part of my community is other Arab journalists who do the same thing.

And when someone dies, news travels fast. Recently, I pulled up the list that the Committee to Protect Journalists has been keeping and looked at it for the first time. There are 95 journalists and media workers on it as of today.

Almost everyone on it is Palestinian. Scrolling through, I started to get angry. These were the people carrying the burden of documenting this whole war.

Israel is not allowing foreign journalists into Gaza, except on rare occasions with military escorts. These people's names are being buried in a giant list that keeps growing. What I want to do is lift some of them off the list for a moment and give you a glimpse of who they were and the work they made.

I'll start with Sadi Mansour. Sadi was the director of Al-Quds News Network, and he posted a 22-second video on November 18. That was a report from the war, but it also gave me a picture into his marriage.

Sadi's wearing his press vest and looks exhausted. He's explaining that cell service and the Internet keep getting cut off, and it's often impossible to text or call anyone, including his wife. So they've resorted to using handwritten letters to communicate while he's out reporting, sending them back and forth with neighbors or colleagues.

He ends the video with a picture of one of these letters from his wife. In it, she writes,

‘Me and the kids stayed up waiting for you until the morning, and you didn't come home. We were really sad.

I kept telling the kids, Look, he's coming. But you didn't show up. May God forgive you.

Come home tomorrow and eat with us. Do you want me to make you kebab or maybe kapse? Bring your friends with you, it's okay.

And give Azeez the battery to charge. What do you think about me sending you handwritten letters with messenger pigeons from now on? Ha ha ha.

I'm just kidding. I want to curse at you, but we're living in a war. Too bad.

Okay, I love you. Bye.’

A few hours after he shared that letter, Sadie and his co-worker Hassouna Saleem were at Sadie's home, when they were killed by an Israeli air strike that hit his house.

His wife and kids, who weren't there, survived.

Gaza is tiny, and the journalist community is really close. Reading the list, you can see all the connections between people. Like with Brahim Lafi.

Brahim was a photojournalist, one of the first journalists to die. He was killed while reporting on October 7. He was just 21, still new to journalism.

On his Instagram, you can see that in his posts just a few years ago, he was still practicing his photography, taking pictures of coffee cups and flowers. Then he started doing beautiful portraits and action shots. You can really feel him starting to become a journalist.

Clicking around on Instagram, I found a tribute post about Brahim from his co-worker Rushdie Sarraj. In this photo, Brahim staring intently at the back of a camera, his face lit up by the light from the viewfinder. He looks so young.

The caption reads, My assistant is gone. Brahim is gone. Rushdie himself was a beloved journalist and filmmaker.

And I know that because he's also on the list. He was killed just two weeks after Brahim. I read the tribute post to him too.

I saw this over and over again. Journalists posting tributes, who were then killed themselves soon after. And a tribute goes up for them.

And then the pattern continues.

Thank you.

Something else I saw over and over on the list, journalists later in the war who had become aware that they could be making their last reports. They'd say it at the beginning of their videos. And those were the hardest to watch, especially when it was true.

One video like that was posted by Ayat Hadduro. Ayat was a freelance journalist and video blogger. Her videos before the war covered a wide range from what I can tell, interviews about women in politics.

She even appeared in a commercial for ketchup-flavored chips. She clearly liked being in front of the camera. Once the war started, Ayat's pivoted to covering bombings and food shortages.

On November 20, she posted a video report from her home. You can hear the airstrikes hitting very close to where she is. It's scary.

‘This is likely my last video. Today, the occupation forces dropped phosphorus bombs on Beit Lahya area and frightening sound bombs. They dropped letters from the sky, ordering everyone to evacuate.

Everyone ran into the streets in the craziest way. No one knows where to go.

But everyone else has evacuated. They don't know where they're going. The situation is so scary.

What's happening is so tough, and may God have mercy on us.’

She was killed later that day.

Targeting journalists, in case you didn't know, is a war crime. So far, the Committee to Protect Journalists has found that three of the journalists on the list were explicitly targeted by the IDF, the Israeli military. Investigations by the Washington Post and Reuters, Human Rights Watch and the United Nations have also raised serious questions in these three cases.

And the Committee to Protect Journalists is investigating 10 other killings. When we reached out to the IDF for comments, they said, quote, the IDF has never, and will never, deliberately target journalists. That's the answer they always give in these situations.

Meanwhile, dozens of seasoned reporters have fled Gaza. Journalists who worked for Al Jazeera, the BBC, the New York Times, the Washington Post, Reuters, Agence France-Presse. So many media offices were demolished in Israeli airstrikes that the Committee to Protect Journalists stopped counting.

It's not just individual lives that have been destroyed. It's an entire infrastructure.

Thank you.

The name on the list that was hardest for me to look at was Issam Abdullah, because I'd crossed paths with him once. Issam was a Lebanese journalist, a video journalist for Reuters for many, many years. He had just won an award for coverage of Ukraine.

I'm Lebanese and still report there sometimes, and I'd worked with Issam a couple of summers ago. He helped me film a sort of random story in Beirut. I was interviewing this entrepreneur who had started a sperm freezing company after an accident where he spilled a tray of hot coffee on his private area, burning himself.

I know, ridiculous. It was a really silly shoot. Right after we said cut and started to rap, Issam started this whole bit about being in his late 30s, reconsidering his own sperm quality and everything he now realized he was doing to hurt it, and no one could stop laughing.

It was a really good day that felt good to remember and to remember him that way. Issam was killed by the IDF on October 13. His death was one of the three that the Committee to Protect Journalists has identified as a targeted killing.

He was fired upon by an Israeli tank while standing in an empty field on the Lebanon-Israel border with a small group of other journalists. Everyone was wearing press vests with cameras out. They were covering the Hezbollah part of this war.

A few other journalists were injured in the attack, which was captured on video. The IDF says they were responding to firing from Hezbollah, not targeting the journalists. But multiple investigations, including by Reuters, the United Nations, Amnesty International and the AFP, found no evidence of any firing from the location of the journalists before the IDF shot at them.

The journalists in the group and video footage confirmed that there was no military activity near them. I had only met Issam once, barely knew him, but it affected me so much when he died. I know that he understood the risks of his job, but somehow it still felt so random and unfair that he would be struck down like that, following the rules, wearing his press vest and helmet, and a pack of reporters on a sunny day in an open field.

I find myself thinking about him all the time. His last Instagram post was commemorating another journalist, this iconic reporter Shereen Abou Aql who had been killed by the IDF. When I first saw that post in October, I thought how ironic because a week later, Isam also was killed by the IDF.

But then, after spending time reading the list, I realized how common this had become. I still haven't finished going through the list and looking up the people on it. I keep finding things that stick with me, like the funny way this one radio host would cut off a caller who was rambling on for too long.

A tweet from reporter Al-Abdallah that quoted Sylvia Plath. It read, What ceremony of wars can patch the havoc? I'm going to keep going down the list, even though this story is over now.

Just for myself. My own way of bearing witness. Which is, in the end, all that these journalists were trying to do.”

—DANA BALLOUT, The 95. Dana sifts through a very long list—the list of journalists killed in the Israel-Hamas war, and comes back with five small fragments of the lives of the people on it. Dana is a Lebanese-American, Emmy-nominated documentary producer.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Something angsty like the batboys reaction to reader in the hospital! I don’t think we have enough angst here

Jason

The moment he hears that you were hospitalised it was as though he had a pit developing in his stomach and that it was growing ever larger.

His mind wanders towards the worst case scenario as to how you had gotten hospitalised in the first place and that no matter how hard Jason tried to stop thinking such things, they only continued to get progressively worse the more he tried to ignore it.

He was worried out of his mind about you and somehow found a way to blame himself for not being there for you, not keeping you safe and letting you risk the chance of dying somewhere he couldn’t find you. Jason knew you were in safe hands at the hospital, but that knowledge did very little to ease the ache within his chest as he managed to find the room you were in and felt his heart break at the state you were in.

‘Oh baby bird.’ He whispered as though any louder would physically hurt you as his eyes wandered to the machines you were hooked up to. He hated the sight of the heart monitor even more as it beeped at him rhythmically, showing him that you were alive and well, but he couldn’t help but think of each beep as a mockery towards him and his failure to be there when he should’ve.

‘You shouldn’t be in here hooked up to all these machines.’ Jason said a little louder this time as he sat down on the chair beside your bed, immediately grasping at your hand and squeezing it gently. ‘You should be home with me, cuddled beneath layers of blankets only to complain about how warm you get, but when I suggest you stop cuddling me. you then become stubborn and hug me tighter knowing damn well your making things worse for yourself.’ Jason chuckled softly at the warm memory, but that quickly died when he saw your face and being reminded that you were stuck in a perpetual slumber.

A coma is what the doctors said you were under and they had no idea whether or not you’d awake from it, but insisted that he should talk to you regardless.

So Jason swallows down the lump in his throat and takes a deep breath. ‘Your stronger then this sweetheart. I know you’ll wake up and will call me a soft teddy bear for worrying but I can’t help but worry about you. I always will worry about you because you mean so much to me, and I don’t want to ever think I’ll never get to see your beautiful smile or hear your laugh ever again. I don’t want that.’ Jason said as he finds himself praying to whomever was listening to keep their filthy hands off of you as he also pleaded you case to keep living.

He didn’t know what he could do other than hope that you healed accordingly and wake up so he could smother you in affection and never let you out of his sight ever again.

Jason doesn’t want to loose you but felt as though he was starting to run out of options the longer you’d remain in this coma. So he vows to himself that he’ll come here on a daily basis to talk to you in hopes that it would keep you away from the edge and back to him, preferably back to him and his arms where you belonged.

‘I’m not giving up on you little bird, for you never gave up on me when you should’ve. So I’m here, I’m right here I’m not leaving.’ Jason says to you and he keeps to his word as he stays by your side the whole night.

Dick

Once Dick is made aware that you were hospitalised from Bruce or Barbra, his smile drops from his face as he quietly excuses himself and starts making his journey to the hospital that you were residing.

The sight before him when he arrived at the hospital left Dick with an ache in his heart as he wordlessly sat down in the chair next to you, vowing to himself then and there that he wouldn’t be moving anytime soon. ‘You’ve scared me sweetheart, still scaring me if I’m being honest.’ Dick said as he eyed the monitors with distain as they hook onto you almost like leeches instead of their actual purpose.

He just wanted to take you home and care for you himself but knew he couldn’t.

‘I know I don’t confide in you about my thoughts and feelings and that’s mainly because I was afraid, afraid of how you’d see or think of me afterwards for you are by far the best thing that has ever happened to me.’ Dick confessed as he risked running a hand gingerly down your cheek, becoming upset when you didn’t lean into his touch like you usually do and tries to keep his composure as he continues.

‘If you wake up- no, when you wake up I promise to be more open with you, more honest with you as I don’t want this being the end of us when I have so much I’ve yet to share with you.’ Dick was quick to wiped away at his eyes when he noticed his vision begin to blur and the persistent sniffling he was doing before pulling out his phone to show you pictures of you, himself and Hayley as though that would somehow pull you out of your coma. ‘Hayley is missing you right now, she needs you as much as I do and I don’t think I have the heart to tell her I lost you because I don’t want to loose you.’ He admits as he puts away his phone and cling onto one of your hands desperately.

‘I need you here with me and Hayley, happy and healthy and laughing and in our one little fairy tale life where nothing else matters but us.’ Dick says softly as he presses kisses to your hand, trying his hardest not to break down into tears, but found it harder and harder to keep it all together when the person he cared for most was in a coma, and with no foreseeable future of awaking from.

‘I don’t want to be alone again…please don’t leave me alone and wake up as soon as you can…please I don’t ask for much but I don’t think I can handle loosing you sweetheart. So please, please remain strong and wake up.’

Damian

Leaves the room without another word, uncaring that he might come across as rude or disrespectful, but to Damian you were more important then anyone else and he wasn’t about to waste time with them when you were hospitalised.

Once he had gotten to your room in the hospital he immediately felt his facade crumble as his breath catches in his throat at the sight of you attached to so many machines. Damian could feel him heart rip in two the longer he looked at you that was followed by the need to search for the people who did this and pay them back tenfold.

However Damian knew that you needed him more then ever right now and that his thirst for revenge would have to be put to the side for the meantime, and if it was for you Damian would do anything just to see you open your eyes and tell him that you were okay; However he knew that reality wouldn’t bless him when you were deep in comatose.

So while he was alone with you Damian allowed himself to silently shed a few tears that he had been holding in the entire journey to the hospital, he didn’t know what to do. You were hurt, really hurt and Damian had never felt more useless than he did in this moment as he looks over your form and finding more reasons to simultaneously feel unbridled rage and sadness.

So without realising he had found himself resorting to one thing he thought he’d never do, beg.

‘Please open your eyes my treasure,’ he starts, ‘call me Dami, call me whatever your heart sees fit and I won’t complain about it, not once. I just want you to open your eyes and tell me that everything is going to be fine, that we’re going to be fine.’ Damian trails off as he finds his eyes blurred with more tears that didn’t fall until he was forced to blink.

‘Don’t leave me. this is all I ask of you, for I do not wish to face a life where you are unceremoniously taken from me, I do not wish to live a life we both promised to have without you by my side.’ Damian admits as he reaches for your hand, lifts it and kisses the back of it all the while closing his eyes, squeezing out the last of his tears as he tried to clam his breath but found no avail in his attempts. ‘Don’t take them away from me. I know my hands are tainted with blood, but spare their soul until you can claim mine.’ Damian could feel himself being torn apart at the idea that his pleas for your life weren’t enough to who ever was listening to him in this moment of vulnerability.

‘They are my heart and my soul and they are worth life more than I am. Their soul is pure in comparison to mine, tainted from a young age but I would do anything you ask of me if it meant keeping them safe and alive.’ Damian opened his eyes to look at your oddly peaceful face and felt the ache within his chest grow more into something more painful that he ever thought possible. ‘Torture me all you want I can handle it, but leave them out of it. I can’t stand seeing them hurt or in pain. Seeing them in pain tears at my soul at its very foundations, cracks my heart into a million pieces as I’m left bleeding profusely from imaginary wounds. Let them live, that is all I ask.’ He finishes as he found a fresh wave of tears brining his eyes as he now leaves it up to time to determine your fate.

Damian will forever hate feeling helpless when your life was considered.

Tim

Tracks down the exact hospital you were in and doesn’t waste a moment in heading over there as fast as he could.

He didn’t know the severity of your situation but he wasn’t about to risk a single second doing nothing.

So when he does arrive at the hospital he wishes what he was seeing before him was a dream, a bad dream and that if he pinched himself hard enough he’d wake up to you in bed besides him and no machines hooked onto you.

He didn’t like the sight as it made him feel violently sick but he couldn’t bring himself to leave you alone here, not when you were in a vulnerable position such as a coma.

Tim doesn’t say much as he sits himself by your side, watching with seemingly dead eyes as your heart monitor reminds him that you were alive, while they might’ve been comforting for some, it wasn’t enough for him as he needed to see you awake and fretting over him for how long he stayed up for or the lack of sleep. He needs to see you awake and well to believe that you weren’t gone from his life entirely, not comatose or hooked up to every machine in existence.

He felt like a failure somehow, he was supposed to keep you safe and yet failed to do that, and was now faced with the idea that you might stay like this for months on end without any real progression. If he could easily track where you were in the hospital, then how come he didn’t do the same before you had gotten seriously hurt? Where was the logic in that? he was meant to be one of the smartest detectives in Gotham and yet he couldn’t use everything at his disposal to keep you safe from harm.

What a joke. Tim thinks to himself as he forced himself to look at the damaged you sustained, using it as a reminder of how easily it was for you to be taken from him when he wasn’t on guard and keeping tabs on you.

He didn’t want to promise anything aloud in fear that reality would somehow work against him and take you away earlier than expected. So he just sits there and allows himself to feel the guilt, the fear and the pain that had been building up within his chest from the moment he heard the news, to where he was now. He fisted his jeans angrily as he let the first wave of tears stream down his cheeks, audibly sobbing to himself as he chants to himself;

‘Please wake up, you’ll be okay. Please wake up, you’ll be okay. Please just wake up and take me out of this nightmare, I don’t want this to be real. I’m not ready to loose you yet.’

[poisonlove]

The Addams curse | w.a

Pairing: Wednesday Addams X reader

A/N: Okay, I admit it. I read a story that inspired me so much that I "stole" the idea

Wednesday was painfully aware of the curse she inherited from her family: the Addams curse. It was a curse that had existed since the 5th century, binding an Addams to their soulmate. A curse that would drive one to madness if rejected by that person, a madness that would torment them even after death.

As alluring as that last thought sounded, Wednesday didn’t want to become a slave to another person.

And she especially had things to do.

Just the thought of her father's expression when he looked at Morticia sent a warm, nauseating sensation to her stomach, a warmth that was far from pleasant. It was a reminder that in her life she would encounter… her other half. She would prefer to skin herself alive than to fall into this trap.

Because love was, in fact, a trap.

Thanks to reading a book about her family's history, she learned that the curse activated with the first contact with the destined person. A touch that sent thousands of electric shocks coursing through the body, a bond capable of quenching the thirst of her cursed soul.

That’s why she was averse to any contact: no one, ever, would trigger that curse to drag her into madness. She categorically rejected the idea of succumbing to temptation; she was even willing to kill the destined person, fully aware that she would die immediately afterward.

there was another side effect: if your soulmate died, you would follow them incapable of living without them.

Wednesday pressed her lips into a thin line.

That moment had arrived the instant she crossed the gates of Nevermore Academy. A warmth spread through her body and an annoying itch kept her on edge. Wednesday mentally cursed herself for having attacked students at her old school: at least she wouldn’t have anticipated her end. Her parents watched her with curiosity as they approached her new room and Wednesday tried to maintain an unreadable expression, fully aware that chaos reigned inside her.

Where her mother stayed in the past: Ophelia Hall.

As soon as they opened the door the itch intensified and something indefinable vibrated in the air. She wasn’t sure if it was due to the curse or the fact that she had entered a painfully colorful room. A girl immediately sprang up from the bed, a smile stretching from ear to ear as her blonde hair with blue and pink streaks danced toward their direction. Another girl sat cross-legged on the bed to the girl to far too… enthusiastic.

There it was again, that annoying itch.

“Hi, roommate!” the blonde exclaimed excitedly.

Wednesday felt nauseated, a wave of discomfort tightening her stomach in a cold grip. It was a new sensation for her. She felt her throat constrict, the urge to vomit ready to explode but the lack of food ingested that morning left her with only a painful emptiness, like an abyss sucking her from within. With a shiver she realized that the nausea wasn’t caused by hunger but by the curse that poisoned her insides, slithering through her veins like a subtle venom.

Oh no.

The impression of tiny spiders weaving her stomach from the inside sent a chilling shiver through her, insinuating itself between her bones. Every thread of that imaginary web seemed to tighten around her, making every breath harder than the last. The sensation of being trapped, of losing control, terrified her in a way she would never admit to anyone. Wednesday found herself immobile; perhaps "paralyzed" was the best word.

“Are you okay? You look... pale,” the blonde said with concern.

Other eyes turned in her direction.

“Oh… Wednesday always looks half dead,” her father commented with an ironic smile.

Her mother’s hand rested on her shoulder, giving her a quick squeeze, a gesture that could have seemed comforting but for Wednesday was a reminder of the distance between them.

But inside, Wednesday felt a turmoil boiling in her chest. A raw, primitive energy surged through her like an electric current, making her muscles tremble. Paradoxically, it was the first time she felt so… alive. That pain, that sense of oppression and that devastating nausea had awakened an intensity she had never experienced before. It was as if the curse was showing her the limits of her humanity, forcing her to feel closer to life, precisely because she was on the brink of her annihilation.

If her mother hadn’t placed her hand on her shoulder, she probably would have fainted.

“I understand,” the blonde mumbled, a look of confusion on her face. “Anyway, I’m Enid, and that over there is my best friend Y/N,” she exclaimed enthusiastically.

Y/N timidly waved her hand as a greeting.

“I’m happy to meet you!” Enid exclaimed, filled with bubbly happiness, opening her arms and walking toward her.

Wednesday’s eyes widened and she quickly took a step back to avoid contact. The itch had appeared as soon as she entered this room and the gothic girl didn’t know if it was the blonde girl who was the possible cause. There was also the chance that it was the other girl, Y/N, but honestly she didn’t want to know in any case.

Enid slowed down and looked at her with disappointment.

“Oh… I see you’re not a hugging person,” she mumbled weakly, still wearing a big smile on her lips.

“Do you like the room?” she asked curiously, her eyes so bright it seemed like she had two stars instead of irises.

“No,” Wednesday replied venomously.

“Sorry… Wednesday… is allergic to colors,” her father justified and Enid raised her eyebrows in confusion.

“What does it do to you?” she asked weakly.

“My flesh is peeling off my bones,” Wednesday replied in a flat tone, her lips reduced to a thin line. She felt the itch slowly fade but the annoyance remained on her. A faint laugh reached her ears, forcing her to turn toward Enid’s best friend. “Sorry… that was funny,” the latter stammered trying to justify herself as her cheeks flushed.

Wednesday stared at her intensely, a visceral hatred bubbling within her.

“Well… I’ll go now,” Y/N mumbled weakly. The girl got up from the bed and Wednesday found herself analyzing her quickly: tall, slender, long y/c hair and eyes of the same color. A smile resided on her lips and the goth felt as if her own were about to rise in reflex

she held back.

“It was nice to meet you,” she mumbled timidly.

Y/N passed by her and the proximity was enough to awaken the unsettling sensation gripping her insides. But luckily for Wednesday, it lasted only a few seconds.

(...)

Nevermore turned out to be much more fascinating than Wednesday had imagined: gorgons, werewolves, sirens, vampires and all the other creatures that populated the world of outcasts. However, what intrigued her the most was the series of murders wreaking havoc in the quiet town of Jericho. A frenzy of curiosity filled her; she felt inspired.

She longed to discover the identity of the killer, continue her novel about Viper and investigate any mystery that could be connected to her ancestor Goody Addams.

She would think about escape later.

Regarding her curse, Wednesday had narrowed it down: Enid, Y/N, and Yoko. Tayler and Xavier had quickly been eliminated from her list. Tayler for covering her mouth during the excursion in the woods to avoid being discovered by Sheriff Galpin and Xavier for taking her to the infirmary when she fainted. In both cases, she hadn’t felt anything, a total absence of emotions.

But Y/N was different. She was almost 80% sure that you were her soulmate.

Every time they spoke, even if she could detect a note of sarcasm in your responses to her icy remarks, she felt a palpable energy between you two, an electric current that seemed to draw her closer to you. Her eyes couldn’t tear away from yours and an unbearable fire exploded in her chest. She found herself experiencing mental blackouts lost in your gaze and on more than one occasion she had even stammered. She hated the curse, hated herself, and above all, hated you.

But what got her into trouble were her thoughts crowding her mind like a chorus of impatient voices: Take her hand, kiss her, find out if you are her damn ruin. These thoughts didn’t manifest with Enid or Yoko. With Enid, there was a weak itch, a sense of comfort but not attraction, probably because they were roommates. And Yoko? Well, she was simply a friend of Enid and Y/N.

Wednesday blinked and directed her gaze back to her plate.

The goth found herself having lunch at a table with her roommate's group. Despite loving solitude, she found herself amidst Enid and Yoko, with Y/N sitting in front of her, a calm expression on her face.

The buzzing continued.

Wednesday was close to Enid, so close that their shoulders brushed against each other. Anxiety gripped her stomach but she needed to narrow down the list, she wanted to know: she bit her lower lip and decided to eliminate the distance by leaning her weight against Enid's shoulder.

Nothing.

“Oh, sorry,” Enid shifted.

Wednesday furrowed her brow. Why hadn’t anything happened? Maybe the contact needed to last longer? Should she hold her hand or something? The goth extended her hand and placed it on the blonde’s arm.

Nothing.

She quickly fell into a panic, the electricity increasing around her and decided to touch Yoko.

Absolutely nothing.

“Do you want to kill me? Did you touch garlic with those hands?” Yoko asked, panicking as she looked at Wednesday through her sunglasses.

“I don’t think so… You would have already burned,” Y/N commented playfully. Wednesday looked up and locked eyes with Y/N. This only meant one thing... Her suspicions were true.

It was you.

You were her soulmate.

Oh, fuck it.

[i2sunric]

𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓

enhypen hyung line fics based on daniel di angelo’s songs.

DISCLAIMER: these fics may contain heavy themes, smuts and angst. please be aware before reading and minors do not interact. i may change some things of the plots if i get better ideas.

STATUS: only sunghoon published.

a/n: PLEASE like and reblog to spread! i may be slow at writing but i promise i’ll publish as soon as i can + listen to those bangers 💋 COMMENT to be added to the taglist of the fic you want.

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 — 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐄

“you’ve fucked with the wrong type, baby i’m the wrong guy.”

PAIRING: ceo!heeseung x stripper!reader

SUMMARY: during your usual shift at the pub on one late friday night, you noticed a gloomy figure sat on a sofa, his whole demeanour screaming broken. you wanted to fix him, you wanted to make him shine, but some things are too shattered to be put back together. be careful or you might get broken as well.

WARNINGS: rough sex. unprotected sex, dirty talk, sex & sex, heeseung is toxic (or at least i tried), gaslighting, mentions of drugs, daddy issues, self hate, happy ending? (more to be added)

PUBLISHED: coming soon.

WC:??

TAGLIST: open

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐀𝐘 — 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

“i miss the way i used to fucking pull your hair, now you’re so far away.”

pairing: ex!jay x reader

summary: after breaking up with your boyfriend, time passed by but didn’t heal as many say. or at least for jay. he fell back in his old habits, drinking and smoking while trying to drown out his sadness; all until you receive a message from him and decide to make things right.

warnings: drinking and smoking. unprotected sex, dirty talk, doggy, toxic relationship, angst, self hate, hurt/comfort? (more to be added)

published: coming soon.

wc: ??

tag list: ??

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 — 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

“fucking all the time is wrong when you’re not mine, baby”

pairing: boyfriend’s best friend!sunghoon x reader

summary: just like eva did in the garden of eden, you fell under the serpent’s court and now are under his spell. you knew you shouldn’t betray your boyfriend, jake, like that when he was (not) so right for you, but seeing that he spent more time out for work made you seek the love and affection you needed, and who if not sunghoon could give you what you deserved?

warnings: cheating (don’t like, don’t read). unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), they fuck everywhere and i mean it, toxic, creampie, masturbating, pussy eating, fighting, kissing, jealousy, doggy, missionary, rough blowjob, angst if u squint? jake is a toxic bf, sunghoon low-key corrupts reader, reader is designed with a weak personality. lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

published: 6th August 2024

wc: 13.6k

tag list: closed.

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 — 𝐍𝐎 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏

“our relationship was better when we never fucked, like, but just sometimes.”

pairing: fuck buddy!jake x reader

summary: jake should’ve known better than making the drunken mistake of sleeping with his best friend. and he should’ve known better than falling for your tricks and become your friend with benefits. he really tries to talk you out of it but most of the time it’s his dick doing the thinking, and you don’t mind at all. problem is, his heart got tricked as well.

warnings: unprotected sex. dirty talk, fwb, smut, jake is a sucker (like down so bad), creampie, mentions of pregnancy (more to be added?)

published: coming soon.

wc:??

tag list:??

[ohbueckers]

WHAT’S MY NAME? i come alive in the nighttime. okay, away we go. only thing we have on is the radio.

THIS IS PART FOUR! pairing, paige bueckers x tutor!oc. notes, i think after this we can label paige as a crashout. this was so fun to write LMFAO. i’ll also be making a masterlist soon. warnings, minimal arguing ou… more sexual content & possessive paige? real tender or whatever.

liana sat between her two friends, their laughter mingling with the low hum of conversation around them. it had been a while since she had allowed herself to relax—her mind, atleast. no tutoring sessions, no basketball players, and, well… naomi was still there. she was always anywhere liana was, even if it wasn’t physically. paige had started to become that for her as well, but in a scarily good way. she was consuming her thoughts. tonight, however was just about good food, good drinks, and good company in a restaurant they’d been to a countless amount of times just outside of storrs, because quite frankly, there is literally nothing to do in storrs.

on her left, sat her friend amara, who was leaning back in her chair, her long faux locs cascading over her shoulders as she toyed with the silver ring in her septum. across from her was malik, dressed in his usual vibrant button-up, the fabric stretching slightly over his chest as he gestured exaggeratedly while recounting a story about his latest date. his animated storytelling along with the side notes had them both in stitches, and it felt good.

“i’m just saying, if he orders another round of oysters, i’m gonna have to start questioning his intentions,” malik teased, his grin widening as he leaned forward. amara snorted, nearly choking on her drink as she held up a hand, beginning to wave it around.

“okay, okay, but you survived, right? and now you know what to avoid on your next date,” she replied, always one to find a fair conclusion. she had one happy perspective on life, something incredibly admirable but also annoying at times. “wait… speaking of dates…”

liana froze for a second, her fork hovering over her plate of pasta. she had been waiting for this. a night out meant catching up, and catching up meant eventually diving into the complicated mess that was paige and naomi.

over the course of a few weeks, paige and liana had grown closer, sharing intimate moments that hinted at something deeper, yet never fully crossing that line. naomi, on the other hand, was becoming more aware of the growing distance between them. i mean, how could she not know? it was becoming painfully obvious liana was seeing someone else, sneaking around. but maybe she just didn’t wanna believe it.

she had been putting in more effort though, which was also an obvious factor. it was like she was holding onto something that had died out awhile ago, and while liana had found a distraction—or whatever it was, naomi just became more possessive. she always had been.

she’d been stopping by her apartment unannounced, resulting in paige having to hunch over in the closet for fifteen minutes (which the blonde still won’t let her forget), sending thoughtful, but not worth much texts, and even suggesting they spend more time together. but naomi had yet to ask the question that remained unanswered, despite it being the most important: where did they stand? and liana, in turn, didn’t have the answers… so maybe it was a good thing she hadn’t.

“what do you mean?” she asked, faking her innocence with those wide eyes, twirling some more pasta around her fork.

“liana, please spare me!” amara shouted, throwing her hands up in the air in mock surrender as she burst into laughter. her necklace caught the dim light above them, glancing at malik, who already knew what was up, then back at liana, whose quiet demeanor hadn’t gone unnoticed. “you’ve been so unusually quiet tonight, and i know exactly why. it’s because of paige, isn’t it?”

liana’s fork hovered over her plate as she looked up, trying to play it off with a shrug. but amara wasn’t having it.

“doooon’t even try to deny it,” she continued, leaning forward on her elbows. “you didn’t even know her a few weeks ago, and now she’s all you think about. and might i add, she’s paige bueckers of all people. like, i can’t believe my bestfriend is climbing that coconut tree.”

liana began to hide her head in her hands, elbows propped up on the table. “amara!” her smile was infectious, and despite her attempt to scold her friend, she couldn’t help but let it slip. amara grinned back, knowing she had hit a nerve.

“you ever talk to naomi about… all this?” there it was.

liana’s smile faltered for a moment. “not really. i mean, not directly.”

malik raised an eyebrow from his spot across from the two girls. “not directly?” he repeated, clearly not aware. “y’all still haven’t talked?”

liana sighed, her fingers toying with the edge of her napkin. “we’ve talked… but not about this. not about where we’re headed, what we’re doing. she’s trying, but—”

“but it’s not the same,” amara finished for her, her tone softening. “i get it. things got weird after… you know. but maybe talking it out would help.”

liana nodded, though she wasn’t convinced. she knew her friends had their history with naomi too, so it made sense as to why they’d try and help her out, even if it was just a little bit. they were the ones who had introduced them, after all. naomi knew her better than anyone before paige, but now… paige might just be stepping her up.

malik chimed in, swirling his drink lazily, the ice clinking against the glass. his eyes were half-lidded, a sure sign it was time to get out of there before he had one too many. “i’ve never really seen her with any girl. paige, i mean. like, ever. she’s always got that ‘untouchable’ vibe, you know? like she’s too focused on basketball to even bother.”

he wasn’t exactly wrong, and everyone knew it—but liana, seemingly always out of the loop and a homebody for that matter, didn’t. she went in completely blind, only to come out knowing everything. the blonde definitely did have her fun, but liana was indeed different.

amara picked up her own drink, grinning ear to ear. “and yet, she’s in your phone. clearly, you’re the exception.” she was just glad the topic had changed.

liana shrugged, trying to play it cool even though her insides were twisting. “i don’t know about that.”

malik laughed, shaking his head. “nah, you definitely are. trust me.”

liana smiled, a rather lazy one, but her mind was already elsewhere, thinking about paige. she pulled out her phone, her fingers itching to text her. it was almost funny how she hadn’t had any desire to reach out to naomi, like this blonde had swept in and made her forget. they had been messaging on and off throughout the night, nothing serious—just a few jokes, some comments about her day. but now, with the alcohol in her system and the her friends’ words fresh in her brain, she found herself wanting to reach out again.

she unlocked her phone, the screen lighting up with their latest conversation. paige had just sent her a picture of her sneakers—beat-up and covered in scuff marks after hours of practice.

You’re the one with the endorsements, remember?

😂 True, true.

You made it home yet?

liana glanced around the table, watching as malik and amara engaged in a slightly tipsy debate about whatever was on their minds. she smiled to herself before typing out her response.

We’re about to head out and call an Uber soon, so I’ll call you when I get home.

paige’s reply came almost immediately.

Let me come get you.

You’ve had a long day. You don’t need to do all that.

Liana dpmo 😂

You know I wanna see you

I’ll be there in 5.

she hesitated, looking at her friends once again who were now deep in conversation. she laughed softly at the pure absurdity of her situation, sending a quick reply before locking her phone and slipping it back into her pocket. “alright, guys. change of plans. paige is coming to get us.”

amara raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile on her face. “look at that, getting the vip treatment! could get used to this.” she nudged her, eliciting a playful glare from liana who was all around pretty tipsy and ready to go, but the thought of seeing paige tonight made things a little better. maybe she really did have her wrapped around her finger, or she was just lucky. perhaps both.

a few minutes later, they were outside, huddled together against the cool air that november brought. liana spotted paige’s car pulling up, and as the headlights washed over them, she felt her pulse quicken. when the car came to a stop, paige stepped out, rounding the corner and looking effortlessly good in a simple black hoodie and jeans. her hair was tied back in a low bun, and she flashed the three in front of her a smile.

“y’all ready?” paige asked. she hadn’t even looked tired, like she woke herself up for this.

amara blinked up at paige as she approached. “you’re taller in person,” she said, squinting as if trying to confirm it.

“it’s the shoes. but i am all legs,” paige entertained, helping amara into the car before making sure malik was good himself. once everyone was settled, liana climbed into the passenger seat beside paige, who gave her a quick glance as she started to fasten her seatbelt.

the car rumbled to life, and as paige pulled out of the parking lot, the conversation in the backseat continued, but liana found herself more focused on the subtle shifts in paige’s demeanor—the way her fingers drummed lightly on the steering wheel, the small smirk that lingered on her lips. she was nervous. or anticipating something.

the rest of the car ride was pretty silent as malik and amara’s laughter and voices gradually faded into sleepy murmurs in the backseat, neither paige nor liana wanting to break it, knowing there were things better left unsaid while her friends were still in the car. even though, with the way amara was slumped against the door and malik’s head was tilted back, they probably wouldn’t have acknowledged or remembered much of anything by morning.

paige had her elbow leaned against the door, fingers stroking her chin as she drove with her opposite hand. it was a casual, almost absent-minded gesture, but it still held liana’s attention. she tried not to stare, but the small bit of alcohol she’d had made it harder to care. she seemed deep in thought—her eyes fixed on the road but her mind clearly elsewhere.

when they finally arrived at the dorms, liana turned in her seat to make sure her friends were okay to walk themselves. malik was already half out of the car, mumbling something incoherent as he navigated his way to the door. amara followed behind him, offering a tired wave to paige’s cracked window as she mumbled, “thanks for the ride, superstar.”

the blonde chuckled, waiting a few before pulling off. liana’s apartment was a bit of a ride from campus, but she found it less hectic to have her own space. “still can’t believe paige bueckers made time for me tonight,” liana said softly, almost teasingly, as she let her eyes wander wherever they wanted to go.

paige glanced over at her, one eyebrow raised in jocularity. “i always make time for you.” she hesitated, letting her shuffled music play through the car for a brief moment. “a four hour practice today, and i couldn’t resist seeing you before tomorrow.” and it was true. between all the practices, the games, and everything else pulling her in different directions, she had still made time for liana.

paige was used to getting what she wanted. not that she ever had to really try, it just happened. so the fact that liana was toying with her, in knowing of it or not, fully and completely messed with her brain. on the court, she could control the game, dictate the pace, and make split-second decisions that would leave her opponents scrambling. off the court, it wasn’t much different. with liana, she thought she’d be able to break her barriers down from the moment their first tutoring session ended, and she did in a way, but there was one that still needed to be tore down, and the fact that it wasn’t exactly easy frustrated her… because the barrier was a person, and a person is a hard obstacle.

the thought of liana’s smile, her laugh, the way she’d tilt her head slightly when she was really listening… it all made paige crave her more. the little things. and knowing that naomi had access to that and much more before she’d even met her, made her blood boil. yes, maybe they weren’t exactly together, but her teammates had really gotten into her head about the history thing, and the truth was, it did matter. it made things complicated. made it so that paige couldn’t just step in and take what she wanted without consequence. without someone getting hurt.

the conversation shifted, liana going on about her day as she leaned against the headrest. she made sure to leave out conversation details, but when paige was comfortable, she was one to prodde… and let’s just say blondie is already real comfortable.

“so, you didn’t talk about me?” paige pressed, her tone light and all-around teasing. normal.

liana’s usual wide eyes were lower and more lidded tonight, meeting paige’s with a growing smile. “is that so hard to believe?”

paige laughed, shaking her head. “it’s hard to believe because it isn’t true.”

they shared a look before liana looked away, rolling her eyes. the blonde licked her lips, stroking her chin once again as she thought about the next question. the one she really wanted to ask.

“talk about naomi, too?” paige asked casually, trying to keep her voice steady, almost as if it didn’t matter to her.

liana’s smile faltered slightly, and paige noticed. that small hesitation, the brief change in her expression—it told her more than words ever could. paige had learned that she was bad at hiding that. it made her think about how long she could keep this from naomi.

“yeah, a little,” liana admitted, her voice softening as she glanced out the window. her mind flashed to the conversation she’d had with amara and malik earlier. the part where naomi had been brought up and dissected, the part she’d deliberately left out when talking to paige just now.

the taller girl’s grip tightened a tad on the steering wheel, not purposefully… almost instinct. of course she did.

paige hesitated for a moment, choosing her next words carefully. she didn’t want to push too hard, but the question had been on her mind for a while, lingering in the background of their conversations. it finally slipped out, almost too casual, yet loaded with everything she was feeling.

“have you?”

it was a vague and simple question, but it required a longer response.

liana turned her head away from the window, her eyes narrowing slightly as she faced her. “why, paige?” her tone was a little sharper, mainly because she didn’t expect paige to force this type of reply out of her. she knew what she was getting at, but she wasn’t about to make it easy for her.

paige let out a breathy, frustrated laugh, shaking her head. “man…” she stopped herself in attempt not to raise her voice. “you gon’ fix that attitude around me, liana. i’m just askin’. just wanna know if… y’know… if she came up. that’s all.” her was on the road, but liana could see the way she subtly shifted in her seat, her knee angling outward as she manspreaded just slightly.

liana’s jaw tightened, and suddenly the dashboard was the most interesting thing ever. “you already know the answer.” her voice was a mumble, and you can believe she indeed fixed that attitude after being asked.

paige’s lips pressed into a thin line, running a hand down her face. “aight, cool. just makin’ sure.” she tried to brush it off, masking it as that being the only thing she wanted out of her question as they pulled up in front of liana’s place.

the car fell into silence, the engine the only sound being heard as paige shifted into park. she leaned back in her seat, exhaling slowly, trying to cool down atleast a little bit before either of them spoke. she clasped her hands together in the area her open legs left her, gazing down. she hated feeling like this—out of control. because although she was upset, there wasn’t much she could do about it.

liana sighed herself, uncomfortable with the tension their words had brought. the situation had sobered her just enough as she unbuckled her seatbelt, but didn’t move to get out. instead, she looked over at paige, her expression soft. “you really want me to stay clear of naomi?”

paige turned her head, meeting liana’s eyes with a quickness. that was all she wanted, she just knew she couldn’t be the one to say it. “i mean… i ain’t gonna lie, it’d be nice. but you grown. do what you want.”

“shut up.” liana rolled her eyes at the nonchalant act, a small smile tugging at her lips. “you and your half-ass answers.”

paige chuckled. it seemed like her smile was enough to make her forget about everything as she reached out to brush a stray curl from liana’s face. “nah, i’m serious, though. i just—” her voice trailed off, and liana could see the conflict in her eyes, tilting her head a little as if daring her to finish her sentence. let her be vulnerable.

before she could overthink it, liana leaned in, her lips brushing against paige’s, testing the waters. the blonde responded instantly, her hand sliding to liana’s neck, holding it gently as she deepened the kiss. the intensity spiked, eyebrows furrowed as they attempted to devour every bit of each other, heads leaning in opposite directions.

liana shifted, climbing over the center console and straddling paige’s lap which had become her designated spot at this point, her fingers sprawled out on her shoulders. paige groaned, her hands gripping liana’s hips as she pulled her closer, glancing down at where their bodies met. the kiss turned hungrier, more desperate.

paige’s hands roamed over liana’s body, exploring the curve of her waist before slipping down to her ass, squeezing possessively. she immediately got back to work, using her hand to tilt her head to the side for better access to her neck. liana gasped softly when she felt paige’s lips linger in one spot, then the slight sting of her teeth as she bit down gently, marking her up.

“p, did you just leave a hickey?” liana asked, completely breathless as she touched the marks on her neck.

“mmhm. a few, baby.” her voice was a low murmur, but the girl atop her had managed to make it out. she trailed her lips back up to liana’s catching her mouth in another kiss. the car felt like it was getting smaller, and definitely hotter. liana’s hands moved up under paige’s hoodie, fingers brushing over her abs before reaching her breasts. paige groaned into the kiss, her breath hitching at her touch. she was being drove to the absolute edge with this girl.

her grip on liana tightened, pulling her even closer, and the kiss deepened, both of them losing themselves in the moment, as if nothing else existed outside of that car. but then liana pulled back slightly, her breathing ragged, her eyes shifting between paige’s eyes and lips. “‘m gonna tell her.”

paige blinked, momentarily disoriented by the sudden shift in conversation. “what?”

“naomi,” liana clarified, glancing down at her hands. “i’m gonna talk to her. end it,” she repeated more clearly.

paige’s heart pounded in her chest, and she wasn’t sure how to feel. was it really that easy, all she had to do was ask? she didn’t respond right away, just kissed her harder, almost like she was sealing the promise between them. liana responded just as eagerly, fingers curling into the fabric of paige’s hoodie as if she needed to hold on to something solid.

it was only when they both pulled back for what felt like the millionth time that night to talk, breathless and flushed, that liana realized paige had whispered something else—something she couldn’t quite make out. she opened her mouth to ask, but paige was already leaning back, her eyes searching liana’s face. “can i come up?” her voice was softer now, hesitant.

liana hesitated herself, stopping her movements. since ted’s they’d done a lot, clearly, but had never really took it all the way. she wasn’t sure paige was even aware of why. she needed more time.

“not tonight.” she saw a look of slight disappointment on the blonde’s face, and made sure to add that it would be soon. they’d need to find a right time, and right now, while there were still some things to sort out, it wouldn’t have been good.

paige chuckled, nodding against the headrest. “alright. soon.”

[yikimiki]

>> bones and ashes

⚔️ sukuna x fem!reader | warnings for: violence, mentions of death, possessiveness (sukuna is as evil as they come so basically every red flag under the sun), non-con that turns into dub-con (Stockholm syndrome), mentions of virginity loss, anatomically impossible size difference (if u know what I mean), blood play, etc | around 5-6k words | also important to note that I absolutely assassinated the canon lore in some points but bare with me

Sukuna doesn’t really have the ability to love. But he thinks he gets close enough when it comes to you. Of course, in his own twisted, macabre way.

Sukuna isn’t familiar to the concept of fondness, let alone anything more profound or meaningful than that. He knows want, desire, possession, curiosity even. But none of those feelings have ever tilted towards the side of affection, nor does he want them to. They’re all narcissistic pulses that keep pushing him forward — towards more power, more control, more of what he can become. He’s not even fond of his own abilities. Arrogant? Perhaps, but not fond. He can’t be fond of something he knows is not at its peak yet, that would just be weakness.

And Sukuna is everything but weak.

He sees you in a cold winter morning and he does what he knows best: he takes. Takes your pride, your virginity, your blood. Takes you like he took the lives of the rest of your village, paints your skin red and watches as the tears wash it away. Sukuna takes and takes until you have nothing left to give, just like he has done countless times before and yet… this time, something switches.

This time, he decides to let you live. Trapped in a dark cell, of course, but alive regardless.

The days move slowly, and you learn to mark their passing by the loud, clanking sound of a metal dish being thrown through a cracked door. The food is mostly raw meet and, after a few days of disgust, you cave in and eat a little of it. Not enough to be satisfied, not even close, but enough to keep you alive for at least a few hours longer.

Sukuna comes by in irregular intervals, and you soon give up on trying to find a pattern in his visits. You know it’s him from the way the door creaks open even further to accommodate his size, and you watch as his large shadow observes your movements for a moment before he kicks the disgusting plate towards you. Most of time time he’s there, you force yourself to eat, afraid of what should come if you turn down his unspoken commands. Once he seems satisfied, he exits without a word.

There is one single advantage in being in a windowless, isolated cell: you can’t hear what goes on up there. You’ve heard enough the day that Sukuna came to your village — the shattering screams, the pleads for mercy, the babies crying, the sound of wood and bone breaking almost too similar to differentiate. You saw creatures beyond your realm and heard awful whispers and threats; held you family as they died and gave up as the snow beneath your hands became as red as the burning sky above. And you know enough about Sukuna’s legend to be aware that it wasn’t an isolated incident.

When evil incarnate arrives, there’s not much you can do but surrender.

Though, when it comes to the legends, you thought that his palace was more of a manner of speak than an actual location. Once again, though, you’ve heard enough legends to know when to stop inquiring about the details.

Sukuna comes in after a week with a plan and a cloud of amusement over his head — frankly, given the state you were in, he thought you would be dead by now. Your stubborn hold on life is as impressive as it is pathetic.

“You looked so small when I first saw you,” his thunderous voice breaks the silence. There’s no food in his hands this time, only the fire cracking behind his form. You’re sitting down on the cold floor, back against the wall, and you don’t even bother looking up at him. “You look even smaller now.”

You don’t answer, because you don’t know what to say. Of course you’re smaller — you’re weak, starving, lacking movement and sunlight. Every muscle in your body aches and the aftertaste of dried blood never leaves your mouth. Smaller is a compliment; you wish you were just bones and ashes by now.

Sukuna takes a heavy step inside the dark chamber. “I killed everyone you’ve ever loved that day,” he says, bluntly. There’s no amusement nor sorrow in his tone — it’s a neutral statement. He lowers himself to your level and, on the corner of your eyes, you see his four arms. He is so wrong, even in a physical sense. Like the scar of something that shouldn’t even exist. “And yet… you live. Do you want to know why?”

You sneer. “I wish you’d just let me die.”

He chuckles, and one hand meets the side of your head. His fingers dig into the dirty, messy strings and pulls on the roots. There are tears on the corners of your eyes but you refuse to let him see them. “That’s exactly why you’re alive,” he says. “I knew you were ready to die when I saw you — all bloodied up, on your knees in the snow. It was quite a sight.” Sukuna’s voice is a malicious whisper as he comes even closer to you — he smells rotten. The tongue that licks up your cheek makes you want to puke. He tastes you the same way as he did on the first day, and you have no idea what he’s searching for. “Tell me, why were you so ready to give yourself to me? Most try to plead at least.”

“Plead for what? Your mercy?” The sarcasm is clear through your tone. The words you mean to say are knotted in the base of your throat and the odor Sukuna reeks is making you dizzy; making you remember everything that came before this. “I— I didn’t have anything else to live for,” you stutter. “You killed… you killed my mother, my father, my baby brother… why would I want to live without them? Why would I humiliate myself asking for mercy from a creature that clearly doesn’t have any to spare?”

Through anger, you look up at him. His eyes are flames bursting through the darkness, and they shine as your words settle on his skin. “Do you only live for love, my little dove?” He asks. “What a purposeless life you have.”

“Do you only live for hate?” You ask back before you can hold your tongue. Somewhere in your mind, you know that he’s capable of unimaginable evil, but you are beyond the point of caution. “What a purposeless legacy you’re leaving behind.”

This angers him. The corners of his mouth twists as he speaks. “You people fear me. Even the strongest of sorcerers doesn’t dare to go against me.”

“I pity you and your ridiculous need for destroying what isn’t yours,” you spit. “And I hate you for keeping me alive. I hate you for everything you’ve done to me and to the people I love. And I hate that you even dare to come here and talk to me like I’m the smaller person for daring to care about something.”

The hands on your hair tighten and he pulls your face against his. Sukuna’s forehead is a furnace against yours, his eyes burn into your soul. “You little insect, I could kill you with a snap of my fingers if I wanted to.”

Your voice shakes but you say it regardless: “Do it, then, what are you waiting for?”

“No,” his answer is more cruel than death could ever be. And he knows that. “And you know why?”

“If you are keeping me alive to have your way with me, so be it, have it,” you say. The tears are obvious now. You wonder if he can smell how fearful you really are. “Violate me like you did before, I don’t care anymore, but just don’t keep me alive just to waste me away.”

His lips are touching yours now, but you can’t pull away even if you tried. Sukuna’s chest is heaving like he’s in the middle of a battle, his voice like a roar in your ears. “Then ask. For. My Mercy.”

“I w-would n-never…”

“Ask!” It’s a loud command that crashes against you like a wave. You sink like there is no adrenaline in your body to keep you afloat; the anger that moved you before is no longer within your reach.

The truth is clear: you’re human. He’s a curse — the king of curses, older than you could ever imagine; probably even more powerful than the legends you’ve heard. His eyes say that there are fates worse than death and you believe them. And maybe, just maybe, if you play by his rules, he’ll grow tired of you and let you wither away.

“P-Please,” you are sobbing now, tears falling down like a cascade. Sukuna licks them and hums in satisfaction, watching as you break apart into a mountain of hiccups and trembling limbs. “Please just… have mercy on me. I’ll do whatever you want just — please, stop torturing me like this.”

“Aw,” he coos. “Was that so hard?”

You want to say that yes, somehow, that took everything still left in you. You want to say that if he wanted to break your spirit, congratulations, he’s done it. But you don’t get the chance.

Sukuna kisses you with the same ferocity you expected, sharp teeth crashing against yours and tongue exploring your mouth with no prior warning. He groans as he tastes you — you, the blood in your food, the salt of your tears — and suddenly it’s all that he will ever crave again. You whimper against his lips as his two lower arms crawl up your thighs and hold onto your hips, pushing you against him as he stands up and presses you against the wall. You feel more caged now than you have felt these past few days.

“Silly little human,” he raps against your lips, then licks your cheek for more of your precious tears. He realizes how much he likes to make you cry. You wince and give out a little sob, which only makes him smile. Finally, his grip on your hair loosens. “What is my name?”

You blink, dumbfounded by the sudden question. “S-Sukuna…?”

He pouts. “Say it like you mean it or I won’t be so nice.”

“Sukuna,” you say more firmly this time.

“There we go, that’s a good girl,” he says. “See how things just work better when you don’t misbehave? Hm?”

You nod. He doesn’t like it. “Y-Yes, I see, I’m sorry.”

“Very good.” The hand that was on your hair moves to hold your face, and it’s so huge that you feel like it would crush your skull with one single movement. As the other two arms hold onto your thighs, the fourth limb squeezes your breast. “Now, this is what’s going to happen, my pretty little human,” Sukuna starts, “I will have my servants take you to my chambers. You will be washed, clothed, and taken care of. They will feed you proper human food this time, whichever it is that your heart desires. How does that sound?”

Sounds like a trap. “And, in return, what do I have to do for you?”

“What do I have to do for you…?” He raises his eyebrows.

“Sukuna,” you complete.

“There’s my perfect little girl,” he says. You hate that something inside you likes the praise. “You will have to wait for me there. Do whatever you prefer, but don’t leave my room. Any attempt at escaping or killing yourself will be futile, and I’ve already warned every single curse that your death will result in a much more dire future for them. So you will be brought back to me. And I promise I won’t be so nice.”

“I understand… Sukuna,” you correct yourself quickly. It doesn’t go unnoticed.

The hand on your breast squeezes tighter, and you bite your lip so you don’t complain. “I knew I was right when I brought you here, something made me spare you. Yet, I don’t know what it is just yet.”

Sukuna is a looming threat above you, his limbs trapping you, and his deep voice is like thunder about to break. You know why so many fear him — you fear him too. And the sooner you act like it, the sooner he’ll grow tired of you. Sooner he’ll realize he was wrong in bringing you into his fortress.

He smirks. “But I believe I’ll discover soon enough.”

- ⚔️ -

Sukuna’s chambers are as spacious and monstrous as himself — corners switching and adjusting like breathing flesh; furniture morphing into different shapes; the weird odor of something old; the feeling for something lurking. The large windows show a world between worlds; a reality that doesn’t seem right no matter how long you stare at it. His palace is in a dimension you can’t reach, and you give up on trying to understand it. If anything, the more you wonder about it, the more you shake under the weight of the sheer power it must take to keep it all existing like solid matter.

Your passage of time is morphed and unreliable, but you would guess that a couple weeks have passed by the time that you come to terms that, perhaps, Sukuna isn’t as easy to bore as you first expected. The fire in his eyes doesn’t seem to diminish as he sees you — if anything, his eagerness to have you all to himself only seems to expand — and the way he takes care of you makes you realize that he isn’t planning on letting you die anytime soon.

Life in his chambers is far more comfortable, you admit, but it’s a prison nonetheless. Still, you can’t say that you are mistreated. In his chambers, you are bathed and clothed, well-fed and pampered. You soon come back to your normal weight and the fatigue leaves your body; there is more space to move, more things to do. The curses that come to check on you seem to be strangely kind and human-like, though you know it’s out of fear and not out of worry, and they keep your mind occupied with several stories and legends as the days move on.

Sukuna is more absent than you would have imagined, conquering and killing as often as he can. When he finally comes to you he is clean, recently bathed, but you can still see he is fresh from a battle, some mindless corruption beyond the horizon that you would rather hear nothing about. There are shallow scars and deep cuts that heal unreasonably quickly; dried blood that hasn’t quite washed away and ashes beneath his fingernails.

You ask whose village he has attacked this time, but he says it doesn’t matter, because there are no survivors.

“I never leave any survivors,” he completes, kissing your forehead, “besides you, my little human.”

You don’t push beyond that information, but the feeling of being special, chosen, starts to blossom like a dangerous rose inside your chest. It stings and stings, but grows regardless, and you see yourself less able to fight against his possessive claims. You start to enjoy them. You start to wonder if life beyond those walls is worth fighting for when you seem to have everything you would ever wish for right here.

You can always tell when Sukuna is about to arrive in this world because the atmosphere switches into something darker, heavier. The air seems thicker and the clouds beyond your windows start to bleed into a deep shade of red. Sukuna returns with the apocalypse on his back, and, when he does, he uses your body as he pleases.

Like the room around you, there is constant change. Sometimes it hurts like hell; sometimes it’s pleasurable. Sometimes you wish it would just end and you end up crying in despair; sometimes you look at him like you might get used to feeling him inside of you. Some days, Sukuna is kinder, more patient, taking time to adjust you to his enormous size and even makes sure that you enjoy it before reaching his end; fucking you full of his cum until you can’t think of one single thing besides him. Other days, you know he is angry just by the way he walks through the door — and, in those days, you are left bleeding and bruised as he uses your body in every single way until he’s close enough to satisfied. That, on itself, can take a long, long time.

You realize that, during those violent days, he could use one of his curses to please himself, but he prefers to use you — because you bleed, you cry, and you suffer. As long as your pain exists, his interest is unwavering.

However, like everything else, you adapt, get used to it. Routine becomes familiar and you learn the tell-tale signs of his rancid mood; learn how to make it a little better and what things to avoid. You stop thinking about getting away — you don’t even have anywhere else to go — and start longing for his presence as he takes more time to come back home. Sukuna is warm, safe; next to him you know you are shielded from any harm. When he appears, no one dares to look or touch you, no one speaks until they are spoken to. Just by being in his gravitational pull, you are protected and no harm will ever come your way again.

Even if it hurts, you start hoping that he won’t get tired of you.

Sukuna, on the other hand, isn’t quite sure how he feels about it all.

It’s not love — he has gone over that one a few hundred times already, has marked off every possible scenario and imagined every possible feeling, and he is sure it isn’t love. To be frank, he doesn’t even think he’s capable of it even if he wanted to, he sold his soul too long ago to even remember how normal humans love. But if it’s not love, it’s something similar — a kind of tenderness, fondness. He has a soft spot for you, to put it bluntly. Though not in the typical sense.

Sukuna adores you like a painter adores his favorite canvas; like an exotic bird in a cage — he adores you with possession, obsession, with the knowledge that you can’t ever get away from his grip. He is fond of you in a way that he would murder anyone who would even dare to touch what is his; but would never set you free. He can hurt you, he can tear you into pieces and build you to his liking. Sukuna can kiss you or bite you; hug or break you, but it’s because you’re his little pet and no one else’s.

He is fond of the way you bend for him; the way you look at him with sheer adoration in your eyes even after he has taken everything from you. He is fond of the way that only he could kill you; that your small life is in his hands and you thank him for it. Sukuna is fond of the way your tight little cunt stretches so wide to take his fat cock; lives for the little whimpers you give out and the tears that stain his satin sheets when he finally allows you to cum for him. If he could crawl inside your soul, he would. If he could take it and eat it and have you forever, he would.

He doesn’t know why he craves you so much, but he knows that nothing else gives him the same high anymore.

So he keeps you.

It’s a heavy stormy night when he comes back the next time, and his room is only illuminated by a few candles and the lightening from outside. You’re in his large bed, looking as small as that day in the snow, and there is a touch of worry in your eyes that he doesn’t miss. But he ignores it.

“Undress,” he commands.

You rush to do as he says, throwing the faint fabric over your head. It falls to the ground as Sukuna walks towards the bed, his massive weight making it dip under his knee as he leans closer to you.

“My pretty little doll,” Sukuna muses. “Missed me?”

He always asks that. And your answer is always the same.

“So much, Sukuna.”

It’s more honest every time.

He hums, satisfied, and smirks as he pushes your hair away from your face. “I have something to tell you, and I think you will like it,” Sukuna says. You look at him with wide eyes as he settles over you, his four arms caging your body as you lay down. The mouth on his stomach open and closes, a large tongue coming out before it vanishes again — it always does it when he’s particularly excited. “Would you like to know what it is?”

You know he will tell you regardless. Like all the tales of his battles, he lives for the glimpse of horror in the back of your eyes. “Yes, Sukuna.”

“Seems like you are famous now,” he starts. You furrow your eyebrows. “Sorcerers are trying to save you. The poor little human girl that Sukuna took as a prisoner months ago.” He kisses your neck, then licks the skin. You shiver — months, it has been months then. “Two of them tried to enter my domain today, stupid little insects,” he continues. Another hand lands on your exposed breast, playing with your nipple. “You have no idea how enraged that made me, my little human. To have someone try to take you away from me; to try and to enter my domain and take you from me.”

His voice turns into a growl by the end of the sentence, and you feel the familiar pulse of terror running through your veins. He’s in a bad mood, that’s obvious, but there’s something hiding beneath that as well.

“What did you do to them?” You ask. “Did they get in?”

Sukuna chuckles darkly, and the hand that was on your breast now settles on your clit, massaging it softly. “I took care of them, my sweet thing, of course,” he says. Your breath hitches at the slow pleasure of his movements, and your eyes flutter shut. “No one will ever take you from me.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” you say without a thought. In your heart, you feel it’s wrong. But without him, you have nothing. “I’m yours forever, Sukuna.”

“I know you are,” he answers.

Sukuna holds you by the throat as he kisses you — not enough to suffocate you, but enough to make you a little dizzy. Your eyes cross mindlessly as his tongue invades your mouth; a deep groan coming from his chest as he tastes your lips. He always kisses you violently, possessively, like he wishes to suck your soul out of your chest. Beneath his size you can only shrink and hold onto his large biceps, the wetness between your legs growing as he takes what is his.

He pulls back, ignoring the string of saliva that connects you two. “Pretty little thing,” he muses, shoving his middle finger inside your mouth. “Suck for me.”

You do as he says and he smirks at the feeling of your pretty lips around his large finger. Soon enough, the same digit is invading your pussy, curling up so quickly that you see starts at your peripheral vision.

“Relax or it’ll hurt again,” he says — not like he cares about it. “I want you to remember tonight.”

“W-Why?”

“Because I’ll make sure that you’ll be mine forever,” he says, a devilish smile on the corners of his lips. “So no one can take you from me. No one would even try.”

Your breath is getting heavier, and you don’t even register what he’s telling you — he could do a billion things to you and you’d still let him. The time spent only in his company made your resolution vanish, and you became exactly what he wanted you to: another possession for him to do as he pleases. Because of him, you have nothing else. Besides him, you have nothing.

“You’re not cumming around my finger tonight,” he says and quickly removes his hand from your cunt. You whine at the sudden emptiness, walls spasming around nothing, but you know better than to protest. “It’s going to be around my cock, you got it?”

“Yes, Sukuna,” you say.

“Good girl,” he muses. His lower arms move to undo his pants as his mouth attacks yours once again. His sharp teeth drain blood from your lips and he groans at the metallic taste; drinks the little sob of pain you let out. “You’re all fucking mine. Forever,” he growls, “I’ll make you live forever with me.”

Months ago, that would be torture. But now, “It sounds like heaven, Sukuna,” you say. “I love you.”

Your vision falls to where his hands are working. His cock is massive, bigger than your forearm, balls swinging out of his shorts and falling heavy under his shaft. Your entire body tingles in anticipation as he strokes himself, aligning his cockhead with your opening. “Tiny fucking cunt,” he curses, rubbing it against your soaked folds. “I’ll train you to take my cock even better than now, kitten.” Your mouth falls open as he starts to push in and it hurts — no matter how many times you’ve taken him, it always burns. “Way too fucking tight for my fat cock, you know that?”

“I-I’m sorry, I’ll do better-“

He chuckles. “I fucking love it.”

In one strong motion, he shoves himself as deep as he can, pressing against your cervix as you whine at his size. It isn’t fair — it’s so thick you can’t even breathe, you can feel him in your stomach, pressing and pulsing until you can’t think of anything but the sheer size of his massive cock inside your poor little hole. Your walls hurt to accommodate his girth, stretching as far as they can, but it never seems like it’s enough.

“It’s t-too big, Sukuna,” you whine. And it is. You know he must be doing something to your body so you can even be alive right now, because it’s not humanly possible to take such a big cock. “I c-can’t…”

His hand lands on your head and pulls at the roots. “You are my special little human, my obedient little girl,” he reminds you. His cock throbs inside you and you whimper, the small movement alone makes you drool. “You will do anything I tell you to do.”

You nod. “Y-Yes.”

“So when I tell you to take it….” He rolls his hips even deeper and you call his name so loud that you’re sure the entire world will hear it. “You’ll fucking take it.”

You don’t even have the ability to answer as he starts to pound deep inside your soaked cunt, hard and violent, as he is. Your vision is blurry with tears as you look down to see his massive cock bullying itself again and again inside your cunt, taking everything you have to give.

“Look at me when I claim you,” Sukuna warns and you do it instantly. Your legs wrap around his hips and he squeezes your ass so hard it will bruise. There’s a malicious glint in his red eyes that never quite goes away, no matter how much he tries, and now it’s deadset on you. “My precious little girl,” he calls, voice strained with pleasure. You can tell from the way his cock throbs that he is close, but it doesn’t matter. He just keeps going. “You told me you love me. Do you only live for love, kitten?”

“I live f-for loving you, S-Sukuna,” you respond automatically. “I live for you.”

Sukuna groans like an animal — he adores what a stupid little fuckdoll he has turned you into. He can never get tired of this; he can never let it get away. “You’ll die for me, kitten?”

You nod so quickly you get dizzy. “Yes, a-anything… I’m yours f-forever.”

He calls your name like he has never done before, a little insane, a little sweet. If the sheer size of Sukuna’s genitals aren’t anything to go by, he cums a lot — it oozes out of your cunt before he’s even halfway through, cock throbbing and leaking again and again until you’re filled to the brim. His huge balls smack against your ass as he continues to bully himself inside you, a little more desperate now, intoxicated by his own pleasure.

There’s no rest, there never is. He only takes and takes.

“I’ll make you mine,” he groans.

“I’m yours, Sukuna, I’m yours…” you repeat like a broken record, half-aware of your own voice through the loud moans and hiccups. You watch in ecstasy as he uses one of his sharp nails to cut the palm of his hand, blood oozing out of it and dropping on your breasts. It’s like you know what he will say even before he says it. “You want me t-to-“

“Drink it.”

Perhaps you should be scared, but you’re not. Your mouth opens without a second thought and he presses his large palm on your lips, muffling your moans and allowing the hot dark liquid to invade your tongue. Sukuna’s blood is thick and it tastes like poison, but you do as he says, liking his flesh and drinking it until he seems satisfied and takes his hand away.

It strikes your body like an arrow, straight through your chest and expanding like deep roots. You feel as his blood burns your insides, changing something in your very existence. It’s hard to think through the sensations — the pleasure building up, the venom running through your veins, the mixture of devotion and fear that dances inside your mind. Your vision is double, black around the edges, and you think you might be cumming but you’re not sure you can even feel your body anymore. Sukuna’s voice echoes muffled in the background, and you can see his mouth moving in slow motion, but you don’t understand his words. You think you are crying. You think you can’t breathe. You think you are dying and being born at the same time and you don’t know why you feel so grateful for it all.

Your lungs are on fire and your throat is dry. You try to speak, but can’t. You have the vague flashback of the time your uncle made you drink alcohol, it burns just the same, but this time, no one is laughing. This time, you’re dying.

“… at me.”

This time, Sukuna’s voice rings sharp and clear. You stare at him, confused, as the flames inside your chest slowly subside.

“Keep looking at me,” he repeats, commanding.

You try to nod, but your head doesn’t move. You can’t see the room around you anymore. “H-Hurts,” you manage to get out.

“I know,” he says, and there’s a touch of softness in his voice you don’t ignore. “Focus on me. I’ll make it feel better.”

And that’s what you try to do, even if your soul seems to be floating miles above your body. You look down at where he is still moving in and out of you, at the white-coated mess that drips from your hole and soaks your inner thighs. It doesn’t seem to hurt as badly now, like your body is changing to accommodate him even better — in fact, it feels like heaven.

You look up at him, dumbfounded. “I t-think I’m going to cum, Sukuna,” the words come easier now, and you feel like you can move again. Though, it still feels like a dream. “It’s so g-good.”

“Cum on my fat cock, then, make me proud,” he coos. You close your eyes and nod, trying to focus on the paradise that blooms between your legs. You feel every ridge and vein of his massive cock; hear the lewd squelching sounds of his cum leaking out of you. It comes to you faster than you would have imagined, washing through your body like a wave as you cry and shake miserably. “That’s my girl, fuck, there we go, that’s my perfect little girl.”

The spasming of your walls manages to milk more cum out of him and he groans loudly as he releases inside you once more. Sukuna cums so much it makes you breathless, filling you again and again until he’s satisfied and the sheets beneath you have no salvation left.

“There we go, take everything,” he says in a strained groan, “every fucking drop inside this tight fucking cunt.”

Sukuna looks absolutely insane above you — fucking his cock so hard into you that it seems like he will never have the chance again; eyes blown wide and his teeth clenched. You cum again, this time a little softer, as you feel his thick cock shoot a specially large amount of cum inside your pussy, and wait until he’s done using your body.

Eventually, he settles, pressing his forehead against yours and looking deep inside your eyes. The redness in them is shining like flames, watching every movement of your face.

“Feels weird,” you say. “I feel dizzy.”

He chuckles and removes himself from you. Another white-hot wave gushes out of your cunt, and he sits back to watch it drip. “There we go, it wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You swallow, your tongue is still numb inside your mouth. “It was horrible, Sukuna. I felt like I was going to die.”

Sukuna smiles and uses two fingers to push some of his cum back inside you. “I can promise you it was better than when I did,” he says, and you’re confused for a moment. “But now we don’t have anything to worry about anymore, my sweet thing. Those pathetic little sorcerers won’t want you.”

“H-How are you so sure?” You ask.

“Aw, my sweet, stupid little girl.” He pouts, condescending as always. “No one will want to save a curse now.”

Your eyes widen. “Did you…?”

“I told you.” Sukuna licks his own blood at the corner of your mouth. “You are mine forever.”

[yeyinde]

I’m begging for your opinions on regency era nasty Simon😭😭

i promised myself this wasn't going to become an anthology but here i am. anthologising.

he's from the absolute bottom of the social circle. his dad was the town drunk, and Simon made a lot of enemies. Price's shady dealings put him and Simon together. i want him to have gone to jail—possibly for murder—and it really shaped who he was as a person. made worse, naturally, when his whole family is killed as soon as he gets out. Simon is blamed, but there's no evidence. rumours start about how a rival gang tried to bury him alive when he was in jail, but he dug his way out. they say he died. he's a monster. a pariah.

he's probably a butcher by day but takes care of Price's dirty work by night. helps run the racket. is an enforcer. just a mean, broken man. spent his formative years in jail surrounded by horrible men.

and you!!! ahhh, Mrs Price's NOSY niece. she goes missing and you come down, sniffing around because this isn't right. why would your aunt run off when she's been raised properly? this isn't like her. it all seems so suspicious. and Price's accusations have tarnished your family's reputation - saying that she ran away with a lowly barkeep in the middle of the night. a decades-long affair, stole money from him. all sorts of nasty business that ruin your family. so, you come to stick your nose into things and ask the questions no one else will.

Price doesn't want you anywhere near his almost wife/servant girl, so he sics the biggest, meanest dog he has on you. only. instead of killing you, Simon takes a disgusting interest in the prim socialite who somehow manages to talk down to him even as he towers over you. it breeds an obsession. unravels all these awful thoughts he's had about the upper class. and his boss giving him the go-ahead to ruin this pretty little bird that always seemed so untouchable? well. sure.

he's keenly aware of how your circle works, and uses that tongue advantage. mocks you when you snap at him to keep his filthy hands off of you, and tells you that you should have stayed in your ivory cage, little bird. gets a sick, twisted pleasure dragging you down the social ladder just by lying his dirty fingers on you. from gold cuffs to a pair of rusting, iron shackles. he loves ruining you. gets off when you call him all sorts of nasty names, trying to act all prim and haughty still, even with his cum drying on your face.

you call him a monster and he pinches your face between his thumb and forefinger, cruelly asking you if he's a monster, then what does that make you? the little fool carrying his monstrous brood. who in your little circle is gonna want you now? knowing that a beast like him put his hands all over you and his babe inside of you? probs whistles to himself as he gets to work on "disappearing" your aunt for good while your whole world crashes down around you lmao

Price is miffed that you're not just as missing as your aunt, but. whatever. Simon's content. you're taken care of. and he gets to pretend to be a good man with his pretty little servant girl tucked into his side. everyone wins.

[cypherscript]

The Ole Switcheroo.

The Justice League and the Justice League Dark are in need of some questions answered about the alarming numbers of tears in reality coming from this small nowhere town in Illinois and don’t seem to be stopping any time soon. So using every bit of summoning and containment magic the JLD have and the most prominent source of energy they could find in the city they decide to summon the owner of the energy. *** “And you’re sure this containment spell will hold whatever comes through,” Superman asks as he observes Zatanna and Constantine marking out the circle.

“Should, most beings from that dimension have very specific powersets but all of them include basic flight, invisibility and intangibility. Hence why the civilians of the city refer to them as ghosts.” Zatanna says as she finished her marking with a flourish. 

Batman grunts in response as he’s looking over data, J'onn focuses on Zatanna after she lists the powers, “I assume that is why I am here? Those powers are remarkably similar to Martian abilities.”

“Yes, should the being somehow escape we will need you to retrieve them if they become intangible.”

“Understood.”

“Ready John?”

“Let’s get this shiteshow started, luv.” John Constantine picks up a book and begins speaking in a voice of white noise and screams, the circle lights up an eerie green and wisping into the air before a flashing light reveals a white haired teen in a a jumpsuit floating in the air.

“What? How did I- Where am I?”

Batman steps forward, “That’s not important right, we just want to ask you a couple of questions about Amity Park.”

“Then I can leave?”

Several of the League Members share some looks before Batman answers, “If you aren’t a threat to this dimension.”

“Awesome, I can leave then.”

“That remains to be seen.” Zatanna cuts in, “First lets start with your name, can we have your name?”

“No, sorry but you can call me Phantom.” the teen chuckles at a joke he only knows.

“You can call me Zatanna then, the others are Superman, Batman, Constantine, and Martian Manhunter.”

Phantom perks up at the last name, “Wait, like a real Martian? I thought they died out a long time ago.”

“You know of us,” J’onn asks, perplexed.

“Yeah, there’s a few of you guys floating around the Zone,” Phantom shrugs before resuming looking at the circle, “Is this like a question circle? I couldn’t stop myself from saying that.”

“It shouldn’t be, it is merely a summoning and containment spell. Constantine?”

“Mighta slip some truth spellwork into it, had to be sure it was telling the truth. Pan dimensional beings aren’t really know for being trustworthy, Zatanna.”

“Constantine,” Zatanna shouts at the man in outrage.

“First of all,” Phantom interrupts, “Not an it, I’m a he and second I don’t exactly have a problem with the spell. Just be aware that it’s reduced your any number of questions down to three and then I get a turn asking the questions. Deal?”

“Deal,” Batman says before the two magic users can speak. “I’ve already thought of the most prominent question we needed answers for.”

“Alright, shoot.”

“We have been noticing an alarming number of dimensional tears in a small town on our planet and your energy reading is almost always in that town. Why?”

Phantom tilts his head stroking an imaginary beard, “Hmm, I’ll allow that as a single question I suppose. The dimensional tearing is a combination of a couple of reasons; the city is in a thin spot between your world and the Ghost Zone or the Infinite Realms as some of the older ghosts call it. The other reason is because there are a couple of human scientists who have punched a permanent hole into the Zone, usually natural portals appear and disappear at random and usually only for a few seconds at most. Honestly I surprised you’re worried about the portals now when the Bermuda Triangle has existed forever.”

“What does the- No, nevermind.” Phantom smirks at the Batman’s almost slip of a question. “You still haven’t answered my question; why is your energy signature always in that town?”

“Because it’s m̷̢̨̛̰͍̮̝̪̞͉̩̬͕̣̮̱̻̎͋̉͘ͅį̵͍̫̭̱̝̮̯̞̝̺̤̺̦̝͖̜̅̉̂̊́̑̿̆̈́̕͝n̴̫͎̼͇̭̾ẽ̵̱̭̗̥̱͕̒̋͛͂͆̑͝͠ͅ, I protect it by sending the other ghosts back to the Zone.”

“Who are the most dangerous beings from that dimension and are they a threat to this world?”

“That depends on who you- Me and Clocky. Wait really? Huh, I mean I guess I could see it; Space and Time. I guess this circle means like, the Truth and not what I believe to be true. That’s good to know. Anyways that’s your second question, best make the last one count.”

Batman thinks for a moment, looking over Phantom with a new eye at the revelation that he was the most dangerous, him and this Clocky being at any rate, “If there is an Incursion of beings from this Ghost Zone, how do we protect the earth.”

“You don’t. I do. That’s three questions,” Phantom snaps his fingers and the world blurs as it spins, coming back into focus as Phantom is now outside of the circle and the League is in it. Phantom takes on a sharp tooth grin as he pulls a notebook from inside his body, “Now my first question is for Martian Manhunter; what was Mars like when the Martians were alive?”

[silliewrites]

If I could save time in a bottle...

summary: [Platonic Logan Howlett x gn!reader/ famillial dynamics} After the passing of your parent figure some years ago, your friend Wade comes back from a deadly mission with a replica of him. You also soon learn that someone that is definitely not Wade has something to do with the mess that is currently the resting place of that loved one. Finally, you and the ‘worst’ Wolverine find you are on the road to healing together.

wc: 3.4k

warnings: angst and comfort, grief, strong language, brief mention of child death (in worst! Logan's universe), spoilers for Deadpool & Wolverine as well as Logan (2017), the bye bye bye scene is treated as grave desecration (which i mean,it is… but reader is naturally gonna see nothing humorous about it)

a/n: This is a bit of a mess because I never write, yet I have so many feelings and thoughts I had to do something with them. Not having seen a platonic fic of this kind anywhere I guess I had to make one. Also..I did some basic research on the general deadpool canon yet..I’m not entirely informed, having not watched deadpool 2… let’s hope for the best

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

 You used to be the youngest student in the X mansion back in the day, just a child having mutated under life altering circumstances, the usual. 

 It was Logan who found you. He was your rock during and after the traumatizing event of your mutation, taking you in and placing you in the arms of the X-men and thanks to him they became your family.

 You saw him no less than as a father. Despite his brooding, harsh exterior it was never difficult for you to see that he cared.

 He never shot you down when you knocked on his door in the middle of the night, sobbing after another brutal nightmare. He took you seriously when you talked about your fears and worries. He saved you and helped you stand on your feet more times than you could count.

 Seeing death and bad things happen to your family of mutants always hurt viciously but when Logan died it felt like something you would never get over.

  With your abilities generally under control, you chose to avoid actively partaking in X men work (Not that you refused your assistance, if someone called for you specifically. It had better be very urgent though.)

 So you tried to find a rhythm of what resembled a normal life for the most part, a decent job and some good friends. That was what he would have wanted, no, said he wanted for you.

 You kept ties with Laura too, having bonded over your shared grief, the man having died in her arms after all. She was some years younger than you and you were happy to consider her a good friend, the younger sibling type.

 Some years ago she had disappeared, causing you yet another source of anxiety. Turns out she herself had been banished to the Void. The relief you felt when Wade came back from that limbo hell while managing to bring her back too, was immense. You have never hugged anyone tighter than Laura the day you saw her again.

 Speaking of Wade, through this and that, you had also become acquaintances. He had needed your assistance when he was forming his X force crew and you had hesitantly accepted, making it clear that this would be an one-time thing. 

 He seemed to be a "Wolverine fanboy" in his own words which caused him to bombard you with childish questions about him until you very firmly made him aware of your boundaries. There was a time and place to talk about Logan.

When that shitshow was over with, you did not mind him considering you your friend. Sure, he was a bit much for you, not a huge fan of his 'humor' but seeing him in moderation was not unpleasant…Alright, maybe you did enjoy his company and friendship, it was as simple as that.

  After a chat with him, you learned that the rent in his apartment building was relatively cheap for New York standards, so when it was time to move out of your previous place, that was where you went.

 Then the damn timeline thing happened. You were pretty confused as to how exactly the events played out, not being involved, thankfully. But the crazy fucker did it, he saved the universe from extinction apparently. And not exactly by himself.

 Logan was there. Not your Logan but apparently a variant of him was necessary to pull the mission off.

 And now that version of him was Wade's roommate. Great. Perfect. Definitely something easy for you to process in the days to come.

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

 You first saw them after the mission on your way to catch a cab to the airport. It was that time of the trimester when you were to visit him. Bleak yet you longed to see him and speak to him, even if he was resting under the earth. 

 Wade had the decency to explain everything to you once it was decided that Logan’s variant would be staying. He knew that you never really stopped grieving and you appreciated the warning that basically an almost exact replica of your dead father figure would now roam around your earth.

Almost exact, because according to Wade, this Logan was more of a dick, more crude and erratic, apparently rendered by his extra layers of grief and hatred. Partially understandable but you would not accept that as an excuse if he said something cruel in front of you, you would probably introduce him to your interesting mutative abilities. You let Wade know so that he could warn mr stick-up-his-ass. Wade more than happy to accept, still assured you that with the life or death mission being over, Logan was attempting to be more approachable.

 The feelings this new reality brewed in you were..mixed, to say the least.

 You made eye contact with Wade from across the street and of course he shot up from the bench he was sitting on, dropping his half eaten sandwich to the ground, moving his arms vigorously in the air, catching not only your attention but any other passerby's. 

 Even though your stomach turned at having to face the him, you wanted to check up on Wade after all this madness he went through. And on his friend as well, you supposed.

 You looked both ways before passing the street and before you knew it, Wade’s arms wrapped around your neck. You patted his back with one hand, unable to help the choking sounds that left you. 

 “It’s so good to see you, my little honey pumpkin bear!” He squealed excitedly while squeezing the dear life out of you. He really thought he’d never see his friends again, huh.

“Oof, yeah Wade, it’s really nice to see you too, please just-” You broke free of his hold and held an arm’s distance between the two of you. You patted his arm and gave him a small but genuine smile. “Really glad you’re ok. Not that I expected anything le-”

 Your words slowly died out when your gaze met Logan’s. He was sitting on the bench observing the interaction silently. He looked just like you remembered him, minus some differences. Well, obviously he was supposed to be the same person yet..he was not.

 He looked up at you, brows furrowed while his eyes scanned through your face before flashing with what seemed like recognition (Not that you knew what it was he was seeing) He seemed tense and his mouth gaped before he turned his attention to the ground. 

 Wade naturally noticed the uncomfortable tension between the two of you and he decided to chime in quickly.

“Ah, yes this is the Wolverine I had to kidnap to help me with the time ripper bullshit and oh boy, did he deliver!” 

 You kept your eyes on the Variant, forcing yourself into a polite smile (that resembled more of an awkward line) and you extended your hand to him, causing him to lift his gaze at you again.

“Nice to meet you...Logan. Thank you for your help with unscrewing our timeline” You said as pleasantly as you could and he took your hand after a moment of hesitation, shaking it with a gentle firm and a silent nod. 

His presence..It made your stomach turn. Feeling the threat of your vision getting watery, you quickly averted your gaze away from the two, as subtle as you could manage. 

“I..Wade, m’ sorry, would love to sit a bit more but I have to go-”

“Hey wait, tomorrow we’ll be having a get-together to celebrate the un-fuckery of the universe, a partEy if you will! Everyone will be there, Al will be making that terrible casserole you really like also!”

You gave him a melancholic smile, genuinely sad you would not be able to attend. Logan’s variant was back to looking at the ground.

“Ah, I’m sorry, I won’t make it, I’m afraid. I’m going to the airport right now actually, will be off for the next three days. Gotta see someone..”

“Ooooh” Wade whistled while wiggling his brows “and is that someone maybe a super hot sexy mysterious boyfriend? Or girlfriend? Or theyfriend? Or-” 

“Heh, nope. Nothing like that unfortunately.”

“Sure, sure, keep your secrets, you ankle biter, but promise to pass by the apartment once you’re back, we gotta catch up!”

You nodded. “Of course. See you then.” 

 Two days later you found yourself back in New York in a rush, in front of Wade’s apartment door, ready to invent a way that would actually exterminate him.

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

 Nothing prepared you for the mess you saw in what was supposed to be Logan’s resting place. 

 The snow had ceased completely. With a simple look his grave was undug and the makeshift X was missing. When you approached, the little fresh snow that had fallen last night was covering various types of debris. Some type of fight had taken place and someone had collected the bodies in a rush yet they did not bother with what you spotted after closer inspection and some digging with your hands. 

 Metallic looking appendages…These were…

You looked inside the open grave. The snow had barely covered the remains in there and it was obvious they were not even half of what they were supposed to be.

 You suppressed the violent urge to vomit. Someone had taken him out, violated his remains and as if in a haste, threw them back in.

 You dug through the snow with bare hands around the grave. A fragment here. A fragment there. The spine. What was left of the cranium. White hot rage.

You called Laura with shaking hands. Offended would be an understatement for how she sounded, as well, unaware of who could have possibly caused this. Why were you even calling her, poor girl was in the void for a while now, what could she possibly do or know?

You hung up with the intention of looking through the situation a bit more and catching her up later.

  While trying to stay calm and focusing all your mental energy on collecting, wiping and gently placing the remains back in the hole, it clicked.

 Wade. 

 From the few words you two had exchanged ever since he was back, you gathered he turned every stone to find “a Wolverine” to assist him. Yet you could not imagine what the everloving fuck would he defile your Wolverine’s grave for and what caused him to spread his bones all over like fucking confetti.

  You would not stand for this. Just because Wade saved the stupid timeline, he did not automatically become immune to the most extraordinary ass whooping of the century. If he had something to do with this, you would not forgive him easily, if at all

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

 After taking a deep breath, you rang the bell. Tapping your foot on the ground, you heard some mumbling and shuffling before the door opened.

 Wade made a surprised expression that resembled a caricature.

“Sweet baby cakes! You're back already? Come on in, I was just thinking about starting a gossip girl marathon. Again!”

 Wade's cheerful expression fell almost immediately when you stayed still for a moment too long, not responding.

 Althea did not seem to be home. Good.

 Wade's expression morphed into one of concern.

“Pumpkin, is everything-”

“Wade. Guess where I just came back from.”

You took a slow step forward, dropping you backpack to the floor.

“Erm..a male stripclub full of hot babes?”

“North Dakota.”

“Don't you say! Did North Dakota had any good male strip-” He stopped himself before realization hit him. “And..may I ask..what was it you were doing in North-”

“You know very well what.”

Wade put his hands in front of him defensively and closed the door. “Hey Pumpkin, why don't you just sit so that we can-”

“Shut. Up.” You whispered.

“When I got to his grave, someone had completely messed it up. Signs of fighting around. Do you happen to have anything to do with that?” You said in a dangerously low voice, eyes glued on him.

 Wade, whose mouth formed into an awkward line, clearly not having a reasonably enough excuse to give you.

“Er, you see, um remember when I was looking for a Logan, well I started my search with the OG, you know, just to make sure he was dead dead and unfortunately he was and um then you see err the TVA showed up and um-”

He stopped when you put your hands on your face, squeezing it while a muffled screech of rage escaped you. 

“You motherfucking, with no semblance of decency, insensitive prick. You defiled Logan's remains and used them as a shield, throwing them around like toys? And you have the nerve to come back home and look me in the eye after the fact? To look Laura in the eye? Do you not have any fucking shame? Am I simply an afterthought to you?”

Silence. You could not see through the tears. With shaky hands you pulled out of your pocket a tiny clothed item and you carefully unwrapped the cover to reveal a small metallic fragment.

“You may think everything's a fucking game but that man was my family, and worst part is you know this very damn well! How dare you!”

“You have every right to be angry, just let me-”

 You grabbed the first object you could reach, which was a half empty bottle of liquor and threw it across the room, causing it to smash angrily on the wall of the living room. Wade winced slightly before groaning in frustration.

With that, a bedroom shot open and an alarmed Logan variant made an appearance, claws already out.

“What the fuck is hap-”

 He stopped in his tracks seeing it was just you. He probably had already heard your yelling earlier yet it did not answer any questions about what was going on.

“What the hell, kid?” he said with a subtle hint of alarm.

 You take a step towards him, looking up at his face, paying no mind to his blades that were now retreating back inside. God, how it hurt to stare right into his features. Feeling a wave of nausea, you picked up your bag and turned your back to the two men.

 “Wait, can't we just talk about this?” Wade said

 “No, you ruined my week enough” You mumbled bitterly before exiting his apartment. Week, more like, year.

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

 The roof of the building was pretty nice, you always preferred it when you wanted some time to yourself outside the walls of your apartment. You rarely ever saw any other tenant there, especially in the late afternoons.

 This is where you found yourself that night, elbows supported on the railing, observing the busy street from above while sipping on bad beer.

 How you wished he was there right now. How you wished for one more simple moment with him, where you could just be in his presence once again, chat about nonsense or simply sit in comfortable silence next to him. 

 What would he think of you as the person you were trying to become? Would he be proud of you? 

 How you wished he would put his hand on your shoulder comfortingly right now.   

 You missed him. So much.

A high pitched creak came from the direction of the heavy door behind you, causing you to jump a little and instinctively wipe the fresh tears that you just then realized were running down your face.

 “Sorry, kid, did I scare you? They mustn't have oiled this door in fucking ever..” There was Logan, the new one. Whatever entity was reading your thoughts a moment prior must be finding your misery hilarious.

 “Hope I’m not bothering you”

 “No, no. I don’t own the rooftop..” You mumbled softly, turning your attention back on the street, trying to ignore the feeling of clear tension he brought with him. You swore to God, if he was about to make a crass comment..

 He came to stand next to you, mimicking the position of your elbows on the railing. He himself was holding a glass, filled with one most likely alcoholic liquid.

 “That asshole told me everything about the grave thing. If I were you, I would have torn him apart.”

 “I’m sure you already know this isn’t possible by any means”

 Logan huffed. “Oh, believe me, I do. I’ve tried at least three times”

 You gave a noncommittal nod, trying not to focus too much the gruff voice you always found so comforting.

 “...You know..You existed in my timeline too” He mumbled before gulping a generous sip of his drink.

 That made you look up at him, surprised. “I…did?”

“Oh, yes you did. Lively little brat you were.” He said with a laugh you could only describe as melancholic. He said it like it hurt.

“You went through so much for a child. And you did cry quite often ‘cause of it, yet you were still so..” He seized, taking a heavy breath and emptying his glass. “So full of life. A good kid.” The city lights reflecting on his eyes, making it easier for you to see how watery they were.

“I..assume I…”

You were interrupted by another one of those devastating low laughs that made your heart ache.

“Yeah. You were among them. Those fuckers did not even spare a fucking child. I was the one who got you with the X-men and it ended in..” He hissed through his teeth and half closed mouth. He took a moment to collect himself and breathed out.

“I’m so sorry, Logan.” You whispered genuinely. You didn’t know what to say.

“Don’t be, …sorry, didn't mean to make it about myself.”

“You didn’t, really!” 

 A moment of awkward silence before you decided to share your piece.

“My Logan, er, you..I suppose it’s more or less the same as it was in your world but..you were like a…You were the closest I ever felt to a parent. I grew up because of you and..yeah, when I was around 17, you died.” It was almost funny how much you oversimplified those statements but it was the best you could manage at the given moment.

 He nodded, listening intently.

“I’m sure that..If he saw how you grew into who you are today, doing your own thing, in spite of the mutation shit and all…he wouldn’t change a thing about how all these fucking events went down..”

“You..think so?”

He chuckled, giving you a small smile, tired but genuine.

“Hell, I know so.” he said. You could tell. You could tell that he desperately wished this was how the events played out in his own world, with the other you alive and a bright future ahead of them.

 You hesitated for a moment, not sure if what you were about to say would be too much for him. Then again, it was him who approached you with this vulnerable conversation. 

“For what it's worth I would… they would want you to keep on living. Not forget them, not at all. Just..be. Be a person. Make friends and..live.”

 He looked you in the eye for a second, before averting your gaze and looking anywhere but you. This was hard for him. But he was trying.

 He patted your back firmly. “Thanks, kid.” It was a very simple thing you told him yet you could not possibly know what it meant to him. 

You thought that maybe you got what you wished for. Not exactly and certainly not ideally. But you and this Logan had something in common. Maybe, you could help and comfort each other in a way nobody else possibly could. 

 “Y’ know..I'm glad you got to stay, Logan.”

 A smile. “I'm glad to be here, kiddo.”

A pause. 

“How long do you think I should make Wade do my laundry for? Y'know. For retribution?”

“Oh, six months at least, bub..” 

You stayed for a couple hours chatting above the restless city, topics including but not limited to work, university and acquaintances.

Your pain was soothed a tiny bit and you hoped Logan's was too. You had a lot of time ahead of you to work on that further, after all.

[jasmines-library]

congrats on being close to 2k!

can i request a batfam x reader whohas self-healing properties and like on day during patrol something happens and somehow reader dies but the batfam isn't aware of their powers and they start freaking out when suddenly reader's injuries heal and they're alive again? i love angsty stuff <3

Healer

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Note: Thank you for requesting! this is such a cool idea.

Warnings: Blood, death.

Word Count: 770.

⛧ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Damian’s ears were ringing. Well. at least he thought they were. It was so loud that he couldn’t really tell if it was his ears that were ringing or the alarms that were blaring from the buildings melding with the sound of the explosion. Gotham was chaos. All six of the infamous vigilantes were on patrol, and even that didn't seem to be enough. It only got worse when, upon scouting a building, you were attacked by a band of criminals. Your team-mates had arrived quickly, escalating the fight. One thing led to another and soon the five of you were running, trying to flee the building before it combusted. It all happened so quickly that Damain didn’t really know what was happening. One second he was being flung back by a blast of hot air, his back colliding with the concrete, and the next, Damian’s legs were carrying him through the ashy streets. 

Your name was being called. No. screamed. You had been inside the building. As Damian ran, and he realised that it was not his voice screaming your name. Not his voice cutting through the ringing in his ears. The voice belonged to Jason, who was not far in front of his younger brother as he screamed your name; the words tearing up his vocal chords like the soles of his shoes tore up the ground. It seemed no matter how fast they raced towards you, it felt like they just couldn’t reach you fast enough. There was movement to his left and right: Dick and Tim who were also trying to reach you. And as they approached, that desperate pit in their stomachs seemed to sink deeper and deeper. The flicker of hope they held clawing for a way out of the darkness but failing. 

You were lying motionless on the ground. Your limbs sprawled out and at gruesome angles. As they got closer, they could see the blood on your face which blended in with the soot and the dark patches of blood that blossomed on your suit. There was no rise and fall from your chest. You were morbidly still. 

“Y/N–” Jason was the first to drop to his knees beside you, though the others weren’t far behind at all. Jason’s hands immediately came to cup your face as Tim moved to try and staunch some of the blood-flow from your wounds.

“Hey. Hey.” Jason tapped at your face gently, turning your head to the side to try and get your attention. But your head just lolled, and your eyes which once held such a golden spark now stared vacantly. 

“No. No.” Dick pleaded. Shaking his head as he clung on to any shred of hope he could find. “Wake up. Come on kid. Wake up.”

But you didn’t move. Your lungs were still and your heart even stiler. 

“Please—“ silent tears were rolling down Tim’s face. Hot and salty, burning his eyes as he tried to stop them. 

The four of them sat quietly around you, weeping as your body lay there motionless before them. To them, the impossible had happened. You were dead. None of them reached you in time.

 But then….the blood seeping from between Tim’s fingers began to slow. And your pulse began to beat faintly. They boys could hardly believe it as your wounds began to stitch themselves back together. They shared a look; befuddled as they watched your skin go from rough and ragged, to smoothed over with not so much as a scar. With a sudden gasp, your chest began to rise again and your eyes blinked, the world becoming clear around you as your eyes adjusted. 

“Y/N” Damian spoke at once, his hands on you as you sat up slowly. Your head was pounding. 

“Are you alright? What- what was that?!” Tim asked, the worry still very present in his tone.

“Yeah….” You blinked.

“You were- how…” Jason started. “You were….”

“Dead.” You finished for him. Jason swallowed uneasily. His heart was racing. Now he knew at least what it was like to be on the receiving side of seeing someone come back to life.

“How…..” Dick asked.

“Regenerative powers…… my body heals itself.”

The four brothers just sort of blinked at you before erupting into numerous questions. 

“You didn’t think to tell us?!”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “It never came up in conversation.”

Jason just stared at you, dumbfounded before pulling you into a hug and letting out a soft sigh. His body relaxed as the tension melted from him. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah but you love me.”

“true. You’re our idiot.”

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

BATFAM TAGS

@hearts4robs @xxrougefangxx @hell-o-kittys @harleycao @batfamsstuff @alicedawitchbish @killxz @rosecentury @azure-drag0ness @noisymutantherelol @rhiodes @thewhispersofthewaves

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

[actiniumwrites]

kiss me (not)

synopsis: how they’d react when you dodge/ wipe off their kisses for a day as a prank

characters: gaming, kujou sara, heizou, tighnari, cyno, kaveh, and lyney x gn!reader

warnings: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, some humor, established relationships, etc

notes: i love this prompt so much omg. i’ve read a lot of fics other people have written for different fandoms and i’m actually shocked i haven’t written it before considering i eat it up every time (especially when there’s some angst 🫠)

gaming:

the first time he sees you wipe off his kiss, something in him dies a little, especially when you don’t say anything after he asks if you’re okay

so he starts doubting himself and compensating for where he may went wrong

maybe he had bad breath? or you weren’t having a good day today?

he hates that he doesn’t know what he did wrong, and even worse, why you keep doing it throughout the day

you only stop when you see the way he genuinely starts beating himself up over it, deciding it wasn’t funny anymore and honestly never was

“it was a prank,” you nudge him softly, regret overflowing from your voice, “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. i shouldn’t have kept it going for so long.”

a relieved breathe and a small smile from him follow right after. you can tell he’s still a bit stuck on the whole thing, but deep down, he’s just grateful he didn’t screw up somewhere because there’s no way in hell gaming would ever let himself lose you

“it’s okay,” he breathes out, clutching your hand a little tighter than usual, “just please, don’t do it again, okay?”

kujou sara:

to say she’s confused is an understatement

she’ll immediately backtrack to make sure she actually just saw that correctly. did you really just wipe off her kiss?

so she goes in for another one, and sure enough, you dodge her this time and send her a quick goodbye before slipping out of the house and running off to work

it legitimately ruins her whole day. she can’t even function at work because it’s all she can think about

and by the time she’s home at night, she’s already tired and just wants you but she’s also too afraid that maybe she did something to upset you

fortunately for her, you spare her of the prank knowing your girlfriend well enough to know that the second she walks through the door she had a shitty day

so you apologize and tell her it was just a prank and you didn’t mean any harm

and she wants to be so mad at you for it, but literally can’t no matter how hard she tries so instead she just gives in and gets the kiss she’s been thinking about all day

heizou:

he realizes right away what you’re doing and finds it rather amusing

so he’ll play along too, not trying to kiss you at all and even going a step further and not showing you any sort of physical attention

try to hold his hand? not happening. hugging him? not a chance

and it ends up becoming a competition, because what can you say? you’re both competitive people

goes on until the end of the day and only ends when you’re both too tired to keep it up

“you’re no fun, you know?” you poke his chest as you tiredly lean against him

he smiles down at you, “how so? i let you play your little pranks, didn’t i? i even played along.”

you just scoff and scoot away, tucking yourself into the warm blankets and ignoring his teasing

but then he’ll grab you and pull you into his chest, giving into you, “fine. next time i’ll give you the reaction you want. happy now?”

tighnari:

the opposite of heizou: he’s very unamused, and is very aware of what’s going on.

as soon as you back away from him after he tries to kiss you, his face falls into a deadpan and he crosses his arms menacingly

“i’ll have you know i don’t find pranks like these very funny,” he’ll immediately tell you off, not wanting to act so childishly when it comes to affection

tighnari cares a lot about people, whether he shows it or not, so to have you pretend to dodge it upsets him — even if it is meant to be a mere lighthearted prank

so you apologize instantly, feeling a little bad over the whole ordeal, “it’s just a prank, you know? i thought it would be funny to see how you’d react.”

definitely the kind of person to feel a little bashful and guilty for overreacting over something so silly, but also doesn’t want to admit it

so he’ll just silently kiss you and act like nothing happened, secretly hoping you’ll never try to pull something like that again

cyno:

at first, he thinks it’s kinda funny since he always plays jokes. however, i think he’s similar to tighnari in the sense that he also takes a little offense to it

like, he knows it’s a joke, but he just can’t help feeling a little hurt over it

“is something the matter?” he’ll ask while you’re both on the way to meet with friends. you shake your head no, fighting a smile

defeatedly, he leaves it at that, knowing you won’t budge. he’ll feel miserable the entire time and won’t stop thinking about how you won’t give the prank up, even in front of your friends

and when you both leave for the night, he crosses his arms and confronts you as you both walk home, “it isn’t funny.”

“what isn’t funny?”

“your prank. it isn’t funny. i don’t like the way you’re avoiding kissing me,” he says bluntly. it makes your heart sink into your stomach a bit, admittedly starting to feel a bit bad

so you apologize and work everything out, telling him you got the idea from alhaitham who was curious to see how he’d react in a situation like that — that, and he felt like pissing cyno off for a day, but you didn’t need to know that part

he’ll get frustrated, but is glad it’s all settled. he’ll also be extra affectionate throughout the next week, feeling as if he somehow lost time with you

kaveh:

gets so offended omg he will literally hate you

the first time you do it, his jaw drops to the floor and he calls you out on it immediately

“what was that?” he points an accusatory finger at you

you bite back a smile and feign innocence, “huh? what are you talking about?”

will not let you leave for the day until you drop the act and properly return his kiss

when you continue to go on with the prank, however, he’ll start to get all pouty and just ask you to kiss him

and he just looks so cute that you cup his face and give him a big fat kiss and walk out the door immediately after without a word and a big smile on your face, satisfied with his reaction

lyney:

he gets so dramatic about it it’s not even funny

will literally clutch his chest and fall to the ground in public so that you stop him

when you don’t and you let him face public humiliation (because you find it funny too), he stops himself and gets back up

follows you around like a lost puppy all day and will constantly try to sneak in a kiss while you’re caught of guard, but you never fall for it and he gets so much more frustrated each and every time

then he begs lynette and freminet to help him, except they think it’s funny too seeing how whipped he is for you

and he knows it’s a prank too, but the fact that you won’t break makes him so lovingly annoyed with you

you don’t stop until lynette genuinely intervenes, complaining about how annoying lyney had gotten throughout the day, “please end his suffering already. you know my brother is an idiot who doesn’t shut up and i’ve had enough of him today.”

you laugh it off, but ultimately agree

so you go and find him, which wasn’t that hard, and tap him on the shoulder before planting a gentle kiss to his lips, “sorry for pranking you. it was just too funny of an opportunity to pass up.”

“you’re so mean to me,” he’ll complain, but will then continue to kiss you so often that you’re now the annoyed one instead

[cherubfae]

Can you write Alastor x a Reader who works in radio? I don't think Alastor would let them on air since he doesn't seem the type to have a co host to me but maybe he'd have a intern who gets him coffee or a script writer.

"𝔦𝔱'𝔰 𝔤𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔟𝔢 𝔟𝔞𝔠𝔨 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔦𝔯" || {𝔞𝔩𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯}

tags: gn!sinner!reader (described to have horns but is an otherwise ambiguous demon!!), fluff, pre-established relationship, mentions of death, true crime, vox being vox lmao, jealous alastor, blood/bloody play (sorta??), Valentino is his own warning (threats of SA but nothing happens), mentions of injuries and being kidnapped (use of chloroform), implied VoxVal, no smut but still MDNI

a/n: I hope you enjoy!! This got a bit long!

Much like Alastor's life before he died, you were also quite the popular radio host for your time. Engaging, funny, and respectable. Your audience loved tuning in the early hours of the morning to you recanting the strange occurrences of the multiple killings of men from the late 1920s until that stream suddenly stopped during the year 1933 within New Orleans, Louisiana.

True crime has always been your passion, in life and in death. You certainly didn't think you'd end up in Hell for taking the life of someone trying to mug you on the street. A tall, masked man who saw to it that you'd never see the light of day again. A couple gunshot wounds to your abdomen proved effective as you rest against the wall, bleeding out onto the concrete with your soon-to-be killer lying facedown and dead mere feet from you. Killed by the very thing you sought to bring awareness towards. Quite poetic in a way.

As your gaze clouds and vision becomes unfocused, you look up at the stars. The ares around you was beautiful. It was one of your favorite parts of town, even your death wouldn't taint the beauty of the stretching oak and maple trees reaching tall towards the skies. The faint sound of smooth jazz playing from the record shop only a few paces away mixing with the swirling scent of coffee. At least you were dying in a place that you loved.

Now, here you are. In Hell. Doomed to total damnation for all fucking eternity. You'd been down here for a couple months, taking up residence near Cannibal Town, yet still unsure of what to make of all the carnage, debauchery, and depravity. You didn't think you belonged in Hell, even if you took the life that simultaneously extinguished your own.

"What's wrong, dearie? I've known you to be quiet but today you are exceptionally so." Mused Rosie, her gentle tone pulling you out of your reverie. You glanced down at your tea, sighing.

Leaning your cheek against your palm, you meet her charcoal-black eyes. Genuine concern etched onto her politely beautiful face. "I'm just feeling lost is all, I guess. I told you how I ended up in Hell, right?" Solemnly, Rosie nods.

Placing down her tea cup, Rosie wiggles towards you a bit. "Maybe you just need to find that old spark again! Something that roused you when you were alive! I have a friend who was a radio host, same as you. He may be able to have a job for you! Alastor is as charming as they come!" She grins, her mouth full of pointed teeth on full display.

Your brow quirks. "Alastor? The Radio Demon?" Rosie nods, excitedly. Alastor had been the prolific serial killer that haunted New Orleans back in the 1920s. It felt weird that the main man-- subject, you studied in life would soon be your acquaintance and potential boss in death. You'd heard many hushed tales about the aforementioned Radio Demon dealing in bartered souls and how he wreaked havoc against his fellow Overlords overnight. He definitely seemed like the kind of demon you didn't want to make light of, or worse, be on his bad side.

"He's a quirky one, for sure, but don't listen to all those rumors and gossip!" Rosie waves her hand with a laugh. "Alastor is still a gentleman and I'm sure he'd be delighted to offer you a job! Maybe you can intern for him? Besides! If he's ever rude to you, ol' Rosie will kick him in the shins! I'll wear my extra-pointy boots!" She giggles, holding your hands in hers. "You'll be in good hands, my dear! I'll let Alastor know you're coming right away!"

Staring down at the neatly folded paper in your hand, you double and triple check the address scrawled in neat calligraphy.

Hazbin Hotel.

Was it normal for a former serial killer slash radio host to become a hotelier that's trying to rehabilitate sinners?

With a shrug, you made your way up the incline taking note of the rather ominous looking radio tower jutting out from the far-right side of the hotel. A sign displaying the words on-air was currently unlit and it looked quite dark inside from what you could see from the ground. Perhaps the great Alastor wasn't at home.

Knocking on the front door, you're greeted by a tall, deer-like demon with two-toned hair and sharp yellow teeth dressed in a dapper red-pinstripe suit complete with a microphone-like cane. Scarlet eyes stare down at you like a lion watching a gazelle. You feel utterly and completely exposed, like he's peeling back your every layer, surveying you, before he even said a single word.

"Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel, my dear! Quite a pleasure! You must be the little darling that dear Rosie sent, yes?" Alastor places his hand on your lower back, guiding you past the hotel's front doors and into the welcoming comfort of the establishment's front lobby and reception area. "This is a place where wayward sinners such as yourself can find peace and be led on the path of redemption to ascend to Heaven by Hell's very own princess, Charlie Morningstar!"

On queue, a blonde-haired girl sprints up to you squealing and flailing her arms a bit. She takes her hands in yours and offers you a big, delighted smile. You like her immediately. "Oh, my gosh! Welcome, welcome to Hazbin Hotel! I see you've met our gracious host Alastor! He's mentioned that you're going to be interning for him-- how exciting! We are so thankful to have you!"

With the attention directed back at him, Alastor grins with a whine of radio static. It was the equivalent of a lazy smirk with his half-lidded scarlet eyes taking you in one more, searching for any potential risks you may pose though you didn't intend any of that sort. You felt your skin begin to heat the longer his gaze remained on you, and hesitantly break the eye contact with the demon in favor of Charlie, who has been excitedly talking about all of the hotel's features.

To think, all those months ago had been the start of your journey with your friends. You had felt so out of place in Hell, in your new skin, uncomfortable with the weight of sharp horns protruding your skin and the strength of your clawed hands. You were quite pleasantly surprised at what you could withstand now as a demon.

"I brought your coffee, sir." Alastor hums out a soft 'thank you' yet continues to fiddle with the buttons and tracks on his console, not raising his head to look at you. "Rosie gave me some venison for you. She said aid it's your favorite when it's fresh and raw." Placing Alastor's simple black coffee on a small side table, you revere your boss with a fond expression. Rosie had been truthful she said he was the charming sort. There certainly was an air of respectability about him that men lacked from your time.

"Our dear Rosie is certainly a clever one, and she is quite correct. There is no better way to enjoy meat than having it served fresh. Preferably off the bone but this will do." Alastor tilts his head, turning to the side to regale you from the corner of his eyes. Those damn beautiful scarlet gems. "Something the matter, my dear?" Alastor's voice is a soft crackle.

Stumbling in surprise, you wrack your brain for a plausible answer. When you find none, you shake your head from side to side cursing the heat that sets your cheeks ablaze.

Alastor smirks, standing from his stool and approaches you. He grasps your chin between his thumb and forefinger; his claw lightly dragging across your lower lip. Blood beads up following the path his claw created. He swipes it up, licking it in front of you.

"Tasty," Alastor grins, leaning down and bumping his nose into yours. "As I said, meat is best when fresh." He squeezes your cheek lightly, chuckling at the exudes into his palm. "If I wasn't certain, I'd say you have a little crush on me, hmm?" He turns his back to you, those damned scarlet eyes that see straight through your soul strike you where you stand. "That'll be all now, dearest. Thank you for your time and your blood."

You couldn't get out of there fast enough. You weren't afraid of him, no, you were more scared of kissing him now more than ever. A fantasy of both of you pressed tight to one another with mouths soaked in blood would be all you can think of for hours.

Whatever was going on between you and Alastor continued on much like a game of cat and mouse only he seemed to be going out of his way more and more to fluster you, saying things that would catch you off guard.

"I don't think of myself as much of a man who desires a relationship beyond friends and family, but cohabitating with you as lifelong partners does sound desirable."

"Hmm, tell me. Are your horns sensitive?" His breath ghosts then one day, causing you to shriek and cover them. You pout, turning your head to glare at him. Alastor's grin only seemed to stretch further. "Only teasing, darling, no need to get so uppity."

It was a slow evening, Alastor had sent you off on another errand. There was a sense of apprehension worrying his brow, glancing at the analog clock. The hour hand strikes the 3am mark. He'd sent you off almost an hour and a half ago, so where were you?

Interference crackles onto his radio, Alastor hissing as the feedback screeches. With ears pinned back, his eyes narrowed further when a familiar voice crosses.

"Ugh, I will never understand why thr fuck you use this shit, Alastor." Groaned Vox. "Anyway, I got your cute assistant here. You should see them, shaking like a leaf." The radio glitches in tune with Vox's laughter. "Valentino here has been itching for a new plaything, doesn't that sound good, sweetheart? Maybe we can broadcast that for all of Hell to see, right Al--"

Smash. Alastor's fist smashes through the radio cutting off Vox's boastful rant.

On the other side of the city, Vox blinks in confusion. "I lost the radio signal? Oh, fuck, God this shit is so old." He sighs, leaning back in his chair. Spinning around, he gives you a wry smirk. "Guess we'll see if the Great Alastor comes to rescue his lost pup, hmm?"

Glowering at him, left bound and gagged, sitting on the cold, hard floor. Valentino gives a harsh tug on your hair, your teeth sinking into the cotton gag shoved in your mouth, a muffled grunt leaving you.

An electric feeling in the air has your hair rising. Vox and Valentino share a confused look. A large fist blasts inside of the V Tower, claws sharp as they did through the metal like it was butter.

"Oh, fuck, it's Alastor!" Vox shrieks, scrambling to get away from the broken window. A second fist smashes through sending Vox into the opposing wall with a deep thud. Valentino runs to his friend's aid, helping him up.

"Well, this is what you wanted, honey."

Vox groans in protest. "I know."

Green electricity crackles, a dark shadow pooling into the room and with a shriek, manifests into Alastor.

Paying the two no mind, Alastor crosses the threshold and kneels down before you. His clawed fingers are gentle as he removes the gag around your bruised mouth. "Sorry it took me so long, mon cour." A tentacle bursts through his back, spiraling directly into Vox and Valentino, sending the two into the neighboring room with a loud crash.

Scooping you into his arms, Alastor calmly walks through to the next room, his hand cupping the back of your head. "Rest." He regards the other two males with a snarling crackle.

"If I didn't have more important matters to attend to, I would eviscerate you two gents. Touch what is mine again and I'll broadcast your fucking screams all over Hell." Alastor hums, exiting V Tower.

"Holy shit! Did you see?? He finally sees me as his rival!" Vox cheers, tossing both arms into the air in celebration.

Valentino sighs, "Honey, you need psychiatric help."

"This may sting, but I trust that you can handle it." Alastor says, rubbing off the blood from your brow with a cotton ball doused in isopropyl alcohol. Wincing softly, you take the moment to look at him closely. You'd never seen Alastor so disheveled. Even with dealing with enemies, he was always composed. But, tonight, he had been anything but the picture of composure. He looked positively feral.

"Is there something about my face you find interesting, dearest?"

Squeaking, your face flushes, shaking your arms frantically. Gasping you quickly place a hand to your ribs. Guess they really did fracture something when they knocked you out.

Alastor stills your hands with his own. "Easy now, pet. You're in no state to be moving around like an interpretive mime. I was only teasing you, my dearest. You had me worried tonight."

Hanging your head low, you turn your gaze away. "I'm sorry, Alastor. I don't know how they got the drop on me. I was walking home and smelled something odd--," you gasped in realization. "Chloroform. It had to be."

Alastor growled tensely at that. He tied the bandage around your arm and with a snap of his fingers the medical kit disappeared and a serving tray appeared carrying a kettle full of hot chocolate and a staple 1920s dessert: pound cake. This one was drizzled with a bitter chocolate and filled with strawberries.

Alastor takes your hand and gently kisses your knuckles. "Care to join me for a treat?" His tone was a touch more gentle than it had been a heartbeat ago. You smile, nodding eagerly. He grins and begins to cut the cake, serving you first. "One more thing."

Softly, Alastor kisses your cheek. It was the lightest of touches and over as soon as it happened. He busies himself by pouring two mugs of steaming hot chocolate, the apples of his cheeks were a rosy hue.

|| ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ʀᴇᴜꜱᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴀʏ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱɪᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ. ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ © ᴄʜᴇʀᴜʙꜰᴀᴇ 2024 ||

[wonyoiz]

Pa-umaga; Jungwon filo smut au 🔞

2.2k words

taglish, cuss words, teasing, laplapan, kantutan, car fun BASTA BASTOS BAWAL SA BATA

You would be lying if you said his last message didn’t make you need him more. Lagi kayong nag ba-bar to unwind before or after a good fuck. Madalas niyong ginagawa ito, for thrill they say. The night would either end well or end with a mukhang-hindi-mabasa written on your face dahil sa selos. Jungwon often wears his black eyeglasses outside which makes him look nerd, pulling girls left and right, and he knows damn well you don’t like the idea of it. Sinasadya niyang pag-selosin ka dahil tinitigasan siya whenever you act possessive. Girls usually think of him as someone who is pure as milk, nerd, and innocent that makes them want to use him. Little did they know that the innocent guy they know is the same guy who’s begging you, dominating you, and of course, fucking you.

He becomes a completely different person the moment he’s alone with you or even just when he catches sight of you. Ganiyan kalala tama niya sa’yo na baka kahit isang haplos lang ng kamay mo sa hita ni Jungwon ay tigasan na siya and you’d always end up getting fucked.

You eventually made your way back to your table, and Jungwon soon followed. The moment his hand rested on your waist, accompanied by a subtle squeeze, it was as if a jolt of electricity coursed through you, leaving you visibly stunned. You’re aware sa kung ano ginagawa niya dahil alam niya rin kung gaano kayo nagtitimpi hawakan ang isa’t isa. Inusog ka niya sa harapan niya at biglang idiniin ang katawan sayo, tangina damang dama mo yung tumutusok sa pwetan mo and it’s hard as fuck. Parang kinikiliti ka sa leeg mo dahil sa hangin na lumabas sa pag-tawa ni Jungwon. He leaned in close to your neck and whispered, “Dama mo?”

Tumawa na naman siya bago idiin lalo, slowly thrusting his clothed dick behind you. “Tigas ‘di ba? Kasalanan mo ‘yan.”At dahil puta ka, you can’t help but let out a soft moan. Umupo agad siya na parang wala lang nangyari. Kitang kita na naman sa mukha mo yung inis dahil sa pambibitin ni Jungwon

As Jungwon sat down, a smirk played on his lips, fully aware of the frustration he was causing you. He casually took a sip from his drink, eyes never leaving yours, as if daring you to make the next move. The heat between you was palpable, and every nerve in your body was on edge, craving his touch and the release he so expertly withheld.

Finally, unable to take it any longer, you leaned over the table, your voice low and dripping with desire. "Quit teasing. Alam mo naman kung ano gusto kong mangyari.”He raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence, but the glint in his eyes told you he was far from done playing. "Oh? And what exactly do you want, baby?" he asked, his tone laced with mockery

"Don't play dumb," you shot back, frustration evident in your voice. "You know damn well what I want." He chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that sent shivers down your spine.

"Maybe I do," he said, leaning in closer until his lips were just inches from yours. "But where's the fun in giving in so easily?"

You clenched your fists, trying to control the overwhelming urge to drag him out of the bar and into the nearest dark corner. But before you could respond, he stood up, grabbing your hand and pulling you with him.

"Tara na." he said, his voice suddenly serious, leaving no room for argument.

Jungwon's grip on your wrist tightened as he led you swiftly out of the alley and toward his car. Jungwon's grip on your wrist tightened as he led you swiftly out of the alley and toward his car.

The moment the door closed, he was on you. His hands found your waist, pulling you onto his lap as he settled into the driver’s seat. The interior was dim, shadows playing across his face, highlighting the dark, hungry look in his eyes. You could barely catch your breath before his lips crashed into yours, the kiss aggressive and desperate. His hands roamed your body with purpose, gripping your hips, meeting each other's thrusts in perfect sync. Ramdam na ramdam mo yung hulma ng tite ni Jungwon kahit naka pantalon siya.

“Ah.. Kanina mo pa ako binabaliw, tangina.” Jungwon moaned between kisses, his voice rough with need. His hands slid up your thighs, fingertips brushing close between your legs.

“Putangina?” He finally noticed. “Ito ba dahilan?” Walang sabing hinawakan ni Jungwon ang puke mo, slowly rubbing your clit.

“Do you wear skirts to flaunt how much of a slut you are? Kailan mo pa tinanggal panty mo?” Hindi ka na halos makasagot because of the pleasure he’s giving you. Ungol lang ang tanging sagot mo sa tanong niya kaya’t binilisan niya pa lalo ang paghimas sa puke mo at saka pinasok ang dalawang daliri, making you grip on his shoulders tightly.

“Ah.. kanina.. sa cr— Fuck you..” apat na daliri na ang pinasok niya matapos mong sumagot. You can feel every inch of his fingers—neither too large nor too small, but perfectly sized to fit inside you. The sensation is intense, as the fingers press and curl against your sensitive walls, hitting just the right spots. Each movement and touch is precise, creating waves of pleasure that seem perfectly tailored to your body’s needs.

Ang isang kamay niya naman ay pumunta sa baba mo sabay sabi ng “Tongue, baby.” Agad mo rin naman siyang sinunod na para bang you’re made to obey whatever he says. Nilabas mo ang dila mo bago ka niya sunggaban ng halik. Dila sa dila.. he swirled his tongue inside your mouth. Alam na alam niya kung ano ang gagawin, kabisado niya na rin ang bawat parte ng katawan mo and it never failed to impress you. Marami ka nang nakahalikan pero iba si Jungwon. He’s just too good for you.

You moaned into his mouth, the sound swallowed by the intensity of his kiss as your hips instinctively rocked against him, seeking friction. But just as the tension reached its peak, Jungwon pulled back with a smirk on his lips.

“Sa tingin mo laplap lang ibibigay ko sa’yo?” he murmured, voice dripping with dark amusement as he gripped your hips firmly, stopping your movements. You whined in protest, trying to grind against him, but his hold was unyielding.

“Please, Jungwon…” you begged, your voice barely above a whisper, laced with desperation.

“Can’t hear you, baby.” he teased, raising an eyebrow as he stared into your eyes, savoring every second of your submission.

Napakagat ka sa labi mo dahil alam mong nang-aasar na naman yung isa, the taste of the alcohol he drank still lingers on your tongue. “Please, just fuck me already.”

Jungwon's eyes darkened, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest as he leaned in close, lips brushing your ear. “Marunong ka naman pala mag-salita,” he whispered, the words sending a shiver down your spine.

In one swift motion, he tugged down the fabric of your skirt, revealing just enough of what he wanted. His fingers swiftly and skillfully reached your pussy, tracing delicate circles, eliciting a sharp gasp from your lips.

“Fuck, basang-basa…” he muttered, his voice filled with satisfaction as he continued his torturous teasing, his fingers never giving you the full relief you craved. “All because of a little teasing in the bar?”

Tanging pag-tango lang ang nasagot mo sa kanya, barely able to form words as his fingers worked their magic. But just when you thought he might finally give you what you wanted, he stopped, pulling his hand away completely. You were about to speak, but the look in his eyes silenced you.

Without warning, Jungwon unbuttoned his jeans, releasing his hardened length, the sight of it making your mouth water. He didn’t waste any time; he gripped your hips and positioned you above him, the head of his cock brushing against your entrance.

“Let’s quit with the teasing. Kantutin na kita, please..”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You slowly lowered yourself onto him, moaning loudly as he stretched you, filling you up completely. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain that had your head spinning. Tangina, ang laki niya.

Jungwon let out a guttural groan as he bottomed out inside you, his hands still gripping your hips, guiding your movements. “Mhmm- Fuck, ang sarap mo,” he hissed through gritted teeth as he began to thrust up into you, setting a brutal pace that had you seeing stars.

Napapaliyad ka na sa bawat hagod ng tite niya sa loob ng puke mo habang si Jungwon naman ay napapakagat na ng labi as he throws his head back because of how tight you are kahit ilang beses ka na niyang napasukan.

You couldn’t hold back your cries of pleasure as he fucked you hard, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. The car was filled with the sounds of your desperate moans and the slick, wet noises of your bodies colliding. His hand found its way to your neck, fingers wrapping around your throat with just enough pressure to make you feel even more powerless under his control.

“Nakikita mo ba sarili mo?” Jungwon asked, his grip on your neck tightening as he pounded into you relentlessly. “Halos kilala ka na nga sa uni bilang santo pero here you are.. so fucking desperate for my cock.” Hindi ka na naman makasagot dahil sa pagsunggab niya sa leeg mo, leaving marks for people to see.

“Only I get to fuck you like this, naiintindihan mo ba?” he asked, waiting for your answer.

“Yes,” you gasped, barely able to breathe as the pressure of his hand and the intensity of his thrusts pushed you closer and closer to your climax “Ikaw lang.”

“Good,” his voice thick with lust as he drove into you harder, his thrusts becoming more erratic. “Because I’m not stopping until you’re begging me to.”

And he didn’t. He kept you on the edge for what felt like an eternity, pulling you back from the brink of release only to push you closer again, until you were nothing but a mess in his arms.

Jungwon looks so hot under you.. na kahit sa simpleng pagtulo ng pawis niya eh nalilibugan ka. You’re riding him pero he doesn’t let you do all the work and that’s what you like about him compared sa mga dating naka fubu mo, mga makasarili amputa sariling libog lang iniisip. You two have been fucking for almost four months already and you would be lying kapag sinabi mong hindi mo siya gusto romantically. Typical lore na nahuhulog sa ka-fubu. Lala ng attachment issues mo par. Paano ba naman kasi, after care niyang ipag-luto at alagaan ka kaya sinong hindi mahuhulog sa ganiyan?

…

And fucking finally, when you couldn’t take it anymore, when every nerve in your body was screaming for release, Jungwon gripped your hips tightly and slammed you down onto him one last time, sending you crashing over the edge into oblivion. You screamed his name as the pleasure washed over you in waves, your body convulsing around him as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you were completely spent.

With a final, deep thrust, nilabas ni Jungwon ang tite niya bago labasan nang tuluyan, nanginginig pa siya habang tumatalsik sa katawan mo ang tamod niya. He held you tightly against him, his breathing heavy and ragged in your ear.

For a moment, neither of you moved, both of you too lost in the aftermath of what had just happened. But eventually, Jungwon loosened his grip on you, his hands gently stroking your back as you caught your breath, He gently brushed the hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ears with a tender touch.

Jungwon gently pulled you off his lap, carefully adjusting you so you were seated beside him in the shotgun seat. His touch was now tender, a stark contrast to the rough, demanding energy of a moment ago. At dahil bare minimum enjoyer ka, kuhang-kuha ka na naman ni Jungwon.

He reached over to grab a small, clean towel from the glove compartment and handed it to you. "Here," he said softly, his voice warm and reassuring. "Clean up."

As you finished cleaning yourself up, he took the towel from you and tossed it aside, then pulled you into a gentle hug. Wala na, baliw ka na ata talaga sa kaniya. His arms were warm and comforting, wrapping around you protectively. "Ayos ka lang?" he asked, his tone sincere.

You nodded, leaning into his chest. "Of course."

He stroked your hair, his fingers running soothingly through the strands. "I'm sorry if I got too rough," he said, his voice filled with genuine regret. “Sarap mo kasi,” biro niya, kahit totoo naman.

Hinampas mo siya nang mahina sa braso pero gago kinilig ka lang dahil naramdaman mo ang biceps niya, lumalaki na talaga lalo ang katawan niya dahil sa pag g-gym. Even his chest were much bigger than last month.

“Tara na hatid na kita.”

You smiled, appreciating the thoughtfulness behind his offer. "Sure," you said, feeling a warm glow at the way he was taking care of you.

Jungwon nodded, starting the car with a smooth motion. He drove effortlessly, his left hand resting on the window while his right hand guided the wheel. Occasionally, he glanced at you with a warm smile.

[deftmeat]

‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎ ‎ 彡 ‎ ‎ ‎‎ stepbrother!peter parker obsessed with you

NSFW ( mostly just a self-indulgent au )

• reposted since tumblr hid it •

w a r n i n g : contains non con and perv!peter

before tony stark had settled down with pepper potts, he had been with another woman. but after a messy divorce and an unwanted child, he decided to cut off all contact with her.

that woman was your mother. you had never met your father until she handed you off to him one day in the chilly autumn of new york.

after turning 18, she had decided to kick you out and dump you at the very front doors of stark tower.

with loose, messily packed luggage and fat tears staining your face, a man with short curly hair opened the door to you.

of course, later you learned his name was happy and tony trusted him greatly. happy also seemed to willfully obey his every order so you assumed there was a lot of trust and history between them. but you also wondered if tony ever told anyone about you.

it didn’t surprise you though, when you were brought up to tony, escorted by happy, that your father had no idea who you are. and when you explained yourself, he acted shocked you existed.

that’s how you ended up being employed by tony himself, starting out more as an errand runner or assistant to his incessant requests.

you couldn’t lie and say you enjoyed the first few months helping out around the avengers tower and catering to people who intimidated you- but after two years you had come to form closer relationships with those on the team and were more than just a nuisance.

but there was one other person you spent a lot of time with.

peter parker.

you were basically the same age as him, both the same generation and shared the exact same humour. your friendship with peter was nothing like the ones you possessed with the other, older avengers.

your texts between each other consisted of memes and spammed word vomit. peter spilled his secrets and his fears to you while you comforted him and listened. he didn’t see you any differently despite being aware of your hidden relation to his boss, respecting you enough to never bring it up.

there were times where you’d catch him staring at you for too long or you’d accidentally touch each other and he’d linger… just a little bit. you only brushed it off that he was clingy and touch starved.

alas, peter knew sometimes you would feel embarrassed of the fact you were tony’s kid especially when tony never liked to share details about himself to his coworkers. a few of them had been told too but treated you like you weren’t the daughter of one of the most narcissistic men they knew.

another reason you got along well with everyone. so much that you had been silently promoted to aiding in missions and able to train side by side with peter and the rest of the avengers.

when sparing with peter, he’d purposefully sweep your legs out from under you, only to collect your wrist in both of his hands and slam them to the mat, his thighs locked on either side of your hips and his face unnecessarily lowered to hover over yours.

you found most of your sessions under him and while it frustrated you that he beat you every single time, you couldn’t help but notice the look on peter’s face when he did trap you to the floor.

you also noticed how as soon as he got off of you, peter was quick to end the sparring match- practically running out of the gym, his pace fast and posture hunched over. maybe peter was just weird in general?

but he couldn’t help it. seeing you under him, looking vulnerable and so damn pretty like that… his cock swelled with blood and his balls ached with the need to breed you. every. single. time.

the feeling didn’t go away, even after may had died. despite the fact peter had become a mess, you were right there, picking up the pieces that used to be him and taping them back together as best as you could.

that’s when tony had made the executive decision to take peter in. he reasoned that he was already like a father figure to the poor boy, nothing would change. tony obviously had a soft spot for him.

at least, that’s what he said to convince you. and you couldn’t turn peter away when everyone he loved was no longer in his life.

so he moved into the building, took all of his belongings and clothes with him. peter put university on hold while he figured things out. you were understanding and tony- supportive. that’s when he could see the resemblance between you two. you both cared for him. and he suggested to become apart of your family.

of course tony took it the wrong way and surprised peter by adopting him, not even telling you beforehand. you were both speechless but for different reasons.

when peter stroked his leaking dick at night, giving into his fantasies of pushing your head down and dragging his red sensitive tip across your slit and deep inside your soaked walls; he could do so freely. now? now he couldn’t.

he couldn’t have you the way he wanted. peter was definitely frustrated at the new dynamic between you and him but he found it as an excuse to freely walk into your room whenever he wanted. why not? he was your step brother now.

it creeped you out at first, how he would sometimes silently slip past your doorway and make himself at home, occasionally starting up random conversations as if he hadn’t done anything wrong.

eventually you got used to it. sometimes leaving your room to grab a snack or go to the bathroom. you could trust peter not to break anything. he was such a sweet and quiet guy.

and that’s when he would take his chance, going through your drawers and stealing little things of yours.

the sheer panties your best friend from high school had given you for your birthday. a photo of you in a revealing bikini from a trip to the beach when you used to live with your mom. one of the many bottles of body spray that littered your vanity. lotion that you used all the time. another pair of underwear that were less appealing but you wore all the time when you wanted to dress comfortably.

peter even started to lay on your bed on his stomach as soon as you left the room and grind his hips down, rubbing his jean clad bulge against the soft blanket you slept under. he’d stick his face down into your pillow and hump your mattress, veiny hands fisting any fabric he could grab and pulling it closer to his nose, smelling you while he thought of raw dogging your puffy pussy in your own bed.

just when he was on the verge of cumming in his pants, you’d always walk in and he’d feign innocence. pretending he wasn’t just dry humping your bed like a greedy rabbit. you were never the wiser.

you noticed certain things of yours started to go missing little by little until you barely had things to wear or use. you assumed it was the dryer eating your entire wardrobe so you complained to tony and he gave you his card to buy an entire new one.

he didn’t want you going alone though so he made peter go with you. you weren’t entirely thrilled since had he had been glued to your hip almost constantly as of recently but you went along with it, knowing that if you didn’t agree, tony wouldn’t let you go at all.

so when you get to the small shop on the busy corner, peter wouldn’t stop suggesting pieces for you to buy or even try on. you found that they were either way too revealing or borderline inappropriate for him to request. but he wouldn’t stop insisting, going as far as to shove a whole armful of things into you and pushing you to the changing room very eagerly.

“i’m just trying to help.” he told you before closing the door behind you once you fully stepped inside. it didn’t help that every two minutes he’d knock and ask if you had finished, that he wanted to see what they looked like on you.

you obliged, feeling a bit uncomfortable. you were exposed- not to mention in front of peter. your step brother.

you left the small room in the first thing he had shown you, a size too small t-shirt and extremely tiny booty shorts. but peter seemed to hype you up, smiling enthusiastically. his eyes held a glossed over look while his gaze slowly went down your body, taking in how your skin would stick out and show where it probably shouldn’t be.

“okay turn around.” he spoke abruptly, making your face twist into one of uncertainty. he shook his head and merely spoke down to you like you were playing dumb; “come on, i just wanna see what the back looks like.”

huffing out a sigh, you reluctantly shifted your weight and spun to show your backside.

when you did though- you swore you heard a camera clicking but when you whipped your head around to catch whoever had taken your picture without consent.. no one was there.

“peter..?” you meekly stared around, looking for the boy but he had disappeared as if in thin air. the only other people you saw were two employees reorganizing hangers across the wall.

your stomach twisted and you shrunk back into the changing room, not bothering to try the other pieces on and put your own clothes back on, feeling anxious that someone was watching you.

as soon as you went to open the door, peter was standing right in front of the entrance- making you jump and drop the large pile of things you were holding.

“woah, sis. calm down. it’s just me.” he laughed it off, giving you that boyish smile, peter’s eyes never leaving yours. you felt your face flush and apologized- pushing past him to put the exposing clothes back on the racks where he had gotten them from.

ever since then, you felt violated. you avoided peter. you started to ask FRIDAY to lock your door with an access code. you weren’t entirely sure it had been him but he was starting to freak you out even after that day.

you’d wake up multiple nights in a row, in a cold sweat, absolutely sure you could feel someone else had been inside your room besides yourself.

you’d place your hoodie down on the couch to grab a drink, coming back to find it gone.

peter would stay up for two hours after you went to bed, wanting to be certain you had fallen asleep before typing in the access code to your room- watching you put it in while he stuck to the ceiling one day.

he’d quietly shuffle in and see your phone beside your pillow and your face scrunched up while you dreamt. he’d whisper your name just to double check then crept over to your bed, hovering down to stare.

the next thing he knew, he was fucking hard- just by looking at you. that’s what you did to him and you didn’t even know it. his step sister always teasing him, purposefully taunting him with something that was forbidden for peter.

but he bottled up his frustration, struggling to push down his jeans as silently as possible. the slight sound of denim rubbing against itself was drowned out as his pants clung just below his knees. he hadn’t worn a belt for this very reason. wanted easy access while keeping you unaware of his presence.

peter bit his lip when his warm palm finally made contact with his cock, the angry tip already leaking and spilling down to weave through his fingers. “mmshit..” he choked out, careful not to be too loud when he started to stroke himself. his eyes were locked onto your sleeping face, his tongue darting out to drag across his bottom lip with desire. desire for you.

since he couldn’t have you, this was the best he could do, flicking his wrist to increase the speed that his hand jerked his dick, his cheeks wearing a dark flush the faster he went.

“yeah.. wanna breed my lil’sis.. make you mine, baby..” peter muttered, leaning forward so that his cock was right beside the pillow, the back of his hand almost ghosting your nose every time he moved up the entirety of his throbbing length.

he had only touched himself above you one other time but every single night since he saw how your ass looked in those small shorts- he couldn’t help but visit you while you were unconscious, whispering about how badly he wanted to feel your pretty cunt wrapped around his dick, about how good he bets you taste. but he was growing restless, as he confided in your passed out form- he needed more.

which lead to two nights ago. peter couldn’t help but jack off while sitting at the chair in front of your desk in the corner, listening to your soft breaths, one your previously used panties stuffed into his mouth to keep himself quiet - forcing peter to spurt cum all over his hand and bare thighs.

tonight was no different but he was feeling bolder, the aggressive animalistic demand his mind screamed at him to paint your face and mark you as his. to see how hot you looked while his warm sticky seed dripped down your lips and chin and onto your sheets, ruining them. ruining you.

a low groan rumbled in his chest when you shifted, your face now just under his slapping balls. peter almost came at the sight of your unconscious submission, your eyes fluttering and your lips just barely parted. ready to swallow the load he could feel about to explode from his swollen cock head.

his other hand not gripping his dick, shot out to claw at your head board to steady himself from falling on top of you, his body tingling with pure heat. he could barely stand, his knees buckling and the strong muscles in his pale thighs rippling with the effort to maintain his stance.

he was sure he could last another few minutes but when you moved your arms under your blanket, the sudden action pulled it down, revealing the loose tank top you had chosen to wear to bed.

peter’s eyes flitted down to your tits, and upon noticing you hadn’t worn a bra, your nipples stiff and pressing into the fabric- he let out a loud moan, massive ropes of white cum pouring out of his cock.

a few spurts hit your bare collarbones, your chest, the soft blanket draped over you and of course your pretty face. he watched as the thick goo caught on the tip of your nose and bottom lip- gravity causing it to run inside your mouth and down your cheeks onto the pillow.

“fuuuck.” peter cursed at the sight of his cum soaked step sister, all laid out for him.

when you felt something hot splatter your skin you flinched. it had made you stir. blinking your messy eyelids, trying to get whatever it was out of your eyes- you were fully awakened when you heard that familiar click of a camera.

rising your hand up to drag your numb fingers across your face, whatever was on it stuck to your digits and webbed between them. then you noticed it was also in your mouth so you leaned forward and let it drizzle out past your lips and land on your sheets. then you saw movement in the darkness and your unfocused gaze lifted to just barely be able to make out what it was. or who it was.

your body ran cold- you were first met with a cock that was still strikingly hard, leaking and pointing right at you, followed by hair framing the base of the shaft, accompanied by a small trail of the same hair up to below his bellybutton.. peter’s face above it all.

he lowered his phone with clouded eyes, panting heavily and cheeks flushed. his eyes on you.

“…pete?”