#c: spice and everything nice

[riftdancing]

If a year were tucked inside of a clock Then Autumn would be the Magic Hour.

[charliemwrites]

Good morning. Chapter 8. 😈

(Okay I was a lil wrong. Not full smut, but some spice.)

CW for violence, threats, non-con groping. Reader has a “bad” time and Simon is a bastard. Stay safe while reading!

He doesn’t kill Brandon immediately. No, no that little sack of spare organs deserves a long, slow, thoughtful death. But he doesn’t need to be able to walk for that.

Besides, Simon has a little bunny to track down.

And when he picks up your trail, oh. Oh. You are in so much trouble.

Somehow, you managed to shimmy a window open just enough to squeeze through. Out into a goddamn blizzard. At the very least, he notices when he finds your tracks, you put some boots on.

Catching up to you is pitifully easy. Longer legs and more experience in extreme terrain like this - you’ve barely made it to the tree line before he snatches you up.

“No!” You shout. There’s something so fucking cute about it. The pitch, the indignance mixed with despair. His shoulder shake a bit as he hauls you over her shoulder. “No, Riley, put me down!”

“Name’s Simon, luv.”

“I don’t care!”

“You will.”

He carries you, kicking and squirming and shouting back towards the lodge. Only starts to lose patience when he loses his grip a bit and nearly drops you on a hard sheet of ice.

He growls, digs his fingers into your plush thigh. “If you don’t fucking behave, I will spank you raw right fucking here. With your face in the snow.”

You gasp. Pause. Then go limp, sniffling and crying as he carries you back inside. He dumps you gently in front of the fire on your stomach, pins you down with his boot in the center of your back when you instantly try to scramble away.

“Where did those good manners go, sunshine?” he teases.

“Fuck manners,” you cry, pressing your wet face into your arms.

“No, baby, see? Those good manners are why you’re still alive. So sweet, so nice.” He leans down, careful not too put too much pressure on your abdomen. “Too sweet and nice to die.”

You hitch with a quiet noise. “Why are you doing this? Another lesson?”

“Mm. Could make it another lesson, couldn’t I? But no, luv. This all just for you, because I want to.”

As if on cue, Brandon comes crawling into view whimpering and begging for you to help him. Simon, annoyed by the interruption, snaps at him to shut up.

“Speaking of what I want you to do…” He drops to his knees, straddling your ass. You jolt when you feel the unmistakable hardness pressed against it. Takes everything in him not to grind. “I want to peel this little prick’s skin of square by square.”

Both you and Brandon make frightened noises at that. Simon rolls his eyes and continues.

“I’d settle for letting him bleed out from the stomach or lighting him on fire if he apologizes though.”

“F-for what?” Brandon demands.

Simon buries his fingers in your snow-wet hair because if he doesn’t, he’s going to take this idiot apart piece by piece right in front of you. Seems like a bit much for a second date.

“To her, for being a fucking pervert.”

“I’m not the sick fuckin-“

“S-Simon, please,” you pipe up, voice quiet and wobbly. “D-don’t do this, don’t hurt him.”

He clicks his tongue. “Little late for that, eh?”

“Just… please. He’s suffered enough hasn’t he?”

He laughs. Can’t help it. You just don’t get it yet, do you?

“He touched you. He upset you.”

You swallow. “You’re upsetting me.”

“You’re mine.”

You suck in a breath and finally, finally seem to understand.

“Then…. Then just leave him be. F-for me?”

Simon sighs, but can’t help the fondness that flares in his chest. Such a smart, kind little thing.

“Tell you what, sunshine, I’ll make you a deal.”

He shuffles back a bit, captures both your little wrists with one hand. You don’t try to struggle, know better now. He could purr; such a fast learner too. He draws you up on your knees, leaning you back against his chest.

“If I win, he watches what I do to you and then dies nice and slow like he deserves,” he murmurs in your ear.

You tremble. “W-what are you gonna do to me?”

He grins wickedly, trailing cool blood-stained fingers beneath your shirt. “Nothin’ you’re not already gaggin’ for.”

You jerk a bit, that precious flame of defiance brightening. “I’m not-!”

“Then prove me wrong and take the bet.”

“W-wait what happens if I win?”

He snorts softly, nuzzles his mask into your cheek. Likes the way you shift uncomfortably.

“I’ll stop. Hell, you know what? I’ll turn myself in. Brandon gets to live and you go to therapy and I got to prison, yeah?”

You turn to him, eyes huge and mouth parted in shock. Hook, line, and fuckin’ sinker. Oh, sweet thing, you never stood a chance.

“Deal?” he asks.

You only hesitate for a beat, know that it’s off. Too good to be true.

“If you don’t take the deal, I’ll just continue with our regularly scheduled programming.”

“No!” you gasp. “I-I’ll take the deal. What… what’s the bet?”

“Well,” he purrs, tracing aimless patterns along your sensitive tummy. “Since you’re so sure that you’re not gaggin’ for my cock - you win if this pretty cunt isn’t drippin’ wet for me.”

And he sees it, the exact millisecond that you realize you’re going to lose this bet. You squeeze your eyes shut, a little sob escaping you.

Brandon makes a horrified noise on the other end of the carpet.

“You can’t be fucking serious?! You’re fucking-”

That’s quite enough of that. Simon can’t have you feeling ashamed of something that’s only natural.

“You say another fucking syllable and you’ll be eating your own eyeball.”

Your stomach hitches with disgust. He shushes and coos to you, “I know, I know. Gross nasty, hm? But I can’t have him speaking ill of you, sunshine.”

He tugs the mask up to the bridge of his nose, places a slow kiss against the corner of your jaw.

“Now, for our wager…”

You turn your face away as his hand trails down your abdomen, thumb sweeping over your navel. You shiver as he toys with the waistband of your pants, then finally slips his fingers inside, down….

“Oh, luv,” he moans.

You’re fucking soaked for him. Your panties alone are absolutely ruined. When he pulls them aside and strokes his fingertips through your slit, they come away gleaming. Your clit is swollen and hard, so sensitive that the gentlest brush makes you hiccup and twitch.

He stuffs the two fingers in his mouth, sucking the taste of you from bloody skin. Fucking divine. He could cum in his pants from that alone.

“Mm, shame that,” he rasps in your ear. “Guess I win.”

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

[reddpenn]

I got a Geiger counter!

Let’s look through my collection for some Spicy Rocks!  I’ve never deliberately collected radioactive specimens, so I have no idea what I’m going to find.

First, though, let’s test the baseline level of radiation in my house.

It’s fun to hear the Geiger counter click as it detects radiation.  20 counts per minute.  Nice!  You’re unlikely to ever see a count of zero, as pretty much everything in the world, including the human body, gives off a little bit of radiation. 

20 is a normal baseline, nothing to be concerned about.  Standing in my house, I’m getting a radiation dose of about 0.00013 milliseieverts per hour - or a little over one mSv a year.  This is an average yearly dosage of radiation for people in my country, and is something my body can easily process.  For context, a dosage of 100 mSv would slightly increase my risk of cancer, and a dosage of 1000 mSv would immediately give me radiation sickness.

But enough about these boring, safe amounts of radiation.  I want to see some spice!  Let’s check over by the Rock Wall!

Hm, I’d expected the CPM to be noticeably higher around my rock collection, but I’m getting nothing!  Even testing each individual rock, nothing’s more than a few ticks above the baseline.  So far, my fancy new toy is looking like wasted money.  :c

WAIT!  THERE!!  62 CPM!  That’s three times higher than the base reading in the rest of my house!!!  YESSS!!  THIS ROCK IS SPICY!!!!

Here’s the rock that’s setting off my Geiger counter.  (Yes I’m touching the spicy rock with my bare hands, don’t worry about it.) 

This fossil, which is as big as my head, is part of the femur bone of a Megalonyx, a North American giant ground sloth!

These huge animals could grow as big as ten feet tall.  They lived alongside humans during the last ice age, and it’s theorized that humans may have hunted them to extinction.  This particular fossil was found in a phosphate mine!

Why is it radioactive?  Because... sometimes fossils are just radioactive!  They spend a lot of time in the ground, which is full of radioactive minerals, and often radiation just gets all up in there.  There are some fossils on display in museums which are so radioactive that they have to be coated with lead paint for the safety of curators and museum-goers!  Compared to those, this femur bone is barely radioactive at all.

So is it really safe for me to have this in my house, much less handle it with my bare hands?  Well, yeah!  Remember, despite having this spicy rock in my collection, the radiation baseline in my house is completely normal.  Here’s why.

Even just a few centimeters away from this specimen, the Geiger counter’s reading is halved.  A few inches away, and it can’t detect any radiation at all.  It basically has to be directly touching the rock to get an abnormal reading.  Which means I also have to be touching the rock to receive a meaningful amount of radiation exposure.

But even holding this rock in my hands, I’m only getting a dosage of about 0.0004 mSv per hour.  If I never let go of this rock for an entire year, I would get a dose of about 3.5 mSv.  Which is... still completely within the safe threshold for my body to process.  Nothing to worry about!

Man, I gotta start collecting some spicier rocks.

[milkloafy]

THE WAY TO THE HEART — DAN HENG

⋆｡˚ ❀ summary: after saving penacony, you want to take a break and sit out of the next mission. you decide you should send dan heng off with a little homemade lunch before his travels. ⋆｡˚ ❀ contents: fluff, gn!reader, established relationship ⋆｡˚ ❀ wc: 0.8k ⋆｡˚ ❀ a/n: i don’t even like cooking but i want to cook for dan heng idk whats gotten into me >.> also!! idk what is happening after penacony i haven’t even finished penacony HSDJHGSK i’m making this up!! pls enjoy!!

Since you and Dan Heng started dating, there weren’t many mission you didn’t take part in together. However, after the events of Penacony, you decided you wanted to recuperate both your mental and physical health in the comfort of the Astral Express.

Dan Heng, who wanted to see more of the Xianzhou fleets decided he would go on the next mission. While you knew you would miss him, you were excited for him to have some more fun experiences with the crew. 

You decided you would send him off with a grand gesture. And what better way to someone’s heath than food? 

You weren’t the best chef in the world, but you could hold your own in the kitchen. At least, compared to Himeko and her coffee.You had planned to whip up a lunch box full of fried rice—with rock crab included to spice up the flavor—comfort food, and some izumo miso. Simple, but effective. Besides, what truly mattered is how cutely it was presented! With neatly shaped fried rice and sauce making little hearts and smiley faces on the food, Dan Heng was bound to love it.

Before Dan Heng was to depart for the next Xianzhou fleet, you gave him a big hug and handed him a nice lunch box.

“Everything is in an insulated container but it only holds the heat for twenty-four hours,” you stated as he graciously accepted the meal. “Try to eat it while it’s still warm!”

He nodded, ruffling the top of your head affectionately. “Will do. Make sure you get a lot of rest while you’re here. Message me if you get scared at night.”

You laughed despite how grateful you were for his offer. Being apart for long periods of time may be hard but at least you knew Dan Heng would always be there for you. 

“I’ll try to be brave without you,” you teased. “Now go, you should catch up with March 7th and Caelus. And remember—try to stay safe.”

“I’ll return to you in one piece,” he assured with a hint of amusement in his tone.

“You better!”

“I promise.”

— ❀ —

By the time Dan Heng was able to sit down and at, it was night time and he was in his hotel room after a long day out. Worriedly, he pulled the lunch you packed him out of his bag. 

Dan Heng recalled you telling him it would only be kept warm for twenty-four hours, and it was well over thirty now. Still, he was certain it would taste just as good since it was made with love and effort from you. Besides, microwaves existed on the Xianzhou if worst came to worst.

He removed all the lids from the containers and a whiff of some of his favorite foods filled his senses. Dan Heng’s stomach finally growled after the tiring day he had. 

Before he dug in, he noticed a piece of paper taped to a lid. Dan Heng chuckled to himself, knowing it was none other than a secret note from you. If he were only a tad less attentive, he wouldn’t have even noticed it was there.

Dan Heng opened it up.

You found me! c: 

A smile was immediately placed on Dan Hengs face. Oh, how he missed you already. It was too late at night to call you now—he didn’t want to disturb your rest, but he would certainly message you after he finished reading your note.

By the time you’re reading this, the food is probably cold, isn’t it?

He chuckled sheepishly. You knew him too well at times.

It’s okay though. I give you permission to microwave it just this once <3

I hope the first day of your mission went well. Not too many fights today, I hope? No Vidyadhara form required yet? Don’t overexert yourself, okay?

Now…enjoy your cold food and remember to take care of yourself! I love you and you’re super cool B) 

With Love,

Y/N

P.S. Don’t forget to message me~ ily!

Dan Heng took a sip of your miso soup with a smile and pulled out his phone to send you a message right away. He wished you were able to come wit him, but he understood perfectly the need for a mental health break.

[carmenized-onions]

I Want To. | Wellness Check

logline; Such is life, you go from not being needed at The Bear today to being more needed than you ever have been.

[!!!] series history, this is the fourth; First, Second, Third

portion; 4.7k+

possible allergies; a dash of Tony's former paramedic background (and just medical shit in general) in this one, so, a sprinkle of post-trauma stress (and her usual yikes psyche). Mikey comes up a bit, as usual! despite the ops, we ball.

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (pretty unavoidably gendered episode, mb non-fem folks)

we'll talk after babe, have a good time w/ this one.

Falling asleep was easy— par for Carmen fighting to keep his 6:30 am alarm on. When he finds out you don’t have a plug on his side of the bed and he has to charge his phone on your side, he turns it off. Cute.

Well, there’s also the part where you had to ask if he was okay because it sounded like he wasn’t breathing and it turns out —He was not breathing— He then pointed out that it sounded like you weren’t breathing —You were not breathing— Both of you thought the sound of your lungs would bother the other, so you opted not to use them at all. Turns out, counterproductive; you notice each other’s absences pretty well.

But besides that, it's easy. Carmen isn’t an awful bedfellow. He’s not super shifty, he doesn’t tug the blanket, he doesn’t roll all the fucking way over to your side, or anything like that. He’s honestly concerningly still. Is he annoyed that you’ve gotta toss and turn a little to get comfortable? Probably. He's probably dreaming of you exploding right now, he’s so annoyed. He didn’t make fun of your ages old build-a-bear plush nor it’s Cubs jersey, so that was nice. Pity, probably.

...If Carmen wasn’t here, he knows he’d be stirring and kicking and probably sleep-walking to his oven to light it on fire. But he is here. Where kicking would hurt. Where stirring would wake you. Where a fire would cause more anxiety than relief because all your plants and projects would die. Where you washed his hair and told him that taking care of people doesn’t feel like a lot of work to you. Was it not a lot of work, to take care of his brother? Was it worth it, to you? Probably not. How could it be?

He wills his body to not fucking move because if he does it's going to ruin everything. He's going to ruin everything.

He wakes up at 6:30 on the dot, alarm or no. He’d be concerned if his body functioned any differently. But he can’t get to his phone while you’re sleeping in his way and you’re so comfortable. You’re clutching a bear that’s undeniably on a losing team and you’re at peace with it. He’s trying not to make a metaphor out of this in his mind; alas, it’s already there. The only thing he can do is go back to sleep and dream about killing the teenage boy in his head before he can escape again and call you pretty.

It's around ten when you wake up, you try not to wake him when you turn to grab your phone, but the split second of motion makes him flinch like he’s about to get jumped. “Relax!” You hiss, but like, soft, whispered. “I’m doin’ the fuckin’ Wordle, not smothering you with a pillow.”

“You do the Wordle?”

“Oh, fuck you—”

“The first fuckin’ thing you do in the morning is the Wordle?”

“And I do the Crossword too, bitch, what of it?”

“…I like Connections.”

“I fuckin' hate Connections.”

“Alright, damn!��

The Chicago accent in both of you is stronger in your rasping morning voices. As is the laughter. You roll onto your stomach to get closer to him and let him see your screen. Neither of you have entirely woken up yet and that means it’s the perfect time to do a puzzle. If you don't focus on this puzzle right now, you fear you will get too comfortable in this idea of domesticity.

“C’s in the right place. Nothin’ else though.”

He’s the one that figures out its Cumin. You pretend not to be mad about this. You’re furious. Of course, it’d be a spice on the day Mr Food Guy sleeps over. Bullshit.

When you finally sit up, stretch, and say, “I’m just gonna shower real quick ‘nd—”

He’s at a breakneck speed to reply, “I’ll make breakfast.”

“Oh, you cook all the fuckin’ time, you don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

You blink, then shrug, the man likes to cook, c’est la vie. “Who am I to refuse?”

He looks far too happy about this, as though he’s won a lottery. A lottery of manual labour. He rolls out of bed, grabbing his back pack stuffed with yesterday’s clothes before leaving you to your own devices. In a literal sense, too, since you get a text. Ugh.

‘Gigi called in, can you reach?’

You would prefer not to reach, but this is capitalism.

‘When's the shift?’

‘6:30 to 12:30’

Why couldn’t something else at The Bear be fuckin’ broken today?

‘yeah i can reach’

‘that’s my girl, red tops today, see u’

You have also won the lottery of manual labour today. Look at you and Carm, luckiest people alive. Something like that. Alright, go shower and be normal about the fact that there’s a Michelin Star Chef making you breakfast in your kitchen. And he’s prett—

“You make your own bread.”

“I do.” You sit at your own little breakfast nook, waiting to be served. Towel hung around your neck post shower. You’d offer to help, but based on his urgency to cook for you, it’s gonna be a no. Plus, the gift on the table you’ve got for him is going to piss him off enough, can't poke this bear too much. He's already given you a mile. Too many idioms.

“I like to think in another universe I am a homesteader who makes her own soaps and renders tallow n’ shit. But I settle for growing basil and making sourdough in my shitty little Chicago apartment for now.”

“I like your apartment.” He hums, though amused. He turns and sets your plate—the one black plate— in front of you with a small smile. This smile immediately falls when he pushes the plate towards you and you push a travel bag of toiletries towards him.

“Fuck is this?”

“I don’t want to hear any complaints, Irish Spring.”

“How d’you know I use Irish Spring?”

“It’s all five of your routine, it’s going to be pungent— Now listen.” You pick up the bag; you’d dug through your sink cabinet and found a dollar store pack of plastic travel bottles, unused from cancelled trips of yesteryear. You've decanted your own products for him. It's fine, you buy jumbo sizes anyways...

“Shampoo, conditioner, face wash—They’ve even got labels.”

He takes the bag from you, setting it down on his side of the counter, begrudgingly. Though he hasn’t particularly paid it much mind, tunnelled on something else entirely, “Do you not like Irish Spring?”

"I didn't give you a body wash, you can still use it for that one purpose."

"Yeah, but do you not like Irish Spring?"

"...I think it's fine."

“Fine?”

“I’m more of an Old Spice fan.”

“You don’t deserve breakfast—” He pulls your plate, you pull it back.

“All I said—” “Thinkin’ I smell like shit—” “Did not say that—!” “Just cause you use the fruity stuff—” “I smell good! Deny that I smell good!” “You smell fine.” “Wowww—Whatever, do the thing.”

“Bruschetta with a breakfast twist.” Ah, that makes him give you the plate back. His kink is explaining food. “Sourdough toasted, topped with fresh basil—”

“Courtesy of me.”

“Courtesy of you, yes. Tomatoes, bacon glazed in balsamic, and you didn’t have parm so I used feta. And then, y’know, over medium egg on top.”

“You’re very good, Carmen.”

“Oh, I—Uh—” You haven’t even tried it yet. You’re telling him he’s good for the sake of the effort he’s given alone. He needs an antacid. “Thank you.”

It’s redundant to say his food is good. But what else can you say? It’s a fucking perfect open face sandwich. But he’s eating it with you, and half of it’s your own handiwork, and all of your pantry, so you leave your praises purely reaction based, unsaid.

You're honestly a little distracted, reading too hard into the act of him giving you the black plate and taking one of your shitty plastic ones for himself. Time to talk.

“Itinerary for today?”

“Gotta talk chaos menu with Syd before opening, then, well, running the restaurant all night… And then I’ll—I’ll go home.”

“Yeah? You can come back here, if you want to.” Thank God you took a bite in time to hide your selfish disappointment. It’s good for him to go home, but then he’s not here. Real Catch-22.

He shakes his head, “I think I’m good now. Thanks, though. What’s—What’s uh, your plans for today?”

“I’m gonna drop you off wherever you’re going, n’ then I’m gonna go shopping for Syd’s gift—”

“It’s her fuckin’ birthday or somethin?” It’s a delight how immediately panicked he is by this. You're also thankful because he's so distracted it means you won't have to tell him the rest of your plans for today. You'd like to keep that life separate. For as long as possible, at least.

“Nono, it’s just, I didn’t get her anything for her opening night and I wanna change that. I’ll get you something too.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” The very idea of waiting for his response is freaking you the fuck out, so you’re quick to clear your voice and add. “I’ll give you my number, in case you end up needing to crash.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Ey, text me your invoice too.”

You take both your cleared plates to the sink, and the lie is swift. You've gotten a lot better at that, in the past year.

“Oh no worries, your sister already covered it.”

It is 6:30 and your life is over. Kidding. Unless? You dropped off Carmen at the train station hours ago and, to use his words, ‘it’s hit’. He’s at The Bear and there’s nothing for you to fix there— So you’re not.

You’ve only been there like three times and yet it started to feel… Like your thing!

Like, like you’d just come in everyday and… Dunno, fix something... But it’s not like they’re gonna have a crisis everyday. Especially not ones that Fak can't handle himself if needed— There's no way he's gonna last at hosting, anyways. You’re now realizing the unrealistic dream— Possibly more unrealistic than homestead you.

Speaking of, Homestead You would probably throw up, if she saw the you you’re looking at in the mirror right now. You look good. Objectively, you know you look good. The mug is stamped. Your pants are black, high-waisted, and give you an ass. The bright red leather corset top is… Chafing, but it looks good! It's a sweetheart neckline so you have to take off your long rope chain necklace from Mikey and shove it in your pocket— Which is fine and doesn't feel bad at all. And listen, listen, being an on-call bottle girl is good money!

And you might get put on bar tonight! You don’t know for sure if you’re gonna have to juggle around lit up bottles for a bunch of fucking geezers!

...

God, fuck, it’s 10:20 and your life is over.

This group of geezers have been fucking annoying and fucking Cherry wouldn’t get off fucking bar even though you literally covered for her last week and these stupid grandpas asked if gratuity is included— No fucking shit! Did you take their card and put a 40% tip? Yeah, maybe. Fuck them! They’re too fucking rich to notice! And they took three hours to leave! Gonna bash this champagne bottle over his bald fucking—

“Ey! That’s a face I remember.”

You hear your name— Not Tony, not Chip, not Cousin. Your name.

You turn to see, oh fucking hell, let God kill you—

“Uncle J!~ Good to see you!~ What a surprise! It’s Jack, here.” Jack of all Trades. It was cute at the time of sign up. Your smile is bright, fake, strained, and beautiful.

“Been too long, really.” Cicero isn’t a bad guy—Correction: Cicero isn’t a bad guy, to you, but as Mikey once put it, he’s a fuckin’ ball buster and in your case, you’re one of the few people beneath him that he asks favours from. Always wants free labour and your expertise. And he always has a habit of asking for favours the second you need one back. But you don’t need one right now! So it’s fine! Everything’s fine!

“Do your Uncle a favour,”—Fully not your Uncle—“Could you pair me and my friends here with a good red?”

You let it go that they’re having fish and asking for a red. Stupid thing to get hung up over right now. You make a commission of it anyways; you just pick the most expensive bottle. He won’t know the difference. The Bear would know the difference. Carmen would notice the difference... Alright, relax.

While pouring glasses, Jimmy whispers to his compatriots and one by one they all peel off. It is almost alarming how quickly this group of men turn and leave without a second thought, taking their glasses with them.

You raise your brows and look at Cicero. “Ah. This is the moment where I sit?”

He nods, gesturing to the booth. “This is the moment where you sit.”

You slip into the booth, sitting across from him. “What do you need?”

“Right to the point with you.”

“I hate suspense.” You shrug.

“You liked Mikey.”

What the fuck?

You bite your inner cheek, hard. “Don’t say that shit.”

“I liked him too,” He says it solemnly, like your mutual grief is a proper apology. He takes a long sip of his stupid red wine. “Did you hear? Cousin Vinnie and Mira are gettin’ hitched, finally.”

“I have no fucking idea who Vinnie and Mira are.” You take the glass when he hands it to you, taking a sip. Small. You gotta drive home, after all.

“Really? It’s a big wedding—Destination too, in New York—”

“I hate to remind you, but I was friends with Mikey, not his family.” Not his biological one, at least. The Beef, sure. But you literally only met his siblings two days ago. “What’s a wedding gotta do with me?”

He bristles, and finally cuts it short. “Around three hundred guests, seven-hour shift, open bar—” “Oh, for fuckssake—” “Listen—”

“It’s an easy gig, I’ll fly you out for it, it’s a month and a half away, you’ll get to attend a big fuckin’ Italian wedding— Which will be a shitshow, certainly, so free entertainment; and Michelin Star level catering, kind of.”

You squint. Kind of? “You got Carmy in on this shit?”

“You know ‘em?”

You nod, pressing your elbows on the table, “We’ve recently become acquainted. What d’you got on him for him to cater a wedding?”

“He’s eight-hundred grand in the hole.” “Fuck!” “He gets thirty off for catering. Smart boy, said yes.”

Christ, you massage the bridge of your brow with one hand and pull out your phone with another to check your calendar, you might as well see if you can even entertain the idea. You don’t need a favour right now, maybe you can bargain and get him to actually pay you for it, this time.

“I dunno, Uncle J…”

Oh.

28 unread texts from Syd.

3 unread texts from an unknown number— Probably Carmen.

9 missed calls from Syd.

Uncle Jimmy, always, always, has a fucking way, of asking for a favour when you need one…

You slam your phone, screen down on the table, straightening your posture in your seat. “I have demands.”

He motions for you to continue, taking his wine glass back. “You always do.”

“You and your friends are gonna tip a hundred percent tonight.”

“That why you give me a 2016 Fisher?”

“I like to think ahead.”

“Smart girl.” He shrugs, palms of his hands out. Which means yes.

“If Uncle Lee comes up to the bar I’m throwing a fork at him and leaping over the counter.”

He chuckles, “Thought you 'didn’t know family'.”

“I remember what I'm told.”

His amusement fades quickly, remembering first hand. He nods. “…You’re allowed to jump him if I’m watching first.”

“And you’re friends with my boss, right?”

“We’re acquainted.”

“I’m gonna punch out now and you’re gonna smooth that out for me.”

He perks up, amused, glancing at your phone, “Somethin��� come up, Chip?”

“Don’t call me Chip.” He wants to poke at you, just a little bit more, but there’s a rattled look in your eyes that he’s so rarely seen that he lets it go.

He waves his hand, shrugging, “Be safe. I'll send you the details. December wedding, remember.”

At the end of the day, Cicero isn’t a bad guy to you, someone who loved his nephew as much as he did.

You’re running to your car while you dial back Syd. You don’t have time to read the texts, all you need to know is that it’s an emergency. She picks up just after the first ring.

“Syd what the—” “Code blue!”

You almost fall on your face and eat asphalt. For a flash, you’re in the back of an ambulance being handed a defibrillator at the age of 22, surrounded by faces just as scared and young as you. Then you’re back in the parking lot, slotting the key into your car door because the fob doesn’t work. It’s never worked.

“S-Someone’s having a fucking heart attack!?”

“What?!”

“That’s what fucking code blue means!”

“Oh my god! Sorry! No, I was just saying the thing that scares doctors the most!”

“Yeah, I’m fuckin’ scared Syd!” You slide into the driver’s seat and slam your car door shut. You take a deep breath, white knuckling the steering wheel. “…I’m-I'm sorry for yelling! Where are you, what’s going on?”

“The—The Bear, the restaurant.” The second you have a location you’re revving off.

“Nat locked herself in the office—” “Like trapped?” This shit again?

“No, no— Like she locked herself in— She did this like two hours ago and I thought she was just taking a breather— But we’ve closed and, and like almost everyone left and she’s still not coming out— And she blocked the door inside— and— And I think she’s trying to hide that she’s basically shrieking in pain every five minutes.”

You take a long time to register anything she’s just said. Her tone is as panicked as you feel on the inside. You’re only now registering the ambient yelling of Richie and Carmen in the background.

“…Did—Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah Syd, I’m just thinking.” You don’t step on the gas on purpose, it just happens. “A pregnant woman is screaming in pain— in intervals— behind a blockaded door?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Have you called an ambulance?”

There’s a much more distinct yell in the background from Richie, “No cops!”

Then from Carmen, “No coverage!”

“Yeah…” Syd shakily continues for them, “The insurance is a problem, and Richie said— Motherfucker—” You hear a muffled scrap over the phone before Richie continues on for Syd.

“Er, yeah, Cousin, Sugar keeps yelling that she’s fine ‘n blocked the door, if we call the cops they’re gonna ram that shit down and take her to the loony bin.”

“That’s not— That’s not what paramedics do.”

“That’s what they all do.”

“Richie, y’know, I was a paramedic, right?”

“…You a fuckin’ fed, Chip?”

“Richie, if I was a fuckin' narc you would be in prison by now. I, I— I'll be there in like, like eight minutes, everyone stop fucking yelling at Sugar!”

You’re there in four. You almost rear end someone and you run every yellow you get but you’re there in four. You don’t park properly in the back, you just drive your car in and turn it off in the middle of the lot. You don’t bother to be let in, you just punch the code in as you remember it. As Natalie told you.

“Oh good you—Oh my, God?” Syd is no better than a man in this moment, going from grateful for your presence to being one intrusive thought away from whistling.

You did not have time to change out of your ...outfit and someone has been hogging your Carhartt. You pass Syd quickly, waving a hand in front of her face. Goddammit, why do your boot heels have to have that incredibly satisfying femme fatale click right now?

“Alright— Relax—”

“Holy shit, Chippy!” Richie was yelling at Sugar through the door along with Carm, but once alerted to your presence is now snapping his fingers. You'd describe him more as impressed than actually attracted to you. “You clean up!”

 “Cousin, are you—” He grabs Carmen’s face, turning it to you— Carmen does of course, immediately slap Richie’s hand away which of course, means they just start smacking each other's hands. Like preteen girls. “Ey, get the fuck off—” “I just want you to look at a pretty girl, Cousin—!” “Stop fuckin’ touchin’ me!” “Are you looking!?” “I—”

“Everyone shut the fuck up!”

You silence the room. You’re thankful most of the staff has left by now since it’s well after close. It's just Carmen, Syd, Richie, Tina, and Fak for some goddamn reason...You can't be mean you're handymen, you have to stick together.

“I look different from the usual jumpsuit, yes, we get it, can we move on? Pregnant woman?”

Syd is the first to speak, “…Were you on a date, though?”

You blink and roll your eyes all at once, twisting your head to her, “Syd—”

“It’s good to see you getting out there, baby.” Tina, deeply unhelpful in this moment, puts a hand around your shoulder. Oh to have a mother’s judgment when she’s not even your mother.

“O-kay!” You drag on the ‘kay’, clapping your hands together, “Everyone, just get your thoughts out in the next five seconds and then we’re moving on.”

“Chippy, I cannot believe you’ve held this out on me—” “—I meant it like-like a concerned, did we interrupt your date—” “—The red is unbelievable on you, Cousin!” “I need you to teach me how you do your makeup—” “Can you— can you yell again���?” “Fak!” “Oh, so that’s too much?”

A cacophony, it continues on. Your eyes glaze over, and you’re waiting for Sugar to let out a scream so everyone remembers the fucking point of being here. But then you look at Carmen. Everyone’s pivoted from staring at you to yelling at each other. But Carmen; Carmen is still looking at you. Stupid soft scary eye contact. And his voice is so much quieter than the yelling but it’s the thing that you hear anyways.

“It looks tight.”

There’s a possibility that when you killed the teenage girl inside you that you also killed the feminist. Because there’s a small sub-sect of you that’s upset that he’s not objectifying you right now. That his vision is focused on you. Not the changes. He doesn’t seem to look at you any differently than when you’re wearing a jumpsuit and utility belt, covered in toilet water. This should not be annoying and yet it is.

“It is.”

He nods, eye contact unshifting, unblinking, “You wanna change?”

“Maybe after we find out whether or not your sister is in labour.”

He nods. He takes a second but he nods.

You approach him, rather, the door, knocking gently. Everyone quiets down.

You clear your throat, and once more, the persona is put on, you’re a paramedic, putting on that soft but firm reassuring authoritative tone. “E-M Rescue, I got a call for a wellness check on Natalie Berzatto?”

“Tony—” A groan of pain behind the door, “I am perfectly well! Everyone go home!”

You grimace, you motion with your hand for Fak to hand you a screwdriver— He keeps one in his breast-pocket, even when wearing a suit. Hey, you should start doing that.

“Nat, I’m a paramedic— Or I was—will you please let me in?”

“I don’t— Fuck! —Need a paramedic!”

“Never hurts to do a check-up, Nat.” You speak calmly, like you always did. “Listen, lover, if you don’t open the door, I’m gonna have to take it off its hinges, and we're gonna lose medic patient confidentiality.”

When she doesn’t reply after a good beat, you start to unscrew the top hinge; she can hear it, “Wait, wait, wait— Fuck-Fuck— I’m opening it!”

There’s another series of pained groans as she exerts herself to open the door, and once she does, it’s only by a crack, to look at you and you alone. She’s absolutely been crying. She speaks in a whispered tone. “Just you.”

You nod, handing the screwdriver back to Fak without breaking eye contact with her. “Just me.”

She cracks it open just enough for you to come in. And so, you do. Everyone is, for the first time, too worried about her shutting down to interrupt or yell a complaint.

You close the door behind you, pressing your back to it. You note the toppled over chair by your feet that she must’ve blocked it with. Plus the puddle of amniotic fluid beneath her. Oh fuck.

...

“You wanna talk or do you just want me to check your contractions?”

“I’m—” She shakes her head, covering her face. She half sits on the desk. “I’m fucking— I am not ready for this.”

“Yeah.” You nod. You’re not here to convince anyone they’re ready to be a fucking mother. But you’re here to listen, certainly.

“She’s gonna hate me.”

“Who?”

“Her—!” Her voice is choked, another contraction. You’re silently taking the time in your head. She points to her stomach.

“And— And we just opened, and— And I’m gonna have to go on maternity leave, which is the last fucking thing we need and— and— If I could just fucking keep her in!”

“Natalie.” You put a hand on her shoulder, she finally looks at you. “This is happening.”

“Not help—fu—ll.”

“I know it’s not. This is scary and there are no take backs—” “Very unhelp—”

“Nat, your daughter wants to meet you.”

You squeeze her shoulder; she looks like she’s gonna cry all over again for a completely different reason. “She probably won’t hate you. Who’s to say. But I know you’ll love her. And that’s enough, isn’t it?”

She nods, emphatically, but something is still bothering her. You squeeze her shoulder again. You whisper, so even if everyone’s ear is pressed to the door— Which you doubt, she’s screaming after all, they won’t hear.

“Carmen will still know you love him, even when you're not here.”

She immediately goes for a hug, you reciprocate with a shuddered ease. She sniffs, head on your shoulder. She stays there for a while before letting you go, nodding. “Okay.”

You hand her the tissue box next to her on the table, she takes it thankfully, crushing it in her hand. Another contraction. Oh, that couldn't have been more than 2 minutes. Oh fuck.

You kneel down in front of her, and you’re simply no longer in your body as a person but just the paramedic. You could not be more thankful that she’s wearing a dress today. Awkward requests of spreading legs and pulling off underwear aside, Natalie’s daughter does in fact really want to meet her. Oh fuck.

You look up at Natalie, between her knees, you speak cool, professional. “You’re crowning. This is gonna have to happen here. I'll have someone call your husband.”

You’re so calm that it doesn’t give Natalie the feeling or need to freak out, she just breathes. “Okay. Okay.”

You stand upright. “Do you prefer this office or somewhere else?”

“I can’t— Move.”

“Makes sense. Makes total sense. Okay. I’ll go get everything we need, I’ll be right back. I might send some people in, okay, love?”

She just grunts in reply, nodding, now that she’s not in as much emotional pain, she can entirely focus on her brutalizing physical pain.

“Oh, hey, I know—” You grab her purse, pulling out her phone and ear buds, handing them to her with haste, your calm demeanour is faltering just a bit. “Listen to some music, loud, y’know, chill…” You put the pods in her ear for her. She’s again, in too much pain to tell you to fuck off, and just plays her music loud.

You softly open the door, smiling just a bit too much as you leave, and very softly close the door behind you. Looking at the motley crew before you, your persona immediately falls apart. You really only wanted her to play music so you could scream. “Oh, my fucking God.”

“What’s happening, she good?” What a sweet, stupid brother, Sugar has.

You purse your lips together, eyes wide, shaking your head. “She’s going to give birth in like— Maybe six minutes. Max ten.” Everyone goes to speak in an uproar of panic, and then you slap yourself in the face. Hard. That stuns them silent.

“Alright!” You press your hands over your eyes, “Tina!”

She’s been around this block before, “What do you need?”

“Can you go sit in there with her? Tell her all the breathing exercises and shit? Keep her calm? Coming from you it won’t seem so—”

“Condescending as fuck?”

“Yes, exactly, can you?”

“Gotchu, baby.” She claps your shoulder when she walks past and into the office.

You clap hers in tandem, “Thank you, Mama—Okay, Richie!”

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna need you to call Nat’s husband—”

“Why do I—”

“Because you’re a fuckin’ dad, Rich, and he will need you!” You’re yelling all pissed, snapping your fingers at him, but he does light up when you say it like that. “I don’t care if he wets his fuckin’ bed, tell him to get here!”

He salutes, walking off, “Aye aye, Cap’n Chip.”

You shake off the sting in your hand, God, you really did slap yourself too hard. You turn to the next targets. “Syd, Fak.”

Syd responds hesitantly for the both of them, since Fak is silently enjoying your colonel persona a little too much. “…Yes, C-Captain?”

“I need towels, a lot of clean towels— cloth ones, like sanitized clean— Warm half in water— And then I need a clean sheet— A table cloth or something, I don’t fucking care, something clean and big that you’re fine destroying. I need sterile sheaths, Syd you get those— Other than that, however they get to me, I don’t give a shit— Just scrub in before you touch anything!”

They almost knock into each other the way they run so fast. You yell after them. “Get the big sheet first, she needs to lay down!”

“Yes, Chef!”

You take a deep breath before moving your gaze onto Carmy. The screaming lead EM in you melts off your shoulders, just for the second.

He asks before you can even say anything, “Yes, Chef?”

“I need you to scrub in and get me gloves and an apron—” “On it, Chef—” “And you’re gonna sit in with me for the birth of your niece.”

He cringes, not to refuse, but just the mounting reality of the situation is dawning on him. His sister is going to give birth to his niece in their shared office of his high-class restaurant within it's first week of open.

But you then tag on, “Carmy, she needs you— Frankly, I’m not the one giving birth but fuckin' I need you. T-There.”

He softens instantly, like tranquilizing— Well, a bear.

“Yes, Chef.”

I know the opening probably feels so far away by now, but i do want to note that Breakfast Bruschetta is my own recipe that I used to make like every fuckin' day pre-employment. It's so goddamn good. I highly recommend it, babes. It's balsamic with brown sugar dissolved, btw, Carmy's just a quick explainer.

I wrote like a solid 75% of the labour sequence before deciding it just needed to have the breathing room of it's own chapter, so until next time for that one bbs. But I'm excited for it! And also dreading it! A lot of hard conversations combined with giving birth = nightmare to write, but well worth it, i think. Speaking of: I don't believe at the end of Season 2 that Sugar is at the end of her term of 36 weeks, but in our case here, she is. I'm very much so not interested in a very scary premature birth for our girl!! She's okay!! Dw!! I just wonked with time a little, hope that's okay.

And hey, look at that reveal! Bartender/Sommelier was code for bottle service-- Which is a very respectable career, btw, don't get it twisted-- I was critiquing it only in the way I would critique literally any other job: Misery Under Capitalism. And now we've got that fuckin' wedding in the future midst! Ah!!

Anyways please send me your thoughts ad nauseam, I reload my activity feed every 3 seconds to see what you guys are thinking. If you reblog, tell me what you think in the tags!! Yell at me in the replies!! Send an anon in!! I don't bite, I swear <3

Next Part

[phyrestartr]

Icarus Drabbles (Pt.2) | Sukuna x M!Reader

W/C: 3.7k [#Modern AU, ABO dynamics, bottom!reader, top!sukuna, Mob Boss!Sukuna, Alpha!Sukuna, Street Doctor!Reader, Omega!Reader, toxic relationships, age gap, sukuna is mid 30s, yuuji gang and reader are mid 20s, sukuna and yuuji are brothers, sukuna has FEELINGS, but he is BAD AT FEELINGS, nsfw, fluff, hurt/comfort, cheating, zenin family mentioned, lightly edited lmfao]

Note: There will prolly be a third drabble thingie lol I just wanted to post SOMETHING

tag: @better-imagination-9

1. Restless

Sukuna finally bagged you, the omega he pined over and hunted down for over a decade, and knocked you up, made you move in with him to ensure he could keep an eye on you and that growing baby bump. His alpha had rejoiced, running its victory lap around Sukuna’s chest, but then it slowed, yawned, and curled up, satiated. 

Now, his human side was left to its own devices, and it was bored. 

Probably because you were boring. Or, well, you’d become boring–you and your omega seemed more in-tune with one another, both settling down as soon as you both agreed on staying with Sukuna, with your mate. To Sukuna’s human instincts, that meant you were about as exciting and fun as doing his taxes. Yet, at the same time, he couldn’t fathom letting you go. Whenever the hypothetical crossed his mind, that second set of eyes would open and stare, tear bared, anger rippling. And Sukuna would agree with it. He didn’t want to lose you, yet he didn’t always want you either. 

And he was bored. 

“Hey,” you cooed, leaning over his shoulder as he stared into space on the couch. “You okay?”

Sukuna blinked a few times and rubbed his face tiredly, finding himself growing pissed off at the dull delight your presence brought him. “Yeah, ‘m fine. Need something?”

“Well, Christmas’s coming up,” you reminded. “Wanted to make sure we were still–”

“Can’t.” Bitterness rose in the back of Sukuna’s throat. God, he didn’t even want to look at you right now. “Gotta work.” He finally spared you a glance, but only after a long stretch of silence. You didn’t look perturbed or mad, not really sad or disappointed, just…placid. 

You looked at your phone, staring at something just for a moment before returning back to him with a slight nod of acceptance. “Alright.” 

Sukuna's other bristled. “Alright.” 

“I knew you couldn't really be taken ‘n tied down, Sukuna-sama,” Yorozu cooed as she cozied up into the spot between the man's legs, her hands smoothing up and down his thighs before deftly unlatching his belt and ripping it off. “You're too good for that sort of life.” 

“Don’t you have somethin’ better to do with that mouth?” The nice part of Sukuna asked. The less nice part of him wanted to rip her head off and punt it at the stupid fucking moon. Luckily for her, he was trying not to throw as many things at the horizon these days. 

Yorozu's eyes shone with pure delight. “Oh, of course, of course.” She unzipped his slacks expertly quick and pulled free his half-chub, excitedly stroking it to get him to full-mast. 

Sukuna sighed and sank back in his chair, trying to focus and enjoy the attention and spice he so sorely missed, but it was hard. Well, not hard, which was the problem–his mind wasn't finding this (cheating, getting a blow job at his desk, having a woman with tits on his knees for him) exciting. Thankfully, though, his body reacted in his mind's stead, and decided to not embarrass him. 

He closed his eyes and focused on the small hands grasping his base and holding his thigh–but your bigger, stronger hands held him better, digging in without the lethality of acrylics threatening harm. At least her mouth was warm, her lips soft--but your lips were soft, too, and you knew where he liked to feel your tongue press down. Her hair was silky and thick enough to fist his hand in–but yours was just…better. He couldn't describe it, but–

Knock it off, he growled. He needed a break from you, from how mundane you made everything, that was the whole fucking reason he ditched you in the first place. You were boring. You were making life boring. You–

What were you up to, actually? 

Sukuna sighed, this time in defeat, and snatched up his phone while Yorozu gave him head. He scrolled through whatever socials he knew you had, but saw nothing new, nothing Christmas-y. 

Who the hell is he visiting again? He looked to the side, gazing through the huge windows looming behind his desk as he thought, and then remembered. 

Sukuna tapped open your text thread and grimaced–it was so blatantly one-sided. The sight of his flippant convo-killing responses hit him with a wave of psychic damage that probably couldn't be fully healed for as long as he lived. He wasn't a fan of texting, but he was a fan of you. But-wait, didn't he loathe you?

5:05am went to see my mom for christmas

5:05am getting picked up dw

5:06am hope work doesn't suck too much

Right. You went to see family. Right. Sukuna was supposed to meet your mother. 

Damn.

“Fuck's sake,” Sukuna muttered moments before fisting his hand in Yorozu's hair and pulling him off his softening cock. “We're done.” He stood and tucked himself away, ignoring the indignant scoff the woman sent his way. 

“Sukuna–” 

“Leave.” He sent a text your way instead of tuning in to whatever Yorozu said as she picked herself up off her knees:

10:49pm When should I pick you up?

Of course he was gonna pick you up. He wasn’t about to let someone else take care of you for a second longer. 

“Clearly you're unhappy,” Yorozu finally cut in. 

Sukuna saw a read notification pop up in the chat. 

“Clearly that other one isn't satisfying you fully.” 

He watched the three dots pop up as you replied back. 

“After he has your pup–”

10:52pm you can come now

10:52pm if you're free 

“--you should reconsider your choice in mate–” 

Bang.

10:53pm Send me the address.

He stepped over her and the pooling crimson on his way to the door, texting Uraume to call the cleaners to take care of a mess in his office while he went to pick up his baby mama. 

Picking you up had been eventful.

Firstly, Maki and Mai had refused to open the gate for Sukuna in favour of mocking him and exclaiming, “are you kidding me? You're the baby daddy?” while incessantly prodding him for information. You'd managed to bat them aside to let him up to the house, though it took some effort on your part. 

Next, Toji Zenin himself was waiting at the front door, arms crossed, totally unbothered, dressed in his hideous Christmas jumper that his woman had apparently made him wear as punishment for something. Sukuna ribbed him, hiding just how confused he was about the entire thing–he didn't fucking get why there were so many Zenin assholes here. The outcasts, sure, but what the fuck was that about? 

“Oh. Toji's my stepdad,” you said when you had finally squeezed your dragon's hoard of gifts into the car and got in the damn thing to go home. Sukuna left it at that for the time being–he didn't want to think about what the fuck that meant now that the two of you were together. He had time to ask a thousand questions another day.

His mind still whirred in the elevator, though, and when he helped carry your only-child gifts into the penthouse like a servant put under a spell. You said something to him that he only realized a solid fifteen minutes later was, “I'm taking a bath. There's room for two,” and a fire suddenly lit under his ass. 

“Huh, so you can bear to look at me,” you hummed from the bath. It was large and oaken, filled with yuzu thanks to Uraume's thoughtfulness, and it overlooked snowy Tokyo and all its bustling, light-filled glory and–wait, what.

Sukuna scoffed as he pulled off his clothes methodically. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

You watched him undress shamelessly. “It means you still have lipstick on your dick.” You poked away one of the yuzu that bumped into you. “It's not really my colour.” 

Sukuna clenched his teeth and kicked aside his clothes before grabbing the showerhead to wash off before joining you because he was going to join you. No matter the case. No matter the objection. 

But you never objected. You leaned back in the tub and watched him while you rolled another yuzu between your palms. “Did you have fun fucking her?” Fuck, you could be so scary sometimes. And you didn't even have to try.

Sukuna found it hard to answer. He found it hard to even speak. Christ, was this shame? “Look–I didn't fuck her. Didn't even get close.” 

“So she just sucked your dick.”

“Tried. Didn't finish. Couldn't.” 

“So sad. Why not?”

“‘Cause she's not you.” Sukuna finished with the shower and slipped into the bath, sitting across from you with a content sigh. “You give better head.” 

“That went from being somewhat meaningful to annoying,” you grumbled. Still, you scooched over to him and pressed up against his side, clearly in the mood to forgive his stupid little attempted fling. “So. Then you're sure about this.” 

“Sure about what?” Sukuna wondered, suddenly feeling more at ease with the rich scent of you pooling through his senses. He leaned into you when you carefully smoothed his hair out of his face with that usual, simple gentility he'd come to desire so desperately every day. “Sure about you?” 

“Yeah. Us. Everything.” You nuzzled at his neck, dutifully scenting him up with kisses, nips and licks. “You started pulling away like a pussy, so I figured you regretted it.” 

Sukuna had to laugh. “You're callin’ me a pussy?” He half-growled before yoinking you into his lap and squeezing you up against him. His grin widened when he saw you hold back a smile. “I think you should apologize.” 

“You cheated on me with your stalker. Why do I need to apologize?” 

“You hurt my fuckin’ feelings.” 

“Oh. Hm. I see.” Your fingers, bigger than a woman's yet still elegant as a piano player's, danced across his firm shoulders in thought. “I think you need to have feelings for me to hurt them.” 

His hands found their rightful place (on your ass) and kneaded your skin thoroughly, squeezing and pinching wherever he felt most enticed. “You know I have feelings, sweetheart. Why do ya think you're here in the first place, huh?” 

Your scent flared with bashful approval. “Guess that's good to know. These days, you've left me wondering.” 

Sukuna grew placid gazing upon your features, listening to your words. If he really tried, behind that diamond mask of nonchalance most Zenin brats wore, there existed soft, vulnerable skin--tired and ragged, worried and creased. He'd done that to you. Why had he done that to you? 

He lifted a hand from your curves to cup your face gently, his touch breaking through the shields you so bravely put up to tell the world to fuck off. And you leaned into that touch so eagerly, so hungrily, with a sigh that sounded like you just remembered how to breathe. 

“‘M sorry,” Sukuna mumbled. The word felt foreign on his tongue. He didn’t know if he even said it right.

Your eyes squeezed shut just a little tighter, holding onto whatever you could of your crumbling shell as your hand rose to rest on his. “You know I love you,” you said while diamond dust turned to quicksilver.

Sukuna wiped the glimmer from your lashes. “Love you too, runt. Mean it.” Those words still felt strange, too, but he loved those words. He loved the way they made you glow from within, how they solidified you and stopped you from collapsing into a melted mess in the face of his betrayal and swift try at redemption. 

You nodded a little, the hard line of your mouth softening. Sukuna relaxed and hugged you close to him, purring deep in his chest in rhythm with you as you wholly accepted him in return and buried your face into his neck. He did the same, scenting you the way you had him, enjoying your company and weight against him. Because he loved you. He really did. 

So, he said once again, “Sorry.”

2. Family Matters

“Sukuna,” Wasuke warned. The attention of the younger alpha, leaning against the counter, was on you as you yapped on about this and that with his little brother.

Sukuna grunted and looked over his shoulder at the old man, though, silently and curtly asking, what? even though he already knew what was coming.

“Leave that boy alone.” 

Sukuna stared at his grandfather. It'd become more and more common, the way the young man challenged his elder, maintaining hostile eye contact that threatened the beginning of the end if the older broke first–but he never did. The old fuck was too tough. Molded by whatever his own colourful irezumi put him through. 

Once, when he was younger, Sukuna wanted to know how to break his elder. He wanted to crack him open and rip those secrets from him, find out how he could use that knowledge to his advantage to never feel so small in the eyes of another ever again. He hated it. He hated the dominance held over him, the humility that came with it. 

But, like always, Sukuna broke first, looking away with a grumble, reinforcing his place in the food chain.

Sukuna sighed. The old house was the same–far too traditional, too plain, too normal. It irked him to his core. Here, amidst all the boring normal shit of his past, his status in society no longer mattered; here, he forfeited first place, and took up second.

“Hey,” came your voice, muffled by the car window separating you from your lover. When Sukuna looked over at you, he saw his little nugget tucked safely in your arms, only half-awake as she nuzzled into the warmth of your chest. 

But then there was you. A face full of confusion, annoyance, and exasperation greeted Sukuna. You went for the door handle to wrench your man out of the car, but he locked it, watching you yank on the handle a handful of times before you knocked on the window incessantly. 

“Get out of the goddamn car, you little shit,” you hissed, looking between Sukuna and the front door of the house frantically. You stared at him hard, then, your frustration building every second your alpha refused to budge and end the embarrassment crashing down on you. 

A terrifyingly calm expression took over your face, before you adjusted the little pup in your arms and fished something out of your pocket. Sukuna didn't realize what it was until you leaned over and slammed your fist into the hood of the car, tearing into it easily with the fucking key in your hand. 

“You gotta be shitting me–” Sukuna scrambled to unlock the door and swing it open. He hopped out and slammed the car door closed. “You little–” 

“Oh, good, you found your balls.” 

Sukuna groaned as he looked at the damage you left. “Baby, you know how expensive this is gonna be to fix? Fucking hell, why're you such a crazy bitch?” 

“Well, look who I'm stuck with,” you said lightly. “Obviously you've corrupted me. It's not my fault.”

Sukuna grumbled and turned to you, grabbing you and pulling you close; but instead doling out a punishment as his past self was so accustomed to doing, he aggressively nuzzled the top of your head, viciously scenting you up and squeezing you against his solid frame while he grumbled and growled. 

“I'm splitting you in half when we get home.” 

You sighed, dramatic. “Oh no. I'm so afraid. But I guess I deserve such a brutal punishment. Sigh.” You nuzzled him back before tiptoeing up to kiss his chin, then his lips when he leaned down to meet you the rest of the way. “Ready?” 

Sukuna took a deep breath and looked over your face, running the back of his fingers against the rise of your cheekbone. He loved touching your face these days (more than usual). You still held onto a bit of pregnancy plushness that filled in the hollow angles of your handsomely beautiful face and other once-bony parts of your body. You'd never panicked about it, but you bitched and moaned, loudly lamenting about the way your clothes fit a little differently or how you just had to keep stealing Sukuna's shirts to replace your own. 

Touka, your little one, mewled from her spot smooshed between her parents. Sukuna sighed as he pulled back to look down at her, hoping she'd take most the heat off of him when he faced his grandfather again. 

“Let's just get this over with.” 

Yuuji was the one who answered the door. He lived with Wasuke, claiming it was just easier and cheaper than getting his own place, but most knew the younger was a worry wart; he couldn't stand by and let his grandfather get put in a home or quietly tough out everyday life on his own in his elderly years. Yuuji stayed for the sake of family, and Wasuke quietly welcomed it. His brother's goodness nearly struck Sukuna with guilt. 

But any chance at guilt died the moment he met the old bastard's stony gaze. 

“Itadori-san,” you cooed pleasantly, a far cry from the demon that'd keyed Sukuna's car. “It's good to see you again.” 

Wasuke quirked a brow and walked up to you, nudging Yuuji aside so he could get a good look at you and the pup nestled to your chest. Sukuna took a breath and looked away. He didn't need to see the critical stare of the old man while he processed the fact that Sukuna had indeed not stayed away from you. Ugh, the idea of being scolded made the alpha itch. 

“We're far beyond honorifics, boy. You know that,” Wasuke lightly scolded, and you beamed. Sukuna could imagine a little shiba inu tail on you, wagging fast enough to take flight. “I'm glad to see you in one piece after taming my grandson. It must've been a damn ordeal.”

Yuuji cackled impishly, pointing at Sukuna. “Oooh, burn.” 

“Sorry, who got the omega in the end?” Sukuna quipped back, making Yuuji sprout a grumpy look and cross his arms with a mumbled you suck. 

“Quit the fighting and come in,” Wasuke ushered. “And you,” he snapped, looking at Sukuna with chronic disapproval, “Take off those sunglasses. You're trying too hard. Look like an idiot.”

You stifled your laughter as Sukuna grumbled and plucked his shades off. His very cool, very neat, very fancy, very expensive shades.

Wasuke ushered you all inside, gesturing to the kotatsu prepared with food and drinks and starting off on a grumbling rant about the shitty cold mornings and warm afternoons that came with Spring. Obviously, he'd complained to break the ice, and it worked. 

Small talk turned into easier conversation. Whenever Sukuna seemed to struggle with being cordial, you would lean into him more, squeezing his hand tightly whilst purring under the radar. That worked, too. As much as Sukuna was an asshole, he didn't want the afternoon to fall apart. Better he stay quieter than say something to regret. 

“They've calmed you down,” Wasuke said, snapping Sukuna's mind to attention. It was then that he finally noticed Yuuji had effectively kidnapped little Touka and was giving her a tour of the house like she actually gave a shit. 

“Hm?” He grunted, so eloquent. 

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, leaning into your partner more with a sigh. “Words, not grunts, Sukuna.”

He huffed. “You grunt at me all the damn time.” 

“Not at our elders.” 

“Tch.” Sukuna rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Whaddaya mean they've calmed me down, huh?” 

Wasuke, for once, looked somewhat amused. “Your pup. Your mate. They've made you human.” 

“Ha? You're actin’ like I was some four-armed, two-faced freak or some shit.” 

“Some days you acted like it,” Wasuke scoffed. “Doesn't matter if you agree or not, I can see the change in you, kid–that wild thing inside of you is finally settling down.”

You hummed and looked up at him. “I've noticed, too. You're less pissy. More tolerant. Still annoying, but that's just a personality flaw.” Sukuna growled and nipped at you, but you faced him so very bravely and suffered no such nip. 

“I'm glad for you, kid,” Wasuke interjected, breaking up the petty fight that was about to go down. The two of you looked back to the eldest. “You were a real pain in the ass, and you fucked up a lot along the way, but you made things work out. You should be proud.” 

Sukuna would never be able to put his feelings, the utter rush he felt getting his grandfather's approval, into words. 

“So where does this end, kid?” Wasuke asked. 

“What?” He asked before he could properly think it through. 

“This life. Your ‘profession.’ How long're you gonna keep that up, huh?” 

Sukuna could feel you lean into him more, letting more body weight ease your shared worries about the life you shared and the professions you'd taken up. Both unpredictable. Both in the crosshairs of dangerous beasts.

“You think we'll end up six feet under like mom ‘n dad, that it?” Sukuna rasped. He looped an arm around your waist and squeezed you against his side in reassurance as Wasuke's expression grew gloomier.

“You're more like your mother than you know, kid. You don't–”

“‘Course I don't know,” Sukuna interrupted, firm but not vicious. “Mom was a fucking moron ‘n knocked up whoever the fuck she could to get an in into one of those big-name clans. No shit they'd get pissed off and kill the bitch.” 

Wasuke scowled, but didn't argue. It was hard to when his daughter in-law was in the wrong, when she dug her own grave with every child sired before slipping and falling in on her own. A sad story. An incredibly stupid one, too. 

“That won't happen,” you offered mildly. Sukuna looked down at you, suddenly feeling the urge to shoot another baby into you as you spoke up on your own. “I trust Sukuna as much as I trust myself; he's worked hard to create an untouchable empire, and I have the connections to supplement it.” You glanced up at him. “If it's not Sukuna, then it'll be someone else running Tokyo. I couldn't think of a better king.”

A beat of silence passed before Wasuke asked, “And you, kid?” You afraid? 

Sukuna willed his mind out of R-rated territory to look at his grandfather. “You know me,” he started with a troublesome grin, “I can't stay away from what I want.” 

[smutinlove]

DICK GRAYSON—SFW ALPHABET

—Sugar, spice, and everything nice<3

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Dick is very affectionate. He loves hugging you and grabbing you by your waist, pulling you against his chest. He is all for PDA. Honestly, he loves seeing people get uncomfortable when he's kissing you. That's just the dick inside him.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Dick is the kind of person that loves teasing people. But he's also a very kind person at heart. (Some might say he's a softie<3) He's the type of man that'll make you feel very comfortable. He's also a very overprotective person.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Dick loves cuddles! He strives for that physical touch and closeness. He's the big spoon, I swear. He loves enveloping you and hugging you every night before bed.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Contrary do popular belief, Dick can cook. He does not just live off of cereal. Dick is a master chef, taught by Alfred, of course. And being the eldest among his siblings also meant that he'd have to pick up after a lot of kids.

But that does not stop him from settling down. Sure, he used to be an acrobat in a circus, meaning he never stayed in one place for long. But I feel like it was pure chaos. And he'd definitely want to settle down with the right person.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Dick is a gentle person and would definitely go to you with a soft and kind expression. But Dick will always regret breaking up with you. Why? He probably broke up with you because he was in one of his depressing moods. (Feeling like he isn't good enough for you, etc..)

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Dick is loving, caring, and exceptionally passionate. But he also suffers from eldest daughter syndrome. He feels like he isn't worth it, that he isn't good enough, causing him to cripple with self-doubt and self-hate. As the oldest child, he feels that it's hard to voice out his opinions. His throat starts to close in and he can't force the words out.

But his heart aches for you. You're his heroin. And he would love to have you as he fiancé—better yet, his wife. And he would love to be your husband, but then again, he's afraid he'll hurt you. (I wanna give him a big hug)

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Dick is the definition of gentle. (Search it up, love.) His touch is soft and caring. He always makes sure he doesn't overstep any boundaries.

He's also scared both mentally and emotionally. But does that stop him from whispering sweet things in your ear? No.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He loves hugs. Dick hugs you whenever he gets the chance. His hands usually fall down to your midback. And he always ends his hugs with a squeeze.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He's quick with his hands but not his words. It would take him a long time to say it but that doesn't mean he doesn't care for you. If his words can't express his undying flame of love for you, his actions definitely do.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He's definitely the silent type. But his actions speak like a megaphone. If another man is flirting with you, he'll occasionally tug at your dress and pull you closer to him.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He likes to take his time with you. His kissed can sometimes be soft and slow, making you melt like ice at his warmth.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Dick's amazing with kids. I mean, come on. He is the oldest among all his siblings, meaning he has had to take care of a lot annoying little urchins.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He's a morning person. He'll wake up at the crack of dawn and start cooking breakfast for you. And when you wake up, Dick will give you a kiss on the cheek and serve you breakfast in bed.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Although Dick's a morning person, he's a bit of a night owl. Sure, he'll be gone some nights to due him having to patrol the streets of Gotham/Bludhaven. But mostly, he'll spend his nights curled up on the couch right next to you.

Sometimes he'll even go for a movie marathon with you.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

At the start of any relationship, he definitely wouldn't reveal anything too personal. He definitely likes to reveal things slowly once you progress more into your relationship. His night time job is one of the things that'll take a long time to reveal to you. (Especially if you're a civilian.) And his history of being assaulted and raped is also a touchy subject for him. He won't bring it up unless he's ready to tell you.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

In the past, he's definitely lashed out on people. But now, he's more calm and patient with most things (he legit had to don the mantel of the bat) But then again, it's canon that he's short-tempered. If he sees you doing anything even slightly self-destructive, he will be livid. Even the thought of you getting hurt angers him.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Dick has a pretty great memory. He knows if you have any allergies, what your favorite flower is, your favorite color, food, etc.. He's lovesick, I swear. <3

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The first time you and him kissed. Whenever he thinks about it, it sends butterflies down his stomach. His hands on your waist, your arms wrapped around his neck... ugh

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Dick is protective of you. He does not like seeing you get hurt. But later on, he starts accepting the fact that you can take care of yourself. But that doesn't mean he won't protect you.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Dick puts effort in everything he does for you. Every detail needs to be perfect or he'll crack. He plans out what he'll be doing for each date and anniversary months before.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He's a perfectionist. He feels like he needs to be perfect. Dick also has the habit of bottling up his feelings and never talking about them. He grew up with a lot of siblings and since he is also the oldest among them, he felt obligated to take care of them. He also made sure to never let his facade fall down. :(

(i love you, dick. i swear. i wanna give you a hug so bad but you're not real.)

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Dick definitely has definitely adopted a skincare routine over the years. I mean, he has been fighting villains for years, can't a man have something for himself? Anyway, he definitely cares about how he looks. He isn't self-absorbed but he cares.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

You're his heroin, with and without the e.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Dick Grayson listens to 80s music. I can already imagine him playing something from Bruce's playlist and jamming to it with no shame. I mean, the man has THE ass in Gotham. Why should he be ashamed?

+he loves material girl by madonna

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Dick dislikes people who wouldn't help someone when they are in the middle of a crisis. Maybe it's the fact that he is a vigilante. He loves helping people.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He either sleeps for 17 hours or doesn't. There is no in between.

Dick has a love-hate relationship with sleep.

───── ❝ authors note ❞ ─────

ugh this took three hours. why? i started doing other shit. well, here it is!!! anyway i love soft dick grayson so much like he would definitely whisper "dont worry, love. ive got you." ngl i write smut sometimes but 9/10 i would not want rough sex

i prefer someone gentle omg

what am i doing

fuck

[myownwholewildworld]

masterlist

find me in ao3 | discord: arran.macleod

well, hello there! c:

i go by the name of arran in the world wide web, she/her, based in the uk and in my 30s era. i have been writing on and off for almost 20 years now on different platforms, but this is really the first time i venture into the fanfic realm in tumblr, so please be nice! >: probably you can tell, but my first language is not english but spanish, so if you spot any spelling mistakes, i apologise in advance lol

i've been obsessed with pedrito for quite a while now, so i thought ― i love writing, i love pedro, and, above everything else, i love love love drama, so why not give in and write some fics? i'm sure i'll find some like-minded people here!

i do appreciate any feedback you may want to share with me, as well as interactions (asks, reblogs, comments, likes, anything really!). also please feel free to drop me a message if there's something you would like me to write, i'm always open to suggestions ♡

please assume all my work is 18+, so mdni! do not repost, translate, nor use my work in any way without my explicit permission either.

i'll try to keep this masterlist as up to date as possible.

love,

arran xx

(find my work under the cut!)

🤭 ― fluff

😳 ― light smut

💘 ― explicit smut

💢 ― dark/sensitive theme

🤕 ― angst

🩸 ― graphic content (violence, gore, etc)

wherever you go

series masterlist - 🤭💘💢🤕🩸 status: ongoing. pairing: outbreak!2003!joel x f!reader. summary: after the events of 26th september 2003, you find yourself under the wing of the miller brothers. it's the older one who catches your attention, but also the one who drives you fucking crazy. you inevitably find yourself gravitating towards him while trying to navigate this postapocalyptic word you're stuck in, with more than one unpleasant surprise...

uniformed!joel one shots

series masterlist - 💘💢 status: ongoing. pairing: uniformed!joel x f!reader. summary: a series of one shots where we get to see the one and only joel miller and all his sides... as long as he's wearing a uniform, ofc. i'm open to any requests you may have, no matter how wild! check #uniformed!joel to see what's already been suggested. come along, don't be shy!

acta, non verba

series masterlist - 🤭😳💘💢🤕🩸 status: ongoing. pairing: conqueror!marcus x ofc!reader. summary: scotland, 83 AD after the battle of mons graupius. the romans have come up to the boundaries of their empire with a relentless desire to conquer the savages that inhabit the highlands. they won't rest until the Caledonian tribes are subjugated. Marcus Acacius is in charge of your clansmen's fate, but if such fate is similar to your family's, you know you need to do something about it. as the only living daughter of the tribe chief, your people look to you for leadership. power plays, treason, deception, rebellion, war, love, heartbreak, betrayal. and two souls, destined to despise each other, trying to navigate it all.

the way to a great wide somewhere

read here ; easter eggs - 🤭💘🤕🩸 status: completed. pairing: beast!din djarin x f!reader. summary: cursed to spend the rest of his days in Mand'alor, Din Djarin faces a threat that may break his peace: you. -or- a retelling of the beauty and the beast story.

when the moon howls

read here - 🤭 status: oneshot/completed. pairing: javier peña x f!reader. summary: you meet javier in a café during your sabbatical. you see the man that no one does ― the one who is broken, defeated, crushed by his time as a DEA agent. so you make it your purpose to shine some light on his life, one pumpkin spice latte at a time. -or- the story of how you two fall head over heels for each other c:

when the grief howls

read here - 🤭💢 status: oneshot/completed. pairing: javier peña x f!reader. same couple as "when the moon howls". can be read as a oneshot. summary: javi and you go back to yours after your idyllic pumpkin patch date and he stays over. you comfort him when his demons catch up with him.

[monstercangirlofficial]

Recommending some of my favorite rap songs. As a latin american trans woman, I didn't grow up with rap, but I learned to listen to and appreciate it. These are some great songs I think everyone should hear, and hopefully add to their playlists. These are Spotify links, but you can find these songs elsewhere too. My favorites are in blue:

Pop Rap: She's a Bitch by Missy Elliot (1999); Comfortable (ft. Babyface) by Lil Wayne (2003); Savage (ft. Beyoncé) by Megan Thee Stallion (2020); Too Many Nights (ft. Don Toliver & Future) by Metro Boomin (2022); Never Lose Me (ft. SZA & Cardi B) by Flo Mili (2024)

Classic Rap: My Mic Sounds Nice by Salt-N-Pepa (1986); South Bronx by Boogie Down Productions (1987); Welcome To The Terrordome by Public Enemy (1990); Born and Raised In Compton by DJ Quik (1991); When In Love by MC Lyte (1991)

Gangsta Rap: Gimme the Loot by The Notorious B.I.G. (1994); Cloverland (ft. Botany Boyz) by DJ Screw (1996); The Art of Peer Pressure by Kendrick Lamar (2012); Norf Norf by Vince Staples (2015); Tear Gas (ft. Rick Ross & Lil Wayne) by Conway the Machine (2022)

G-Funk: Nuthin' But A "G" Thang (ft. Snoop Dogg) by Dr. Dre (1992); Funkdafied by Da Brat (1994); It's Supposed to Bubble by UGK (1994); Dusted 'N' Disgusted (ft. 2Pac, Mac Mall & Spice 1) by E-40 (1995); Can't C Me by 2Pac (1996)

Conscious Rap: Proletariat Blues by Blue Scholars (2006); 4 Your Eyez Only by J. Cole (2016); Blood of the Fang by clipping. (2019); Iman (ft. SiR & JID) by Rapsody (2019); I Love You, I Hate You by Little Simz (2021)

Abstract Rap: Accordion by Madvillain (MF DOOM & Madlib) (2000); Mural by Lupe Fiasco (2015); The Punishment of Sisyphus by Hermit and the Recluse (Ka & Animoss) (2018); Magician (Suture) by Milo (2017); Arugula by Junglepussy (2020)

Jazz Rap: Jazz (We've Got) by A Tribe Called Quest (1991); 93 'Til Infinity by Souls Of Mischief (1993); The World Is Yours by Nas (1994); Yesterday by Noname (2016); Live! from the Kitchen Table (ft. Ghais Guevara) by McKinley Dixon (2023)

Trap: Ridin' N' Da Chevy by Three Six Mafia (1999); Love Don't Live (U Abandoned Me) by Gangsta Boo (2001); Kay Kay by Chief Keef (2012); Digits by Young Thug (2016); Poppin by Rico Nasty (2017)

Experimental Rap: Spiritual Healing by dälek (2002); Persistence by Lil Ugly Mane (2015); Ain't It Funny by Danny Brown (2016); Thug Tears by JPEGMAFIA (2018); Superman That by Injury Reserve (2021)

I strongly recommend checking out other songs by these artists, the albums these songs are from, more songs from these genres and others I didn't include, and to explore everything hip hop has to offer (especially hip hop made by women). Feel free to add any artists and songs I (obviously) missed, that you think deserve more love and recognition, particularly independent music. Enjoy!

[writingwisterias]

Leon Kennedy

Leon is my favorite to write so the list was getting a bit long. Here's a link to the rest of Resident Evil works NSFW is in red and Dead Dove is in bold! Please read the warnings:)

My blog is 18+ only Requests are open!

OneShots:

Blossom

Rookie Mistakes

The New Normal

Late-Night Cravings

Gods Bargain

Pumpkin Spice and Everything Nice

I Like Daddy's Best

A Restless Wife

Mine

Feeling Helpless

Blood in the Snow

Double the Chances

His new obession

Drabbles:

The reader gets infected with the C-Virus

The reader becomes a Bow

The reader gets their period in public

Cock Warming Leon

Movie Nights

Headcanons:

Reacting to the reader who sings/dances when nervous

Wolf Hybrid! Reader x Leon

Possessive RE4!Leon

Breeding Kink DI! Leon

Leon as The Crow

OG!Leon thinking about his new scar

OG!Leon NSFW

Las Plagas Sub Leon

[burningcheese-merchant]

Sooo, I have a thought from an ask i saw about yandere beasts towards the ancients...

What if the Beasts became yandere towards YOU instead?

Although, the Ancients have the same feeling too, which may lead to high tensions in the air.

What would YOU in that scenario?

-A Self-Aware/Yandere lover Anon

Wait, me? Me specifically? Merchant? The person answering this ask? That's certainly an interesting thought...

If the Beasts became yanderes towards me, then I would fucking panic lol. I don't condone this kind of behavior irl, it's fun to write fictional crazy people but nobody wants to endure ACTUAL crazy people. Stalkers are sick and dangerous and need to be put away, and it's a damn shame it's not taken seriously by law enforcement anywhere (not until it escalates to violence, anyway, unfortunately)

With that said, let's terrorize Merchant for a little bit

IF THE BEASTS ARE STILL JUST COOKIES:

Step on them immediately, they're like 3 inches tall wait, would that work? They have powers and are crazy strong. What can they actually do against humans? Would stepping on them just break my fucking foot?

Send my dog after them no wait, I don't want them to hurt my dog. I love my dog very much. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to him. I'd never forgive myself if I let him try to eat them and he just got turned into flour or something

Pour milk on them ONE OF THEM IS MADE OF MILK ALREADY GODDAMN IT

Hide the box of cookies I like to get from the store, because they probably wouldn't appreciate the fact that I love to eat cookies (they're just like this 🍪 but still)

Try to trap them in the fridge momentarily, hope they don't destroy my nice fridge

Make a deal where they are allowed to live in and explore my house provided they damage nothing and hurt no one

Give them head scratches (especially Spice, his head looks Very Scratchable)

Give them tiny little kisses if they behave themselves (however, if I give one a kiss, I have to give them ALL kisses, or else the other 4 will retaliate against me out of jealousy)

I will also allow them to sit on my shoulders if they behave themselves and don't try to yank on my hair or my ears or something

Wait, do cookies know what sex is? Are they capable of sexual feelings? If so, how do they deal with them? Do they have the... equipment for that? WHAT IF THEY TRY TO HUMP MY FINGERS OR SOMETHING OH GOD-

Contact federal authorities and hope that they believe me when I say superpowered talking cookies are in my house, so they can come take them away and perhaps experiment on them

Probably never sleep again because there's a batch of little satanic cookies in my house that all want to fuck me for some reason (I'm ugly and a normie, wtf did I do to deserve this 💀)

IF THE BEASTS ARE HUMAN:

immediate death

panic x10000000000

I hc Spice as being at least 6'5''/198cm and 200+/90+ lbs/kg so I'm cooked 7 ways to Sunday just with him

Seriously I'm just a short nerd irl. Assuming they still have their powers, my life is literally over

Do everything in my power to convince them all my loved ones are dead so they don't go harm them out of jealousy (ESPECIALLY my SO, God have mercy, I'll probably have to tell him to go hide in his home country for a while)

Try to barricade myself in a church, hope that the "demons cannot set foot on hallowed ground/in God's house" rule applies to them, beg God to save my sorry ass while they try to break in and drag me back out

Can't call the cops because A) stalking and harassment are not taken seriously by police, B) they won't believe me when I say that 5 supervillains are trying to kidnap and marry me, C) by the time they realize I'm telling the truth, they will already have been hanged/put into a coma/beheaded/turned to flour/cut up into salt cubes

I actually only like men irl so I am in deep trouble with Flour and Sugar especially

Try to flee the country (probably won't work but I'll try anyway and hope they don't get too mad about it), hide out in the Yukon or some bumfuck nowhere village in Russia, I'd rather face a polar bear than these guys

Probably still be forced to let them live in my house in exchange for peace and obedience

...I don't know if tiny head scratches and kisses would cover it this time

Hope that they're all possessive enough to only harass me one at a time, instead of... more than one at a time, because that counts as sharing and yanderes don't really like doing that

Try to pit them against each other constantly. If they're too focused on arguing about who I belong to or whatever, then they can't focus on tormenting me

Would like to try to stab or shoot them but idk if conventional weaponry works on them at all

If I HAD TO pick one to say yes to, it would be Burning Spice. He is sexy af. Then, hopefully, I can weaponize this and get him to defend me from the others

IF THE ANCIENTS LIKED ME TOO, BUT WERE NORMAL:

Yay, sanity. I'll tell them to PLEASE get the Beasts away from me. They can sort out whatever they feel towards me later, we've got a bigger problem on our hands than that

COOKIES: I will keep them safe in my house under the same conditions as the Beasts: behave and do not harm anyone or anything

HUMANS: Look, can I just... send them back? How did any of these guys get here, anyway? Can I please just shove them back through the portal or whatever they used to get here? Even if I wasn't taken, I don't think I'd have the strength or patience to put up with anyone's shit. Can we just be friends? I'd love to be friends. I need a mom friend like Hollyberry in my life

If necessary, I am picking Dark Cacao. Seriously, I love my big, strong men. Merchant is a basic bitch at heart lol

IF THE ANCIENTS WERE YANDERES TOO:

Are you fucking kidding me

Am still picking Cacao, fuck all of you

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

I would like to ask for part 3 of nightmare in Toronto

*ahem*

PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE

Ask and ye shall receive!

Knightmare In Toronto

Chapter 3: Meet The Neighbors, They Said!

Main Masterlist | Fic Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

The kitchen was abuzz with activity. 

As it turned out, everyone was hungry, with Wind offering to help within a millisecond of you popping the question. It was almost embarrassing how quickly you folded in the face of those baby blues staring up at you, averting your eyes as you contemplated how one child could be so damn adorable, eventually settling on marching to the kitchen and declaring that anyone who wanted to help was welcome to it, a cheerful Wind at your heels. 

It was only when you bent to retrieve the only pot you owned that Wild made his presence known, asking quietly if there were any ingredients you needed. You informed him that you had gone to the supermarket earlier, which elicited a strange look from the blonde, but you were too focused on keeping Wind from waving the knives like toys and retrieving your cookbook from the depths of the top cabinet to care. 

“Okay,” you blew the dust off the cookbook. Wind oooed and Wild sneezed, to which you issued a dry “bless you,” and flipped to the correct page. Green Bean Soup had been one of your favorite recipes when you were a child, so you didn’t see any reason not to make it for them. “I’m going to assume none of you know what a stove is?”

Their blank stares confirmed everything. With a labored sigh and quick massage to your aching temples, you tossed the cookbook on the counter, rolled up your sleeves, cracked your knuckles awesomely, and intoned: “Let’s fix that.”

Within ten minutes, you had a large soup boiling atop the stove, all thanks to Wind’s chopping abilities and Wild’s tendency to produce ingredients from his pants pockets, which you were beginning to suspect doubled as a gateway to a black hole when you caught him trying to pull what appeared to be an entire ladle from the thing. He continued to surprise you when a small vial of red powder—Goron Spice, he called it, which was both terrifying and intriguing—made its way onto the mix, while Wind flitted around the area to simultaneously snoop and ask a million questions. 

Despite the chaos, there was something inherently refreshing about being in the presence of others. You rarely received visitors, and it was nice to laugh along with Wind’s antics or Wild’s cleverly-placed quips. The soup also smelled delicious, which did not favors for your initial distrust; if they wanted to hurt me, they would have done it sooner, you reasoned, watching Wild stir the liquid—a vibrant carmine that looked just as good as it smelled, with tender veggies gliding at the surface with each flick of the ladle—as it bubbled and hissed. 

"You're pretty good at this," you said as Wild scraped the last of the chicken—the meat of choice—into the pot, already blooming with delicious, fragrant steam. "Who taught you?"

“I did,” the man’s response was swift and to the point, but only a fool would miss the soft smile in his eyes… until it turned sour and he glanced down at the soup. “At least, I think I did,” his expression darkened further. “My memories… they’re not all there.”

You nodded sympathetically as he stirred the soup, lost in thought, reaching over to tap more spice into the pot. Wild’s grin was quick, and his motions grew quicker to incorporate the powder. Wind, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, pipped up from his perched position on the counter. “That’s okay, Wild! You’re the best cook I know!”

“Thanks, sailor,” Wild’s mouth quirked up even more, and you stepped over to the dishes cabinet to give them some privacy, feeling a bit out of place. You were curious, sure, but it wasn’t your place to ask. Opening the door, you groaned, drawing both boys’ gazes. 

“Oh, for the love of—”

“What’s wrong?” Wind hopped off the counter to sidle up beside you, neck craned as he assessed the situation. 

You gestured to the nearly-empty cabinet housing your meager dining possessions: four plates, two bowls, three glass cups of varying size, a chipped mug with Grumpy Cat’s frowning face plastered to the visible side of it, and the Paw Patrol sippy cup you discovered between your couch’s cushions a year into owning it. 

Wind patted your forearm with a grin. “That’s okay! We have our own bowls,” and, just to assuage your fears, he reached into his satchel and produced a small wooden bowl, complete with a set of carved silverware and a small cup. “See?”

“That’s what eyes are for, Wind,” came Four’s voice from the living room, but there was no real heat behind his words. You had to hold back a chuckle at the younger boy’s exasperated expression, and excused yourself to the hallway when he turned to look at you with a ‘did you just hear that?’ expression. 

Once in the hallway, you made a b-line for the hallway closet, retrieving all the blankets you had, which was a startlingly large number considering you lived alone. You threw the ones that wouldn’t fit around your shoulder, then padded down to the guest room. It had been just your luck that the house had come with such a large room, nearly twice as big as your own. Until now, you had been using it as a makeshift quiet space, complete with a heavenly beanbag that you were only slightly embarrassed to admit you used more than your own bed.

You nudged the door open with your foot, immediately tossed the blankets on the beanbag when Wild’s call of “Stew’s done!” rang through the house. Scrambling back to the kitchen, you snagged a bowl and joined the already forming line, sandwiched between Twilight and Wind, their bowls at the ready. 

After getting your food, you walked to the living room and flopped down on the couch–there was no way in hell your tiny dining table was going to fit everyone. 

"May I join you?” Four materialized at your side, the steam from his bowl slightly obscuring his face. You nodded and he plopped himself down on the couch next to you. A beat passed, only broken by a sigh. "I'm sorry for scaring you, it wasn't right of me."

“You’re fine,” you spooned some soup and blew on it, glancing at him as the tips of your mouth curved up in a cheeky grin. “I would have screamed too, scared cat."

His gaze snapped to you. “Excuse me?”

You held up your free hand in surrender. “Joking, joking!”

Four rolled his eyes and you could have sworn the typically blue edges flashed a starling shade of purple for a split second. “You better be,” he said through a mouthful of soup, and you were glad there were no hard feelings. 

"What's this?" Came Wild's curious voice. He had taken up residence on the carpet, stew set aside in favor of examining your television, running his fingers across the smooth surface.

“It's called a television,” you reached for the remote. "Watch this!"

The TV crackled to life when you pressed the power button, not considering how someone new to your world might react to this technology of the future. As expected, Wild threw himself back with a shout as the latest episode of Family Feud filled the screen with an obnoxious blare, then swiftly brandished his sword in the wake of this new foe. Four also went ramrod straight and retrieved his own sword, nearly dropping his stew in the chaos. You screamed for them to stop, but it was for naught when a Call Of Duty ad joined the commercial sequence. Wild yelled in shock, thrusting his blade into the center of the television. 

ZZZZCHH!

Orange sparks exploded around the weapon, and Wild’s body shook as he was undoubtedly electrocuted, hair going every which way in a manner that would have been hilarious in any other situation. Amidst the insanity, Four attempted to pull Wild from the sparking television, only to receive what you could only assume was a very nasty shock. Twilight, Wind, and the tallest guy joined the fray just as the lights began to flicker, their barking voices melding into a cacophony of craziness.

"What in Hylia?!" Someone cried, though you didn't recognize their voice. Glancing up, you met the purple eyes of an even more ridiculously-dressed stranger. His hair was what could only be described as a warm strawberry blonde and, if that wasn't enough, he appeared to be wearing a red tunic over a long green dress with... where the fuck were his pants?

"Put some pants on, whore!" You screeched, half delirious with terror, just as there was a loud crash and Wild flew across the room, landing squarely against the family photos hanging on your wall with a stuttered oof. Your tone spiked with outrage as you beheld the current madness. "What the hell?!"

“Wild!” Wind rushed to Wild’s side, shaking his shoulder. He looked up at you, the beginnings of tears blooming in his adorable little eyes. You felt your anger slip like sand through clenched fingers, slowly stepping up to Wild’s prone form, pressing your fore and middle fingers to the side of his neck, probing the arteries below for a pulse. It was at that moment that you truly noticed the scars marring the side of his neck, long enough that they simultaneously dipped down beneath his shirt and stretched up to the base of his elongated ear. “...Is he dead?”

“I…” The silence was somber as you searched harder… only for Wild to cough and swat at your hand, eyes gazing blearily at the ceiling. 

“Hylia, it’s like fighting wizzrobes all over again…”

What? 

Despite the fact that half those words made no sense at all, you released the breath you’d been holding. You drew yourself up, still dazed by the fact that that had just happened, you brushed past a startled Twilight and blank-faced tall man, calling over your shoulder: “Someone get him on the couch–I’ll get water.”

“‘M fine,” you heard Wild murmur from the other room, followed by soft scuffling noises. You grabbed the sippy cup from the cabinet and filled it with water, returning just in time to witness Four heave the taller man by his armpits onto your couch. Impressive, was your first thought, followed by: I don’t want to imagine the overtime, when you passed the crackling television, still impaled on the massive sword. It was a fucking miracle your house hadn’t caught on fire in the chaos. 

“Here,“ you handed the cup to Wild, who took it with a baffled expression, though it didn’t stop him from dutifully chugging the thing. “...Dare I ask why you stabbed my television?”

“That’s a fancy term for a mimic,” the pantless stranger snapped, mirroring your posture. You instantly stood straighter, ready to square up if needed. The stranger snorted at your half-glare, expression darkening suspiciously as he scanned your home. “Where are we?”

You tried not to look at the sword attached to his belt, crossing your arms over your chest and slightly cocking your left hip in a manner that you hoped conveyed the seriousness of the situation. “My house.”

The newcomer blinked, and Wind stepped in, excitement regained. “This is Legend, he’s with us–”

“Uh huh,” you muttered under your breath. 

“–and this is (Y/n), we’re staying with them until everyone else gets here.”

You felt your expression soften–Wind was a cute kid–and it was only mildly difficult to manage a short wave; you definitely weren’t here to make enemies out of any of them. 

“Sup.”

Bafflement swept across Legend’s face as Wind mouthed the word to himself, though neither of them had a chance to reply when a heavy series of knocks came down on your front door. For a moment, you froze, feeling like you had just been caught red-handed, but quickly flew into action when Legend stiffened, hand falling on the hilt of his sword. “Put that away,” you hissed as the barest glint of steel flashed in your field of vision, fearlessly batting his hand down and rushing over to the door with a hurried “stay right there” to the gaggle of men in your living room. 

“Hiiii, Cindy,” you said as soon as you cracked the door open, praying to whatever deity you could that she wasn’t here to bitch about how your petunias interfered with the HOA guidelines. “What can I do for you on this,” you were going to say ‘fine day’, but that felt a tad too cheery for the insanity that had occurred in your living room alone. “...acceptable afternoon?”

“Finally,” your neighbor tossed her freshly highlighted bangs from her face, but you were more surprised that her demon spawn children were nowhere to be seen, likely congregating elsewhere to commit more crimes against the local wildlife. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

You deadpanned, ignoring the hushed whispers behind you. Cindy’s brows lifted, and she tried to peek behind you, but you squared your stick shoulders and fake coughed. “I don’t know, Cindy, what time is it?”

“It’s too damn early, that’s what it is,” she said despite it being after five o’clock in the afternoon. “I’ve always considered you a sensible neighbor–”

“Hold on,” you held up a hand, bafflement creeping into your expression. “Why are you here?”

“For god’s sake, (Y/n),” she put two fingers on the bridge of her nose and you felt your exasperation ebb minutely–seems like you weren’t the only one who had a hard day. “What are you doing, screaming like that?“

“...Um.”

“I get that the Tic Tac app condones all these newfangled things, but that’s no excuse to involve the neighborhood in your shenanigans–”

What. The. Fuck. 

Your jaw nearly hit the floor–did she think you were having an orgy? It was so… so hilariously wrong that you were temporarily rendered speechless, helplessly listening to her spiel about adequate soundproofing and some other bullshit about using protection that you didn’t have the brain power to comprehend at the moment. It didn’t help that there was an audible gasp from within the house that followed her initial words as one of the boys ultimately came (har har) to the same conclusion you had. 

When you did find your voice, it came out in choppy half-sentences that did absolutely nothing to help your case. “I’m not– why would you–”

“Oh, honey,” Cindy tossed her hair in one flawless move. Distant screaming could be heard from her property and you cringed at the thought of having to call the fire department so soon after last time. “Before you–” she leaned close, and you backed away, unintentionally revealing Wind’s head poking out from the living room wall. ”–there was me.”

With that, your neighbor was gone. You remained at the foyer, leaning against the door frame for support, expression completely drained of any and all emotion. Every one of your thoughts was centered around the complete and total madness that had just occurred until Wind whispered. “Is she gone?”

You closed the door and collapsed back onto it, battling with the distinct urge to scream like a maniac. Four wandered around the corner and plopped himself against the wall next to you. You allowed yourself a few moments of silence, only moving when the tallest man’s bulky form entered the hall, flanked by Twilight, Wild, and Legend, who was the first to speak. 

“That was…” if you had been paying attention, you would have noticed the faint redness on the tips of his ears. 

“I need a nap,” you groaned, massaging your temples for the nth time today. The tallest man stood a bit straighter when you fixed your sights on him. “How many more of you did you say were coming?”

“Three more,” he glanced up and you half expected to see another one of them dropping from the ceiling. When nothing happened, you sighed and ran a hand through your hair. 

“Okay, the guest room is just down there–” you pointed at said door for emphasis. “–and mine is the one after it. There should be enough blankets for y’all, but I can go on a supply run if anything ends up on fire…” you paused, tone taking a distinct, pleading undertone when you continued. “Please don’t set my things on fire.”

“You have our word,” the tall man promised, laying a hand over his heart, and you felt marginally better. 

“Rad. Now,” you clapped your hands. “Who wants croissants?”

This chapter fought me tooth and nail, so please be gentle!

[lovelybucky1]

Sam Winchester NSFW Alphabet

warnings: genderneutral!reader, mentions of choking, masochism, sadism, switching, cnc, predator/prey, hair pulling, oral sex, hair pulling, 18+ minors dni

masterlist

A = Aftercare- sam is such a sweetheart. he'll take care to clean you up so you're not a sticky mess in the morning, he'll bring you water and snacks if you need, and he will shower you with affection. he kisses you all over and holds you against his chest so you can come down together. if you're the dom in the scene, he expects the same kind of gentle care from you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)- sam's favorite part of his body is his back. he's big and broad and he loves being able to shield you with his body. he also loves when you cling to him, nails digging into the muscles of his back when he fucks you. his favorite part of his partner's body is their neck. it's so sensitive and every light touch of his lips, scratch of his facial hair or press of his fingers has you squirming.

C = Cum- sam is a cumslut. all he wants is to wring orgasm after orgasm out of his partner. he gets drunk on your pleasure and he loves that he's the one making you feel so good. he especially loves to swallow down all of your cum with a smile.

D = Dirty secret- you'd never expect it, but sweet, charming sam loves hard kinks. cnc, predator/prey, sadomasochism, you name it. as long as it's safe, sane, and consensual, he's willing to try it. he'd put on a costume and pretend to be a priest for you to confess your sins to, he'd be the hunter trailing the poor lost spirit, he'd be your hostage to torture for information.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)- sam doesn't have too much experience. jess was his first and they didn't get up to anything too crazy, only because sam was too shy to ask. he's watched enough porn to have his fair share of kinky fantasies and the knowledge shared by his big brother has given him a pretty good idea of how to go about the kinker things.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)- surprise, surprise, sam is a missionary kind of guy. call it vanilla, but he loves to see your face as you come apart on his cock. he spices it up with a hand around your throat, lips pressed to your ear while he whispers filthy things, and your fingernails dug into his back. if he's bottoming, he likes backshots. they make him feel cheap and dirty, especially when you pull his hair.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)- if having regular, normal sex then sam will be goofy. he'll tease you and crack jokes like he isn't fucking your brains out. if you're doing a scene, he can stay in character enough to be serious.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)- sam doesn't do much manscaping. he'll trim his bush if it gets too long, but he prefers to keep everything natural. he doesn't have too much chest hair, but he has a nice happy trail.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)- sam is a big sappy romantic. he's the type to lay rose petals down on the bed so he can make sweet love to you all night. he'll whisper how much he loves you with each stroke and he kisses passionately, but this doesn't mean he can't be rough.

J = Jack off- sam doesn't get much alone time outside of the shower when he's on cases, so that's typically where he jerks off. if he can find enough time, that is. it's also hard for him to get in the mood when there's a case on his mind, so he usually waits until things have settled a bit to take care of himself.

K = Kink- sam is a switch, so he never shies away from a battle for dominance. he loves to run his mouth during sex, spewing praise and degradation in equal amounts (depending on your preferences). he likes to leave marks: hickyes, bites, bruises, you name it. he also likes when you cry because it means he gets to comfort you and teasingly tell you that "it's all gonna be okay"

L = Location- sam isn't big on the risk of getting caught, so he keeps his sex in private locations. usually the bedroom or motel room, sometimes the bathroom against the sink or in the shower. he'd fuck you in the back seat of the impala if he thought he could get away with it, but dean would kill him if he found out sam's bare ass touched his seats.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)- sam likes a spitfire. if you speak your mind, are quick witted, and can keep up with his and dean's sarcasm and snark, you'll have his attention. sam really likes to flirt, and he loves it when you play hard to get. he'll be whipped for you and you'll be the only thing on his mind.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)- sam wouldn't be into any authority kink. sam's not big on authority himself, and he'd rather not have to hold some sort of title to get your submission. all he wants to hear you moan is his name, not sir, daddy, or master

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)- sam likes receiving oral well enough. he'd never turn down a blowjob, but he much prefers to give. he could stay between your thighs for hours and not get tired.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)- the pace really depends on the scene and lead up. sam can he rough and he likes to fuck hard, but he also enjoys going slow and drawing it out so you both can feel every little touch.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)- most of the sex sam has are quickies. he doesn't get much down time unless he's not on a case, which isn't often. if you're on the case with him, he'll find ways to get dean out of the room long enough to get some alone time with you. he'd love to be able to take his time, but he'll take what he can get.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)- sam likes to try new things and there isn't much he wouldn't try at least once. he isn't a fan of public sex and dabbling with the possibility of getting caught, however. he doesn't want any uninvited third parties seeing you like that.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)- when he has the time, sam usually can go for at least two rounds. while he's recovering, he uses that time to focus completely on you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)- sam doesn't use any toys on himself but he isn't opposed to his partner using them or using them with his partner, especially when it comes to pegging

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)- sam is a tease and a flirt. he'll give you innocent little touches, quiet whispers of dirty things in your ear, all to rile you up. if you turned the tables on him, however, he'd get all pouty that you're withholding what he wants.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)- sam is pretty quiet during sex. he talks, but in a hushed voice, and he stifles his moans. the most noise he makes are little, involuntary whimpers that come from high in his throat.

W = Wild card- sam is always trapped in his own head. his imagination is vivid and whenever he finds himself bored, he thinks about naughty scenarios like they're his personal pornos.

X = X-ray- sam is unexpectedly muscled. he may not look like it with his baggy clothes on, but he has abs, a defined chest and arms, and toned legs. his dick is also proportionally sized.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)- the stress in sam's life definitely impacts his sex drive, but his head is always swimming with dirty thoughts.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)- sam expels a lot of pent up energy during sex, so he will usually pass out pretty quick after the fact.

[arminsumi]

omgg i love ur writing broo it has my giggling, kicking my feet n shi and the fact that u also do fem black readers OMG I LOVE U anyways putting my appreciation aside, what abt nerdy freaky armin (if u havent already ofcc) like u cant tell me that man is FREAKYY (i ❤️ freaks)

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤

A/N: you are the cutest patoodiest 💗 mwa thank u sweetiepie! and ur absolutely right UR ABSOLUTELY RIGHT!! yk what they say it's alwaysss the quiet nerdy ones!! 🥰

Pairing: ARMIN Arlert x f.reader

Summary: Min's the nerdy valedictorian with a freaky side 🥰

Warnings; 🔞 mdni, SMUT, this isn't fully proofread 👀, sub.Armin/some light dom.Armin, stereotypes (nerd, popular girl), mean reader, dirty talk, public sex (library, during class), facial, handjob (reader giving), oral (reader giving), light humiliation/degradation, bondage (blindfolding, tying hands), mean names (freak, loser), creaming in his pants, hair pulling kink, slapping kink, begging, toys (vibrator), use me kink (or whatever it's called), lmk if i missed some i was in a freaky state of mind while writing lmfao

♪ spice up your life come and get a freak

Min is the quiet blond boy that sits next to you every chance he can get. He follows you like a puppy from class to class, trying his best to interest you — the pretty popular girl of his wet dreams — with every nerdy topic that comes to mind.

Yes he's blabbing your ear off about the importance of maths, but really he's thinking about what what color panties you wear. Do you prefer lace or plain? What's your favorite position? Do you prefer backshots? Missionary? Full Nelson? Mating press?

You wouldn't suspect the school's valedictorian to have such a nasty mind.

He just can't wait 'till you give him a taste. He knows you will 'cause he's been so good to you, always helping you study for tests and even taking notes for you when you're skipping class. He's been such a help.

The first time is his fantasy come true; you jerked him under the desk during a lecture. He shuddered n tried to focus on what the professor was saying, but how could he with your fingers wrapped so tightly around his pulsing cock? :( The poor boy came in his pants and enjoyed every second of it, even when he had to embarrassedly excuse himself after class to 'tend to an emergency'.

He loves when you make his glasses fog up from how hot his face is and how heavy he's breathing. He loves when you make them slide down the bridge of his pretty nose, mouth hanging open while you make out with his cock in the library.

That all started because he asked you "can you k-kiss my cock?"

Now he melts and falls apart, desperately muffling his moans by biting down on his thin textbook. When he's close he grabs a fistful of your hair n tugs your head back, pulling you off his cock with a sloppy pop — starting to jerk himself over your face.

"C-can I cum on your face?" he pants, already deciding that he would regardless of what you say. He had to see his milky white cum painting your face.

"Oh? You're a fucking freak," you giggle sweetly, sending a rush through his body, "Of course you can cum on my face."

He absolutely folds when you call him a freak. He lives for the moments you expose his kinks, too.

Of course he's into bondage, why wouldn't he be 🙄 he loves using a neat silk tie as a blindfold... on himself, not you. He squirms and whines and pleads, "Let me see you, please."

Don't forget to cuff him to your bed and milk him nicely!

If you wanna get him achingly hard and sensitive for you, you gotta degrade him :( call him a freak, call him pathetic, call him a loser, humiliate him for cumming in his pants, tell him he's your toy.

And if you wanna make him cum loads then you should consider indulging in his slapping kink — his hair pulling kink — everything. He just wants the popular girl to pull his hair while she rides his cock like a toy.

"Please please please use me — use my cock like your toy n' call me a loser again. Please! Mmm yes yes yes I'm pathetic for you, Y/n ~ " he has the cutest high pitched moans.

He also begs you to use your vibrating toys on his cock :( <3

Speaking of begging... he is always, always begging. Pawing at your skirt to get your attention, eyes pleading for you to sneak off with your favorite loser so you can squeeze in a quickie before class.

Poor nerdy Armin just wants you to fuck him 'till his glasses slip right off, 'till his cock hurts, 'till you wring him dry of all his cum — is that too much to ask for?

[rottedghuleh]

🩸 .ꕁ⠀ׅAsa Emory (The Collector) NSFW Alphabet. (F!Reader) ! ! 🪲

A/N: Starting off spooky month kinda early because I need to write something, anything. My brain is buzzing with so many ideas. Anyways, starting it off with a NSFW alphabet for Asa Emory because hardly anyone gives my baby boy attention and because The Collector has been my favorite lately. If you want to do a request for spooky month, just drop me a request and I'd love to do it.

ㅤㅤㅤ࣭ㅤ۟ㅤ🪲 ㅤㅤ◌ㅤ

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex):

Depends on Asa's mood, sometimes he'll be very sweet, rubbing out your aches and pains, cleaning you up if he got too rough or came in you. If you were a brat or decided to be a smart ass, he'll lock you alone in a room for hours and not come and help you no matter how much you beg him.

ㅤㅤㅤ࣭ㅤ۟ㅤ🪲 ㅤㅤ◌ㅤ

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

Asa's has two favorite body parts of his, his eyes and his thighs. His eyes because they are honestly so mesmerizing how the fuck would you not like them? His thighs because in the second movie his thighs were MM. Asa likes them, so you can grind yourself against him until your staining his pants with your cum. They're nice, full of muscle. His favorite body part on you is ass, I can totally see him being an ass guy. Eating it out from behind, slapping your ass, cumming in it, really helps get rid of any pent up emotions he felt.

ㅤㅤㅤ࣭ㅤ۟ㅤ🪲 ㅤㅤ◌ㅤ

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically):

Cumming on your tummy, bonus points if you have some nice pudge to you so he can cum on your soft tummy. He'll run his cock up against your tummy when he gets too close, the swollen head weeping onto your soft skin until it spurts out across your skin. Asa seeing his cum on your body, face, dripping out of your cunt, it gets him so turned on.

ㅤㅤㅤ࣭ㅤ۟ㅤ🪲 ㅤㅤ◌ㅤ

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

Latex. Asa has often found himself imagining what it would be like to see your tits bouncing in a nice, latex outfit while fucking your brains out. He's a switch, when he's feeling submissive, he would so get down on his hands and knees to clean up your latex to make sure it's shiny for next use.

ㅤㅤㅤ࣭ㅤ۟ㅤ🪲 ㅤㅤ◌ㅤ

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?):

My boy knows how to FUCK. Asa often would pick favorite victims in his past, finding differing positions, kinks, hell, even aphrodisiacs to get them so turned on they'd grind themselves on Asa's boots until they're a pretty, dripping mess. He's tried a little of everything, I mean, look at the movies, try and tell me Asa isn't a freak.

ㅤㅤㅤ࣭ㅤ۟ㅤ🪲 ㅤㅤ◌ㅤ

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying):

This will be talked a little more on in the link section, but anything that is good for pet play. Normal doggy if Asa wants to be more basic, adding some spice if he pulls your hair back to spit into your face. Prone bone if he really wants to fuck you hard with your hands behind your back and his hand pushing your face I to the pillows. Asa would fuck you until your ass turned bright red from the force of his hips.

ㅤㅤㅤ࣭ㅤ۟ㅤ🪲 ㅤㅤ◌ㅤ

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.):

Depends on the moment. If it's more of just Asa drilling his cock into you, he gets mean, rough, snapping at you if you fuck something up. He's sadistic, serious when he's dominant.

ㅤㅤㅤ࣭ㅤ۟ㅤ🪲 ㅤㅤ◌ㅤ

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.):

Asa has neatly trimmed pubes that slowly trail up into a fading happy trail. It's a dark brown, almost black. When he's more busy setting up new traps or hunting down a new family, he'll let his pubes be a little more messy, letting them curl out.

ㅤㅤㅤ࣭ㅤ۟ㅤ🪲 ㅤㅤ◌ㅤ

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect):

Playing again on what I said earlier, depends. I feel like Asa has different sides to him. One night, it would be all you. Making sure you cum first and as many times you want. It's slow, gentle, his hands tangled with yours to stare into your eyes to see how your eyes flutter shut. He's possessive, wouldn't hurt a hair on your head when he's in this mood. That's most days. When Asa has had a rough day, expect the worst out of him.

ㅤㅤㅤ࣭ㅤ۟ㅤ🪲 ㅤㅤ◌ㅤ

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon):

If Asa has you, he really has no need to masturbate. It's when he's pissed off at you or if you're not around is when he does. Sometimes if you've pissed him off enough, jerking off against your panties, rubbing his tip between the wet mess on the fabric until he cums is how he gets to you. Asa's thick tip would snag onto your entrance through your panties, rubbing against your swollen clit until your crying for more. He gets rough with himself, downright to sometimes he'd jerk himself raw with a pair of your underwear.

ㅤㅤㅤ࣭ㅤ۟ㅤ🪲 ㅤㅤ◌ㅤ

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks):

There's quite a list for Asa's kinks. CNC, BDSM, roleplay, pet play, anal, rope play, somno, dacryphilia, overstimulation, sadism, masochism, latex, very strong degrading, spitting, slapping, pulling your hair, blood play, knife play, cuckolding, voyeurism, predator/prey, marking (cuts, bites, bruises, writing).

ㅤㅤㅤ࣭ㅤ۟ㅤ🪲 ㅤㅤ◌ㅤ

L = Location (favorite places to do the do):

If you're in his home (seen at the end of the second movie if you didn't know), in the kitchen, right in front of the god damn window. Asa would make sure the curtains are wide open and a hand in your hair so you can meet your neighbors curious eyes when you're getting fucked so deliciously. If it's at his museum/hotel where he's got his victims, he has a few places. The camera room is one, letting you bounce on his cock as he watched the cameras. The actual exhibit room where Asa would pin you up against the glass off one of his "art pieces". The last place is sorta taboo, but right in front of his victim either when they are dead or dying and begging for help.

ㅤㅤㅤ࣭ㅤ۟ㅤ🪲 ㅤㅤ◌ㅤ

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going):

Teasing, either you teasing Asa or him teasing you. Being able to watch you bend over the kitchen counter of his home in a nightgown just to see you have no panties on. I feel like Asa would have a high libido, so as soon you two start making out, his cock is solid as a rock and grinding against you.

ㅤㅤㅤ࣭ㅤ۟ㅤ🪲 ㅤㅤ◌ㅤ

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs):

I'm not sure if Asa would have many "no-no's". Maybe the more extreme shit he would immediately say no to, and of course anything that's not fully consensual between you two. He may be a psychopath but he at least takes boundaries seriously. If he's with you, you can also imagine him saying no to other women. He might like seeing you get fucked by another man before killing him, but he wouldn't put you through that unless you want him to.

ㅤㅤㅤ࣭ㅤ۟ㅤ🪲 ㅤㅤ◌ㅤ

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.):

👏Eating. Ass.👏 Asa loves to eat ass, he's a munch, filthy. His favorite way to do it is you bent over a counter, bed, desk, anything and him eating you out from behind. His tongue would lap at you like he was starving to death, eventually slipping up into your cunt to suck up and of the fluids that was threatening to slip down his chin. Asa likes to give rather than receive, but on occasion, he likes his dick sucked. He gets handsy, grabbing handfuls of your tits, grabbing your hair. He'll hold you by the back of your neck like the scruff on a dog to hold you in place while he fucks your face.

ㅤㅤㅤ࣭ㅤ۟ㅤ🪲 ㅤㅤ◌ㅤ

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.):

Asa will fuck you like you're a bitch in heat. Hard, fast, drilling into your cervix so hard it makes your brain melt. That is his usual favorite. Asa will be gentle with you, especially if he's sore or if he just wants to see you're face when you moan.

ㅤㅤㅤ࣭ㅤ۟ㅤ🪲 ㅤㅤ◌ㅤ

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.):

Fucking loves them. As much Asa would love spending countless hours using you as a little fuck toy, quickies come in handy. He'll usually just bend you over any nearby object, pump into you until you're wailing like a pig before he goes out to a family or has some victims of his own.

ㅤㅤㅤ࣭ㅤ۟ㅤ🪲 ㅤㅤ◌ㅤ

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.):

Definitely, as I said before, Asa is into voyeurism. To be able to show that you're his to men that had been eyeing you for far too long. Hell, if he wouldn't get arrested, he'd fuck you on the hood of his van in the driveway and just let the neighbors pass on by. When you're being a brat, teasing you in public is the best form of punishment. To be able to feel that fear, to feel how you clench around him when you know someone is about to walk in on you two, it's like a drug.

ㅤㅤㅤ࣭ㅤ۟ㅤ🪲 ㅤㅤ◌ㅤ

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?):

If Asa has had a long day, 1-3 rounds and they're usually nice and slow with small breaks between. On a slower day when Asa has too many pent up emotions, 3-5 and it'll feel like hours. Orgasm control is a favorite of his for you, he'll make sure to slowly pull out your orgasm for as long as he possibly can to go longer.

ㅤㅤㅤ࣭ㅤ۟ㅤ🪲 ㅤㅤ◌ㅤ

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?):

Yes. Yes. Yes. Paddle, whips, flogs, handcuffs, ropes, dildos, vibrators, anal plugs, anything really. He uses them mostly on you, but he does have his own cock rings and fuck dolls to use whenever you're not around.

ㅤㅤㅤ࣭ㅤ۟ㅤ🪲 ㅤㅤ◌ㅤ

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

Asa will endlessly tease you if you're being a little bitch. Toying with your clit until you're almost there before he pulls away, leaving you crying and overstimulated. If he's getting the paddles out, he'll pretend like he's about to slap your ass just to watch you flinch in anticipation.

ㅤㅤㅤ࣭ㅤ۟ㅤ🪲 ㅤㅤ◌ㅤ

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.):

Asa doesn't really get loud, most that comes out are grunts and growls of pleasure. Every now and then, if he's really getting into it, he'll get loud enough that his voice would go raw.

ㅤㅤㅤ࣭ㅤ۟ㅤ🪲 ㅤㅤ◌ㅤ

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character):

Asa would do this as another tease, sticking a finger up your ass during doggy to feel you clench up around his cock if his cum isn't coming fast enough from exhaustion. Sometimes just the feeling of being able to feel himself fuck you through the thin layer of flesh between your holes really helped get him going.

ㅤㅤㅤ࣭ㅤ۟ㅤ🪲 ㅤㅤ◌ㅤ

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes):

Asa is packing about 6-7 inches, he's a grower. He's uncircumcised, when getting hard, his tip would be hugged tightly in his foreskin until that red, swollen tip would pop out. He has a long vein right up the middle where his cock has a soft curve to it.

ㅤㅤㅤ࣭ㅤ۟ㅤ🪲 ㅤㅤ◌ㅤ

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?):

High, very high. Asa struggles with how often he gets turned on. If he's watching someone fucking when he's stalking a family, he immediately hardens and once he gets home to you after holding it in for hours, it's guaranteed that he will be fucking you in the same exact position he saw.

ㅤㅤㅤ࣭ㅤ۟ㅤ🪲 ㅤㅤ◌ㅤ

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):

Depends on exactly the "session". If it was hard and fast, Asa is right asleep with you on his chest. If not, then he'll hold you until you fall asleep to make sure you get plenty of rest for next time.

[caelesblues]

sugar, spice, and everything not so nice

⋆｡°✩or the things that make them hold back from loving you⋆｡°✩

c.w./t.w. angst, insecurities, some characters show up on multiple parts, somewhat vague allusions to age gap but reader is an adult, lowercase intended, sfw

word count: 1,477

characters: various characters from genshin and hsr

gn!reader, inspired by "sour grapes" by le sserafim, notes at the end

effervescent, ethereal, out of this world, a god amongst men-these are just some of the ways they’ve come to describe you. in their eyes you are nothing short of magnificent, leaving them in awe with every aspect of who you are. from your smile to your little quirks, for them there is nothing about you that they cannot point out with love and admiration. you don’t really even have to do anything to put them under your spell (well according to them anyways), simply entering the same room as them will have their attention turning to you, eyes filled with softness and affection, their longing for you can be felt even from across the room.,

but that’s how it’s just always going to be, isn’t it? no matter how much they wax poetry about loving you, they can never truly get themselves to confess. because at the end of the day they don’t feel worthy enough of you, of your love, affection, admiration, and everything in between. they believe they’re lacking too much to be with you, that they can never be someone that you can be proud of to be seen and associated with. 

there is so much about them that you’ll probably never like anyways so what’s the point of pursuing you (even though deep down they would want nothing more than to just build a life with you). so that’s how it’s always going to be, with them just loving and longing for you from afar, never making their affections for you known because they believe you’re too good for them and that they’ll never be good enough for you. 

kaveh, diluc, kaeya, ganyu, kokomi, thoma, xiao, gorou, gepard

cold, unfeeling, just always out of reach-those are just some of the words used to describe them. they can’t really blame others for ascribing them as such, there is an inkling of truth to what people say about them, plus they are self-aware enough to know how they come off  to others. even at first glance others are already wary of approaching them, just one look their way and they’d know that they’d rather be left alone (or if they really must interact with others, they rather that those be short, sweet, and direct to the point). 

and while they do not really care for what others have to say about them (they’re secure in themselves enough to not let those affect them), it’s their awareness of how distant they can come across that hinders them from pursuing anything more serious with you. while there is a deep desire in them to be with you, they know themselves too much to let you face the sheer loneliness that comes with loving someone like them, someone who at times would just rather be by themselves, someone that may ice you over with their sheer bluntness, and someone who inevitably may leave you feeling like you’re the only one in the relationship.

in this way they believe that by maintaining some distance from one another, they’d never have the chance to even hurt you in the first place. 

wanderer, al haitham, shenhe, eula, rosaria, kujou sara, dan heng, seele, blade

do this and that, be here and there, this and that person needs your help, never having enough time in the day to do everything, barely having a moment for reprieve. that is their daily routine, one that they cannot so easily shake off no matter what. always jumping from one task to another, and even then their workload does not lighten up by any means. work takes up so much of their life that a time for relaxation has to be forced upon them by someone, lest they end up exhausting themselves too much. 

if it’s not work then they’re also worrying themselves about other things, be it their personal endeavors, friends, family, their community-they just have too much on their plate right now, really. with all of the things they have going on in their life, it’s already difficult to find time for themselves…and they believe they’d also have a hard time making space for you in their already busy life. 

it’s not that they can’t see themselves being with you, it’s more that they know how they can be and you will ultimately be left on the back burner. they’d rather not deal you that kind of hand, knowing that you deserve someone so much better, one that won’t feel like a phantom due to how much work they need to go through constantly. so while a part of them would want nothing more than to love you, their dedication to their work and field of expertise would have to come first. 

jean, keqing, tighnari, ayato, baizhu, candace, childe, kuki shinobu, yanfei, lumine, aether, yelan, alebedo, stelle, caelus, pela, bronya, gepard, natasha, kafka, tingyun

not enough time is what they reason. not enough time to fully enjoy life with you, not enough time to do all the things you’d both plan together, not enough time to soak up all of your love and affection, not enough time to shower you with the immense love they hold for you, and not enough time to just be with you. in their minds this is a logical reason as to why they can’t give in to the obvious longing to be together, but they know the other reasons why they’re holding themselves back.

for them you deserve someone who isn’t already so tainted with the trials and tribulations of life, one who has not gone through so much as to feel some sort of pessimism now and then. one whom you can realistically build a life from scratch together, not one bogged down by the various lives they’ve lived and the more that will come. you are someone that still has a myriad of adventures to live through, and they are someone who has already had their fair share of them in their lifetime; they are not sure if they are truly the ones that you’d want to stand by your side through them all.

and so they shall resort to only kind and respectful interactions, masking their desire to be with you wholly, for they fear that they might jump headfirst into a romance that could potentially destroy you both.

jing yuan, welt yang, tingyun, zhongli, venti, raiden shogun/ei, xiao

they wouldn’t necessarily call themselves to be too dangerous (others would like to differ, but they’re not exactly important right now), but they know that their work and what they do aren’t exactly the safest out there. they’re well aware that there are people that wish harm upon them in any way, either to gain an upper hand against them, as an act of retribution for whatever reasons, or any other justifications their enemies have for wanting to attack in the first place. needless to say they do not necessarily lead a safe life, being constantly on high alert is just something that they’ve grown used to.

they can’t really say the same about you, someone who leads a life of normalcy and away from all the dangers of a world you don’t belong to. they’re afraid that if they get even closer than they already are, you’d somehow find yourself with a bright red target on you (and potentially those close to you as well) because his enemies found out you are an important person in their life. no matter how much they can feel the mutual longing for more, your safety is something they will never risk, even if it means disappearing from your life. 

childe, ayato, xiao, cyno, kaeya, diluc, dehya, yelan, aether, lumine, silverwolf, blade, stelle, caelus

they’ll never really know what it’s like to be human, warts and all. sure they might possess something in them that can be attributed to humans, but that will always just be it really, something unnatural to them, something that they acquired through whatever means. they can look, sound, smell, feel, and play the part for sure (they’d been doing so for who knows how long now), but they feel that there will always be something separating them from you, something they can never quite attain no matter how hard they try. this mere fact alone creates an invisible wall between the both of you, one they believe that can never be crossed over. 

the only thing they can really do is ruminate on what it would be like to be with you, whether as humans or in a place in which the things that don’t make them as one do not play a huge role in their life. their imagination is the only place they can ever truly be with you, for they are convinced that their non-human nature would cause more hurt than love. 

svarog, screwllum, venti, zhongli, IL dan heng, ganyu, albedo, xiao

the tags are going to be crazy for this one (´⊙ω⊙`)！ngl this one feels sort of rushed in a way, but i wanted to write and post something short and simple before i try to dive into anything more ambitious again (👍ᐛ ) also yes this post is me officially saying that i am a svarog and screwllum fucker ( ˘ ^˘ )=3 hoyo just really had to make not one but two spectacular robot men to simp over.

also idk if it's apparent enough but these are just some personal hc's i have of the characters listed above, and treat these as just their hc insecurities so please don't come for me if you think these are not that accurate to their characters 🙏