#doesn’t matter if it looks like shit there’s no one around to see

[corroded-hellfire]

Food, Football, and Friends - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish story

Summary: With so many people coming over for Thanksgiving dinner, it's no surprise things get a little chaotic.

Note: Happy Thanksgiving!

Warnings: chaos that is typical of this family, Eddie's breeding kink doesn't take a holiday off, Dustin is married to someone that is not Suzy sorry

Words: 3.7k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Not bothering to knock, Steve opens the front door to the Munson household and pops his head inside.

“This looks like a nice house,” he says as he pushes the door all the way open. “Might be able to steal something nice.”

A huff comes from behind him and Mia pushes in the house past her father. The six-year-old scowls as she leans down to unbuckle her shiny Mary Janes.

“We’re not thieves!” Her voice carries throughout the house, summoning the little person who has been waiting all day to see her.

“Miaaaaaa!” Eliza’s heavy tread thumps down the hallway as she runs into the living room at full speed. The friction of her white tights against the carpet halts her when she reaches her destination. 

Before Mia can answer, Steve crouches down in front of the youngest Munson. He frowns and tilts his head, a few chestnut locks falling in his eyes.

“What about me? Am I chop liver?” 

Your toddler giggles and leaps into her uncle’s arms. She wraps her arms around his neck for a hug, but before she can pull away, Steve stands up, hoisting her over his shoulder in an attempt to keep her from her best friend.

“Noooo!” Eliza whines, her little legs kicking. 

“Oh, fine,” Steve sighs as he lets her down.

Eliza straightens her black and white dress before looking up to see Wayne walk in the door right behind Nancy.

“Grandpa!”

“There’s my girl!”

Wayne scoops her up and peppers kisses all over her face. The small girl giggles and tries to push his face away, his scruff tickling her.

“Where’s Daddy?” Wayne asks.

“Dunno,” Eliza answers with a shrug.

“He’s outside,” Luke says as he strolls into the room.

Nancy can’t help but notice how her youngest’s face lights up when the twelve-year-old Munson walks into the room. She clamps her lips together, trying not to giggle at Mia’s adorable crush on Luke, acting like she doesn’t notice the hearts in the young redhead’s eyes.

“Should we lock him out?” Steve asks about your husband.

Wayne sighs. “Eh, he’s scrappy, he’ll find a way back in,” he says as he sets Eliza back down. 

The moment her feet hit the ground, the toddler runs over to Mia and throws her arms around the girl’s sparkly silver dress. Concentration on Luke broken, Mia laughs and falls to the ground with Eliza, giving her a hug in return. 

“Yeah,” Steve says as he watches the girls. “I think the little munchkin would let him in.” He nods towards Eliza.

“She can’t reach the door,” Danny points out to his dad.

“Eliza finds a way to do anything,” Luke says, his tone conveying all the experience he’s had in that regard.

Before anyone else can add to the conversation, the sound of clinking and clanging pots and pans rings out from the kitchen. Automatically, everyone's heads turn in that direction. 

“Shit!” Your voice echoes out into the living room.

Immediately, Nancy brushes past her husband, patting him on the chest as she goes by.

“Play nice,” she tells him as she continues into the kitchen. The sight before Nancy has her biting her lip to keep in a grin for the second time in a matter of minutes. There you stand, holding a pot lid in one hand, holding the top of your head in the other. Your friend cocks an eyebrow at you. “Everything okay in here?”

Lamely, you raise the pot lid and give her a small wave with it.

“Gave myself a concussion looking for this so the mashed potatoes better taste damn near perfect.”

“I’m sure they will,” Nancy assures you, coming closer to take the lid out of your hand. She gently sets it on the pot simmering on the stove and turns back to you. “Anything I can do to help?”

Steve’s voice booms out from the living room before you can respond.

“You’re on, Munson!”

Eyes rolling skyward, you heave a sigh and shake your head.

“Keep our husbands from injuring themselves before dinner?” you ask.

“I’m afraid not.” Nancy winces. It’s an impossible task, you both know that.

As you open the refrigerator to grab the milk, Luke runs into the room–never one for just walking–with a grin on his face. 

“We’re going to play football!” he announces.

You raise an eyebrow as you measure out the cup of milk to add to the mashed potatoes.

“Who exactly is ‘we?” you ask.

“Me, Ryan, Theo, Danny, Uncle Steve, Grandpa, Daddy…and uh, maybe Natalie.”

The mention of your husband has you turning to give your son your full attention, letting the measuring glass of milk clank down on the counter.

“Your father is going to play football?”

“He’s gonna try,” Luke says with a mischievous snicker. You completely agree with your sports-loving son’s disbelieving and amused tone. You’re not even sure Eddie knows what the different positions in football are called.

“Is that what he and Steve were bickering about?” Nancy crosses her arms over her chest and rests her hip against the edge of the kitchen table.

“Yeah,” he affirms. “Mia is gonna stay in the living room with Liza.”

“Luke, come on!” Theo calls out.

“My daughter is a little mother hen,” Nancy says with a smile as Luke runs out to join his new team. Mia may be the youngest sibling in her family, but that means she takes the responsibility of having a toddler best friend very seriously. 

Noise clatters from your backyard and you take a few steps to look out the large window over the kitchen sink. Through it, you can see Steve and Eddie standing next to each other, pointing at the mass of children that are in front of them—all of them except Ryan and Natalie.

“Come on, it will be fun,” Ryan says from the next room just as you’re wondering about him.

The unmistakable sigh of a teenage girl is heard before Natalie agrees, “Fine.”

Their footsteps fade out the door and Nancy raises her brow at you.

“I’m impressed,” she says. “No one can get Natalie to do anything anymore.”

“Hormones?” you ask, turning back to the stove as some boiled water sloshes over the side of a pot. The steam hisses and floats off into the air.

“Oh, yeah. Having a teenage daughter is great.”

“Oof, I do not miss being a teenager,” you say.

“What, you stopped, like, last year?” 

You spin around to see Nancy smirking at you, and you whip your kitchen towel at her in an attempt to wipe the shit eating grin off her face. She laughs and swats the rag away, affectionately wrapping an arm around your waist as she comes to stand beside you.

“Come on, now let me help you,” she chides.

“Fine,” you relent. “Want to chop those carrots?”

“No problem.”

Loud footfalls stampede towards the kitchen, but they’re not quite as heavy as Eliza’s usually are, so you’re not surprised when Mia comes racing into the kitchen. One of these times these running children are going to hurt themselves.

“Auntieeee?” she asks you as she comes to a stop.

“Miaaaaaa?”

“Eliza is hungry,” she tells you. “Can I get her a snack?”

“Sure thing, cutie.” You wipe your hands off on the towel and walk over to the pantry. The Cheerio box is right at eyelevel as you reach for it and hand it to Mia. “Just make sure she doesn’t eat too many, okay?”

“Okay!” she calls over her shoulder as she runs out with the box.

Just as you’re about to reach for a knife, the doorbell rings. You head out to the living room, smiling when you see Eliza and Mia sitting in front of the television, sharing Cheerios and watching the rerun of the Thanksgiving Day Parade. The big Snoopy balloon passes by as you grab the doorknob. There stand Lucas and Max with their daughter Tiffany, and Dustin with his wife Anne and their baby girl, Molly. The moment she sees you, Tiffany launches herself forward with a squeal. She wraps her arms around your hips and hugs herself against your body.

“Well, hello there,” you greet her. To allow everyone else into the house, you pick up the six-year-old and take a few steps back from the door. “You wanna join Eliza and Mia?” When she nods, you let Tiffany down to go join the other girls.

The moment your arms are free, you’re being pulled into more hugs with everyone and wishes for a happy Thanksgiving. Last but not least, you pluck Molly from her mother’s arms and give her a big kiss on the cheek.

“I can’t believe how big she is!” you coo. Now well over a year old, the last time you saw the youngest Henderson was when she was nine months. 

Dustin grabs her walker from the car, since she’s still new to the whole walking thing and not the steadiest. He sets it down in the living room and you plop her down in the Minnie Mouse themed rover. She instantly takes off in the direction of the television, as if knowing she wants to be a part of this little girl gang.

“Eliza?” you call. “Do you want to come say hi?”

It takes her a second, but finally, Eliza finishes the Cheerio that’s in her hand and pushes herself up on to her feet. She toddles over, smiling when she sees her Aunt Max—who is arguably her favorite person who is not a Munson or Harrington. Her aunt gives her a big hug. Then, Eliza stops in front of Dustin. Saying nothing, she just stares up at him, her big brown eyes blinking a few times.

“Hi, Eliza!” When your daughter doesn’t answer, Dustin kneels down to be at her level. “Remember me? Uncle Dustin?”

She just keeps staring.

Lucas laughs at the little girl’s nonreaction and snatches her up into his own arms. “Mwah!” he presses a kiss to her cheek. Instantly, Eliza grins and wraps her arms around his neck for a hug.

Dustin pouts up at the scene before him, lower lip jutting out dramatically as he stands back up.

“Hey! I’m the cool uncle!” he protests. And it’s true; if the other kids were in the house right now, they’d all be climbing over Dustin until the poor man gets lost in a sea of children.

“Guess not anymore,” Lucas says with a shrug.

“It’s gotta be because I live further away,” Dustin argues. “She sees me less.”

“Sure,” Lucas says, his tone far from sincere.

Max rolls her eyes at the two men’s bickering, presumably tired of it after hearing it for almost a decade and a half. The redhead takes Eliza from her husband’s arms and turns to face Dustin’s wife.

“These stilly boys,” Max says to Eliza. “Say hi to your Aunt Anne?”

Your daughter gives a small wave, but it’s clear from the blank look on her face that she just wants to be put down to go back to Mia. Sensing this as well, Max grants her wish.

“Where’s Ed?” Dustin asks.

“In the backyard,” you say. “Playing football.”

“Football?” Dustin almost chokes on his own spit out of shock.

“I know,” you say.

“I have to see this,” Lucas says, looking towards the back door and rubbing his hands together in anticipation. 

He and Dustin go to join the game in the backyard while Max and Anne follow you into the kitchen. Nancy greets the new arrivals while you take up your previous position at the stove. As you lift the lid off the pot on the back burner, you listen to the women behind you talking and laughing. It brings a smile to your face to be surrounded by women friends. Besides a two-year-old, the only others in the house are guys. And as much as you love them, it’s not the same as having other ladies around.

Two sets of running feet zoom past the kitchen and the sound of the squeaky hinges on the backdoor let you know the two six-year-olds have gone to join the fun outside. You peek back out the window and chuckle to yourself when you see Mia and Tiffany cheering on the sidelines. Unsurprisingly, they seem to be cheering for the team that Luke is on. Mia’s idea, no doubt.

There are only a few more potatoes to add to the pot in front of you, so once those are in you go out into the living room to check on the younger girls. A gasp strangles out of you when you first see the two. Then as your brain has a moment to adjust and see that everything is okay, you break out into laughter.

“What did you do, little girl?” you ask your daughter. You shake your head in amusement as you walk over to the two of them, both covered in Cheerios that are also scattered around the living room floor.

Eliza grins up at you, small pieces of Cheerios still sticking to her baby teeth.

“Molly hungry!” she tells you.

“Oh, okay,” you say with a nod. “So, you thought to give her a snack like Mia did for you?”

“Mhmm!” She sounds quite proud of herself, and it makes your heart melt.

“Well, that was very thoughtful of you.”

Laughter erupts from behind you, and you look over your shoulder to see Max walking into the room. She takes in the mess before her and looks between the two babies.

“What’re you troublemakers doing?” she asks as she comes up beside you. 

A timer in the kitchen drags your attention away from the conversation and Max waves you on in that direction.

“Go ahead, take care of that. I’ll clean this up, then take these two outside. They can be the referees.”

“Thank you.” You give Max’s shoulder an appreciative squeeze as you walk past her.

Back in the kitchen, you turn off the timer and pull the green bean casserole out of the oven. 

Cheers ring in from the backyard, bringing a smile to your face. Anne steps up to look out the window at everyone.

“I think I’m going to go make sure no one is doing anything stupid,” she says.

“Nurse is never off duty, huh?” Nancy asks with a smile.

When Anne steps out of the room, you turn to Nancy and raise an eyebrow. 

“She wants to make sure no one is doing anything stupid?” you ask. “She clearly doesn’t know that is most of what our husbands do.”

Nancy laughs and nods her head in agreement.

“We should keep her here as an on-call nurse.”

“She’d be busier here than in the ER,” you joke. 

You and Nancy work silently side by side for a little while, before Nancy notices you starting to buzz around the kitchen more, a hectic mood settling over you. She licks over her lips before looking in your direction.

“Is something burning?” she asks.

“What?”

You whip your head around to stare at her before looking at the stove. 

“Smell it?” she asks, grabbing a paper towel to wipe her hands off on.

You take a few deep inhales, and a frown pinches your face.

“No,” you admit.

“That’s because there’s nothing burning,” Nancy says, taking a few steps closer to you. She rests her hands on your shoulders and looks you in the eye. “But it got you to take some deep breaths. Take a few more, okay?”

Catching on to her scheme, you narrow your eyes at her as you do indeed take a few more deep breaths.

“You’re sneaky,” you tell her.

“I have to be with four kids,” she replies. 

It’s not long before the game outside comes to an end and people start coming back into the house in waves. Eddie finally comes in and your heart stutters in your chest when you see him. His face is flushed from the exertion, his breathing a little labored for the same reason. His hair is frizzier than usual and when he comes closer to you, you can feel the chill coming off of him. It’s only confirmed when you put your hands on his cheeks and feel how cool they are to the touch. His smile makes you dizzy, not even registering how cold his lips are against yours when he leans in for a kiss.

“Everything smells good,” he mumbles against your mouth.

“Did you win?” you ask, reluctantly going to check on the turkey.

His sigh tells you the answer before his words do.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” he grumbles.

Both you and Nancy share a chuckle as he sulks out of the room. Ryan pops in right after, going over to the sink to wash his hands. His face is flushed like his father’s, but his hair is faring far better. Wayne, Theo, and Danny come in behind your son and Wayne goes into the fridge to grab water bottles for all the boys.

“Can I help?” Ryan asks you as he dries his hands.

“Of course, sweetheart.” You press a kiss to his head as you slip by him to grab the salt. “Do you want to get started on the stuffing?”

“Sure.”

Danny wrinkles up his nose as he takes a sip of his water.

“Cooking is for girls,” the eight-year-old declares.

“Danny!” Nancy immediately snaps. 

“Hey,” Wayne says, nudging the boy on the shoulder. “I was a cook in the army. That don’t sound girly, does it?”

Danny shakes his head, looking cowed.

“No,” he says softly.

“What do you say?” Nancy asks.

“I’m sorry.”

Ryan ruffles the boy’s hair before pretending to spill the bowl of breadcrumbs he’s carrying all over him. Danny laughs and runs away before Ryan can actually make a mess of him.

“Hey, all available squirts!” Eddie calls from the next room.

“I’m not available,” Ryan mumbles, obviously not keen on whatever his father has planned.

Luke trails into the kitchen and looks around, confused like he hasn’t lived there for years.

“Uh, I’m supposed to set the table. Where’s the stuffs?” he asks.

“By yourself?” you ask, showing him where you already have the cookery and cutlery out and ready to go.

“Nope.” 

Luke lets out a small chuckle but before you can ask what’s so funny, Mia follows in behind him. It’s clear she volunteered to be your son’s assistant.

“I’m here to help!” she announces. 

Carefully, you load up both kids with as much as you think they’re able to handle. Luckily, a parade of other small humans comes in to finish the job.

“Quite the operation you’ve got going here,” you say to your husband as you step into the dining room. “Putting the kids to work.”

“They’re my elves,” he says with a shrug. 

You giggle and press a kiss to his cheek before walking back into the kitchen.

Ryan and Natalie amble in, neither looking too happy. Eddie doesn’t ask why; he knows they’ll tell him.

“I don’t want to sit at the kids’ table,” Ryan whines. For a fourteen-year-old, Eddie thinks Ryan gripes more than his literal baby sister.

Natalie looks at the adult table, then at the kids’ table. There are nine chairs seated at each and she’s clearly trying to figure out how two can be added to the larger table.

“Me neither,” she says while mentally calculating. 

Lucas steps into the room behind the teens and Eddie sees a great opportunity. 

“Okay, you guys can sit with us,” he tells them. “As long as you contribute to the conversation.”

“Really?” Natalie asks, instantly perking up. It amazes Eddie how quickly she goes from looking like Wednesday Addams to Pippi Longstocking.

“Yeah,” Eddie says. He looks over at his former Hellfire Club member and nods at him. “By the way Lucas, did you see that the DOW is down three points today?”

Lucas doesn’t miss a beat.

“Huh,” he muses. “You know, I was just talking to my broker about that over a rousing game of golf. He suggested I take another look at my portfolio.”

“Ugh fine, we’ll sit at the kids’ table,” Ryan groans.

The two of them slink off to the other side of the room as Eddie and Lucas share a quiet laugh.

“Don’t even know if I got all the terms right,” Lucas admits.

Eddie, Ryan, Nancy, and Max all help you take the food out to the table—well, tables. Eliza watches it all as Wayne settles her in her highchair at the kids’ table. She’s practically salivating as her chocolate eyes move from dish to dish. Even Mia taking the seat between her and Luke doesn’t take her attention from her dinner. 

Annie settles Molly into her own highchair—Eliza’s old one that she outgrew. When Eddie had gotten it out of the garage both of you got a little misty-eyed that your daughter is getting so big.

The turkey is placed at the head of the table, right in front of Eddie’s seat. He picks up the large carving knife and Luke over-dramatically gasps from his place at the kids’ table. You finish scooping some mashed potatoes onto Eliza’s plate and playfully tug on one of Luke’s curls.

Eddie glances up from time to time, watching as you make sure each kid has a little bit of everything on the plate in front of them. 

“You’re gonna lose a finger, boy,” Wayne warns. The older man smiles though, at the way his nephew looks at his wife. 

Eddie sets the knife down and discreetly pops the wishbone out of the bird. If he doesn’t set it aside now all the kids will be arguing over it and Eddie isn’t sure there’s enough wine in the house to deal with that. This way, Eddie can show the kids the carved-up turkey and point to where the wishbone “should be” and shrug, telling them they’re out of luck. He looks forward to using it with you after the kids go to bed. 

You giggle as Molly reaches up and puts a dab of cranberry sauce on your nose. Eddie grins as he watches you. He had thought that seeing you with a baby wouldn’t hit him in quite the same way after Eliza was born, but it hasn’t quelled the yearning. 

Taking advantage of the kids grabbing the rolls in a frenzy, he slips the wishbone into his pocket. He already knows what his wish will be.

[rottenfyre]

⸻ ᴡ ᴏ ʟ ᴠ ᴇ ʀ ɪ ɴ ᴇ ⸻

Pairing: James Howlett x Fem Reader

Headcanon: how would he be when he's obsessed?

Note: English is not my first language. Requested by lovely @fexi626. Hope you enjoy!

Logan first notices you when you move into the same small town he’s been hiding out in. It’s supposed to be a temporary stop for him—stay low, avoid attention, move on. But then there’s you, sweet and quiet, with a kindness that catches him completely off guard. It’s the way you smile when you pass him at the local diner or the soft “Good morning” you murmur when you see him on the street. It sparks something primal inside him.

Logan’s the kind of guy who tries to convince himself to stay out of it. "Don’t need to drag her into my mess," he tells himself, nursing a beer at the bar while you laugh with your friends a few tables over. But he keeps looking your way, and when some jackass sidles up to you and tries getting handsy, Logan’s out of his chair before he’s even thought it through.

The guy gets the message fast—hard not to when Logan slams him into the nearest wall. "You touch her again, you’re leavin’ here in pieces. Got it?" The look in his eyes isn’t one anyone would argue with, not if they wanted to keep breathing.

After that, Logan decides he’s gonna keep an eye on you. For your own good, he tells himself. You’re too damn sweet, too damn trusting, and the world’s full of people who’d take advantage of that. He’s doing you a favor, really. "You don’t even know how much trouble’s out there, darlin’," he mutters, walking a few steps behind you on your way home, just close enough to make sure nothing happens.

Logan’s not subtle, though he thinks he is. You start noticing him everywhere—leaning against the counter at the diner where you work, walking past your building more times than coincidence could explain. When you ask him about it, he just shrugs. "Town ain’t that big. Guess we keep runnin’ into each other." But there’s something in his tone, in the way his eyes linger on you, that makes it feel like more.

He starts inserting himself into your life. Fixing your car when it won’t start. Showing up at the bar when you’re out with friends. "Just lookin’ out for you," he says gruffly when you question it. "Not like anyone else around here’s got the balls to."

Logan’s protectiveness is… intense. If someone so much as looks at you wrong, he’s ready to start a fight. And if someone flirts with you? Forget it. You don’t even hear about half the times he’s dealt with someone behind the scenes. He doesn’t see it as a problem—it’s just him taking care of things. "Don’t need you worryin’ about shit like that. That’s my job."

Despite the rough edges, there’s a softness to him when it comes to you. When you’re upset, he doesn’t say much—just pulls you close, lets you bury your face in his chest while he rubs your back. "I got you," he murmurs, his voice low and steady. "Ain’t nothin’ gonna hurt you while I’m around."

But make no mistake—his love comes with a possessive streak a mile wide. If you ever tried to pull away, Logan wouldn’t take it well. He wouldn’t yell or plead; he’d just… make sure you understood. "You don’t get it, do you? You’re mine, darlin’. Always gonna be. Doesn’t matter where you go—I’ll find you. And I’ll bring you back."

Logan doesn’t think of himself as a good man, but when it comes to you, he’s downright delusional. "You deserve better, I know that. But better ain’t what you got. You got me. And I ain’t lettin’ go."

His jealousy burns hot, but his devotion runs even deeper. You’re the one thing in his life that makes him feel… human. And he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, even if it means crossing every line he swore he wouldn’t. "The world’s a shitshow, sweetheart. But you? You’re the only good thing in it. Don’t expect me to let that go."

Logan’s a rough-around-the-edges—possessive, protective, and dangerously loyal. He doesn’t sugarcoat things, doesn’t try to hide who he is. His love is raw, fierce, and unrelenting, just like the man himself.

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.

[maodear]

Yapping about the contestants Guardian’s!

TW: Abuse,drugs,SA and etc.

So not many people talk about the Guardian’s in alien stage. I will be making opinions on each, but I will probably write more about the guardians when my art-book comes. Which would have all the lore I need.

Shine 🩷 (Mizi’s guardian

As we all should know, Shine is the most friendliest and definitely the most sweetest Gurdian. She loves humans and has curiosity to them. Mizi and Shien definitely had the most closest thing to a Mother and Daughter relationship out of everyone else.

Shine wanted nothing but good for Mizi, which is probably why she wanted her to be in Anakt Garden. Mizi had talent for singing and dancing. I am sure that if Shine knew that Mizi would have to suffer and go through pain. She would have not done it at all.

During round 5, Shine was watching. And you can tell how she felt looking at Mizi. She looks so sad :((

In all of Mizi’s birthday art or official art with Shine. She looked so happy in each one, always smiling or having fun. Shine loves Mizi like a normal person would love there pet. It seems messed up but Aliens see humans as Pets. But Shine still loves Mizi as her

Urak 🖕 ((Tills guardian

Urak is the Segyein of Till. And I will say he sucks the most. He treats Till horribly, in all ways. Mentally and physically. Urak has had other of his pets compete in Alien stage, but he says that Till is different from all of them because of his personality. He goes on saying that He only kept Till alive because of his Musical Talent he has. Urak believes that a Gurdian should learn right away what their pet’s strengths are to see if they are worthy.

In round 6 flashback Urak is forcing Till to sing “Oh my clematis” which Till refused to, which Urak throws a bottle at him, pinned him to a table. And when Till does break free, He attacked another segyein. Urak then once again assisted in restraining him. It’s said that Till was also SA in that flashback.

When Urak was asked about round 6 in an interview, Urak says that the only thing that matters is winning. It doesn’t matter how, if he wins it all worked. He also does expressed that it’s possible for Till to beat Luka, given how much Urak invested in him. (Which ages perfectly))

As much as I hate to admit. Even if Till is alive or not. I’m glad he lost because Urak has set another of his pets for Failure. And I hope he knows that, no matter how much he abuses, drugs or whatever shit he does. It won’t work because he will always set them in failure. Over and over again and it’s his fault.

Apparently Unsha and Urak have romance..??

Unsha🐁 ((Ivan’s guardian

Unsha is the Segyein of Ivan. Unsha isn’t physically abusive to Ivan but definitely is mentally. He has horrible has Urak since both Mentally and Physically hurt as much.

Unsha bought Ivan for his wife since it was her birthday. Ivan was choose because of his eyes which he found intriguing. Unsha also does mention that he had just begun to venture into the pet human entertainment business, so the timing was perfect for him. Which makes me believe that Ivan was Unsha’s first Pet.

If I’m correct In an interview, Ivan claims that Unsha is well known and him and Urak had nothing more then a business relationship. Saying they weren’t close in any way. Nothing more nothing less.

When asked for his thoughts on Ivan's impulsive actions during Round 6, Unsha replied saying he was disappointed that Ivan essentially forfeited the round, and he thought Ivan had a lot of potential even before Alien stage. He also admitted to being curious about what Ivan was thinking during around 6.

He closes the interview by saying he felt like he learned a lot being with Ivan, and it was worth the loss. He lastly that he doesn’t intend to participate in Alien stage again anytime soon.

Phan💀(Hyunas and Hyun-woo Gurdian

Phan is the Gurdian Segyein of Hyuna and Hyun-woo. Not much is shown or known of her since she was never brought up.

I did find that Heperu has an interesting to her similar to how Luka is obsessed with Hyuna.

((Not my picture! I don’t own the Art-book yet!)

Heperu🖕🖕🖕 (Lukas Gurdian

Heperu is the Gurdian Segyein of Luka. I might get blasted for this but I believe he’s the worst one yet. He claims that he had made Luka overcome fear, which makes me wonder what kind of things he had done to Luka. As we know Luka as went through a test with was monitoring his heart rate, and stoping his heart completely. Luka barley shows any kind of emotion. But he was crying in that art, Heperu disgust me.

Heperu ego is very high I can tell, because in a interview he claims that all of Lukas achievements and his talent is because of him. And he should thank him always for making him perfect. He always puts Luka very high, saying he will win no matter what.

In one of Lukas official art it shows Heperu shadow being in a position in which looks like kissing.?? And his hand was caressing him. Luka also looked quite young too which just gives me more creeps.

In the music Video all-in Luka kissed Hyuna, which I want to say. Was because of Heperu. Usually when someone was SA they see as a normal thing and do it to another person. That would explain why Luka kisses Hyuna.

Luka has been out through so much stuff because of Heperu and like everyone else has. Luka as very right to be the way he is. Because of Heperu and how cruel he is, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Till did become the same way.

Heperu also has a thing for Phan, having an attraction to Phan, just like Luka has an attraction to Hyuna??

Neigh🐛 (Sua’s Guardian

Not much is known from Neigh, but from what we know is that Niegh sees pets as nothing more than dolls. She dressed them all out usually the same. In a white dress like a doll.

In Neigh’s profile it’s shown that she has 0% interest in Sua. Probably because Sua is a copy of everyone else there. They are all the same as emotionless dolls. With no feelings or opinions.

——<3

Pretty sure that’s everyone? When my art-book arrives I will make any other post on the Guardians probably.

I may hate every Guardian except for Shine, but they hold a lot of meaning in the story which I appreciate.

Thanks for taking your time to read all of this <33

[callmeagardengnome]

𓆩 bless me 𓆪 - chapter 10

w.c - 2.9k

pairings - demon!ateez ot8 x receptionist! fem! reader

genre - demon au, hint of royal au, possible yandere themes (?), romance, slow burn

synopsis: as hell's receptionist, you only wished to talk shit and stay out of trouble. yet, you happened to be the one that the two social clans in hell start fighting for.

c.w - nothing! (i hope)

not proofread!

previous / next

masterlist

You were pretty sure that Yunho had given you terrible directions to find San. The hallways of the Palace were endless and you were absolutely, positively lost. He clearly overestimated your abilities to navigate this confusing place.

“Left at the vase, right at the statue.. or was it the other way around?” you muttered to yourself, stumbling into another identical corridor. “This doesn’t feel right.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. You were supposed to find San so that he could ‘supervise’ you as you mapped out the farms of Hell, but you couldn’t find him no matter how hard you tried.

Suddenly, you heard the sounds of things crashing followed by muffled voices. You hesitated for a moment before walking over to the noise which seemed to come from a room with a set of double doors that were slightly opened.

“Yeosang, if you swing it like that you’re going to break your wrist,” a familiar voice scolded.

“I know how to hold a staff, Wooyoung,” someone calmly rebutted.

“Do you, though? Because last time-”

“Both of you, stop. Just focus,” a third voice cut in.

You carefully nudged the door open, and the scene inside was more than enough to make you freeze in place.

Wooyoung was in the middle of dramatically demonstrating some sparring move with a wooden staff while Yeosang watched him with a deadpan look, the same weapon in hand. Jongho stood nearby, arms crossed and brows furrowed.

Just as you were about to pinch yourself, thinking it was a dream, a figure suddenly approached you.

“Receptionist!” Wooyoung’s voice rang out the second he spotted you. His staff hit the floor as he sprinted towards you, arms wide open.

“Wha-” you managed to cough out before he enveloped you in a hug.

“You’re here!” he exclaimed, squeezing you tightly.

“Wooyoung, how-” you gasped, patting his back violently in an attempt to free yourself.

He finally let you go, grinning. “Did you miss me?”

You stared at him, still trying to process what you were seeing. “W-what are you doing here? And what are you wearing?”

Purple horns stuck out of his head - and it wasn’t just Wooyoung. Yeosang and Jongho had them too, standing tall from their dark hair.

Yeosang walked towards you, the sparring staff resting against his shoulder. “We’re working here now,” he said with a small smile.

“Working? Here? At the Palace?” your eyes widened.

“Surprise,” Jongho said, dragging out the word.

You glanced over your shoulder, checking if this was some cruel prank that the Royals were playing on you. “No one told me about this..”

“It was pretty last minute,” Wooyoung shrugged. “And Yunho probably didn’t want you to faint at the sight of me.”

“You’re annoying,” you said instantly, earning a gasp from him.

“We didn’t expect to see you so soon,” Yeosang tilted his head.

Jongho nodded, crossing his arms. “It’s good that you’re here, though. San told us that things have been.. strange.”

You tilted your head. “Strange how?”

Before anyone could answer, Wooyoung threw an arm around your shoulders, dragging you further into the room. “Enough about that. How are you? Did you miss us? Or did you miss me only? It’s okay to be honest. You know, I started-”

“I should’ve stayed lost,” you muttered, though a smile tugged at your lips. “How’s Mingi? Is he okay?”

Wooyoung blinked, then stepped back looking offended. “We’re all standing right here and you’re worried about him?”

You opened your mouth to explain yourself, but he waved you off. “He’s fine, he’s just recovering,” Wooyoung’s eyes softened slightly. “Don’t worry about him.”

“Good,” you nodded, relieved. “I was worried.”

Just then, Wooyoung clapped his hands loudly as if he just remembered something. “Ah yes, Yunho told me something.”

You raised an eyebrow, prompting him to continue. “He said that you needed training. When was the last time you fought?”

“Uhh-”

“Doesn’t matter, we need to be prepared for all situations,” Wooyoung said as he pointed to someone. “Which is why I’m making you train with Jongho.”

Your eyes shifted to Jongho, whose broad, intimidating stance made your stomach flip. “Yeah, no thanks. I can already see that he's strong.”

Jongho’s eyes widened, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks as he quickly turned away - trying to look more interested in the training equipment.

Wooyoung smirked. “Are you scared?”

You glared at him. “No, I just don’t want to break a bone.”

“You’re a Walker, I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Wooyoung said with a grin.

Wooyoung practically shoved you toward Jongho, who looked a little flustered but quickly composed himself. He handed you a sparring staff, his hand brushing yours briefly.

“I can go easy,” Jongho said, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t you dare,” you shot back, earning a small, approving smile from him.

The sparring started slow, Jongho reminding you of the basic stances and moves. He was patient and detailed, correcting your grip and posture gently. It wasn’t long before the two of you began to exchange strikes, the pace quickening as the spar dragged on.

For a moment, you almost had him - your staff swung low, aiming for his side. But unfortunately, with how long the spar had been going on, your movements were sloppy. Jongho predicted this, stepping aside and disarming you with a swift move.

Your staff fell and you stumbled forward. But before you hit the ground, Jongho managed to catch you - not by your arm, but by gripping to the back of your shirt.

You dangled for a second, completely stunned, before he effortlessly lifted you back onto your feet as though you weighed nothing.

“How..” you said in shock as he set you down.

Jongho wiped his hands on his training pants before extending it toward you. “Good job, you almost got me,” he said.

“Yeah..” You stared at his hand, still out of breath. “Good job to you too,” you mumbled, shaking his hand weakly before heading towards the bench at the side of the room.

You plopped down, rubbing the back of your neck. “What is he made of?”

Yeosang, seated beside you, handed you a towel. “Bricks, probably.”

Across the room, Wooyoung waltzed over to Jongho. “Very impressive catch,” he grinned.

Jongho rolled his eyes, picking up the discarded staff. “You’re next,” he said, his voice dry.

“I’ll make this quick,” Wooyoung smirked, twirling the staff.

You watched the two Halas spar, Jongho’s calculated moves going against Wooyoung’s extra but impressive strikes.

“You’re not sparring?” you asked Yeosang.

“I don’t have the stamina for close combat,” he admitted with a nervous smile. “I only ever do it when Wooyoung forces me.”

You nodded slowly, looking at the scene infront of you. “How do you fight then?”

“Long-distance weapons..” he said, slightly embarrassed.

“Oh, that’s cool!” you turned to him, intrigued. “Like bows?”

“Yes, that exactly,” Yeonsang’s eyes lit up. “Everyone thinks that I use crossbows- but bows are way better. They’re so versatile and you have actual control over the shot. Crossbows are so bulky and hard to reload.. with a bow, you can-”

He stopped abruptly, his face flushing a little. “Sorry, I got carried away.”

“Don’t apologise, I wanted to hear more.” You raised an eyebrow. “I like bows, just never got around to using them.”

Yeosang tilted his head, studying you for a moment.

“Do you think you can teach me how to use one?” you asked, surprising him further.

Yeosang blinked, clearly taken aback before nodding with a smile. “Of course.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖⊹₊ִ ࣪𖤐๋࣭ ⭑⊹₊ 𖥔.

The sounds of clashing weapons and grunts filled the training hall as you sat on the bench, trying to reserve the little energy you had after sparring with Jongho. Yeosang was eventually called to join the others when Wooyoung yelled something along the lines of ‘Come here and help me fight this brick wall!’

You watched as the three of them trained, a quiet thud of footsteps pulling you from your thoughts. You turned to see San walking up, his sharp features soft as he observed his friends.

You waved at him, in which he nodded in return before settling onto the bench you were sitting on. The silence between you stretched - not entirely uncomfortable but it was definitely awkward.

You let out a sigh. It had been so long since you’ve had an actual chance to sit and do nothing that it actually felt weird. You bit the inside of your cheek, watching as Yeosang and Wooyoung laid down on the floor in exhaustion as Jongho stood over them, fixing his attire.

Finally, you turned to San, deciding to break the silence. “You were saying something yesterday..” you spoke, your voice hesitant.

San blinked. “Oh yeah,” he said, turning to face you fully. His hands fidgeted slightly as he added, “Uh- you’re not involved with the King or anything, right..?”

You frowned. “No? I wouldn’t be doing all of this if I were.”

“Just making sure,” San seemed to relax a little, though his fidgeting didn’t stop. “Yunho keeps saying that he’s ‘neutral’, but he’s still doing a lot for us.”

You snorted. “He’s probably in denial that he’s helping Halas.”

San chuckled softly, nodding. “Maybe..” his smile faded as he remembered something, his voice dropping slightly. “Oh right, the King.”

He kept his eyes on the trio sparring in the distance as he continued. “You remember how he, uh- whispered something to me? During the whole ‘general welcoming’ thing?”

You nodded, your eyebrows furrowing. “Yeah, what about it?”

San drummed his fingers on the bench before muttering, “He said that I'd be dead if I talked to you.”

“What?” you said, shifting away from him almost immediately. “Then why are you talking to me?”

He gave a shrug, his lips twitching into a small smile when he saw your reaction. “You asked a question so I had to answer.”

You stared at him, your eyes wide. “San, you could be dead tomorrow. If he’s willing to kill his own demons, you are not an exception.”

“It’s a petty request,” San replied seriously, facing you once more. “I’m not going to avoid talking to someone because the King is possessive.. or whatever his deal is.”

You opened your mouth to argue but paused as you were unsure of what to say. His words were reckless but oddly reassuring. You leaned back further into the bench, shaking your head with a sigh.

“Just.. don’t get yourself killed. Please,” you said, extremely concerned.

San smirked faintly, his eyes drifting back to his friends. “I won’t.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖⊹₊ִ ࣪𖤐๋࣭ ⭑⊹₊ 𖥔.

Light from the high windows filtered into the small, forgotten corner of the Palace, casting shadows over the table where you and Yunho sat. The worn wood barely had enough space to hold the map you were working on. The corner was clearly meant as a ‘rest stop’ and not a working area.

Opposite you was Yunho, quietly scribbling in his notepad. The soft scratch of his pen filled the silence, besides the occasional rustle of paper.

You let out a soft sigh, your pencil hovering over the parchment as your thoughts raced. Your mind kept circling back, time and time again to Mingi. Sure, Wooyoung said that he was fine, but that wasn’t enough to calm you down.

“Are you alright?” Yunho asked suddenly.

You gave him a quick nod without looking up. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

There was a pause. “I would appreciate it if you were honest,” Yunho replied, his voice firm but gentle.

Your pencil froze mid-stroke. Slowly, you looked up. The way his eyes searched yours made you feel exposed. After a moment, you sighed and leaned back into your chair.

“I..” you began quietly. “I’m just worried about Mingi..”

Yunho’s eye twitched. “Ah.. really..” he said, a little too controlled. The grip on his pen tightened and the wood under his feet creaked under the pressure he gave out.

The run-down corner fell back into a silence. Yunho eventually began to scribble into his notepad once more, albeit slowly, and you picked up your pencil again, forcing yourself to focus on the map. Though, the lines were blurring together, your thoughts still on Mingi.

“If you’re really worried,” Yunho said, breaking the silence again, his voice quieter this time. “I can bring him here.”

“Really?” your head shot up, eyes wide.

Yunho set his pen down and leaned forward, his elbows now resting on the table. This brought his face closer to yours, close enough for you to see the faint scar cut across his nose, the sharp line of his jaw and the way his hair framed his face.

“I can sneak him in,” he continued calmly. “And hide him with his troops in the chambers.”

Your breath got caught in your throat. “You.. you’d do that?”

“Of course,” Yunho smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “If it makes you happy.”

You stared at him, shocked. It took a moment for you to process what he was offering - and when you did, the words escaped you before you could stop them.

“It does..”

A beat of silence passed between the two of you. Without hesitation, you leaned over the table and wrapped your arms around him in a quick hug. It was brief, a little awkward given that there was a table acting as a barrier, but it was enough.

Yunho froze, his body stiff. For a moment, it seemed like he didn’t know what to do. When you pulled back, his stunned face made you stifle a laugh.

“Thank you,” you said softly, sitting back in your seat.

Yunho cleared his throat, quickly recovering. He smiled, the tips of his ears turning into a pale red. “Anything for you.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖⊹₊ִ ࣪𖤐๋࣭ ⭑⊹₊ 𖥔.

Hongjoong strolled through the dimly lit corridor, his steps light and silent. He paused mid-stride when he caught the sight of something unusual at the far end of the hallway.

You and Yunho were seated at a random small table, maps and papers spread out before you. What caught his attention though, wasn’t the work - but the way you leaned in, reaching across to give Yunho a hug.

Hongjoong’s brows knit together, his eyes narrowing as he took in the interaction. He immediately made his way towards the two of you, his boots now clicking against the marble floor.

“Doing your work?” his voice sliced through the peace and quiet like a blade.

Both you and Yunho jolted in surprise, your heads snapping in unison. Yunho, visibly nervous, straightened his back and dusted his clothes off.

“Yes,” you said quickly, holding up your pencil.

“Hm,” Hongjoong’s eyes lingered on you before shifting to Yunho, his face unreadable. “Where’s Seonghwa? Or the new General? Weren’t they assigned to supervise you?”

“Well..” you hesitated.

Earlier that day

“He’s starting to worry me,” you said, clutching your map and supplies tighter.

“Why would Seonghwa even be in a place like this?” San asked, glancing at the sparse greenery outside a passing window.

You and San had been wandering through the maze-like Palace for ages, trying to find a certain Eternal so that you could continue with your work. After several wrong turns and a lot of aimless searching, you finally spotted Seonghwa in the garden.

He was seated on a stone bench under the ‘shade’ of a decaying tree. His eyes were distant, his fingers absentmindedly brushing over the thorns of a wilted rose.

You cleared your throat loudly.

“What do you want,” he asked gruffly, barely looking at you.

You raised the map and papers in your hands. “You’re supposed to supervise me.”

Seonghwa scoffed. It seemed like he was about to say something harsh, but as his sharp eyes met yours, his face shifted ever so slightly before he looked away.

“I’m sure you can handle yourself,” he muttered, waving a hand dismissively. “Don’t bother me with these things.”

He stood up abruptly, brushing past you and San without another word. You exchanged a confused look with San, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Uh-” you began awkwardly. “You can go back to your friends.. I guess.”

Back to Now

You straightened your back as you addressed Hongjoong. “I couldn’t find either of them so I asked Yunho to supervise me instead.”

Hongjoong’s eyes shifted between the two of you. “...Is that so?”

There was an uneasy and uncomfortable silence. Yunho, catching the change in Hongjoong’s tone, quietly slid his notepad into the inside pocket of his blazer.

Hongjoong’s lips curled into an ingenuine smile as he looked at Yunho. “I think we need to have a chat”

Yunho stiffened, but he nodded reluctantly. When you met his gaze, his eyes swirled with worry and worst of all - fear.

You were unsure of whether you should intervene or pretend that this was a perfectly normal interaction between the two Eternals. Before you could even do anything, Hongjoong turned his attention back to you briefly.

“Carry on with your work,” he said smoothly before gesturing for Yunho to follow him down the corridor.

Yunho glanced at you once again before rising from his seat. As they disappeared around the corner, the faint sound of Hongjoong’s voice echoed back to you.

“Yunho, there are some boundaries I think you’ve forgotten..”

hope you enjoyed this (tho its a shorter chapter). remember to like and repost <3

series taglist [OPEN] - @binchanluvrr @hiddlestandom @avantalem @hecateslittlewitchling @iara-ya @thunderous-wolf @jaerisdiction @mallielovssyou @syzygyweeb @dime29 @marsofeight @doitforbangchan @shotaswife @soulphoenix1618 @justalittlegirl27 @minakooo @nqyzhuo @symmieangela

[fickleminder]

with you

I wrote this based on vibes alone. Viva la OM fandom.

“Keep running!”

It felt like you were dreaming. Everything was rushing past you in a blur as Mammon pulled you along by an iron grip on your hand. He’d always been the fastest of his brothers, but you had no clue what the cause of his panic was this time.

“They’re coming for us.” Lucifer answered your unspoken question, frustration laced in his curt words. “But we’ll make sure they don’t get you too.”

“What are you talking about?” You asked dazedly, still trying to understand what was happening. One moment you were minding your own business, the next the brothers were practically corralling you out of the house and towards who-knows-where. There was no warning, no fanfare, just a lot of urgency and confusion. “Who’s coming?”

“It’s the final boss! The one who’s been pulling all the strings from the start!” Levi wasn’t making any sense either. “So many plot holes, so many loose threads, and now they’re just gonna wipe the slate clean!”

“We’re getting you back to the human world. You have friends there, you’ll be okay.” Satan explained, oddly calm given the situation.

“But what about you guys?” The sinking feeling in your chest had reached your stomach. You felt as though you could puke from sheer stress alone, the way it seemed like they were saying goodbye. “And— and Diavolo, Barbatos, the angels—”

“They’ll meet us at the portal, so don’t stop working those legs honey!” Asmo tried to encourage you, his perfect smile straining against the exhaustion from keeping up with his brothers.

(“But Mephisto, Thirteen and Raphael—”

“Hush, Beel. MC doesn’t have to know they’re not coming. Not anymore.”

“…Okay.”)

The portal was wide open when you arrived. Diavolo and Barbatos greeted you with forced smiles which only made you freak out even more.

“Thank you for coming at such short notice,” Diavolo said, looking at you apologetically. “I’m sorry for not consulting you about our decision first, but desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“Whatever this is, we can face it together!” You reasoned, not above begging at this point. “I can help—”

“You can help by staying safe,” Barbatos interrupted you with a rare frown, and that was the moment you realized things were going to shit. Whatever your expression was, it made the butler’s soften gently. “I’m afraid you’ll have to take care of yourself from now on.”

Two arms wrapped around your waist like a vice, and you looked down to see Luke squeezing you like his life depended on it. “Don’t forget, you have my blessing, so everything’s gonna be okay, you’ll see!”

“No more tears, lamb.” Simeon reached out to wipe away the wet tracks on your cheeks. You didn’t realize the waterworks had started. It was the slow, quiet kind that came with deep sorrow etched into your very bones. “We’ll see each other again. Please try to stay strong until then.”

Solomon held out his hand and you took it without hesitation, your trust in your mentor unwavering. “We’ll be with you, always. Your pacts, your memories, they can’t take those away from you.”

“You’re not coming with me?” Your voice wobbled despite your best effort.

He only gripped your hand tighter, and that was answer enough.

“It is time,” Lucifer murmured. Everyone gathered behind you as you stepped towards the swirling mass of magic. No matter how hard you willed them, your legs simply refused to obey your heart, trudging robotically into the light and away from your family and home.

This was wrong, this was all wrong, how were you supposed to keep going without them—

“Our love for you is Eternal,” was the last thing you heard before Solomon let go and everything went white.

[irisintheafterglow]

HAND SEVEN - FULL HOUSE

summary: in a season where you're determined to fly under the radar, newly-returned crown prince!touya todoroki has other ideas. in this hand, the royal family is met and tensions rise.

wc: 4.1k

cw/tags: royalty!au/regency!au, fem!reader (she/her used), explicit language, todoroki enji (derogatory), mentions of food, dinner, and eating, todoroki siblings cameo

note: i can't thank you all enough for your patience with the new parts of this series coming out. this one's a long one but it's the last chapter before shit hits the fan, so enjoy!

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated!

“Dining with the royal family, hmm? Isn’t that exciting!” Your maid catches your eye in the reflection of your bedroom mirror and you give her a wary smile. “If I may, I do think you and His Highness make a wonderful match. You compliment each other nicely.” 

“Well, this is everything I’ve wanted, right?” You can’t tell if the way your voice shakes is from nerves or the tightening strings of your corset, but you suddenly find it a struggle to have a complete intake of breath. “Goodness, I haven’t been this unsettled since he won the duel in the garden,” you laugh to disguise your panic, your poor oblivious maid humming to herself while she helps you into the next layer of your evening clothes. “Do you think the rest of the family is nice? I know he has a few brothers and a sister.” 

“Oh, I think you’ll do just fine, dear, no matter who you meet,” she reassures you, smoothing out the wrinkles of your dress with her hands. “You truly look radiant; if the prince doesn’t think so, I believe he must get his eyes examined.” Your face warms, memories of you examining his eyes in an incredibly unprofessional setting a few nights prior. Whatever you said had him turning to putty in your hands outside your window, hidden by the shadow of the large tree he’d climbed to retrieve you. Nothing physically intimate occurred beyond kissing, yet the thrill of it felt like you’d committed high treason. “Come along,” she says, pulling you from your daydream. “You mustn't miss your carriage. It should be prepared soon, I’m sure–” Her unapologetic gushing is interrupted by your footman positioning himself at the door, looking slightly uneasy. 

“What is it? Is something wrong?”

“No, miss,” he says, shaking his head. He stutters as if fishing around in his brain to find the correct words. “There is, well…there is a–”

“It’s alright,” you gently commanded him. “Come now, spit it out.” 

“Oh my days! Miss, there’s a royal carriage outside!” Your maid exclaims, her palms pressed to the glass. “With all due respect, I was under the impression that you were taking an estate carriage to the castle.” 

“As was I,” you mutter, arriving at the windowsill to see a very smug looking Touya already peering up at you. He sends you a wink that has your maid clutching the window frame for support before disappearing into your house. You huff, catching a peek of yourself in a nearby mirror and yelping at your appearance, frantically remembering what you were doing before your suitor appeared. “Quickly, now! Let’s finish seasoning and basting so I look presentable when I face my doom at the palace.” 

Your heart rate is extremely elevated by the time you’re finished with your dress, but you can’t tell if it’s from the excitement or the mere idea of seeing him again. A loud thump thump thump runs from one ear to the other through the back of your skull, your vision becoming slightly hazy with each step closer to the parlor. Your servants bow politely as you pass and dismiss themselves when you finally approach Touya, whom you find standing at the window overlooking the garden. 

“Good evening, Your Highness,” you say softly, surveying the last beams of sunlight illuminating your flowers. “Enjoying the scenery?”

“Passing the time,” he supposes, turning to face you with a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You look lovely in that shade.” 

“His Highness, Prince Keigo, did say you had an affinity for blue.” Though your attention remains on the backyard, you can hear his eye roll from miles away.

“Please refrain from discussing Prince Bird-Brain; if it is alright with you, I’d like to have an enjoyable night,” he declares with diplomatic sincerity that makes you stifle a snort into your gloves. 

“My apologies. How may I ever regain your favor?”  

“I can think of several ways.” His eyes flick around the room like a prisoner counting guards, patiently waiting until you two are truly alone. That time would come five minutes later, when the carriage doors shut you inside and he’s on you before you can even blink.

“Missed me, I see,” you breathe against his lips as his fingers roam over the expensive fabric of your dress. Touya’s mouth is hot and urgent, consuming you entirely even though you’d been apart for less than three days. Your hands brush down the front panel of his coat and eventually wrap around his neck to pull him closer. “Is something ailing you? You’re feeling a little feverish.” He scoffs at your teasing, nipping your earlobe with a sharp canine. 

“You are impossible,” he mutters with hungry eyes that rake over your exposed collarbone. His mouth starts to wander down the column of your neck with the obvious intention of leaving a mark (or seven). You’re one flirty comment away from tearing off your dress entirely when the carriage hits a bump, knocking you both upward and effectively ruining the atmosphere. You burst out laughing unexpectedly, even more when you see Touya’s displeased frown. “I’m going to execute whoever drove us over that.”

“Perhaps it’s a sign that we should recompose ourselves,” you say, tucking an unruly piece of white hair away from his face and pecking his cheek. The carriage slows its pace, and you peek out of the curtain to see the familiar happenings of the front gate. “I believe the turbulence was due to us crossing onto palace grounds, after all.” 

“We weren’t done,” he grumbles like a child being denied candy at the market. Touya’s body is still pressed flush to yours, one arm braced against the carriage door while his forearm secures you against his chest. “I should tell them to take us around the back way.”

“As enticing of an offer that would be, we would also be late for our meal.” 

“I’m offended you think I remotely care about the whole event.” The carriage comes to a complete halt and he pulls away, allowing you to smooth the wrinkles in your dress and re-tidy your jewelry. 

“I’m going to need you to care, at least a teaspoon’s amount, or I’m sure I’ll burst into flames before dinner is served.” Reluctantly, the prince schools his face into practiced nonchalance, but the way his eyes burn like embers in a fireplace give away his continued desperation. You fight the urge to smirk when he can’t seem to stop sneaking glances at you, like it pained him to look away.  “Don’t fret,” you murmur, pressing one more chaste kiss to his cheek while he glares at the approaching commotion outside. “We’ll pick up where we left off…when we are not needed elsewhere.” 

“I intend to hold you to that promise.”

—

After hurriedly fixing the bunching of your clothes and stepping out of the carriage with the help of Touya’s hand, you’re guided up the sweeping front steps of the palace and toward what you assume is the dining room. Your hand remains fixed in the prince’s arm, the crushed velvet of his blue coat soft beneath your fingers. When he ducks close to whisper in your ear, you’re sure you can hear him smirk at the goosebumps the proximity gives you.

“Nervous?” 

“I’d be untruthful if I denied it,” you answer carefully, eyeing nearby servants undoubtedly spreading news of your arrival. His breath is warm next to your ear and you’re unsure if the heat in your cheeks is from your suitor or the dozens of prying eyes. “Are we nearing the dining hall?”

“Actually, we’re just passing it. My siblings would like to meet you first,” he explains with only the slightest bit of reluctance, nearly imperceptible if you didn’t know how to read the subtle changes in his expressions. “Would you like to see it?” He knows your reply and pulls you to a towering pair of double doors just to your right, adjacent to glass windows overlooking the garden where he’d dueled for your hand all those weeks ago. As he swings open one door just enough for you to peek inside, you can’t help but gasp.

Prior to that night, you’d never seen a room sparkle before. Sure, the bathroom tiles would have a certain shine to them right after they’ve been cleaned or your stepmother’s jewelry would catch the light in a starlike way, but you’d never seen a room where absolutely everything was glittering. Gold trimmed the walls, the extensive table, the backs of chairs, and the circumference of the dinner plates. As you took barely a step into the room, your shoe sinks into plush red carpet, perfectly stainless and the only texture in the room without glimmer. Everything seemed to be encrusted in diamonds, yet smooth and almost glowing from the soft candlelight and the fading evening sun. 

“This is beyond beautiful,” you breathe and you turn, once again, to find Touya watching you rather than the room he’d dined in thousands of times. “I can’t help but feel the room is better dressed than me,” you joke and he shakes his head in firm disagreement. 

“It’s a very good thing I’m courting you and not the room, then,” he quips before taking your hand back into the crook of his arm. “You must wait until I take you into the ballroom. I believe we’ll need a doctor standing by in case you faint from its beauty.” You roll your eyes but can’t help the tug at the corner of your mouth. “Now that I think of it, are you marrying me for my looks or my furniture?”

“I’m not marrying you at all, remember?” The answer leaves your mouth before you can stop it and an odd look blinks onto Touya’s face, something you only saw when he folds in poker hands he surely would have won if he only waited for the last community cards. You’re on the verge of thinking you imagined the look when his arm tightens under your hand, like he was making sure you weren’t pulling away. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” he says quickly with a rare smile that’s almost good enough to fool you. “Nothing at all.” Before you can answer, your guide swings open another set of smaller double doors at the end of a hallway which leads into what you assume is a parlor. The windows of the parlor faced the back of the castle, lush with grass and shimmering blue fountains between the bushes. Your admiration of the back lawn, however, is cut short by hushed bickering to your left. When you finally look over from where you stand in the entryway with Touya, three people snap into a perfectly-postured line. Your suitor sighs audibly through his nose, running a hand down his face with his free hand. “I would like you to meet my three younger siblings: Fuyumi, Natsuo, and Shoto.” 

“Your Highnesses,” you greet politely. 

“You arrived late. Was there a delay with the carriage?” Another figure stands from a side table, shorter than the siblings but carrying more maturity than the whole room combined. 

“Our older brother is sick easily in carriages, don’t you remember, mother?” The middle brother, Natsuo, says earnestly but the jab at his older brother is not lost on you. He grunts in protest when his eldest sister, Fuyumi, strikes his side with her elbow. Touya clicks his tongue decisively and the siblings fall back in line, and you catch Shoto’s eyes scanning you like a curious cat. He’s quiet, you think to yourself, like if Touya’s calculating nature was encompassed in a teenage boy. 

“And my mother, Queen Rei,” Touya eventually continued, his voice softer than when he addressed his siblings. You muster your best curtsy as she approaches, surprised when her cold hand tilts your chin upward, seemingly to inspect you. “Mother…” he begins with a tone of warning, but she shushes him insistently. You can practically hear the muscle in Touya’s jaw clench and resist the urge to burst out laughing; no one, not even you, had the authority to shush him. No one, that is, except the one who birthed him.

“Your Majesty,” you murmur to break the tense silence as her unwavering gaze examines your face. “It is an honor. There is a gift for you, and–”

“The honor is all mine,” she breaks in before you can continue. Her voice is softer than powdered snow, in stark contrast to Touya’s dark rasp. “My son refuses to tell us anything about you, so finally making your acquaintance is a gift in itself.” 

“His Highness informed me of your shared affinity for blue, so I hope you will enjoy the few delphinium stems I’ve brought from my family’s garden.”

“I was just about to thank you for the flowers,” she smiles, lightly cupping the side of your face. Her palm is freezing, nothing like Touya’s naturally warm-running body, yet you can see where he receives his gentler side. “You are a fine counterpart for my hotheaded firstborn.” You finally break a small laugh when you hear Touya’s indignant squawk behind you, and the queen uses this chance to pull you away from him. “My second-eldest and only daughter, Fuyumi,” she introduces as she brings you to the princess. 

“Your Highness,” you curtsy and risk a glance over your shoulder to find Touya standing with his hands on his hips and impatiently tapping his foot. 

“You’ve brought a softer side out of our big brother,” Fuyumi informs you with a knowing smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Rei gestures to her next child. 

“My second son, Natsuo. He takes care of me when we are away in the countryside.” His mother pats the side of her son’s cheek and moves on before he can comment, much to his surprise and Touya’s unseen amusement. “And my youngest, Shoto. He is next in line to be king after Touya.” 

“Not His Highness?”

“Natsuo abdicated the throne when I became…” She pauses and her children stiffen. Touya clears his throat from behind you. When you turn to meet his eyes, he’s watching the polished wooden floorboards. “When I became ill. I had to stay in the countryside for a time. Only recently have I been well enough to return to the palace.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Your Majesty.” You’d have to wait until later to interrogate Touya about his family drama, but you couldn’t imagine such a fragile and gentle looking woman like the queen becoming so sick she had to leave the city. “How does your health fare now?”

“Better than the past. I’m thankful every day I get to see Touya join society as an eligible suitor.”

“As piss-poor as he is at it,” Natsuo mumbles and both Shoto and Fuyumi strike his ribs with their elbows. It’s no use, as Touya decides from behind you that he’s finally had enough and crosses the parlor in four long strides, his boots thudding heavily against the floor. Natsuo yelps and hurries away, Shoto quietly trailing behind to witness the carnage while his two older brothers disappear yelling down a back hallway. 

“Forgive them, please,” the queen implores you with a tired smile. “It’s been a long time since we hosted such a large dinner, especially as a family, and they don’t know how to act.”

“There is nothing to forgive. I am accustomed to Touya–I mean His Highness’ antics.” You hope your correction isn’t as bumbling as it sounds in your head, but your worries are eased by the appreciative expressions from the queen and princess. 

“As my oldest brother is predisposed, shall mother and I show you the rest of the palace?” In a distant room, there is a crash and the telltale sign of a teenage prince screaming in fear. The women with you are unfazed and merely shake their heads.

“I would love nothing more.”

—

“How nice of you to finally join us,” you murmur when Touya finally slides into the seat beside you at the dining table. “Finished tormenting your little brother?”

“I would not label it torment,” he argues, picking up a nearby carafe of water and pouring your glass, then his. “I am merely reciprocating the affection that he gives me.”

“And by definition, that is torment,” you counter and he chuckles. As the king was still absent from the head of the table, food was not to be served, yet the hunger in your gut could not fight the fluttering that occurred whenever Touya was with you. 

“How was viewing the remainder of the palace?”

“Unexpectedly overwhelming,” you admit. Truthfully, you could not name half of the rooms you visited if there was a saber to your jugular. There were countless bedrooms for the royal family and servants alike, sitting areas, libraries, practice rooms for the pianoforte, and an infinite number of toilet rooms; all the rooms were dressed to the level of the dining room that you were in now, shimmering in gold and expensively dyed drapes. “Up until this point, I’ve only known the outside gardens. Even then, Her Majesty informed me that she has a private greenhouse at the back of the property for her most special flowers.”

“I can take you there after dinner, if you’d like. Mother will insist upon chaperoning us, however, if that’s alright with you.” 

“We’ve had good fortune with not needing a chaperone when we are together,” you comment and he nods in agreement. 

“I’m the eldest as well as the problem child; it’s no wonder no one wants to babysit me.” You open your mouth to make a retort but are interrupted by the staccato notes of a horn announcing the king’s impending arrival. 

Rise for His Majesty, King Todoroki Enji, and Her Majesty, Queen Todoroki Rei.

Whether you grab Touya’s hand or he grabs yours first, you can’t remember, but your fingers are tightly laced in his by the time all the guests in the room stand to receive the king. Though you can’t tell how hard you’re squeezing him, you feel him gripping you like a ship’s rope in a storm. And how could he not? Everyone in the room felt a suffocating sense of unease from the moment the king stepped through the doors and until the Queen was at his side. King Enji seemed even more intimidating than the last time you’d seen him, when you looked him in the face and told him that Her Majesty was a queen, not simply a wife of a king. He was built like the barrels Rei and Fuyumi had shown you in the cellar that held gallons upon gallons of alcohol, and his whole atmosphere burned constantly in a way comparable to Touya’s most intense moods. You felt as if you could spontaneously combust if you made contact with the king too long.

You glance at Touya from the corner of your eye, suddenly self-conscious that he’s sitting with you and not at his father’s side, where he should be. Despite his death grip on your hand, the rest of his demeanor is otherwise cooler than you’d ever seen him, especially for a royal event. It was like having you by his side was making him more…confident? 

“You’re doing wonderfully,” the prince murmurs in your ear once the king is seated and the meal commenced. “Just stay by my side and we’ll be escaping before you know it.” 

“He scares me,” you blurt before shoving a forkful of food into your mouth to keep yourself from saying anything else stupid. Touya huffs a quiet laugh, leaning close in a way that has Rei winking at Fuyumi from across the table.

“That makes two of us. Although, I’m considerably less fearful when you’re with me.” 

“I’m glad to hear it. Shall we eat and ‘escape,’ as you say, faster?” 

“I’ll tell the servants we’ll take dessert in the garden.”

—

You should have learned by now that outings with Touya, whether it was of royal nature or merely two people courting, are never as smooth as you hope for them to be. The realization hits you when your suitor momentarily disappears to find his mother and invite her for tea, and the king approaches you within seconds to fill the space. Even if you were a different height, the king would still tower over you like a mountain blocking out the sun, casting you in darkness that made you want to hide in a cave. Maybe this is how rabbits feel when they’re being stalked by a mountain lion. 

“Walk with me.” It’s not a request. 

“Yes, Your Majesty,” you reply with as little emotion as possible. You hope Touya could see you leaving with his father, or perhaps one of his siblings is around to update him so you can get out of this trap. The king doesn’t force you to go far, only out to a secluded balcony that overlooks the back gardens. The night air is crisp and smells of many flowers, the soft sound of water rushing from the fountains blending with the melodic calls of songbirds. He stands with his hands clasped behind his back, as still as a model for a portrait painting.

“Touya is in line to be king.” He says this as a fact, an obvious statement that you are both well aware of. Your mind is racing and simultaneously not functioning at all, looking for an escape route and rooted in place. While Touya’s voice is raspy like charred firewood and his mother’s like light snowfall, the king’s voice is grating and hard, like grinding two stones together. It makes your stomach turn over in a messy somersault. 

“Yes, Your Majesty.” You don’t know what else to say.

“He does not want to be king.”

“Yes, Your Majes–How do you know?” His eye darts to look at you and you force your attention anywhere but him, on the grass or the flowers or the birds that were starting to sound like a hundred boiling kettles. 

“You do not know the truth of why he disappeared.” 

“I have not earned the right to ask,” you counter, a sudden indignance rising to your head as you feel the need to defend the nature of your relationship to Touya. 

“He defies me. Since he was a child, he has defied me and my efforts to train him to become a just king.” Not sure waging a not-so-secret war on the Kingdom of Might counts as being a just king, asshole. “His actions defy my wishes. His choice in acquaintances,” he pauses again and looks at you briefly as an example, “Defy my wishes. His travels defy my wishes.” Maybe his actions aren’t yours to control, then. 

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“He has traveled every path to rebel against me and this family. Soon, I could imagine him coming for my life to guarantee his freedom.” A hot lick of anger flares inside your chest and you silently seethe next to the king, your limbs aching from how tense your body has become. You have no right to decide what your son thinks. 

“Is that a possible situation, Your Majesty?”

“You question my judgment?” You wouldn’t be surprised if your mouth tastes like blood from how hard you’re biting your tongue.

“I meant no disrespect, Your Majesty.”

“I will make one thing clear, as he is bound to come for you soon: You are another avenue for him to defy me, and nothing more. Whatever he has told you, shown you, revealed to you is all a means to an end in order to cause me suffering.” Despite all your attempts to quiet the doubt in your mind, the king’s words make your stiffness turn brittle; you may fall over and shatter like a concrete statue if pushed over at the right angle. “Ask yourself how much Touya has really told you about himself, and if you are satisfied to be complicit in his actions to undermine me.” Complicit. To be involved in a crime or wrongdoing. To love Touya Todoroki is to be a criminal. 

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Touya doesn’t ask why your mouth has clamped shut in the time it took for him to find his mother and return, nor does he pry when your smiles seem more strained than before. It was inevitable, he told himself. He was sure you could feel the same dread that he did, the looming danger that you were desperately pretending wasn’t there. As you approached the final ball of the season, both your stacks were becoming higher and higher until one of you would be forced to present an ultimatum: all or nothing. 

Who will give their all, and who will lose everything?

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! commissions and nsfw requests can be sent through my fiverr! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[physalian]

Character Types: Self-Destructive Paragon

I just came up with that term right now to describe characters whose philosophy is: I will be good and kind even if it kills me.

If you have a more apropos one, I’d love to hear it.

But I think being a “self-destructive paragon” with emphasis on the self-destruction is to be good out of spite, to be cynically optimistic, to do the right thing because fuck, no one else is going to, the world is shit, people can be shit, but I will not be people.

Similar to the Fixer but more self-aware and less of a doormat, the SDP is a character I think the world needs more of to stand against toxic positivity and exhausting silver linings.

Instead of “the world is good and I’m going to prove it :D” in the face of daunting misery and suffering, it’s “the world is messy and complicated and we are all suffering, but I have the means to do good, and nothing will stand in my way”.

Painfully naïve characters are not compelling (to me). They’re preachy, they always need rescuing, they strawman cynics and pessimists, and when they do face a situation they cannot put a positive spin on, they still hold the moral high ground with little room for nuance, and they tend to get into situations that no other character would be stupid and/or gullible enough to fall into.

It would be like if Katara was actually the Ember Island Players’ version of her for the entire show. Or, Aang’s caricature.

But she’s not. She’s suffered and been burned and humbled and isn’t at all afraid to get her hands dirty and risk her life doing what she thinks is right, like in "The Painted Lady". But she’s also messy and complicated, nearly killing a man in her revenge quest in "The Southern Raiders".

Katara will be good and kind and just and fair and noble, putting her life on the line again and again to prove it, but she's not as angsty (and not self-destructive) as the two examples I have in mind.

SDPs also tend to be written in bad faith, or as a bastion of virtue against other characters written in bad faith, depending on where you fall on the “hope is vital/hope is for children” spectrum for the message of your book.

Usually, other characters’ criticisms of the painfully naïve are that they have not suffered and their virtue signaling is tone deaf to their audience of people who cannot afford the luxury of looking on the bright side.

So, enter the self-destructive paragon.

This is a character who probably suffered deeply, for a long time, and who was painfully naïve until they had their wakeup call. But instead of devolving into a selfish cynic, they decided to not only be better, but to put their money where their mouth is and do better.

This is a character who was probably mocked and dragged down again and again by cynics who want to make them as miserable as the rest of the world, and gosh darn it, they just won’t break.

They might risk their lives, their health, their stability, or their reputation trying to save someone who doesn’t want to be saved, determined to help someone they’re convinced just can’t see that they need help yet. Or, they might be a Robin Hood figure, blithely shuffling resources around with some worldly calluses on their soul.

Or, they might have faith in the world, but have zero faith in themselves, making themselves the exception for every grace they extend to other people.

Even if their “self-destruction” is a permanent rage against the system and the cynicism, giving themselves fully to their cause and losing their sense of “self” in the process, this is a character compelled to go beyond their means, no matter the cost. These characters tend to not even think of themselves as "heroes" to be praised, they're just doing what they think is right and might suffer a bit of imposter syndrome when the laurels come their way.

I like these characters because of their fierce honesty, and the knife’s edge upon which they walk. You understand their morality and their integrity explicitly, and the lengths they will go to stand up for what they believe in can have horrible unintended consequences.

And who’s a better self-destructive, angsty do-gooder than the Dark Knight himself? Specifically the iterations where he isn't going around branding and murdering people. BTAS-era. Bats doesn’t give himself a break and he’s my favorite DC hero in large part because he has a villain’s backstory straight-up, and chooses to be good.

Spoiled little rich kid watches his parents get murdered and inherits impossible wealth and could very easily use all that money, power, and influence to become a supervillain in adulthood. He has the costume, the aesthetic, the brutality, the motive, and the means.

But Batman is a hero, and he will do good and be good, even if it kills him. He spits in the face of every real-world billionaire who rests on their winnings, every person in power who so superficially laments the plight of the poor. Is he perfect? Nope, but that’s more of the limitations set by the people who write him and not his character itself. He might not be a complete cynic about the state of the world, but he sure is a cynic about himself or as the Nolan Bats said: “I’m whatever Gotham needs me to be.” Even if that makes him a pariah to preserve the reputation of a better man (in his mind) so that Gotham can have their faith rewarded.

Raven of DC’s Teen Titans is also a self-destructive paragon, another character with the motive and the means to easily become a villain and be the worst thing to happen to the world, but chooses not to. Specifically the 2003 cartoon version. She’s been fated to bring about the end of the world, daughter of a ruthless villain whose sole purpose for existing is to be his portal. Her whole life she’s kept people at a distance, refusing to let people in to get her hopes up and have good things so she doesn’t have to lose and hurt them.

But she is a hero. Per Robin, “the most hopeful person I know”. And she will be good, even if it kills her.

—

I know "hero born from villainy whose personality is Angst" (Gaara fits well) is the bread and butter of shonen edgy bad boys but the difference I'm trying to highlight is how quickly these characters will throw themselves on their own swords, with crippling self-worth issues.

So of course I wrote them. Thrice.

One in Eternal Night of the Northern Sky on Amazon

And two in Little Red Dot up on Ao3

[baocean]

enchanted - trevor zegras

summary: your friends dragged you to an nhl game, even though you had no interest in any of it. something caught your interest, quick, a brunette hockey player who kept glancing into the crowd.

warnings: smut, extremely long fic, that’s it 😛

authors note: my first nhl fic omg! i hope you guys liked it, im looking to write more! pls drop ur opinion below!!!!! let me know if you want to be added to my taglist ⭐️ enjoy, muah

“i really have homework i need to do.” you frowned at your friends, they laughed as they brushed you off.

your roommates were pulling you out of the apartment tonight for an anaheim game, despite your many protests.

anika’s dad was the equipment manager, and had gotten front row seats to the game tonight for her and her roommates.

it was saturday night, which meant you didn’t have classes tomorrow, but still had things to do. homework due.

you were grateful for anika’s dad for thinking of you, but you really did have bio homework to worry about.

that didn’t matter, because an hour later you were sat in the arena, the glass only five feet in front of you.

anika to your left, isla and charlotte to your right. you had already grabbed a diet coke, getting comfortable in your seat.

the crowd cheered as the home team skated out onto the ice for warmups. you clapped a few times, anika bumping you in the shoulder.

you watched as the players skated around the ice, gracefully passing a puck between them. some were stretching, some were quietly talking to each other in the corner.

one, in particular, was making laps around his side of the ice. your eyes caught onto him, following along so easily.

his dark hair trickled out the back of his helmet, his chain falling just above his jersey.

he circled back around towards where you and your friends were sitting, so confident he couldn’t see you.

and when his eyes flicked to you for the first time, your heart dropped.

he kept them on you, skating past you. his head turned, in effort to keep staring.

after antagonizing seconds of his stares, he finally turned back towards the ice, flicking a puck in front of him.

“holy shit, bee. i saw that.” isla turned towards you, her face filled with shock.

you wanted to laugh at the nickname she used. your friends picked it up when they first saw the picture of you at four years old dressed as a bumble bee. they’d been calling you ‘bee’ ever since.

you smiled and shook your head, hiding the blush on your face.

“i don’t know what you mean. he was not looking at me.” you looked back at the ice, and sure enough, there he was, looking right at you.

he turned to talk to another player, and you finally got to read his jersey, zegras.

“you’re full of shit.” isla laughed, tapping your leg. you laughed along, leaning into her.

slowly, the players started trickling off the ice, until zegras and one other player were the only ones left.

he did a few more laps, shooting some pucks.

when he passed you, his stick flew up to hit the glass, making you jump.

he turned to look at you, sizing your reaction, giving you a smile when he saw you laugh. then, he disappeared into the tunnel.

“oh my god. trevor zegras totally likes you.” anika grabbed your shoulders.

“trevor.” you let his name rattle around in your head, taste it on your tongue. “are you crazy? he doesn’t even know me.”

“don’t care, he’s in love.” anika shrugged you off, definite on her opinion.

the first period started, the ducks starting out strong. anytime trevor was on the ice, it was like you were in a trance. it didn’t help that he was so good at hockey.

the game flew by much faster than expected, all with trevor’s help.

it was over before you realized. the ducks coming out to the middle of the ice to celebrate.

they tapped their sticks, trevor’s eyes involuntarily falling to you.

as the players filled off the ice for one last time that night, you watched as trevor lifted his hand to wave, just enough for you.

you returned it, wiggling your fingers as you smiled at him. he dipped his head, and disappeared.

sunday morning came much quicker than you would have liked.

the early morning drive across two towns to get to your childhood home was something you would never look forward to.

but, your brother had his first day of hockey camp. both your parents worked. so, you were the only option to pick him up and drop him off at the rink by your house.

he was sitting outside your house when you pulled up. he hauled his gear and sticks into the back of your car, sliding into the front seat.

“morning.” you smiled at miles. he smiled back at you, but didn’t say much the entire drive.

when you got to the rink, you both headed inside. miles left towards the locker room, you headed towards the table where you could sign your little brother in.

the lady at the front table was nice and welcoming, offering a pamphlet to you.

you were looking down at her, watching her as she explained the events that will happen over the next few weeks, each saturday and sunday.

she was cut off by a “carla, do you have a roster sheet for me?”

you looked up, barely registering who had walked over before a swear word fell from his lips.

trevor stood in front of you, skates on and hands gloved, looking utterly stunned.

your face probably had the same look. you blinked, maybe you were dreaming. the cute nhl player was not standing in front of you right now, at your brothers hockey camp, no way.

still, he pulled his glove off, stuffing it in his armpit, reached out to shake your hand. “i’m trevor. nice to…meet you?”

the last bit came as a question, you laughed, told him your name.

his lips tipped up in a smile, secretly soaking in your name, how it sounded.

you let go of his hand, but stayed where you were to memorize him. his hair flipped out under his beanie, his smile lines, the roughness of his hands and how soft his face looked.

"well, i gotta go, y'know. you got a kid playing or something?" he looked almost worried to ask the question.

"brother."

"okay, have fun watching, see you after?" trevor's voice was filled with hope, searching for the same feeling he had in you.

"yea, see you after." you nodded, watching as he walked away towards the rink entrance, knowing he would look back. he did, just before the door closed.

he was euphoric on the ice, so graceful and balanced while doing something, anything. he looked up from where you were in the stands a few times, never waving, just confirming you were still there.

he caught up to you in the lobby almost immediately after the two hour skate was done. his cheeks were red, and he was a little bit sweaty, but looked just as pretty as ever.

"what'd you think about it?" he asked you. though you didn't have much to say, trevor listened like it was the most important thing he was hearing.

you were about to compliment him, take a leap of faith, when- "bee, can we get food on the way home?"

you turned to see you brother glance between you and his new coach. trevor's face scrunched up, "bee?"

you sighed, "it's a nickname. sure, miles, let's get going," you turned back to trevor, "it was nice meeting you."

"you too. you'll be here next week?" he asked, taking a step towards you, like he wasn't ready to let you go yet.

"sure." you gave him one last, sweet smile as you walked out with your brother, ignoring miles' glances.

the next weekend, you were there again, dressed a little bit better, makeup and hair done with slightly more effort.

trevor was waiting by the booth, where carla was sitting, offering you a familiar smile.

once again, miles peeled off towards the locker rooms, trevor meeting you in the middle of the room.

"you look good." he offered, drinking you in like you've known each other for years.

"thanks, trevor." you cocked your head to the side, the shorter pieces of your hair falling in your face.

"was thinking maybe i could get your phone number? invite you and your friends to another one of my games?" calm as ever, trevor grabbed his phone out of his sweatpants pocket, unlocking it and handing it to you.

you didn't say anything, just put your number in and send a simple text to yourself. handing his phone back to trevor, he smiled and typed on the keyboard.

flashing his phone at you, you took in the 'bee' contact name, rolling your eyes within seconds.

"not you too." you groaned, pushing your head into your hands. trevor memorized the light pink color of your nails, the rings on your fingers.

"me too, baby. gotta go, i'll text you." he gave you a tooth rotting smile, rushing off into the locker room.

he hadn't given the nickname a second thought, calling you like he had been his entire life.

watching him skate would never get old. maybe it was how fast he could skate, how visibly strong he was, how when he was focused on a play, his tongue would poke out. the movements of his body and how he'd chew on his gloves when he was off in his own space.

whatever it was, you wanted more of it, alone. you shifted in your seat, watching the clock count down, unbearably slow.

when the zamboni started onto the ice as players shuffled off, you made your way to the lobby, like always.

it was easy for him to spot you out in the crowd of parents and grandparents, having your features engraved into his mind since the night he met you.

a simple conversation, some adventurous glances and hopeful smiles, before your brother came out of the locker room, looking at you like he'd caught you in the act, a tradition.

that night, he'd texted you, you were back in your apartment. sitting on the couch, your computer you were working on dinging. 'unfortunately i cannot stop thinking about you', followed by a 'well, not unfortunate', then 'i may need to see you sooner than thursday night'.

you sat there, almost stunned. he had so casually thrown around words so genuine like that.

'what did you have in mind?' you replied, going back to your work, only to be pulled away a second later.

'i might go to a concert with my friends tomorrow, i can grab you a ticket. you like 21 savage?'

tomorrow you had a major test due, you still said yes, anyway. abandoning your laptop, you rushed to your anika's room, searching for an outfit.

"i can't believe you're going out with trevor zegras. im in shock, i think." anika laid on her bed, an hour later, after successfully picking an outfit that she said 'would have trevor falling to his knees'.

"were not going out, im just going to a concert with him and his friends." you shrugged her off, admiring yourself in the mirror.

"oh my god, bee. what did he say? he couldn't stop thinking about you?" anika sat up, her blonde hair falling around your shoulders. you couldn't help but giggle, shrugging your shoulders.

"that's what i thought. you need to tell me everything tomorrow. im talking second by second, play by play, i need to know."

he had picked you up an hour before the concert started. it was the first time you'd seen him with short sleeves on, your breath staggered when you caught sight of his arm, covered in a sleeve of tattoos. you were fully, completely entranced with trevor, in the worst way possible.

the car ride was filled with trevor and you bickering about songs, his horrible singing, and him sneaking mesmerized glances when you weren't looking.

he and his friends had booked a private room to the left of the stage, fixed with an array of food and a private waitress for drinks.

"bee, this is cole, jack, quinn, and jamie. guys, this is bee." trevor pointed to each boy. you went to correct him, but lacked on reasons to. you liked the way it sounded coming out of trevor's mouth, the way he said it with so much bliss.

it was much later into the night, the music blaring through the arena as trevor's friends stood off on the other side of the balcony connected to the room, singing away.

trevor mouthed some lyrics every once in a while, you knew because you couldn't help but sneak flashes at him, he looked so good in the light.

he leaned forward to take a drink of his beer, and when he leaned back, his hand slid onto your knee.

your poor heart couldn't help but swoon, everything he did, he acted so comfortably, so homely around you. everything he does to you, he acts like its been done a million times. that doesn't stop him from asking, "is that okay?"

you nodded, snaking your hand up and around his neck, your fingers twisting and curling around his hair on the back of his neck.

it was so innocent, so high school, and yet, your mind raced. the thoughts of what could come, from a hand on a knee and fingers in hair, you wanted to laugh at yourself. you were sure the beer from trevor's cup you kept sneaking was not helping.

you'd been like this for what seemed like hours. hands on shoulders, knees, thighs, hips, but nothing more. the simple act of showing the other they were feeling the same way.

the concert was ending, the stream of people below you filing up the stairs towards the exit. you, a little tipsy, and trevor, completely captivated by you and how soft your skin was, followed his friends out the room and into the hallway.

trevor grabbed onto your hand when it got crowded, not needing to look back, he was so aware of you.

it was a long walk to get back to trevor's car, losing his friends along the way, waving goodbye to them, never letting go of trevor's hand.

"you look magical right now." trevor said, his car was in sight, you were so close.

"what?" you laughed, skipping along with him. you had so much energy right now, you were pretty sure you could run a marathon.

"i'm not sure, i just look at you and thats the word i think of." he laughed along with you, the sound of it ringing through your ribcage.

without a second thought, you pulled him towards you, his body swinging around to face you. grabbing onto his arm with one hand, and wrapping another around the back of his neck, you pulled him down to kiss him.

his arms wrapped around your waist, so easily, and leaned into you. he kissed so sweetly, yet so desperately, like he was begging for more.

he gave you three pecks, the last one, his teeth pulling your bottom lip out, letting it pop back against your teeth.

your stomach dropped, not from fear, or anger, from the overwhelming sense that you would let trevor do whatever he wanted, whenever.

"let me get you home, bee." he whispered, pulling you towards his car, opening the door and helping you in.

you spent the car right home, his hand on your leg, your head on his shoulder, as he told you stories about his career over the years.

when he dropped you off, you kissed him once on the lips, he kissed you once on the cheek, said 'goodnight bee', then left you at the entrance of your apartments, enchanted.

your apartment was filled with music and laughter from the four girls living in it. clothes thrown on floors, makeup and hair tools spread across bathroom counters, a bottle of titos and an emptied orange juice bottle abandoned in the kitchen.

isla was deciding on a orange or black jacket, you pointed to the black one, she put on the orange. charlotte was finishing curling her hair, anika and you were sitting on the couch, checking when the uber would arrive.

like he said, trevor had given you four tickets to his home game against the leafs tonight. he wasn't able to text you much these past few hours, but he'd told you he was excited to see you and he'd arrange you guys get down to the locker room after the game.

once your friends were ready and stable, you were in the uber towards the stadium, singing along to the lyrics, taking pictures with isla's digital camera.

the seats were still front row, but not near the tunnel like they were last time. this time, they were right next to the duck's penalty box.

warmups started, the players rushing out of the tunnel. you, obviously, blown away when trevor stepped out onto the ice, immediately clocking where you were sitting, smirking.

like he had done the first time you had met, when he passed, his stick flew up to hit the glass in front of you, scaring you once again. you rolled your eyes, but couldn't help laugh with your friends.

the game was going well, the ducks up one goal with ten minutes left in the third period.

you watched as trevor tussled with another player in the corner, lifting his elbow up, connecting it with the guys jaw, knocking him back.

the whistle blew, and suddenly, trevor was sitting next to you, only a piece of glass separating you two.

you looked at him, knowing he probably wouldn't look back, scared cameras could catch him, people would catch on.

instead, he turned his head towards you, smiling. "hi, baby." he mouthed, tapping the bud of his stick on the glass before turning back, grabbing a water bottle and squirting from it.

you were so intensely infatuated with him, everything he did. the way he wasn't afraid to address you in from of tens of thousands of people, the way his jaw moved as he squirted water into his mouth, the way he squirted water into his mouth.

you weren't able to see him directly after the game, you only received a text, 'go down the hallway under the stairs in entrance a, tell the guy ur name, ur on the list'. bidding your friends goodbyes with hugs and making sure they made it to their uber, you ventured down the hallway.

once you made it past the man, who's name was brian, you found yourself in a parking garage. you spotted trevor leaning against his car, wearing a navy suit, his hair wet from a shower.

you walked towards him, trevor looking up from his phone, a smile lighting his features. "hey, bee. d'ya like the game?"

you nodded, fingers gripping his jaw as you pulled him into a hard kiss. not caring if anyone saw you two, his hand grabbed your neck and hip.

pulling back, you took a struggled breath, so overwhelmed with bliss. "now."

"now?" trevor breathed, the same level of love drunk. he nodded with you, opening the back door for you, following you inside.

he laid on top of you, kissing you with twice as much neediness. hands going everywhere, under your shirt, up your leg, through your hair, lacing with your hand.

unbuttoning his shirt, untucking it from his pants, and tossing it on the floorboards, you sighed. he was an angel, truly.

his hands played with the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head, throwing it on the ground, letting it introduce itself to his.

his hands, much larger than yours, pulled any other fabric, pants and bras and underwear, out of the way, lightly nipping at your nipples, sending shocks through you.

"you are absolutely, without a doubt, the most beautiful girl ive ever seen." trevor whispered. you weren't sure if you were meant to hear it, but it still sent shivers down your spine.

trevor angled himself down in-between your legs, pushing one finger into you, drawing an anticipated moan out of you.

his left hand sprawled out against your stomach as his right hand worked you, whispering affections.

"you're so pretty. like a dream." he hummed words so dear, so easily. it had you squirming from above him.

his thumb came up to rub your clit, you arching your back in response. "can't take it, can't take it, trev."

"you can, baby, you got it. go 'head, bee." his words drove you over the edge, the feeling crashing over you, flattening you.

not for long, because trevor had flipped you, your legs wrapped around his now, chests aligned.

"can i?" he asked, his hands on your hips, ready. you nodded, watching his eyes drop towards where his hand was meeting the two of you.

as he slid into you, he threw his head back, groaning. you mimicked his actions, hands grabbing onto his hard shoulders.

the car was warm, the windows fogged, filled with the sounds of each others breathy moans and his kisses on your neck and cheek.

you started bobbing up and down, draws moans and huffs from the boy under you each time.

his hands stayed on his hips, guiding you, while he let you roam your hands on his chest and shoulders and neck and hair, anywhere you pleased.

"you feel so good. made for me, huh, bee?" trevor gasped out, his head falling back once more.

he was telling the truth, you felt like heaven, like silk and gold. truly, like you were made for him.

"i was made for you, trev." you whispered, inflicting a reaction out of him, his dick twitching.

his hand fell where you were connected, fumbling with your clit again. he watched as your face contorted, as you whined and moaned, and came again.

you watched as he smiled, love drunk, and continued his pace as he leaned his head back.

you grabbed his chin, like you had the plenty times before, so familiar, pulling it up for him to look at you.

"cum for me, trevor, cum in me." you whined, partially impressed you got all that out, feelings of sensitivity and pleasure overwhelming you in every sense.

his head dropped again, this time on your shoulder, as he finished.

you stayed like that for a while, breathing heavily, hands still wrapped around shoulders and held tightly onto hips.

then, trevor was laughing. you perked up, questioning him.

"its just, if you told me the night we met, that the gorgeous girl he saw, he met again and was actually into him, he'd probably cry then and there. i'm lucky, is all."

you weren't sure what to say to that, so you laughed with him, then pulled him in for a kiss.

his eyes fluttered open, pupils blown out in complete and utter bliss. "you wanna sleep over tonight?"

[roylustang]

God dirty keith sounds so hot.

😂😂 bro tell me about it. Keith’s going fully feral in the desert completely isolated from everyone. He has a limited water supply and the last thing he’s gonna use it on is bathing—and it’s not like it matters anyway, there’s no one around to see him or interact with. Similarly he just can’t be bothered most of the time. He’s either too devastated by grief to think of cleaning (anything, including himself) or too manic with trying to puzzle out the whole Energy business for it to cross his mind. He’s spending all his time outside/in caves and he’s basically just living in dirt and eventually it just kind of sticks to him and won’t leave. Also it’s hot out and when he sweats you can see the streak of dirt it leaves on his skin. He brushes his hands off when touching things (esp paper) leaves dirty fingerprints but it never /really/ comes off. Probably at best he showers during monsoon season and just stands out in the thunderstorms, but even towards the end of the season there’s still always a little left behind. The shack itself really isn’t much better, and he’s obviously tracking more inside. He couldn’t get away from it even if he tried so he just doesn’t bother with it. Gets used to it. The first time he takes a real shower again against the white tiles of the castles bathrooms he’s amazed at just how dirty the water running off him is. And this continues for multiple showers. He’s a working boy (or a depressed one) and it shows.

[planet4546b]

the thing is that a lot of my favorite parts of murderbot are exclusive to its specific medium as a written work. and there’s soooooo so so so much lost with visual adaptations. but also i am a visual artist

[cetoddle]

okay. i am going to continue being stupid. and lowkey embarrassing. and a big stupid fucking idiot. i don’t know what’s wrong w me just ignore me forever okay? okay <3

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. your boyfriend buys you a pretty golden necklace with his initials, not knowing it will only intensify the urge to claim you as his own in every way.

tags. older bf!gojo satoru x female reader. smut, pwp. age gap (reader early 20’s, gojo early 30’s). possessive. talks of marriage. unprotected. breēding kink; crēampies. jealousy. pregnancy kink? reader gets called ‘baby, sweetheart, mama’ not proofread; excuse the grammar. wc: 1.7k

“look at that, baby,” satoru coos as he watches the golden necklace bounce around your collarbone with each wet thrust. it’s a 24k pure gold necklace he purchased just today, with his initials on it.

something inside him stirred the moment he put it on you. satoru couln’t help himself from pinning you to the couch and claiming you as his own for the nth time. it doesn’t matter how many times he fucks you; it’s never enough.

the letters ‘sg’ are shimmering under the light of the living room. the older man is grinning from ear to ear, nearly cumming from the sight of you wearing that necklace alone. it’s a sign of possession to him. you’re his—you’re only his. he’s the only one who can touch you like this.

“shit, ‘t makes me wanna put a ring on it,” satoru hisses, one of his hands pressing down on your lower tummy. you gasp and clutch at his broad back, nails digging into his flesh quite painfully. “i think i’d engrave my initials on the inside of the ring too, what do ya think?”

each word is punctuated with a thrust. his hips are non-stop ramming into yours, claiming even the deepest spots of your body beneath him. he leans down to trail kisses down your sensitive neck, eliciting a couple whines from your lips.

“d’y wanna get married, sweetheart?” the sudden proposal takes you off guard. you can’t believe satoru would ask such a thing while being balls deep inside you. you’re blabbering nonsense, your voice muffled due to the saliva building up in your mouth.

“m— married? babe, are you ser-” your question is left unanswered as your boyfriend kisses your plump lips. he switches to a slow and gentle pace, grinding into your needy cunt until it leaves you shaking. his fingers play with the golden jewelry around your neck.

a necklace will do. as long as you’ll wear that accessory from this day forward, he’ll be satisfied. the urge to make you his forever partner could be satiated. for now, that is. he knows you still have a bright future ahead of you, like getting your degree and first ever proper job.

“let’s have you finish university first, yeah?” satoru smiles down at you after detaching his lips from yours. he watches the string of saliva hang between your mouths, giving a short hum once it snaps. his big hand slithers down to cup your breast and knead it, kissing your nipple whilst holding eye contact, “i can wait for you.”

satoru sighs as he rolls his tongue around your hardened nipple. he’s drooling over your breasts, a drunken glint in his eyes. he’s so obsessed with you to the point that he’d marry you right now if he could. that proposal wasn’t a joke—but he figured that it also wasn’t the smartest.

he’ll give you a proper and serious proposal one day. though, now you know for sure that he’s gotten into this relationship with the thought of actually marrying you.

“but i also—fuck—can’t wait,” satoru whines, feeling your walls clamp down on his thick cock. his dick is pulsing with need, exploring your squishy insides while his balls prepare to release all semen stored right into your fertile womb. even if you may take a pill to get rid of any unwanted consequences, the thought of seeing your tummy swell with his child is making the older man go insane.

satoru buries his face between your breasts and breathes heavily against your sweaty skin. his hips move with renewed vigour, his energy never depleting when it comes to pleasuring you, “wanna make you my wife ‘n breed this pretty pussy.”

you moan repeatedly, unable to stop yourself. especially after satoru frantically spews such lewd words. he’s getting lost in your cunt and the way it’s swallowing him in—into your pretty pussy that he owns. his pussy.

“wanna be your wife so bad, ‘toru,” you hiccup, nearly crying from the intense pleasure. you’d love to be satoru’s wife. he already treats you so well while you’re his girlfriend, you can’t imagine how much better it’s going to get once you’re officially his. your stomach fills with butterflies at the thought of being able to call him your husband.

the white-haired man chuckles. his blue eyes stare down at you with nothing but love, “yeah? mh, i’ll treat you so well every single day. g’nna come home to you ‘n give you some proper loving.”

satoru can already imagine it. coming home to you after a long day of work, needing a quick release. seeing you greet him at the door will send him into a frenzy. especially if you’re wearing an apron—he’s a sucker for domestic stuff.

you, his wife, taking care of him after a rough day at work. . . it’s a dream come true. he’ll spoil you with materialistic gifts and his unending love so you’ll live a happy life.

oh, don’t get him started on kids. satoru ruts into you like his life depends on it, the hypnotising rhythm of your boobs jiggling in circles is making him drool. having a little family with you is his end goal. you’ll be such a good mother and he’ll be such an amazing dad; a perfect combination.

satoru can already picture the amount of times he’ll dump his cum inside of you, without any restrictions. without you taking a pill or him wrapping a condom around his dick. his libido is going to be at an all time high when the time comes.

even if satoru ages a bit, he’s sure that he’s going to be able to have sex with you non stop. you get him hard without fail every single time. you’re his everything—the apple of his eyes.

your lover nearly chokes on his own saliva. he pushes his cock in to the base, burying it as deep as possible. your fingers curl around the pillow you’re holding for support, your eyes rolling back. his pink tip hit the right spot. that sweet spot that makes you cum without fail.

satoru bites his bottom lip. the way he’s looking at you, with a possessive kind of love and lust, is simply too much. his oceanic eyes are glimmering with need. erotic images flash through his mind of him impregnating you, “going to put a baby into you as soon as you’re ready.”

your tummy fills with butterflies. the way he’s talking to you like you’re already a married couple is making your pussy even wetter than it already is. it’s like it’s begging satoru to give it to you already—to make it store all his cum.

his eyes roll back as he leans his forehead against your shoulder. he has to hold himself back from cumming too soon. he wants to cherish every second spent inside of your warm body. satoru attaches his lips to your breasts again, “mhhh, y’re gonna look so beautiful pregnant, mama. those tits of y’rs. . .”

his voice is barely audible because he’s busy sucking on your nipples. your boyfriend is imagining the pair growing with each semester, filling out perfectly to store milk for the baby.

satoru cannot wait to be the reason why your body will change so much. you’ll be even prettier than you already are, that he can tell already. he’s going to give you gifts every day, to thank you for carrying his child. he’s going to spoil you rotten because you deserve it and so much more.

he can’t wait for the married life with you. many men dread that life, but that’s not the case with satoru. every day of his married life will be spent with his wife—you—and the honeymoon phase will never end. ever.

satoru’s cock is twitching and begging for the much needed release. he pounds you into the couch until you’re screaming in pleasure, feeling him so deep inside you. he’s so big, he’s stretching you out so well to the point of no return. the older man grins at the sight of your already fucked out face, “cunt ‘s gonna be so swollen because of how much i’ll pleasure her—paint her all white with my cum.”

satoru’s nasty words are causing unspeakable things to your body. you’re on the brink of reaching that euphoric state. the dirty talk is too much to handle at this point. your limbs are tingling and your cunt is aching to be stuffed full of his hot semen.

“s-satoru, don’t say such stuff,” you comment in a shaky breath. your head is spinning and your hands desperately reach out to hold onto his shoulders, squeezing the skin. your hips are bucking up lightly, your clit bumping against satoru’s pelvic area with each thrust, “i’m gonna cum if you keep saying that.”

your lover’s grin widens even more. he knows you enjoy it when he whispers such dirty stuff in your ear. that’s mainly the reason why he does it. he’s talked you through multiple orgasms before—it’s quite easy to do so with his husky voice and manly touch.

“that’s fine, baby,” satoru coos and leaves one last, sloppy kiss on your nipple before leaning in to attach his lips to yours. his tongue swirls around yours as you share your spit, the mixture trickling down your chins.

his hips don’t stop. he positions his lower body in an angle that gets you screaming for mercy, which he won’t do. he craves to ruin you on his cock, to see you melt with pleasure underneath him.

“make a mess on my dick while i make a mess inside of you,” satoru encourages you which seals the deal. your body shakes as you feel the waves of pleasure run through your system. you can feel hot ropes of cum nestle deep inside of your cunt. your boyfriend shudders at the sensation and helps you ride your climax out.

he pushes in and back out a few times, lazily, his finger finding your clit to rub until you’ve calmed down. “good girl. y’ took all of it, hm? lovely,” satoru nearly collapses on top of you after the energy leaves his body, careful not to crush you underneath his weight.

he doesn’t bother to pull out. he keeps his cum plugged into you—relishing the moment of ecstasy. even if he can’t fully breed you now, he’ll wait until the day he can.

“i love you, wifey,” satoru kisses your temple, tiredly giggling at the nickname he gave you. in his mind, you are already his one and only woman.

his wife and partner for life.

[gregmarriage]

do you suppose when my dad had three daughters, he’d guess that two of them would get married to men and give him a ton of grandkids, and the other one would sit in her room, dykely and autistically

[justatypicalwizard]

Bakugo who eats you out because he lost a bet, smut

It all started with a bet. It was this specific chaotic type of bet that you throw over your shoulder when agitated. The one that comes pistoling out of your lips as soon as it comes to your mind, or even earlier, a fog of war limits your common sense.

This was often the case with Katsuki Bakugo who was world widely known as the most annoying person on earth.

Okay, maybe he stood on this podium only in your world (others deemed Denki as the most insufferable) but it was enough to fire the never ending quarrels.

The two of you were similar in many senses, none of which would ever admit. Despite you being way less aggressive, you had your ways of getting under other peoples’ skin when displeased. You had this fighting spirit and competitive nature that could tune well with Katsuki’s. Unfortunately it most often sang off-key.

It was hard to tell what he thought about you. On one hand you’d say he definitely disliked you, to some point maybe? If he did dislike you he wouldn’t keep you around the small circle of his friends. Katsuki proved that he could push away anyone he wished to, no matter the circumstances. That’s what happened with Deku.

So Katsuki Bakugo disliked the fact that he liked you. Or he liked to dislike you. Either way you fought, ebbed and always surged back. Oh, and bets?

I bet you won’t even make it halfway before the time is up. He throws when he passes you down the hallway, spotting you bending your back over a book, minutes before the exam.

I bet your lovely friend will come looking for you soon. You snicker leaving him in the kitchen of the house party you’re both at. He’s currently hiding from a bimbo who really tries to ask him out and doesn’t take no for an answer.

I bet your mum dropped you when you were little.

I bet Miruko will kick your ass over this.

I bet they’ll send this essay back. It’s shit.

I bet it’ll die in this sunlight.

“Huh.” He knit his brows together, throwing you a nasty look. “Old hag didn’t say anything. It looks like it needs light.”

You were currently in his dorm room, analysing a small plant his mother left him. It was tiny, in a small ceramic pot, with three juicy green leaves poking out of the fresh soil.

“Well, I bet it’ll die if you put it in this sun.” You threw, shrugging your shoulders.

“Okay. If I win you’ll shut the fuck up for a single day around me. No words, not even a squeak.”

With the eye of your imagination you could see Katsuki pestering you for a whole day while you’d be unable to fire back. Yet, you had nothing to worry about. The little dude on the windowsill will bear three of four days before wittering. It’s the type that needs more shade.

“Fine. And if I win you can eat my ass.”

He chuckled, throwing a not happening over his shoulder before ushering you to work you both had to do.

A week later you were back in his room. It was a pleasant place to work in - clean, quiet, and always stocked with tea and coffee. Unlike you, Katsuki had the luxury of a single room which always soured your mood when he rubbed it in your face.

You were resting in his desk chair, legs crossed and organising a bunch of sources you were about to use later in your dissertation. It was the least pleasant part of writing essays. Finding academic sources in the library or browsing for them on the internet was not half bad. One could get in the swing of it after some time. And it made you feel like a real student all book heavy bags in a spacious bibliotheca.

Organising them later though? A pain in the ass.

“-by the way.” You caught only the ending of his sentence.

“Huh?” Turning around you spotten Katsuki looking at something in the far end of his room.

There was a closet there, one that didn’t quite reach the ceiling but was massive in shape. Atop of it sat the little dude in his sweet ceramic pot. Unfortunately all that was left of his three juicy leaves was one stem fighting for its life.

You clapped your hands in satisfaction, cracking a victorious laugh.

“Told you.” Fake wiping a tear from your cheek, you turned back to the desk and searched for the box you were about to tick off the long list. “Give it some more water and time. It will be fine.”

“So.” You felt him standing behind you. His shadow disrupted your writing.

“So?” Once again you turned around in his chair, cocking your brow in question.

“You won.” He crossed his arms, tapping his foot on the soft carpet in irritation.

You nodded your head with a grin but still ruffled. “Yes, and?”

“And you told me I can eat your ass.”

“Oh yeah, stuff your stupid mouth full.” You laughed but he yanked you by the arm, standing you up.

He dropped to his knees, pushing your bottom into the rim of his desk. With a shit eating grin he slipped his fingers into the sides of your trousers, grazing the bare skin of your hips underneath them.

“What the fuck dude?” You cursed, grabbing his forehead like the one of a misbehaved dog, trying to pacify him.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” The grin never left his face as he waited for your words, digging his nails into your skin.

It would be a lie to say that you never ever thought of him that way. Of course he was pretty, with his naturally fair hair that gave him a punk kind of look. With his body carved out like a marble statue. With a grin that made people both want to slap him and fawn over him.

Yes, it did cross your mind that he would be a pleasant view in the bed. Who with a sound mind wouldn’t think of that. Maybe people who weren’t attracted to-

No, it was a normal thought to have, one that may occur when you’re alone under the shower or in bed. You just often appreciate the beauty of your friends. Mina’s also cute and Kirishima is bulked as hell. It was a rational train of thoughts.

So why wasn’t your rational mind telling your hand to push him away just now? Why were you looking at his face, so close to your clothed cunt and feeling excitement bubble in your veins.

Tell me to stop and I will.

And you never did. So he pushed you to sit on the desk, pulling both your trousers and pants down at the same time. You kicked the air a few times to get rid of them but they hung from one of your ankles. It didn’t matter because his face was at its place. God bless you showered before coming here because you could have second thoughts otherwise.

“Okay, whatever the fuck you want, psycho.” You breathed as he lapped at your clit, still looking up at you.

His fingers creeped towards the inner side of your tight and you slapped him over the head.

“Uh, uh. I told you you could eat me out, not finger me. Yesterday you didn’t seem like the one to take shortcuts.” You spat, drinking up his frustration and slight… shame? Like a kid who did something wrong and got caught red handed.

“Fine.” He muttered pushing his tongue inside you. “It won’t take long anyway.” The grin was back on his face.

It indeed didn’t take long as soon, your legs were shutting tightly around his face. You weren’t even looking down anymore, the sight was a turn on but you were already overdriven. Your competitive nature was in a bliss and your head played fucking Katsuki Bakugo, on his fucking knees, between my fucking legs over and over like a broken record. You didn’t want to spoil your fun by thinking he may be having a  merrier time than you.

Not now, not when you’re so close and his palms are grabbing your tights, fingers digging into your muscles so much it would hurt if not the tension. Edging your release, you grabbed his hair in a tight fist pushing him in more, crossing your legs like it would take an “open, sesame!” to undo them.

At last, with a final short breath you came chuckling and moaning. A Katsuki may have slipped past your lips but only once.

He tore your legs open, panting like he just finished a marathon. Looking down you covered your lips to hide the laugh. His face was wet, smeared all over with what was a mixture of you both. His cheeks were heavy with blood, an intense red cutting out on his pale face. Classically, his brows were knit together.

“Did you have to make such a mess?” The blonde stood up and went to his bathroom. You caught a glimpse of the bulge in his pants.

The sound of the faucet reached your ears.

“I’m not gonna say sorry. You asked for it.” And you were pretty good at it. No. Such praise would kill your ego.

The water stopped running and you heard him stomp back. You pulled your trousers on quickly, suddenly feeling awfully naked. What would happen now? Your casual friend just ate your pussy like it was his last meal before a death sentence, and you were supposed to go back to organising the sources.

You felt a hard push to the back of your head.

“Stop thinking about it and get back out.”

Eh?!

Time went on quickly and in a weird manner. A huge something was in the air but you couldn’t find a way to bring the topic up. Why did you eat my pussy out of the blue? Was it really just about the bet? Were you feeling horny and I just so happened to be there? Are we fwb now? Do you like me?

Scratch the last one. The man gave you a headache ever since his own head left your tights. Also, he was nowhere to be found. Katsuki didn’t respond to texts, he was absent from the gym during his usual hours, and his dorm room was closed. You couldn’t just go to Kirishima and say: hey, I’m trying to figure out why Katsuki gave me head, wanna help?

The moment you run into his fleeting ass, you're gonna squeeze out the answer.

An opportunity came soon when you spotted him sneaking into the laundry room. It was a cramped space with washing machines and dryers. Fortunately, you had little thieves around dorms so people usually left their washing while it was in progress. There was a big chance you’d be alone.

Running to the door you yanked them open and rushed inside. Indeed, it was only him crouched to the lowest washing machine, putting mostly black clothes inside.

“You’re here for round two?” He smirked and you gasped.

It took you by surprise, you expected yelling or awkwardness. Nevermind. You shook off your initial stumble.

“Can you explain what the fuck do you mean by all this?” You gestured in the air as if all this was a laundry basket and an empty bottle of washing liquid scattered on the floor.

Katsuki hummed, shrugging his shoulders. He dropped the halfway loaded laundry on the floor and crawled closer to you, gripping your hips in a familiar manner. This time, you were wearing a skirt. Your back hit the door.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.” It fell from his lips as if he was asking whether you want vanilla or chocolate ice-cream.

Your mind ran in circles like a hamster in its ball. Start a fuss and possibly fight with Katsuki or let him do his thing and cum? Uhh.

He took your panties off completely, throwing them into his washing machine but left your skirt. Halfway in, when your chest was heaving and hips pushed further and further away from the door you heard a sound on the other side.

The doorknob shook and there was a mumble on the outside. You dug your feet into the ground and Katsuki put one of his hands to shut it closed. Yet, he didn’t stop what he was doing. Both of your palms also pushed into the thin wood making you unable to quiet the panting and loud gulps. You bit your lip and it would break if something wasn’t stuffed inside your mouth.

Taking a sharp breath through your nose, you smelled him. He stuffed your mouth with one of the shirts from his laundry. You threw him a dirty look from above to which he only smirked, going back down.

“It’s locked.” The muffled voice on the other side said.

“Maybe maintenance.” A different one answered.

When they were gone, you could finally cum, biting hard into Katsuki’s shirt. You steadied yourself on a drier afterwards while he wiped his mouth with a spare T-shirt before throwing all the leftover laundry inside the washing machine and starting it.

“My pants.” You breathed out, you were still coming back to earth.

“Ops.” He threw and with a single long stride, escaped the murder scene.

Your walk of shame in the short skirt, without panties on was long.

The third time you could talk to him happened only a day later.

You were studying with Kirishima, or more like tutoring him for free, in the library. Kirishima also had a single room in the dorms but his was far more trashy and you didn’t crave to spend time in that man cave. Instead you booked a private study room. It had a small round table, a few chairs and switches to plug in electric devices.

Halfway through your study Kirishima stated he needed to go to the bathroom. You nodded and the man left. Only after a minute did you hear the door open once more.

“A line in the mens’? Unbelievable.” You chuckled but upon looking up, you were met with a nasty grin.

“Kirishima told me you guys were studying.” He cornered you. “You know the deal.”

Katsuki slipped behind your chair as you whipped your head around to stop him. He placed both of his hands on your shoulders, surprisingly gentle.

“Just tell me to stop.”

Oh fuck you you pretty bastard. Is what you thought.

“Oh fuck you.” Is what you said and you wanted to add something but he pushed your upper half into the table simultaneously yanking the chair from under your butt.

It took a lick for your knees to get kinda soft and your morale to stumble between being a decent person or getting this unbelievably lucky chance for a third time.

“Can we at least do it after I finish with Kiri? I can come to your room as quickly as I am able to.” You whispered.

“Or you can call the dumbass and buy me a few minutes.” Katsuki muttered between your folds.

You cursed under your breath and grabbed your phone. Pick up, pick up, pick up, goddamn. Kirishima could be back any second. Although nothing terrible would happen if he came in on you, it would be embarrassing like hell. Finally, you heard his voice on the other side of the line.

“I’m just coming back, literally wait a second-”

“No!” You shouted into the device. “I mean.”

Katsuki seemed to slow down between your tights. Good, the bastard is not stupid and he cut you some slack this time.

“I’m sorry but I just really need a coffee, I thought you’d still be somewhere around the entrance.” You pieced together a makeshift excuse.

“I can go back. ‘Ts the least I can do for your help.” Kirishima laughed so genuinely it made you feel slightly bad for playing him like this.

“Yeah, uh, it really is boring like hell.” You laughed. The whole phone call made you unable to focus on Katsuki who was behind you and you really wanted to go back to minding him. “If I can be honest it would be lovely if you could bring me coffee from that cafe down and opposite of the library. You know which. I slept really bad and need their double espresso.” Kiri, please just say yes!

“Of course, anything for you.”

That sweetheart. Kirishima was really the perfect man, contrary to Katsuki who just now, at the very end of your call, decided to be an absolute asshole.

You felt two of his fingers push past your entrance and force your walls open. A breath got caught in your throat.

“Okay thanks, bye!” You smashed the end call button. “What the fuck are you do-”

But he was turning you around, lapping his tongue over your clit, moving his fingers in and out of your cunt all of which with closed eyes and a blissful look on his face. You gave in, because it felt so good.

After a while you finished all over his face, for the third time this week.

“I told you not to finger me.” You complained, dressing yourself in fear of Kirishima being too neat in his mission to get you coffee.

“I know and I didn’t like it. So I had to distract you.” He smirked, resting his hip on the table.

At that moment, Kirishima came inside with two paper cups, steam escaping the small opening in the lids.

“Oh, hi dude! I didn’t think you’d come here. I’d buy you coffee too.” Kirishima chirped.

“Forget about it, I was supposed to do something anyway. Just came in to say hi.” The blonde flicked his hand in the air. “Oh, and if you want-” He turned to you. “You can come to my room later and finish what we were talking about.” With that he slipped past the door leaving you with a grimace and Kirishima with a dumbfounded expression.

“What were you guys talking about?” The redhead asked.

“Nothing important, just about transplanting a small plant his mum gave him. I’ll help him later, he has already managed to nearly kill it.”

[tonycries]

Whiskey, Neat, With a Side of You - T.F.

Synopsis. When your date stands you up, you’re lucky that the hot bartender is more than happy to keep you company! 

Pairing. Bartender! Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, strangers to lovers, unprotected, pússydrunk Toji, cúmplay, oral (female + male receiving), créampie, some heinous things with pantíes, dirty talk, spitting, whískey, neither are drunk, absolutely filthy, pet names (doll), swearing.

Word count. 4.6k

A/N. Was originally gonna be Nanami but Toji mmmm

“So, that date of yours is late, huh?”

You don’t know what shocks you more - the question, or the voice from behind the counter - so very deep, tinged with just a bit of amusement.

Tearing your eyes away from the clock at the other end of the bar, it takes a second - and one look around the almost-empty room - for you to realize that shit the hot bartender was talking to you. Sputtering out a quick, “Oh, yes, um-” quickly reading that faded nametag, “-Toji. He’s a bit late.”

The man in front of you raises a brow, dark green eyes locked on the way you shift in your seat. He seemed a bit older, and - you gulp, eyeing the way his arms flex as he fumbles with the shaker - so undeniably attractive. Plowing on obliviously, “Boyfriend?”  

You sigh, pinching your nose, “No, some guy from a dating app. It’s supposed to be our first date.” 

“First date?” Toji lets out a low whistle. “Way to make an impression, dunno what type of asshat would keep a pretty lil’ thing like you waiting.”

Cheeks flaring, you don’t know what it is about him that makes you want to defend yourself, but it doesn’t matter anyway - because whatever rambled excuse gets stuck in your throat at the sharp scrape of glass against the counter. Large hands gently placing a pretty pink daiquiri in front of you, Toji gives you a reassuring nod. “S’on the house till that dumbass shows up. Until then, you can keep me company, doll.”

Playing with the straw between your fingers, your eyes flit to the clock again - 8:10pm.

Well, there was still time. Right? 

Nonsense, maybe.

Because it’s around 10:21pm when you conclude that no, there really wasn’t still time, and your date seemed well and fully intent on completely embarrassing you. And now, him still nowhere in sight, lips a bit looser, you were having the time of your life complaining all about it to Toji.

“-no, I swear.” you groan over his low chuckle. “He really gave me the ‘sorry, my dog ate my keys’ gem. And you know the best part?” Beckoning him over to whisper conspiratorially in his ear - heart stuttering at the heat of his proximity, “The man doesn’t even own a dog.”

Shaking his head, Toji seemed like he was drinking in your every word. “Classic. If yer gonna be late, at least make it interesting. Like, ‘I accidentally joined the circus on the way here.’”

“Mhm, I’ll have to keep that in mind for my next no-show date.” you grin, suddenly feeling a lot lighter than you were a few hours ago. Nowhere near tipsy, but definitely high off the conversation and the addictive scent of his cologne - the expensive kind that left you wondering whether all of him smelled this delicious. 

“Or better yet, you could spend your time with someone who actually knows how to keep you entertained rather than some scrub.”

Snapping out of your little reverie, lifting your head just fast enough to catch the little smirk tugging Toji’s lips. Managing to grit out, “Smooth, huh?”

“Just sayin’.” he hums, before turning his back to organize the glasses on the shelf. And you can’t help but traitorously admire his broad shoulders, cursing that t-shirt for being so goddamn tight that you could see the way his muscles ripple with each movement. 

“Besides-” Catching the tail-end of Toji’s question, “-neat whiskey for all the failed dates?”

You chuckle, “Ah, I really shouldn’t, the other customers will probably-” your sentence dies in your throat as a quick glance at the empty room showed that everyone else had eventually left - leaving just you. And Toji. Damn. Slow day, huh?

“Well, doll?”

Heaving out a shaky breath, you nod. Eyes zoning in on the way he expertly handles the glasses, so dizzyingly inviting. It makes a sheepish smile play at your lips, letting out a quiet little, “Despite all the shitty dates, I’ve actually never had whiskey neat before.”

Oh? That made him pause. Eyes widening ever-so-slightly as he sets down the glasses and leans in a little closer, breath hot against your face. “Never?”

“Never.”

“Well.” Toji muses. “This overpriced shit can’t be your first intro to neat whiskey. If you’re up for it, I’ve got a special 1926 Macallan stashed away in the back n’ can get it for us?”

Oh. Maybe it was that slow, silent grin that curls his lips, that sinful little scar moving as he does. Or maybe it was the way he places a hand on the counter to stare down so heavily at you. Probably it was just him - because you find yourself batting your lashes so deceivingly innocently, “Or I could just go with you?”

And shit if there was ever a time where Toji was sure he met his match then it might just be right now. Because that sultry lil’ smirk on your lips was killing him, making such a carnal little part of him twitch so dangerously. With a heavy nod, you’re following him through the dimly lit bar.

The back room is more of a VIP room than anything - cozy, lined with shelves of alcohol and leather furniture. Heady with the liquor and something so so Toji. 

You’re halfway through reading the title of a wine you could barely pronounce before he’s letting out a grunt of satisfaction from behind you, “Excuse me, doll.” It’s all that’s said before Toji’s pressing up against you. His muscular arm just inches from your head, reaching for something from the very top shelf. And oh you could feel his abs rubbing up against your back, so warm and- 

And then he’s pulling away. 

It was quite hard to stomp down the disappointed whine that almost leaves your throat, and if you didn’t know any better you’d have said something about the amused little glint in his eyes. Smug bastard knew what he was doing. 

Instead focusing on the way he turns to show off a bottle with a deceivingly innocent reverence. “This is going to be a real treat.”

Well. Two can play that game.

“Is that so?” you tilt your head, reaching out to grab the bottle neck, with not as much care of concern as you should have considering this was a million dollar whiskey. Swiftly unclasping the lid, focused only on the way Toji’s breath hitches as you fist his t-shirt in your other hand to pull him close to you - so close.

Close enough that you could count every shade of green in those half-lidded eyes, long lashes fluttering as your breath fans his face. “Such a shame we didn’t bring our glasses, huh?”

Oh the devilish grin that splits across his face sends such delicious shivers down your spine - Toji gets your drift. Of course, he does. Because he’s squishing your cheeks together in an almost-embarrassing pout, fingers searing on your skin, lips ghosting yours, “Yeah, real shame.” 

Immediately bringing the bottle to his mouth, letting the burning liquid pool on his tongue, he spits into your mouth, once. Twice. 

A steady stream of whiskey, and spit. It tasted just like the acrid alcohol and sin. And Toji. 

And it was so messy, smearing across your lips and trickling down your chin. Tilting your head back, you let it flow down your throat obscenely. Locked in his greedy gaze as you loll your tongue out to show off the way you’d swallowed everything he gave. 

“Maybe I do like neat whiskey.”

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him because fuck Toji was intoxicating and just there. That little scar rubbing against your lips as he devours you so sloppily, all hard muscles and heated skin underneath your fingertips. 

“Fuck.” he hisses into your open mouth. Setting down the whiskey God-knows-where near the couch to pick you up like a ragdoll. Drinking in the cute lil’ gasp that leaves you as you wrap your legs around his slutty waist. Groping and kneading every inch of skin he could reach. “How ya likin’ the Macallan, doll?”

“A ‘real treat’.” you mimic his earlier words, voice slightly broken as you feel his rock-hard cock through your wet panties, throbbing angrily against your cunt. Fuck, would you even be able to take him all?

“Oh yeah?”

And before you can react you’re being pushed against the hard wall. Toji’s lips dizzying on yours, fiddling with that godforsaken clasp on the back of your tight dress. 

“Shit.” he groans impatiently, wedging a knee between your legs, grinding against your wet pussy. “Such a delicious meal all f’me but I’ve gotta get through this- fuckin-” rip! “-dress”

Well, you expected your dress to end up on the floor somewhere, just not like this - tattered and hitting the ground of this back room behind the bar, faster than your jaw. And so do Toji’s - pupils blown, eyes hooded as he takes in the heavenly view in front of him. 

Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, licking like he couldn’t stay away. “Shit, doll. You were gonna wear this pretty lil’ number for that loser?” he sounds genuinely confused. Immediately tweaking and rolling your swollen nipples through the sheer fabric. “M’so fucking glad that bastard doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”

“T-Toji- ngh-” you mewl, as he lets your bra fall to the ground. Taking in one tit in his mouth, swirling his hot tongue around your areola. “Wan- wan’ more-”

“Now now,” he tuts mockingly, delicate strings of spit connecting him to your breasts. “S’rude to be the only one drinking. Unless…” Toji looks up at you through his thick lashes, “You wan’ me to drink in that pretty lil’ cunt of yours?”

And shit that sounded like everything you ever wanted right now. All you can let out is a delirious little nod before Toji’s dropping to his knees. So hard you wonder if it hurts - and maybe it’s the liquor, probably it’s the way he’s drunk off you - but he doesn’t give a fuck. 

“Yeah, atta girl.”

Pulling down your panties in one, fluid motion, he tugs them underneath your legs, disappearing between his own, fumbling with his waistband. And if you angled your head just right you could see the slightest glimpse of Toji fisting his cock. Soaking your already-wet panties with his precum.

“Aw, look at the way she’s so wet f’me already.” he coos at your dripping cunt. Absolutely obsessed with the way you’re so drenched for him already. Slick beading through the flimsy fabric at each hot breath, oh Toji has half the mind to just take you right here, right now. But no, he wanted- needed a taste. Doesn’t think he could live without it. “Wonder if she tastes just as sweet as she looks.”

Whatever retort on the tip of your tongue is cut off by Toji burying himself face-first in your pussy. Licking a long, languid stripe up your swollen folds, pooling your slick on his tongue. 

But it wasn’t enough - it might never be. Because one taste of your pretty cunt and Toji is hooked. 

With a low groan, he’s spitting a steady stream of spit onto your quivering pussy. Spreading it with his thumb before he’s diving back in nose-deep. Snaking a hand down to draw frenzied little circles on your swollen clit, letting your juices glisten all down his wrist.

“Taste s’fuckin’ good. Fucking sweet.” So hot and maybe you should’ve gotten an inkling with how sloppy he was with the whiskey - but Toji was so fucking filthy. Your slick glossing his face so prettily, smearing right up to his nose and dribbling down his chin. Lewd little squelches deafening in your ears. 

“Ngh- Sh-shut up-”

“Shut up? Can’t shut up, doll, m’drunk on this sweet cunt more than I am on whiskey.” he mutters into your folds. “My favorite taste. Got me addicted, huh?”

He huffs out a dark laugh into your pussy, taking in that cute lil’ embarrassed expression on your face. Throwing one of your legs over his sculpted shoulder, Toji bullies his soft tongue into your snug cunt, past that delicious little ring of resistance. 

Making out with your pussy deeper. And his tongue was so long - perfectly hitting your sweet spots, licking all over your plushy walls. Thrusting in time with his thumb drawing on your clit, in and out in and out in and-

“Fuck, I could get used to this. Have you for breakfast, lunch, n’ dinner.”

His words were so dirty, but Toji looked so pretty stuffing his face in your cunt. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, dark strands of his hair sticking to his forehead. Tilting his head just so that your sweet sweet juices slide down his throat. 

It’s what has you tugging in his hair to angle him just right, using him like your favorite toy. Such cute lil’ whines of his name leaving you each time his tongue grazes that one spot that has you keening and bucking into his mouth for more more more-

“Fuck fuck fuck jus’ like that- Ah!” you let out such pretty whines, words slurring together. Delirious little ones that go straight to Toji’s achingly hard cock, angry and twitching in his fist. So needy and glistening with precum in the dim lighting.

Shit, Toji thinks he could cum at just that, which is why he’s lapping at your cunt even greedier, drinking you in like a madman. Fingers so deftly toying with your pretty clit, making you putty in his hands. He has to make you cum. Now. Or else he’s gonna fuckin’ embarrass himself in front of such a goddess. 

“Oh? So drunk on m’tongue, already, doll?” he chuckles. “Can’t speak?” Vibrations sending white-hot jolts of pleasure up your spine. It has you dragging your cunt so sloppily all over Toji’s face - and he likes it. Loves it even, only speeding up his movements. Even when his jaw is aching, walls sucking him up so desperately that it was almost difficult to eat out your pretty lil’ cunt. Even when your sweet juices are dripping down to the hardwood floor in a sinful little drip! drip! drip! 

“I- ngh- m’gonna-”

“Gonna what? You can handle whiskey, you can handle using your words, doll.”

“Cum!” you yelp, “M’gonna cum Toji- ah- feels t’good.” 

And that’s exactly what he liked to hear because Toji only gets sloppier. Alternating between stretching you out on his tongue, sucking on your clit, licking everywhere. Over and over-

“Then cum f’me, doll.”

And you are - fast and hard. So hard that you don’t even realize when you’re rocking your hips all over Toji’s face. Cunt fluttering around his tongue as if you were trying to suck him up - and he lets you. 

“Fuck. Sweeter than I imagined.” he’s slurring into your cunt. “Jus’ like that- yeah, ride out that pretty lil’ cunt on m’face.” Words muffled as he tonguefucks you through your high, stars behind your lids every time he flicks at your pussy. 

Distantly, you hear such embarrassing little whimpers of his name in time with the sinfully wet groans from below - ones you realize are yours only when you’re blinking back your vision. Heart thundering, pathetically trying to catch your breath.

The first thing you hear is Toji’s little chuckle, followed closely by a lewd pop! that has you whirling to look at him down below.

“Wh-wha-” and all you can let out is a strangled little oh! at the sight before you - Toji licking his fingers clean, sucking all your sweet juices like he couldn’t get enough. Even when he’s flashing you a devilish grin around his fingers, rising from his position on the ground to cage you against the wall.

“Told ya m’addicted, doll.”

Your back hits the soft leather before you even realize what’s happening. Bouncing at the sheer force of the throw, you gasp in both shock and at the audacity of this man.

“Toji…” you warn as he looms over you on the couch, yet it comes out more breathless than you intended. But looking at him there - straddling your hips, pants pulled just below his heavy balls, tugging and teasing his rock-hard cock like he was trying to fuck something delicious out of it - how could you be blamed, really?

He was so big. Pulsing wildly in his fist and just soaked in precum - all the way from his pretty pink tip to the tufts of black at his base. Not quite wild, not quite tamed. You cunt clenches in- anticipation? Fear of not being able to walk for the next week?

And in the haze of your orgasm it takes you a second to register the flimsy panties wrapped around his hand. Rubbing against those prominent veins on the side as Toji fucks his fist. So wet and ruined that you almost didn’t recognize it. 

“Jus’ think of it as repayment.” he grins, following your line of sight. 

You scoff, eyes still traitorously stuck on his throbbing cock. So massive and mouth-watering that it makes you wish he used you instead of those panties. “Those were expensive y’know.”

“I’ll buy you new ones. Four. In the color of my eyes.”

“How about…” you flash him a sultry smirk, urging his hips to shift higher. And by the amused quirk of his brow, you knew Toji liked where this was going.  “I can repay you another way.”

And before you knew it, his pants are thrown to God-knows-where, and you had two, muscled thighs straddling your face. Toji slaps his swollen cock on your face once. Twice. “Think that loser was this big?” Thumbing your mouth open as he grazes his weeping tip across your lips, glossing them so prettily. Precum salty on your tongue, all filthy and dripping down to your chin. 

“Open wide- Fuck. Tha’s it-” he hisses, brows furrowing as he stuffs his fat head into your hot mouth. Eyes rolling to the back of his head at the way your lips bulge around him, flicking at the sensitive tip. And it was so delicious, Toji couldn’t decide whether he liked eating you out or this more. 

“Shit, doll.” he grunts, hips fucking into your plushy tongue in shallow, quick little thrusts. “Taking me so well, huh?”

You didn’t know if you were - lips stretching obscenely around his thick cock, tears clinging to your lashes. Choking and gagging around his length in a way that made Toji twitch inside you. Shit, he liked this - liked seeing you like this. And as soon as the realization hits you, you’re moaning around his cock, making Toji’s hips stutter above you. 

Toji has to fight off that part of himself that just wants to paint your mouth a sinful white. Fuck his cum into your till it’s all you can taste - all you can feel. 

“Shit. You little minx. Ah- s’heavenly around me ngh-” pressing your head down till all the way till your nose is flush against his pelvis, balls twitching against your chin. Finally bottoming out and fucking your mouth in harsh, long strokes. “Fuck- Wonder if that pretty lil’ cunt of yours is gonna take me t-this well, huh?”

Oh does he love your smart mouth - but he loves it even more when all he gets in response is wet gurgle around his cock. Looking up at him so tearily and shit he could get used to this sight. “M’gonna take that as a yes.”

And then he’s speeding up, balls squeezing so painfully. God it’s so fucking hard to look at you too - precum and spit bubbling sloppily at the corners of your mouth, makeup so messy and fucking gorgeous to him. 

“Can feel m’self riiight-” Reaching out a hand to wrap around your throat, feeling his dick bulging in and out in and- “here.”

Moving faster so he can ruin your pretty face. It’s so sloppy the way your spit glistens down his length, using your swollen mouth as he pleases. And you’re so eager to make him lose his mind too that it has been fucking into you like a toy.

“Ya like this? Like me using your pretty lil’ mouth like oh- it’s a fucktoy? Oh fuck, doll.” he groans, running his mouth like he’s drunk off yours wrapped around him. “Gonna paint that pretty mouth of yours white if y’don’t stop now.” 

And shit if he knew those words would have you eagerly bobbing your head to meet his hips a little slut then he’d have said them a lot sooner. Trying to get just a taste of him. Mascara runny now, swirling your tongue around his leaking tip every time he hits the back of your throat, so hard that it’s probably sore and bruised. Toji almost feels bad. 

…

Nahhh

Pulling your mouth off him, muttering low and dangerous. “Told ya to stop now, didn’t I?”

And oh he hates to cut off that cute lil’ whine spilling from your kiss-bitten lips, but shit Toji’s losing his patience and his sanity with each passing second that he isn’t stuffing his cock in your pretty cunt. 

Toji backs up, swiping a thumb under your lip, sucking off the remnants of his precum before capturing your lips in a searing, searing kiss. Tasting you and himself and you- 

“Liked the Macallan, huh?” Reaching blindly for the bottle of whiskey, taking a deep swing. Spitting it back into your mouth because shit you looked so pretty swallowing it all up. Rutting his hips into yours, sliding his throbbing erection in between your swollen folds. Collecting your sweet juices on his head, drinking in your adorable gasps.

“T-Toji.” you whimper, hips bucking up wildly. “Just fuck me already, goddamnit.”

And then he is - pressing his fat tip into your sloppy hole. Inch by fucking inch. Not even thinking of easing into it because fuck he needs it. He needs it-

“-s’bad. Ah-” Toji drawls against your lips. “Wan’ed this ever since y’walked in through that damn door.” A mess of spit and alcohol and precum - it made you feel so dirty, dirtier than the pressure between your legs as he bullies his heavy cock into your snug pussy. And all you can do is fucking take it because Toji was so unrelenting.

Thrusting in shallow, mindless little thrusts to just fit himself inside you - and you already feel like you’re being stretched to your limits. Whimpering out a tearily little, “Are you at least ngh- halfway in yet? Oh-”

If Toji was any lesser man he’d just have split you apart on his cock right now, but no. Instead settling for a smug little, “Nope”, popping the p.

But that doesn’t stop him from wrapping two arms around your waist, sitting up on the couch with you splayed out so prettily on his cock. Pulling you, squeezing his dick into your soft cunt, sliding down, down, down.

“Ah! Ah- shit shit shit s’too deep, ngh-”

“No such thing as ‘too deep’, doll.” he clenches his jaw. Hands pushing your thighs apart even further as you’re split apart on his cock. “You jus’ hafta sit there all pretty n’ take- it-” Each word is punctuated by a harsh thrust. 

And Toji’s manhandling you around while bouncing you on his dick. Drawing unhurried little circles on your clit while trying to find that one spot he knows you’d love more than any whiskey or drink. Looping a strong arm to arch you into his body and-

“Fuck!” you keen, hips grinding sloppily to milk his cock as much as you could. Walls clenching so sinfully and shit-

“Found it.”

And then it was like something snapped - because all of a sudden Toji’s no more playful teasing and letting you have your little fun. No, he’s fucking you like a man possessed - thrusting his cock up into you. All the way from his weeping tip, till his balls smack your ass. So hard he’s sure they leave such a shameful mark for tomorrow. Hitting that spot over and over-

“Aren’t ya glad you chose to ah- s-stay with me?” he hisses, throwing his head back. One hand rocking your hips deeper the other becoming faster and faster on your poor, ravaged clit. Driving you crazy. “Fuck that date ditcher, y’look all pretty like this for me.”

“Yes yes yes- s’glad.” you manage to sob out. Voice shaky and hitching at the way he was bouncing you on his cock with reckless abandon. The lewd squelches and skin-on-skin filling the heady room, making your head spin so much that you barely hear Toji’s words. 

“I’d make a much better date. Hngh-” he lets out a guttural groan as your nails rake his back. Fingers on your clit becoming more and more frantic. “Would buy ya flowers n’ a-all that shit. Show up on time, all dressed up.” Drinking in your lewd little ah! ah! ah! every time he milks himself on your sloppy pussy. But oh maybe Toji was a talker when he was drunk because he wasn’t done yet. 

“Make all those other scrubs fuck- jealous. And then-” Hips stuttering and so so sloppy. “Hah- at night- m’gonna fuck you dumb just like this.” he gasps, sounding like he was at the end of his sanity. Losing it bit by bit every time his veins rub so deliciously against all the right spots that make you see stars. 

Losing his sanity especially when you whine out such a cute lil’ noise of agreement. “Fuck m’close. Wanted this too, huh? I saw the way you’d been eyeing me all night.”

You can’t even be embarrassed about being caught red-handed, only looking up at his pretty face with delirious heart-eyes. Too cockdrunk and delirious at this point. And, well, maybe it’s the alcohol in your veins because you’re grabbing at the shiny bottle on the seat, bringing it to your lips. The bitter taste barely hitting your lips before you’re meeting his. Making out as sloppily as he was ravaging you below - all teeth and whiskey and pure filth. 

And that answers his question. 

Messy and desperate. 

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same - clamping down so sinfully on his aching cock. And shit it’s so heavenly that it sends him over the edge as well. 

Toji cums, and keeps cumming so hard that he can see the way his seed was gushing out of your poor, overfilled pussy. Especially not when his thrusts get sloppy, thick cum spilling all over your pretty cunt. Purposely not pulling out like the mean bastard he is to paint your walls a sinful white

Over and over, forming a wet little patch on the couch that he knows he’ll have to worry about later. But right now he doesn’t give a fuck because your bloated and so prettily all covered in his seed. 

Leisurely, he pools the cum trickling out of your cunt on his fingertips, not even wasting a second before stuffing them in your mouth, pushing through your swollen lips. And you don’t complain - not at all. In fact, you’re sucking it all up eagerly. Looking Toji straight in the eyes while you swallow it all. 

“Hmm, not as good as the whiskey.” you tease. Letting yourself be yanked into his body, as he grins against your lips.

“For that, m’keeping the panties.” 

--- 

“Toji…” a low voice rings through the closed bar. Shiu sounding like he’s absolutely at his wit’s end as he continues, “Where the fuck is our 1926 Macallan?”

The man in question was staring suspiciously giddily at his phone - either having not heard what Shiu said, or he just couldn’t give a fuck anyway. And knowing Toji, it was probably the latter. 

A warning. “Toji I’m serious, that shit costs over a million dollars.”

“Yeah yeah, congratulations or my condolences but hey, do you know any great flower shops?”

A/N. I don’t even like whiskey so much, it’s just the thought of bartender! Toji that has me feral.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[iisasxia]

I mentioned Bakugou being big and how he cuddles you, but let’s talk about you two ****.

Bakugou has a large frame, I mean you guys are now in university so it’s not surprising he grew. In the beginning of your relationship he was slow and gentle with you at first but now that it’s been a couple of months you’ve gotten used to his rough demeanor.

—

You were laid on your back, a pillow propped below you to elevate you enough for him to fuck your g-spot relentlessly. Your legs were over his shoulders while he held onto your ankles, the pretty anklet dangling against his face and he can’t help but smirk seeing the letter “K” sit so pretty against your skin.

He gently placed your legs down, his biceps now caging you in as he leaned down, no matter how many times you two had done it the eye contact he holds always makes you nervous. His favorite part is knowing because of the way you tighten around him.

“Look at me.” He grunts, the pace he has on your pussy is ruthless and he doesn’t give a shit because seeing you so fucked out and looking dumb over his cock like this is making his body hot.

You bit your lip not wanting to look at him but you do, your eyes are glossy and half-lidded and the look on your face makes you look so needy.

“K-kats, slow d-down, ngh-“ you gently place your hand against his abs and he can’t help but grin at how soft your touch is.

He leans down to whisper against your ear.

“Want you to make a mess for me, yeah?” From the way you tightened around him he knew you liked the sound of that, his lips trailing kisses from your ear to your collarbone and back up to meet your lips. His tongue dancing with yours and all you can do is moan into his mouth and he’s fucking losing it.

He pulls back and sits up, he props you up a little bit with a smaller pillow and places one hand on your lower abdomen. Your eyes slightly widening at the sudden pressure against your g-spot.

“Please-“ you whine, eyes stinging with tears, you grab onto his wrists as he fucks you. Anything to keep you leveled with the Earth because the way he was fucking you made you feel like your soul was going to leave and never come back.

“Please what?”

“Please, don’t stop.” Your grip on his wrists tighten and he knows how close you are, the smirk on his face says it all.

He moves his hands and finds yours, gently cupping them in his as he leans down and whispers to you, the smile in his voice making you melt.

—

“Cum for me pretty girl.”