#he’d just wake up in the pitch and never know if anything was in there with him

[whatswrongwithblue]

Alastor x Reader

"The Morning After"

This started out as an idea for just a quick funny incorrect quotes and turned into a full-on one shot of fluffy nonesense. G/N reader, though they do wear make-up. No use of Y/N.

Still half asleep, you shifted from laying on your back to your side, facing the edge of the bed. The change in position suddenly made you more awake for two reasons; the pressure on your bladder and the odd green light burning through your eyelids.

You blinked your eyes, squinting for several seconds as your eyes adjusted to the light, and you realized you were looking at the pocket dimension bayou in Alastor’s room.

Alastor’s room.

ALASTOR’S ROOM.

Oh fuck.

You look over at the other side of the bed and see the unmistakable red and black hair, the two long fluffy ears, and little antlers. Markers of his identity that you had grown accustomed to in the years you had known him. What you weren’t used to was the ashen skin of his bare back and the gentle rise and fall of his shoulder as he slept soundly beside you, facing the opposite direction.

He was as naked under the sheets as you were.

Halfway between panicked and giddy with excitement, you recalled the wild night you two had indulged in the night before. The culmination of years of pining on your end – and recently acknowledged and understood feelings on his end – had led you to his bedroom for the very first time last night.

You just hoped it wasn’t something he would wake to regret.

That worry had to come later because right now your poor bladder was going to burst.

Slipping out from under the sheets, you tiptoed as quietly as you could across the floor and into the bathroom, making sure to not turn on the light until the door was softly closed behind you.

Ugghh, you hadn’t even cleaned yourself up before falling asleep. You and Alastor had gone so hot and heavy that once it was over, you both had just passed out, wrapped up in each other’s arms, so exhausted that not even the mess between your legs and the wet spots on the sheets could bother you.

Quickly and quietly, you relieved yourself and then wiped yourself clean, praying to Roo herself that you would get the chance to shower before any more intimate acts were shared between you and Alastor.

And then you flushed the toilet and winced at the insulting and loud noise it made. You forgot the plumbing in this piece of shit building let you know exactly who was showering or taking a piss from two stories above.

Two more things happened simultaneously that got your panic spiking again.

The light in the bedroom flipped on and you caught your reflection in the mirror.

You’re make up was a disaster.

You weren’t so vain as to have never let Alastor see you without it before. Honestly, he’d seen you with a natural and clean face more often than not but of course you had put on a near full face the night before and not cleaned it up before . . . before . . .

Fuck, you probably left lipstick and mascara all over those nice silk sheets he had summoned just before he’d laid you down on them.

There was a soft knock on the door.

“Darling?” Alastor’s voice called for you and he sounded almost insecure and you would think about that later, later, how sweet that little hint of worry in his questioning was and how it meant he was hoping you weren’t regretting anything either and for fuck’s sakes you had patiently waited years to get that man’s dick inside you just for you to forget basic hygiene afterwards and now you had water proof raccoon eyes and lipstick smeared across your face like you were trying out to play the next Joker and what was left of your eyeshadow was in clumps that did nothing but accentuate every little wrinkle around your eyelids . . .

“I’m fine!” you say with a voice that was far too high pitched to be believable and you began searching through the bathroom drawers for a washrag or something to clean up your face. “Just cleaning up a little is all.”

He’d heard the toilet flush, heard the running of the bathroom sink, he had to have heard you rummaging through the drawers, frankly those beautiful ears of his could probably pick up on the sound of your heart racing like fucking Secretariat. And it was Alastor. He had zero sense of personal space and was likely going to barge in any second now-

You heard his soft chuckle as he opened the door and caught you desperately wiping at your face with a washrag and cold water, doing less to remove the makeup and more to just make an even more pathetic mess of colors across your stricken expression.

It didn’t help that you were still completely naked.

“My dearest, there are better ways to go about that.”

Frozen with embarrassment, you watched his reflection in the mirror as he walked behind you, though you wouldn’t meet his eyes. Instead, yours were glued to his equally nude body that he so confidently kept on display for you as he reached around you and opened a drawer, revealing a packet of make-up remover wipes.

He held one up for you and that’s when you finally looked up at him.

His ever-present smile was there, a touch sweeter and affectionate than usual, but the rest of his face looked as bad as yours. Red eyeshadow and black eyeliner had gotten everywhere and with the rather attractive sex hair he had going on, he looked more like a member of an 80’s rock band than he did The Radio Demon.

You couldn’t help the relieved laugh that escaped your lips.

“What, you thought all this was natural? Please,” he gave a dismissive wave of his hand and wrist and began cleaning up his own face.

The tension and nervousness melted away as you followed his lead and after getting yesterday’s make-up properly cleaned up, Alastor even summoned your toothbrush from your room for you to use. And none of it was awkward or weird, doing these normal, domestic things . . . in his bathroom . . . in the nude . . . with him there.

It should have been weird but instead it was unremarkably comfortable. Like it had been this way all along. A normal, mundane morning, in the best way possible.

“Join me for a shower?” he asked, with his hand held out.

There was a plethora of other questions left unsaid in his gaze.

Did you really not regret the night before?

Did you really want him? With all his violent inclinations and strange, often conflicting mannerisms and behaviors?

Were you really ready to commit yourself to the unpredictable life of The Radio Demon?

Offering him your best smile and your hand, you followed him into the steamiest, most invigorating shower of your life.

[kissedsuns]

HORMONES ARE HIGH, LANDO NORRIS.

content warnings! suggestive behaviour. fem!reader. dirty talk. explicit sexual content. p in v. pet names. fluff. slight overstimulation. praise. dom + sub undertones.

when your boyfriend finally manages to sneak into your house by climbing up the tree, he usually ends up staying the night. your neighbours tend to turn in early, so that gives you and lando some alone time without worrying about anyone knocking on your door.

he’s insatiable, always has been. sometimes, you’d joke that he’s more interested in sneaking in for sex than anything else, but deep down, you know it’s more than that. sure, he’s constantly horny, but it’s because he can never get enough of you. lando’s body reacts like it’s starved every time you're alone together.

you knew he wasn’t there just to talk—he never is. what’s worse is that you don’t even mind, if your cunt practically leaking at the sight of him is any indication.

“you don’t always have to sneak in just to jump me, you know,” you would always tell him.

and he would just chuckle, that mischievous, toothy grin spreading across his face as his hands slide down your hips. “but where’s the fun in that?”

you two were like rabbits. ever since you started dating, it had been impossible for lando to keep his hands off you. if you were bent over, he’d rut his hips against your ass, grinding just enough to pull a needy whimper from your lips. he couldn’t help himself—his hormones were driving him crazy. and you were no different, constantly craving him, unable to stop touching or kissing him whenever you were in close proximity.

so, obviously, whenever the boy was in town, he’d leap at any chance to see you. to fill you up completely and pour all his love into you, making the most of every second before he had to leave again. it killed him to let you go on those weekends—he felt it in his bones, the ache of being apart—but you always knew he’d come back. and when he did, he was always more eager, more desperate than the time before.

“lan!” you squealed as he threw your legs over his shoulders, bullying his fat cock deeper inside you. “shhh, gotta be quiet for me, okay?” he hushed you.

“uh-huh, okay…” you nodded, still dazed from the two orgasms he'd given you earlier when he was between your legs with his tongue attached to your clit and you though you might just die.

“wanna hold my hand?” he asked, offering the one that wasn’t gripping your hip. his sweetness made you mewl, even as he fucked you like he hated your guts.

“mhm, mhm!”

“here, sweetheart.” he intertwined your fingers with his, the soft sound of skin slapping skin filling the room, careful not to wake anyone—or the entire neighborhood—with how hard he wanted to shove his dick into your spongy walls.

your lips were swollen from his kisses, some rough enough that his teeth left tiny indents in your bottom lip. tears of pleasure stained your cheeks, and yet, lando thought you looked like the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“y’look so precious, c’mere.” he grunted, pulling you up by the back of your neck to smash his lips against yours again, his other hand slipping under your nightgown to fondle your ass. he loved when you wore delicate things like this to bed—lace-edged, soft, and just short enough to leave him fantasising.

“please, lando, please!” you whimpered, your voice shaking with every thrust as he pounded into you, pushing so deep that the tip was just about kissing your cervix. it wasn’t long before you were seeing stars.

“you begging?” he teased, barely holding back a laugh at how high-pitched your voice had gotten. but you didn’t care—your brain was foggy, practically turned to mush, and all you could do was cling tighter to his hand.

“g’nna cum again!” you cried, your hand slipping from his to claw desperately at his back.

the sight of you like this—eyes wide, face flushed with pleasure—had lando throbbing inside you. he wanted to memorise every detail of the moment. so fucking gorgeous.

“c’mon, sweet thing,” his voice was all saccharine and syrupy as he planted a kiss to your sweaty forehead. “get it all outta your system, there you go, atta girl.”

“o-okay, okay!” you tapped his arm, your body trembling from overstimulation as he kept his thick cock lodged inside of you and sloppily thrusting it into your little pussy. yeah, definitely rabbits.

“i’m sorry, baby, ‘m, mmh, sorry,” lando spluttered, spilling his load into you before slipping out with a hiss. both of you watched as his cum leaked from you, and his eyes were literally glowing.

“please don’t tell me you’re hard again,” you groaned, noticing his cock twitching and still oozing with cum.

“nuh-uh, jus’ love my girl so much,”

© kissedsuns

[czache78]

thinking about pony dying at that fountain.

Johnny sitting covered in blood, Pony’s head resting in his lap as he begs him to wake up, it’s not funny anymore, just breathe again.

Darry and Soda collecting the gang by the time it’s morning and neither of them have seen Johnny or Pony since last night, conducting a search of the entire town.

Darry being so worried as they search, because what if Pony didn’t even want to see him, what if Pony really hated him now. And what makes it worse is Soda won’t even speak to Darry, not after he hurt their baby brother.

When they find Johnny, he’s sitting against the fountain and by now, he’s freezing but he can’t get up, he can’t even speak to Dally when he grabs his arm, because Pony is gone, Pony’s not breathing.

Soda immediately kneeling down by Pony, thinking he’s asleep or something, and then seeing his unblinking eyes, his blue face, his cold hands, and just sobbing.

Meanwhile, Darry is just standing there knowing what’s happened but not knowing what to do, and he’s just numb, he can’t move or speak or even breathe.

Dally having to go to the police station, and the cops hardly believing him because of his record, but he looks so desperate and broken that they hear him out and follow him to the park.

Steve, Dally, and Two-Bit having to literally drag Soda away from Pony, sobbing and screaming, and it hurts them so much to see essentially their little brother dead, and the rest of their friends breaking down.

Dally having to practically carry Johnny back to the Curtis house, because he can’t speak or walk or do anything but think about Pony’s eyes that he would always watch, so cold and lifeless now.

Darry retreating to his room because they all must hate him for this as much as he hates himself.

Soda still sobbing and clutching onto one of Pony’s sweatshirts while Steve just sits next to him and rubs his back, trying not to cry himself. Dally’s eyes, somehow even more cold and hard than before, as he makes sure Johnny is okay, even though he’s not gonna be okay, none of them ever will be.

Johnny not being able to speak for weeks, months after Pony’s death, and still struggling with it after that, because Pony was the only one he could really talk to and now Pony was gone.

Darry getting huge flashes of deja vu from his parents death— immediately after, he’s thrown into planning. At his parents death, it was a way for him to calm down and organize his thoughts, but now he’s just too tired, it’s just the routine that he has to do.

Them all pitching in for a gravestone with his name on it. It’s not even his full name. Pony Curtis, 1953-1967. Them not even having a funeral because the cops won’t hear them out, why should they care about some greaser?

The cops ruling it a suicide and none of them quite believing it, but there’s always that thought in the back of Darry’s mind— what if Pony just got too fed up when he hit him? What if he riled up those Socs on purpose?

All Dallas can think is— he’s 14. He’s only a kid. (He can’t bring himself to use past tense.)

A week later, the social worker appearing at their door. Soda hasn’t spoken to Darry for that entire week, but he looks back at him with tears in his eyes as the social worker takes him away, going to ship him off to a boys home.

Darry breaking down as soon as he leaves, holding onto Soda’s old flannel and Pony’s stuffed bunny that he used to claim he was too old for, just sitting on the couch and crying until he falls asleep.

Two-Bit finding him the next morning and trying to hug him but Darry flinches away because the last time he’d touched someone he’d hit his little brother, who’d then gotten killed.

Steve watching his best friend going from a happy boy who’s always smiling to someone barely able to respond to his hugs or words of comfort. Steve knowing that Soda will never be the same, and he can’t do anything about that.

Steve joking that he won’t be competing for Soda’s #1 best friend spot now, and immediately regretting it when Soda breaks down in tears. Steve, who usually can just be there and Soda will be comforted even if Steve’s not good at that, standing there helpless as Soda cries.

The gang jumping at the opportunity to have a rumble, and even when the Socs start retreating they keep running after him because they need somewhere to get this energy out, to get some sort of revenge.

Darry having to be pulled off of Paul long after he'd passed out, and just falling apart refusing to let anyone touch him because that's what caused Pony to run away, to get killed, and he doesn't want to hurt anyone else, to cause anyone else's death because of him.

Darry just sitting in the corner of their living room afterwards unable to look at anyone because he's never cried like that in front of them, especially not his brother(s). Him feeling horrible when Soda gets up, still injured, and tells them it's way past his curfew and that he's gotta get going.

Soda, as he walks home, passing by the park where Pony died and just breaking down in tears. Him not making it back until the next morning, because he's crying so much he passes out. Him wishing maybe some Socs could come and jump him too, because he deserves it more than Ponyboy did.

Two-Bit drinking that night, more than he had before, because he just doesn't want to think about it anymore. He's had enough of tragedy and misfortune and pain, and drinking will make him forget about it, if only for a little while. Him regretting it when he wakes up even worse than before, but getting drunk again and again because the good parts of it overweigh the bad.

Dally turning even more cold and hard, and not trusting anyone except for Johnny. Him jumping Socs anytime he comes across them even if he's outnumbered and comes back more injured than victorious, because he's doing this for Pony, he's doing this for his gang.

Darry taking Johnny in as a little brother, and he knows it's not the same but it's as close as he's gonna get to having his normal routine, and that's pretty much the only thing that will calm him down. Darry finding a book of ASL in his parents' old room. Him trying to learn some of it so he can communicate with Johnny, knowing that Johnny and Pony learned it, but giving up after a few tries because he sees the hurt in Johnny's eyes.

Soda getting a letter while he's in the boys' home, and hoping against all hope that it's someone from his gang, wishing that it was his little brother even if there's no way. Him opening the letter and it's from Sandy, saying that she's moved to Florida and is breaking up with him.

Soda nearly throwing up when he's finished reading it, because he's lost everyone. First his parents, then his little brother, and with him the rest of his friends, and now his girlfriend. Soda not being able to talk about the letter for months afterwards, even when Darry finally finds a way for him to come home.

Steve sneaking into the boys' home one day and getting shoved away when he tries to put a hand on Soda's shoulder. Him feeling horrible that he's not good enough, that his best friend will never be the same, but shoving a chocolate bar into Soda's hands before he leaves, because before Pony died, Soda would always feel better after he ate one.

Darry eyeing the knife on the counter while he's cooking, or loosening his hold on the ladder just a little bit at his roofing job, because it's his fault Pony's dead. Darry not eating until he absolutely has to. Darry launching himself into getting Soda back or caring for Johnny, because he's worthless otherwise. Darry using it as a way to numb the pain.

Darry flinching whenever someone tries to touch him, or anytime he feels the slightest hint of anger, because he doesn't want to hurt anyone else. Darry panicking when Two-Bit slams a bottle down on the counter, because loud noises remind him too much of hitting Ponyboy. Darry wanting nothing more to hug Soda when he finally gets home, but not wanting to lose his other brother, too, at his fault.

Just... Pony dying at the fountain.

[justauthoring]

Hii, can i ask for a little comfort drabble with Sanemi, where his s/o has nightmares and she wakes up crying, so he comforts her

a/n: we gonna be rocking with the drabbles for a hot second until my knee is healed lol

also, implied spoilers for the final battle but nothing is explicitly stated!

despite the tremble of your body, you’re being held tightly the second your eyes flutter open.

it’s dark which tells you it’s some time in the middle of the night and it’s quiet, nothing but the sound of the wind rustling outside sanemi’s estate which provide a light lull.

you can feel sanemi’s firm chest pressed against your back and the weight of his arm over your waist, the palm of his hand pressed against your bare stomach where it slips underneath your yukata. he’s warm and present and reassuring in all the ways he normally is, and usually that’s enough but the nightmares seem to be a little tougher that night because you’re still shaking and you know you’re crying.

a shaky exhale leaves your lips, staring out into the pitch black as your mind recalls the nightmare that had plagued you seconds before. dark and isolating and blood—there was always blood—as the demons raged and you lost everything you loved right in front of you.

defenceless to do anything.

“a nightmare?”

you hadn’t known sanemi was awake so his voice startles you, a gasp leaves your lips as he shifts and gives you room to turn and face him. his arm remains around you, unrelenting in his grip but you don’t mind.

even in the dark you can see the frown on his face when he sees your tears.

“you’re shaking,” he whispers into the night—soft and so unlike who sanemi used to be. the truth was, neither of you were the people you were before that fateful battle and there’s not much of a reason for sanemi’s anger when at a result of it, he’d lost one of the most important things. “was it bad?”

you nod small. “it was that night. all over again.” you take in a shaky breath, chest stuttering, and raise your hands to your face. “there was blood everywhere.”

sanemi let’s go of your waist, trading it for grabbing your hands into his own and gently coaxing them back down to your sides. then, he uses that hand to brush away the tears relentlessly streaming down your cheeks.

“it’s okay,” he whispers. “that nights over and you’re here. with me.”

and with broken eyes, you meet his equally the same ones. “all the people we lost—”

“shh, shh,” he cuts in, shaking his head. “don’t think about it. at the very least, we have each other. that’s enough for me.”

you nod, eyes still tearing and blurry, but nod all the same. because it is enough for you too—it’s just hard to accept the loss even all these months later.

sanemi watches you for a moment longer, brushing your tears and then he shifts so he’s on his back. he guides you as you move, pressing yourself against his side, head resting on his chest as you wrap your arms around him. sanemi’s firm arm locks around you again, elating you with that feeling of security once more, and uses his free hand to lace his fingers with yours.

“i’m not going anywhere,” he whispers into the following silence. “i promise.”

and the loss remains, the blood too—that night will never leave you and you don’t think there’ll ever be a time where you aren’t plagued by the nightmares as a result. but sanemi’s words leave you with a instant flood of relief all the same because even if you lost everyone, you found him as a result so you aren’t truly alone.

that’s enough for you.

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

No Nut November - Slash

A/n: This is my personal favourite but that might just be because Slash is my favourite, him and duff... might have to write something with the both of them...

Warnings: Smut, no nut November, oral sex(f receiving), fingering(f receiving), cum eating, slight breeding kink??, if you think I missed anything please let me know otherwise enjoy the final part to this short series :3

Intro

To be honest, he had no idea what the bet was. He tuned everything out and didn’t think twice about it. Axl called him later and told him no fucking before Steven. That made no sense to him and he just went home to go about his time.

When he got home he tried to explain it to you over dinner. Which was hard when he didn’t know what he was talking about in the first place. He managed to get the point across about not having sex for the month of November, you were upset but given the circumstances let it pass. You didn’t want to be missing out on a whole month of sex, however something you hadn’t thought about until the next.

You were downstairs making breakfast, as per usual because your manchild doesn’t know how to cook. Frankly you don’t want him to try, you like your house nice and not burn down. You were getting the plates set up when you remembered you had to go out of town for a family thing.

You rushed upstairs to your shared bedroom and found Slash stretched out over the bed. You gently shook him awake and told him about it. “So even if we wanted to do something we couldn’t!” You exclaimed. Slash stared at you blankly, clearly not awake.

“Alright.” He mumbled and face planted into his pillow. You smiled at him, brushing his hair out of the way and giving him a kiss on his forehead.

“Breakfast is ready, by the way.” He groaned.

You went about your day as you usually did, taking some time to pack your bags. You crawled into bed with Slash and he curled up nice and tight to you for a last night together before you left in the morning, likely before he’d wake up for breakfast.

Since you weren’t home for the majority of the month this challenge was easy for you. Slash called whining about it to you more than once but nothing ever actually happened, more often than not one of you would end up talking the other to sleep which was more than welcomed.

When you got back it was between him and Izzy but that was quick to end. Slash came home tired and hugged you from behind while you were cooking. “Izzy’s out.” He mumbled into the crook of your neck.

“Oh, yeah?” You responded. “That means you’re the only one left, right?” Slash was silent for a moment as he thought about it. In the end he never did give you an answer.

Slash dropped to his knees behind you and pulled your pants down. “When the fuck did you get these?” You looked down at him, cheeks red and brows raised in confusion. Slash shook his head and tore your panties off of you before forcefully spreading your legs and licking your flushed cunt.

You abandoned your cooking, turning the stove off while you could as Slash’s tongue worked tirelessly between your folds. You gasped at the feeling, holding onto the counter as he held you down on his face. He sucked your clit and dipped his tongue into you, eating you up so deliciously you could’ve cum right then and there.

Slash pulled back and stood up behind you, harshly bringing you to the island behind you so he could bend you over it. He pulled himself out of his jeans and gave his cock a few strokes as he stared down at your ass. “Been waiting too long for this.” He gleamed in that soft, raspy voice of his before pushing himself all the way into you.

He groaned loudly behind you while you let out a high pitched whine against the cold marble under you. He didn’t waste a single moment before pounding into you, gripping your hips with a bruising hold.

Oftentimes Slash wasn’t quiet, especially when he was needy or pent up and right now he was both. The house filled with echoed sounds of skin slapping on slick skin, your whines and Slash’s grunts and moans.

Your body bounced up and down the island surface with every thrust. Slash couldn’t take his eyes off of where your bodies met, where he disappeared into you before pulling out and pushing back in. He watched in pure amazement as you took him all in with ease.

“Slash! Slash, ‘m gonna-gonna cum!” You whined, hands twitching as your body quickly lost control of itself.

“Fuck, me too, ‘m gonna cum inside.” He said and with a few more thrusts he sent you over the edge. Your body quivered as you squirt on his dick. Slash followed you over and came inside you, coating your gummy walls in a thick layer of his seed just as he said he would.

Of course he didn’t even think to give you a moment to recuperate. He pulled you up and spun you around to face him, crashing his plump lips against yours. You could still taste yourself on his tongue as it danced with yours, saliva mixing together and dribbling down your chin in his haste to feel good.

He groped your body, ass, chest, whatever he could reach. He pulled you tight to him and tugged on your skin, slapping your ass and shoving a finger or two into you just to make you squirm. He hoisted you up onto the counter, lined himself up and slid into you, getting into a rhythm and hitting that spot in you that had you seeing stars.

Fuck, you loved the way he made you feel. His mouth never left you as he rut into you like a dog, desperate for release once more. He was a whining mess as he got closer, in turn bringing you closer as well.

You moaned loudly in his ear while he sucked on the sensitive skin of your neck. One of his hands was buried in your hair, tugging on it gently, while the other went to rub your clit, overstimulating you a bit.

You gripped his shoulders. Your nails dug into his back and without warning he came in you again. He paused for a moment, cock still stuffed deep inside of you as he processed what just happened. Once he had, at least mostly, he continued fucking you. He’d lost any sense of rhythm and you were sure he was overstimulating himself at this point so you gently pushed him back.

“‘M ok, Slash, don’t have to keep going.” You assured, though you weren’t thrilled with the idea. Slash stopped again and pulled out and went back on his knees. His lips suctioned to yours as he ate you once more, though now he was licking his own cum out of you. He didn’t seem to care, all his mind was set on was making you cum and when his lips latched onto your clit and sucked, his tongue swirling around it while he looked up at you with the sweetest puppy eyes you couldn’t help it.

You squirted on his face, your cum mixing with his as it hit his chin, getting in his mouth. He didn’t pull away until he was sure you were done.

He stood up and wrapped his arms around you, burying his sticky face in the crook of your neck. He pulled you off the counter but your legs were shaking so bad you couldn’t hold yourself up. Slash wasn’t in much better condition and slowly lowered the both of you to the ground so he could hold you properly.

[aemondsbabe]

Daybreak

summary: sunrise/sunset & orgasm control || aemond is eager to give you your first christmas gift, so long as you're willing to wait for it

pairing: modern!aemond x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, oral sex (f receiving), aemond being a tease, dirty talk, fingering, mentions of public sex but it’s in a dream lmao, nipple/breast play, edging/orgasm denial, piv sex, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink at the end, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 2k

a/n: happy day nine of 12 days of smuff!! aemond is a menace but what else is new!!!!! hope y'all enjoy!!

12 days of smuff masterlist!

gif creds to @bbygirl-aemond

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

“Aemond, please,” your voice sounds so far away as you speak, like you’re listening to yourself underwater, “We can’t, not here!” Your voice is so high-pitched in your ears, so whiny and desperate despite yourself. 

Your boyfriend merely chuckles, hands not stopping as they eagerly shove your dress up your hips, one that was already short enough to be damn near scandalous. You hear yourself gasp as his fingers tear into your fishnet stockings, ripping them right where he needs to before he’s pushing you up onto the vanity. A shiver climbs up your spine when your back hits the cool glass of the mirror, soap dispenser clattering into the sink as your hands search desperately for something to hold onto. 

“Shhh,” Aemond coos, leaning in to press a comforting to kiss to your lips before trailing downward, lips and tongue working against your soft skin as he travels down your neck and chest, where he pauses briefly to nip at the tops of your breasts before continuing down, “No one can hear, princess. S’just you and me.” You know he’s right, you can practically feel the music outside the door thumping through your bones, the raucous laughter and yelling from the party only further driving his point home. 

Your head tilts back as he softly kisses up one leg, starting at your ankle and working his way up. A hand tangles in his hair, and something between a gasp and moan claws its way out of your throat as he bites at your inner thigh while his hands twine themselves around your hips. 

Your brows furrow together in confusion, even as he presses his lips against your clit, hot tongue sneaking out just a second later to swirl against the sensitive flesh. You’re so close already, h–

“How?” You croak out, breathlessly voicing your thoughts as your hands tug at his hair, trying to pull him away as your cunt clenches, already feeling overstimulated and taught, even though he’d only been touching you for a few seconds, “Aemond?” 

Your voice seems to echo all around you and the sounds of the party outside become distorted as well, though the desperation in your core quickly drowns all of that out as you feel yourself winding tighter and tighter and –

You wake with a gasp, all but bolting off the bed, arms and legs scrambling as your eyes scan the shadowy room. You try to close your thighs, only to be met with resistance, and it’s only then you calm down, eyes finally adjusted enough to make out Aemond’s familiar shape in the dark. 

“Shh, shh, shh,” he soothes, your thighs twitch in his grasp as he presses soft kisses to your sopping core, “S’only me, princess.” His voice is low and reassuring as he speaks, though you don’t miss the slight rasp in it, a gruffness to it that only happens during intimate moments. 

“What–?” You start to ask, only to be cut off by a loud moan as he swirls his tongue against your clit, practically setting fire to the small bud as it twitches helplessly. He simply pulls back with a laugh, relishing the way you squirm in his hold. 

“Just giving you your first present, baby,” he rasps, blowing against your center just to watch you writhe, his eye glued on your center, watching closely as it twitches feebly around nothing, “Sounded like you were dreaming about me, hm? Woke up to you whimpering my name.”

You hardly have the wherewithal to nod, though you bob your head dutifully, the knot in your belly already wound impossibly tight. Swallowing thickly, you glance over at the clock on your bedside table. 

7:28AM

Groaning, you bite your lower lip, brows knitting together as you thread your fingers through Aemond’s hair. You open your mouth to ask a question, though that dies on your lips when he ever so gently sucks your clit into his mouth. A sob heaves from your throat as your pussy clenches desperately again, the knot in your belly so, so close, you’re almost–

And he stops, pulling away from you with a wicked grin. 

“What the fuck!” You whine, nearly petulant as you buck your hips, frantically seeking any stimulation you could get your hands on as your high fades away once more. 

“Language,” he admonishes, biting at the inside of your thigh, just enough to hear you whine, “Wouldn’t want to end up on the naughty list right at the finish line, would you?”

“But I was so close!” 

“You’ll get it, princess,” he promises, pausing to lick one last slow, savoring lick up your center before he begins kissing his way up your body, “But good girls wait until Christmas morning to open their presents, don’t they?” 

“It’s seven thirty!” You whine, arching into his touch despite your annoyance as he kisses up your stomach, “Doesn’t that count?!”

He snickers, stopping to press wet, warm kisses to the fat of your breasts before he swirls his tongue around a nipple, groaning as he does. “Sunrise isn’t until seven fifty,” he teases, teeth nipping at your sensitive peak as his fingers tease the other, “Looked it up last night.”

You groan, knowing fighting is useless. If Aemond is determined to tease you, he usually gets his way, and something tells you begging won’t get you anywhere this time. As if sensing your submission, your boyfriend sighs happily and smiles as he kisses his way up to your lips; you whimper into his mouth as his tongue licks against yours – you can still taste yourself on his tongue. 

“Gonna be a good girl and wait for your present then?” He asks, shuffling closer to you until you could feel his length, hard and ready, bobbing against your center as he kneels between your spread legs. 

You nod and whisper a breathless yes, arching up into him yet again with a loud groan as one of his thumbs skirts over your clit, instantly driving you nearly to the edge. He huffs out a soft laugh above you and keeps rubbing the small bud until he sees your eyes flutter and roll back, a tell tale sign you’re almost there, and he pulls away again. 

“You know what I want, baby?” He asks, ghosting his thumb over your twitching clit again as soon as he sees you relax, smirking softly at the way your body instantly tenses up, on edge yet again. He doesn’t give you the chance to answer as he draws you up and up and up before stopping once more, “I wanna feel this pretty little pussy fall apart on my cock as soon as I slide into you.” 

The casual way he says it makes your head spin, like he’s telling you about some mundane thing that happened at work. You let out a broken sob as you look toward the clock once more, eyes taking a second to focus through the cloud of pleasure that’s so thickly blanketed your brain. 

7:40AM

You feel like crying, how were you meant to last ten more minutes when the past twelve had felt like an eternity?

“Aemond, please,” you chance, squirming beneath him yet again, trying to wiggle your hips against his hand or something, “P-Please, I can’t.” Your voice is hoarse as you shake your head up at him. Even in your state, even as he tortures you, you can’t help but admire him taking in the way his pale skin practically glows in the soft, barely there light of the growing dawn. 

His chest is heaving too and it occurs to you then that this must be a test for him as well, and that much is confirmed when your eyes trace slowly down the planes of his body to his cock, gasping when you see how flushed it is as it rests against your folds, the leaking head already positioned at your entrance. 

“Tapping out in the last couple minutes?” He teases, using his thumb to build you back up yet again before smirking as he watches you writhe and sob when he pulls it away yet again, “I don’t think quitters are on Santa’s nice list, princess.”

You don’t have it within yourself to argue anymore, your brain too scrambled as he brings you to the edge again, each time quicker than the last. 

He teases you for the last few minutes, though they feel like years as his fingers ghost across your aching bud. You nearly feel faint, your heart hammering in your chest as you come down from yet another almost-high. 

“Think we have time for one more, baby,” he whispers, smirking viciously as you go rigid beneath him the second the pad of his thumb comes into contact with your clit, “Ohh, there you go, I think you’re ready, huh?” He muses, jerking his thumb away almost as quickly as he touches you, violet eye sparkling as he watches your drooling core twitch in the warm orange light that’s just barely filtering in through the window. 

You nod your head frantically, fingers aching from how tightly you’ve been gripping the sheets. You can’t help but whine and squirm as you feel him rub his cock along the length of your center, gathering your wetness before he slots the tip at your entrance. You feel like dying when he pauses yet again, although you nearly cry with relief as he speaks.

“You’ve done so good for me, baby. So perfect, doing everything I say just like a good, good girl,” he praises, ever so slightly pushing into you with a groan, marveling at how tight you already are as you just barely hang onto the edge, “Come for me, princess.” He says before pushing into you quickly, his entire length sliding in all at once.

You feel like you’re on fire as pleasure courses through you, wilder and hotter than it ever has before. Your back arches off the bed as a loud moan, more akin to a scream, is ripped from your chest the second he fills you, pressing into every bit of you. You hardly hear him groaning above you, growling lowly in his chest at the way your walls clench and pulse against his length, tighter than he ever thought possible. 

You feel like your high never ends as shiver after shiver of pleasure rolls over you, your entire body tensing and relaxing with each contraction of your walls around his thick length. You sob with it, chest heaving as you call his name over and over like it’s the only word you know. 

After what feels like an eternity, you finally feel yourself calming down and you whimper as your muscles finally relax. 

“You did so fucking good,” he says reverently, his pale hair fanning out like a curtain around your head as he leans down to press gentle, soothing kisses to your forehead while his big hands cup your flushed cheeks, “So good, so perfect. Merry Christmas, my good girl” You giggle, nearly delirious as you finally settle down, and blush at his praises.

It’s only when you squirm again that you remember his length is still buried inside you and you moan softly, brows furrowed together as you gaze up at him, “You didn’t cum?” You ask, your voice a breathy whisper. 

He chuckles again, lowly, like he was waiting for you to ask, “Oh, sweet girl,” he whispers and slowly starts rocking his hips, smirking when you moan under him and clench at his shoulders, “That was your present, baby, but it wasn’t mine.” 

You shiver as he speaks, eyes fluttering at the cocky, taunting tone with which he speaks before they focus on his violet one yet again, “W-What’s your present?” You ask, already breathless as his hips speed up against you.

“The baby I’m gonna to put in your belly,” he groans, clenching his teeth as you tighten around him, “Seeing you all round and swollen with me, fuck – Making you a pretty little mommy is my present, princess.” 

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @alerisc @fan-goddess @wickedfrsgrl @moonriseoverkyoto @echos-muses @schniiipsel @avidreader73 @marvelescvpe @imawhorecrux @grsveeth0m

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[warping-realities]

Wolf Scent

Part 1 - Blood Calls

"Welcome to Igniteriders..." Xander mumbled, stifling a yawn. He had a rough night with barely any sleep because of his double shift and barely managed to roll into the motorcycle repair shop after snagging a two-hour nap right after leaving the damn Drive-Thru where he worked on alternating nights. “How can I help you?” He continued, totally zonked, barely seeing the customer in front of him. Even though the job was chill, he was on the edge of crashing.

“Xander, why don’t you take a break and grab some coffee? You look like you’re about to pass out,” Gabe, his boss, chuckled, giving him a light slap on the back that nearly knocked him over.

After pouring himself some coffee and slumping onto the break room couch, he found himself trying to figure out how to escape the mess he was in, which quickly turned into a doze that was interrupted by Gabe’s entrance. “Wake up, sleepyhead, you can’t keep dragging like this, dude. I’m sure if you put that brain of yours to work, you’ll figure something out,” he said, plopping down in the chair across from him while Xander just grumbled again and took a sip of the brown liquid.

“You would know the feeling if you worked as hard as I do, Gabe,” Xander said, stretching out, finally starting to wake up with the caffeine kicking in.

“Wanna swap places and get your hands dirty with some grease, punk?” Gabe laughed, pouring himself some black coffee while Xander jumped off the couch. Gabe was just a few years older and practically the opposite of Xander; Xander was small and looked fragile, barely holding it together, while Gabe, though even shorter, was built like a brick wall and could easily crush Xander with an arm lock— not that the mechanic would ever try that with the younger guy.

After waking up a bit, thanks to the miracle of coffee, Xander returned to his spot at the reception desk. He still had a few hours to go, so he focused on the fact that he could finally crash when he got home.

For hours he served customers on autopilot feeling like a zombie until someone approached his counter. He was taken aback by the dude walking up to the register. The guy’s hair was pitch black, and he was rocking aviator shades—something Xander never understood, why people wore sunglasses indoors? But working at the shop he kinda got used to it. Not that he’d ever say anything about a customer’s getup, especially not this one. The guy was massive, both tall and wide, and none of it looked like fat; Xander would bet his paycheck that under that leather jacket was pure muscle. “Hey, bro,” he said, stepping up to the counter as Xander stammered.

“W-welcome to... uh... greetings... er... how can I help you, sir?” he finished, dazed, while the giant man looked at him with a sly grin spreading across his bearded face.

Extending his hand over the counter for the kid to shake he read the name on his badge. “Xander... interesting,” he said cryptically, his voice deep and mysterious. “Well, Xander, I didn’t come here to buy spare parts, you see, I’m after something else.” He said, and Xander raised an eyebrow.

“Some kind of repair?” he asked, feeling a bit dumb as the man shook his head and leaned closer to the counter, making Xander lean in too. A smell invaded Xander’s senses; it was a musky animalistic scent mixed with a strong whiff of the outdoors, and he found himself thinking about wild animals running through ravines as they got closer to each other. They got so close that Xander blushed when the when the guy repositioned the aviators, and he saw momentarily deep yellow irises like an animal staring at him.

“You,” he said, and Xander's eyes widened in shock, thinking the guy was about to hit him. But he just burst out laughing, then stepped back a couple of paces and pulled out a flyer for a roommate that Xander had handed out around the neighborhood when his roommate split, leaving him to bear the whole rent burden. Xander sighed with relief upon hearing that; he thought the guy was going to clock him for who knows what reason—he was used to life throwing punches at him.

“Uh... sure... my shift ends in an hour... you can catch me there.” He really just wanted to sleep a bit, but having a roommate would take a load off, meaning at least a few shifts less at the drive-thru. The guy gave off a weird vibe, but he wasn’t in a position to be picky.

“Sure thing, see you later, little bro.” The guy replied with that mysterious smile before walking out of the shop.

“OK, that was definitely the weirdest thing to happen around here. Who the hell was that guy, Xander?!”, Gabe asked stunned, as he watched the man walk over to a Harley Davidson parked down the street.

“I don’t know... just someone interested in Jack’s old room.”

“Did you at least ask the guy’s name?”

Feeling dazed, Xander just muttered that he forgot to do that while a warm sensation spread from the hand the man shook while his scent clung to him stubbornly. Leaving work the feeling began to spread throughout his body; it felt like at any moment he might burst into flames. Did that strange guy pass some disease to him?” Xander wondered while pedaling furiously on his bike, only thinking about taking a cold shower.

But as he got closer to home, he didn’t feel tired anymore; in fact, he felt like he could pedal for miles, so much that he decided to take a few more laps. He kept a steady pace while circling the small square in front of his building, but it wasn’t enough; his body felt like a furnace, his heart seemed to pump fire through his veins, pushing him to go faster and faster. He craved the wind on his face and the relief it could bring, so he started pedaling hard, hoping the fatigue would kick in, but it never did. He kept pedaling and pedaling, going around the block until a biker started to keep pace with him.

“Unless you’re gearing up for Race Cross America, it’d be more interesting to ride something beefier; those tires won’t hold up much longer.” The mysterious guy grinned while taking off his helmet and parking his Harley, while Xander blushed as he dismounted his bike and headed home.

“Um... they’re old, probably worn out...” Xander replied. “I’ll just stash the bike and show you the apartment in a sec,” he said, noticing that even after all that exercise he hadn’t broken a sweat; his clothes felt a bit tight, but it must have been the pump or something.

After getting home, Xander kicked off his shoes and only then realized how tight his feet felt, like he’d accidentally put on a smaller size, which made no damn sense. To make matters worse, a strong, pungent odor wafted from his bare feet, something he’d never dealt with before. Mortified, he turned to the older guy.

“Sorry, this has never happened to me before, must be from the ride.”

“It’s just a bit of man musk, little bro; it’s all good.”

Thinking about what kind of odor that dude must put out if that was all good, Xander wondered if he really wanted to share an apartment with him. Then, before he could chicken out, he started showing the small space to the other guy.

“It’s not much; I get the master suite but pay a bit more for rent, but the shared bathroom has hot water, the couch is... comfy... and the location is pretty sweet, Mr. …?”

“No Mr., little bro, just call me Velkan,” said the man, whose bulk seemed to take up most of what was the living/dining/kitchen area while looking at Xander with scrutinizing bright hazel eyes, like he was waiting for some reaction. The only response he got was a “nice to meet you” before being led to the empty room by a confused Xander, who swore he’d seen big yellow eyes behind those sunglasses Velkan had the decency to take off upon entering his apartment.

“Um... maybe you’ll feel a bit cramped in here.” He commented, half-laughing, seeing the giant squeeze himself into the room.

“I’m used to living on the road, little bro, with the grass for a pillow and the starry sky for a roof, but right now, there’s no place better for me than this, trust me. So, when can I move in?” Velkan boomed, this time with a big grin on his face.

After getting everything sorted out with Velkan, who surprisingly asked to move into the room that very night, Xander hurried to take a shower to get rid of that smell, but no matter how much he scrubbed with that lemon and herb soap, the odor refused to leave his feet, and he could swear it was getting stronger. “I must be going nuts.” But if the bathroom walls had something to say about it, they chose to stay silent. While he aggressively scrubbed his pits, he didn’t notice that the brown hair he had there was turning black and starting to spread, becoming a new source of odor. Luckily, the cold water wiped out the burning sensation that had taken over him, and he managed to sleep, although the pungent smell intensified even more, dominating the room as he snored.

The next morning, Xander had no work but also no set plans. Upon waking, he felt that musk dominating the space again and was shocked to see that the source of the odor was his pits, but the bigger shock was seeing the bushy hair they had turned into, with long, wild black strands. What the hell was that? With no explanation for it, he decided he’d just take another shower to cool his head and see if he could finally get rid of that smell. He was pretty freaked out when he walked into the bathroom and found his hair jet black and longer, topped off by the fact that his skinny body was being replaced by surprisingly developed muscles. “What... what?!” he barked, touching the reflection as if that could undo some kind of illusion.

“What the hell is happening to me?” he asked again out loud. He could go to a hospital... and say what? “Hey doc, I’m living out the Tobey Maguire Spider-Man movie!” He’d be lucky if he wasn’t kicked out of the place, or worse, ended up in the psych ward! Still clueless about what to do with all this, he left his room intending to grab a strong cup of coffee.

As he walked into his living room, Xander jumped seeing someone sitting on his couch, only to scream as he bumped his head on the door frame.

“Now you’re training for the high jump, little bro? With your height, maybe it’s better to do it somewhere the ceiling isn’t so low,” Xander just let out a groan of indignation as Velkan stood up, picked him up like a rag doll, and plopped him down on the couch. His nostrils were invaded by the characteristic odor he’d sensed the day before, a smell that oddly resembled the one he was exuding, but which he had forgotten to acknowledge in the heat of the strange events that morning, or had he just gotten used to it? Preferring not to think about that he turned to his new roommate.

“Hey! Not cool, dude, I’m not a kid; I can get up by myself!”

“Chill, little bro; though I could just call you big guy now, right?” Velkan commented with that annoying grin that made Xander want to punch those perfectly white, pointy… canine… teeth… He felt a shiver run down his spine at the memory of those bright yellow eyes. Somehow, Velkan... and what kind of name was that, anyway? It didn’t matter; somehow, the other guy had done something to him! How could he have been stupid enough to let a stranger into his house? It was almost like he had been guided to accept it, like he was forced to go along with it...

“W-who are you? What... what are you? And what did you do to me?! Who the hell are you?!” he asked, jumping up and glaring at the bigger man.

“Calm down, little bro; you’re asking too many questions, and I need time to answer them. Why don’t you sit down and let me explain everything at a chill pace? Sit down, please... damn it... I said sit down, kid,” Velkan barked with authority while slapping his hand on the empty space next to him on the couch, and inexplicably Xander found himself compelled to sit, making the spot tight due to the other man’s massive size and the bulk he’d gained overnight.

“Good boy. Let me introduce myself properly first; my name is Velkan Stoian, and I’ve been looking for you for a long time, little bro.”

“I... looking... for me? I... don’t get any of this. What did you do to me? These changes... how... how is this possible? And what’s with the ‘little bro’ thing?”

Relaxing on the couch, Velkan grinned. “Well, it’s because that’s what you are.” And then, with a serious expression: “Did you ever wonder what happened to your family? Never thought about looking for them?”

“I... how do you...?”

“Just answer the question.”

“I was told they were all dead, that there was no one left... that I... I... have always been alone.”

“Bastards.”

“I don’t get it!”

Xander thought that might be his new mantra instead of the usual “how can I help you.”

“No, you don’t get it... Sandu.”

“What?”

“Your nickname, given by me when you could fit in the palm of these hands.”

With a sad, distant look, Velkan opened his massive hands, which could easily hold a baby rhino.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Alexandru Alupei Barbaneagra is your real name, kid, son of Dragos and Mihaela and... younger brother of… Velkan.”

“What?”

“Can you say something other than a variation of “I don’t understand’ just to mix it up a bit?” Velkan grinned, but at that moment, Xander realized there was sadness along with the teasing and maybe... affection?

“Sorry... I... don’t know what...”

“Stop talking like a weakling! Sorry, bro it’s not your fault. It was an atrocity what they did to you, to us, Sandu. But I’m here to fix it all, to hand over the inheritance you’re entitled to.”

Xander finally lost his voice at that absurd idea. Surely, if he had family, the social services would have said something, and he wouldn’t have been shuffled from one foster home to another like a stray dog until he hit eighteen and was tossed out on the street, lucky enough to land a decent job and an apartment that wasn’t a total dump. And even if he did have family, it surely wouldn’t be some huge muscle-bound dude like Velkan; they didn’t even look alike, for god’s sake... except that... he thought, except that both their hairs had the same color now, and his arms and legs were almost as hairy as Velkan’s... no, that was absurd...

“Now’s the time for you to say something,” Velkan barked.

“Velkan... if I had any inheritance to get, surely one of the bastards I lived with would’ve found a way to snag it a long time ago.”

“The inheritance I’m talking about, little bro isn’t any material good but rather your story, your past, and your future. You’re just a fragile pup and have been like that for way too long. I wish I had found you sooner to hand over what’s yours at the right age like our father did for me, but I lived my own hell. You need to understand one thing, kid: we are Romani, and just for that, we’re already hated. But you and I are more than that; we are children of the night, we run under the moonlight and that makes us even more hated, even among our own people. Your birth should have marked a peace treaty between us and the human men. Alexandru, the defender of men, what a joke. The men took advantage of your baptism to commit a massacre. Only you and I survived. And it probably should’ve just been you. I believe there was still enough humanity in them not to kill a baby in arms who was still far from transitioning. There’s a reason we look fragile and delicate until we’re ready to take our place, but after the process is complete... if I hadn’t managed to escape, I would’ve been executed without mercy. By eleven years old, I was already a pack man, bigger than you were yesterday when I found you.”

“Pack?”

“Come on, dude, how many hints do you need to realize this?”

“You’re saying you’re some kind of werewolf?” Xander asked, still trying to piece his thoughts together.

“Sandu, we’re both wolves. Though you still don’t pass for a pup who took too long to mature. Though this started to get sorted out the moment we met, bro. If things had gone the way they should have, there would’ve been a ceremony when you turned ten, but the way it was, I figured it’d be better to give you a welcome present; after all, the ceremony was just a formality. All it takes is for the pup to catch the scent of the alpha for the process to begin.”

“You’re completely insane! I want you out of my house now!”

“No, you don’t want that. You know what’s happening tonight, Sandu? It’s a full moon night, and you don’t want to go through that alone. The Wolf is hard to control even for the most experienced; I shudder just imagining what one that’s been trapped for so long will be capable of. If after tonight you don’t want to know about me, that’s cool; I’ll help you through your first transformation, and I’ll be out by morning. But I want you to know that during the years I spent as a wolf wandering through the woods, I could only think about what might’ve happened to my little brother, and as soon as I finally managed to deal with my pain and get back on track, I started searching for you. I was just a fifteen-year-old kid at the time, scraping by, stealing when I needed to eat, and when things got too tough, I’d shift back to being a wolf. But still, I never stopped hoping and looking for you.”

Xander stayed quiet as he looked at his bare feet; they were even bigger than before, with black fur covering the tops of his toes, even thicker and denser fur covering his legs and thighs, and a slightly darker skin tone seemed to spread right before his eyes. Not knowing what to say, he stood up and, with Velkan’s eyes following him, positioned himself in front of a mirror in the living room. What he saw scared him; his face was different, with an aquiline nose, a wider chin, and a more square jaw, covered in stubble, skin a shade of olive, and Velkan’s hazel eyes. Suddenly, the idea of being Velkan’s younger brother didn’t seem so absurd. And if something like that transformation was possible, why not the rest?

“Stay. That doesn’t mean I believe you, it’s all so extraordinary that... just stay,” he said, only to be nearly knocked over by the giant’s weight on him. Velkan remained silent as he embraced him, and Xander wasn’t sure what to say as he felt the weight of the other man’s emotion and that scent violently invading his nostrils, so he let himself get lost in the strength of that hug. They stayed like that for a while until Velkan pulled away and flashed that grin. “Where do you keep the booze in this place?” he asked, and Xander sighed as his eyes sparkled with amusement.

…..

Velkan introduced himself a bit more to Xander, telling the story of their family and talking about what their parents were like, the traditions, the travels, and the inevitable disaster that followed the death of both and the rest of the tribe. To Xander’s surprise, the tribe was made up of all kinds of people and not just what they still called gypsies today.

“Not every guy has a wolf inside him, bro. But it’s the Alpha’s job to identify those who do and bring them into the Tribe, and our dad was especially good at that. It took me a long time and training, and I haven’t reached a fraction of what he was, which is why it took me so long to find you. It’s a matter of scent, you see: the scent of the Alpha, his touch is what frees the wolf. But all of us, with the right training, can sense the scent of other wolves, even those not born yet, and in my search for you, I found a good number of wolves trapped in human flesh. There were many times I thought about giving up the search and starting my own pack, but I knew I couldn’t do that; I couldn’t leave my little brother trapped in a pup’s body for life. Those other trapped wolves will still have a chance to be freed, even if it means changing the flesh prison. We’ve arrived.” The trail in the woods ended in a large clearing, and Xander wondered if he had completely lost it while following the other man. This was all just insane. But with each step he took, as night fell, that torrent of heat began to surge within him again.

“How much longer?” Xander asked, looking up at the night sky where the moon hadn’t yet risen. Without warning, his skin began to burn as a sharp pain shot through his spine, causing him to groan and drop to the ground; his bones cracked as they seemed to stretch longer.

“I think it’s now, bro,” Velkan said, and Xander groaned as black fur began to spread across his skin like thousands of bugs crawling on him, making him want to scratch like crazy, but his body refused to obey his commands.

His clothes started to rip as a mix of muscles and fur expanded, tearing the already tight clothing to shreds. “Oh... I should’ve warned you; this happens,” Velkan laughed, and Xander growled aggressively. The pain was excruciating. His feet, which had already grown quite a bit, swelled even larger, stretching and widening, his thighs like corded steel, striated and wide, and his calves like footballs. In his abdomen, four, then six, and finally eight small blocks of muscle appeared, and his pecs broadened and pushed forward while his hands doubled in size, as his biceps formed into cannonballs and his triceps shaped like perfect horseshoes. His back widened, with lats so broad that he wouldn’t fit through some doors; finally, his neck grew to the point where no collar would ever fit. At this moment, Xander let out another growl that quickly turned into a howl. His eyes turned that deep yellow shade that had scared him, his hair grew, cascading down over his eyes in black curls. Suddenly, along with the pain, an orgasmic pleasure surged in his cock, which slowly grew to its usual 5 inches hard, but it didn’t stop there; it went to 6 and his muscles surged again, to 7 and his skin hit the same olive tone as his brother's, to 8 and his bones stretched once more, putting him just one inch taller than his big brother at an impressive 6’7”even though Velkan's broadness had no competition, at 9 and finally his cock thickened, nearing the size of a beer can. Unable to handle that mix of pleasure and pain any longer, he finally came, shooting a torrent of cum, and with the release, the pain ceased, leaving him sprawled on the ground, naked and drenched in sweat, trying to catch his breath.

“Wow... that was... intense,” he commented to Velkan while trying to reposition himself to get up.

“And who said it’s over, little bro? That was just you reaching all the potential you should’ve hit a long time ago. You’re no longer a pup, but you’re still not an adult wolf.” Velkan stood beside him, completely naked, and for the first time Xander... Sandu... could see the sheer glory of his older brother’s body, a gigantic mountain of defined muscles covered in black fur, with a cock hanging down between his legs that, when hard, must have been even bigger than his. And that damn... pungent... wonderful smell permeated everything. It was his own scent, but also the scent of the alpha, of his leader, of his brother, from whom he realized at that moment he would obey all orders and do anything to protect and... love, yes... now he understood everything, the reason for his brother’s years of searching; if what he felt in that moment was close to what Velkan felt for him...

“Brother... thanks,” he said, standing up and facing the other man without needing to look up for the first time, and he hugged him, their naked bodies meeting, sweat mixing, and their scents enveloping everything; it was too much for him.

“Shh, calm down, little bro; the best part is coming now,” Velkan said, bathed in the silver light of the full moon. As if he felt no pain at all, Velkan’s body transformed, his bones reshaping and fur growing as a snout formed and his teeth sharpened, and he dropped to all fours on the ground, his hands and feet becoming giant paws. In no time, where there had once been a man, there was now a massive black wolf howling at the moon, soon followed by another slightly smaller but equally shining-coated wolf. Then both took off running through the woods, howling and playfully knocking each other down like two pups, not two huge beasts.

At dawn, in the clearing where the wolves had snuggled up to sleep there now lay two young men with thick black hair and beards, lying naked on a bed of dry leaves, their skin glistening with dew under the first rays of morning sun filtering through the treetops, the smaller one resting his head on the bigger one chest, who at that moment was waking up with a vague smile of satisfaction on his face.

“Wake up, little bro, we’ve got a lot to do.” As he felt the giant hand of his brother run through his hair, Sandu stirred awake.

“Wow, that was fantastic, Velkan.”

“That was just the beginning, brother. Now let’s get up and hit the road, there’s still a lot to do, and I’ll explain on the way.”

“But my clothes…”

“You think a kid’s clothes would fit a man like you, Sandu? I brought an extra set knowing you’d need it.” Velkan said, tossing at his brother’s feet a set of clothes that consisted of Levi’s jeans, a tank top, thick knee-high socks, a leather jacket, and combat boots.

“The boots might be a bit loose, but we can swing by the city to grab you some new ones,” he concluded, reaching for a metal chain with a dog tag that had the name Alexandru Stoian engraved on it, along with a pair of aviator sunglasses identical to his. “We’ll need to swing by there anyway to grab your ride.”

“You want me to bike in that thing? It wouldn’t even hold up with all this new weight.”

“Don’t be an idiot, little bro; I’ve got a brand new Harley waiting for you!”

“I... wow... but I thought we were broke.”

“I never said that; The tribe left money stashed all over the damn country, not to mention bank accounts I had to hustle to get access to. We’re good, brother. Now get dressed and let’s roll;”

“If possible, I’d like to stop somewhere first.”

….

“Welcome to Igniteriders, I’m Gabriel, how can I help you, sir?” The attendant seemed a bit flustered, like he wasn’t used to doing that job.

“I just wanted to say thanks for your help; you had my back when no one else would.” The guy was young, absolutely tall, and super muscular, even if he wasn’t as wide as Gabriel, no those are a predator muscles, firm, agile, perfect to hunting. Wearing a leather jacket and rocking aviator shades, he looked a lot like that fella who had been in the shop on Saturday wanting to rent Xander’s extra room. Xander who still hadn’t shown up that morning, leaving him pretty worried.

“No problem, sir, but sorry to ask, how exactly did I help you?”

“I’m sure if you put your brain to work, you’ll figure it out.” The man replied, almost leaning in close to Gabe, bringing with him a scent of musk and the outdoors, before leaving the shop and jumping on the back of a Harley Davidson, taking off at full speed.

“X-Xander...?” he asked, shocked at the empty store.

….

“How did it go?”

“I left my new number on the counter, and he took a good whiff of my musk. If it’s his fate to unleash the wolf he’ll come to us.”

“A mechanic in the pack would make a huge difference. But now it’s up to him.”

“And us?”

“Us? First we take your ride, then we will recruit in ways you can’t even imagine, little bro.”

[hellodaydream1111111111111111]

Some yummy HxH headcanons that are mostly Hisoillu

Hisoka is a pretty good cook and cooks for Illumi whenever he comes over however, when he’s alone the kitchen isn’t even touched and he just orders takeout.

Illumi is no longer allowed in the kitchen because he will burn water.

Hisoka is not getting his deposit back as he has painted all his walls pink, replaced all the doorknobs with heart shaped ones, stained the bathroom red with hair dye and most definitely messed up the ceiling above his bed by throwing cards at it when he’s bored.

Hisoka is a maximalist so his apartment is very cluttered it’s clean but there’s stuff everywhere, Illumi was appalled the first time he came over.

Illumi barely has anything in his room other than books but he does have a rather large collection of moths and beetles that he pinned.

Hisoka buys most of Illumi’s clothes, terrifying Kikyo.

Illumi has to set aside 20 percent of his assassin money to bribe Milluki and Kalluto, unfortunately when mother’s precious baby Kalluto is involved there’s only so much threatening he can do.

Silva has forbidden any of the Zoldycks from smoking however that doesn’t prevent Kikyo for running off into the forest, only to be caught by one of her children.

Kalluto is a clean freak and everything in his room has a place.

Milluki didn’t mind watching Kalluto when he was a toddler because he was quiet and didn’t pitch fits however he found it amusing that Illumi looked like a tried mom most of the time with Killua and Alluka both running about.

The Zoldyck children never really interact during the daytime however like normal siblings they find each other in the kitchen at 3 am making cereal and eventually end up in Milluki’s room playing Mario cart.

Illumi never told Kalluto and Milluki that he was married to Hisoka but Kalluto found to from the phantom troupe in ways he definitely didn’t want to, he swiftly told Milluki and they got enough pizza to send a horse into a coma.

Illumi wakes up really early but if he could he’d sleep all day.

During summer Illumi avoids the sun like the plague and Hisoka doesn’t put on nearly enough clothes.

Hisoka has a pile of magazines just on the floor next to his couch.

Illumi gets cat called a lot and Hisoka finds it hilarious.

Machi and Illumi dislike each other and Kalluto is stuck in the middle of their feud.

Killua and Gon like to sit in fields together and listen to music.

After Killua and Gon separated, Killua and Alluka met up with Bisky so Alluka could learn the basics of nen. Bisky yelled at Killua because he didn’t know how to do Alluka’s hair and she showed him how to braid it.

Since Kalluto is around the phantom troupe so much he’s started talking like them and Illumi constantly has to remind him not to use foul language.

Everyone talks to Kalluto about their problems because they think he won’t tell.

Illumi doesn’t know slang and so he is constantly confused when speaking to Milluki, he has to text Hisoka for answers who will gladly jump at the chance of causing drama.

Kurapika constantly gets emails from Hisoka about random stuff.

When Killua found out Hisoka and Illumi were married he was eating dinner with Gon and he immediately curled up into a ball and kept repeating “Im related to a clown…”

Gon gets grasshoppers and collects them in jars, he gets very sad when Mito tells him they are not allowed in the house.

Leorio makes a lot of gay jokes.

Hisoka really dislikes Kikyo.

When Gon and Killua have sleep overs, they usually get tangled in blankets and fall off the bed.

Whenever Gon does something stupid Killua tells him he’s “Engaging in fatherless behavior”

Chrollo stole an ambulance and named it the spider-mobile.

Chrollo drives the spider-mobile and every time they see one of those crosses for people who’ve gotten into an accident on the road he pulls over and prays for them.

Phinks bet Kalluto that he couldn’t eat a spoon of hot sauce with a straight face and lost 50 Jenny and his dignity.

[lunajay33]

Help🍂

Request by @ravenrose18

Summary: Reader tries to have a normal life away from hunting but when her boyfriend becomes abusive and demonic she finds herself needing Deans help, maybe rekindling old love

Pairing: Dean Winchester x f!reader

•Masterlist•

“Hey y/n what’re you doing? Why’re you packing?” Dean asked from behind me in the motel room just coming back with Sam from getting lunch

“I have to go” I sighed zipping up my bag

“Go where we can help” Sam stated

“No I have to leave……I can’t do this anymore, the hunting it’s…..it’s draining me I’ve lost my will to do anything” finally turning to them

“Maybe we can just take a break for a while just…don’t go” deans expression broke my heart, we always had an on and off situation going on

“I don’t want to, I love you both it pains me to go I just need some time” I said standing in the open doorway now as Dean approached holding my face in the palms of his hands so tenderly

“Please……” I’ve never seen Dean so vulnerable

“I’ll call all the time I just need to find my hope again”

It’s been 4 months now and trying to get over Dean was so hard, not being on the road with the guys all the time was hard to forget, now I live in a little apartment with what money I still had left over and had a boyfriend, he was nice, charming at first and it reminded me of Dean so I said yes to dating him to try and be normal maybe distract myself

But soon he turned cold, like everything I did was wrong and never good enough, always criticizing me and putting me down, it wasn’t until today that he truly put the fear of god into me

“Y/n where the hell are you!” He screamed through the apartment as I hid in the closet, he came home livid and full of hate

I pulled out my phone dialing deans number praying he’d be working on a case near by, as the phone rang I heard his steps get nearer

“Hey sweetchecks how’s things” Dean answered

“Dean please I need your help, he’s gonna get me” I whispered hearing the waver in my voice as the bedroom door swung open

“Y/n what’s going on where are you” his voice now panicked

“I’m home, my boyfriend he’s gonna kill me”

“I’m on my way” the closet swung open shocking me as I dropped the phone screaming in terror

“Found you, time to have some fun”

Deans POV

Zooming down the highway just a town over from where she lived, my veins pumping with fear and adrenaline, how could this happen, why didn’t she tell me about this before

“We’ll get her Dean” Sam tried consoling me from the passenger seat

“I’ll kill him”

Pulling up to the apartment complex we got our weapons and ran to her place, smashing down the door seeing her in the living room floor bloodied and bruised

“Sam and Dean we’ve been looking for you” I turn seeing the bastard his eyes pitch black, a demon

“What do you want” Sam stated

“Oh we want you, Lilith is just so eager for you both, was having a hard time but when I found this one it was the perfect opportunity”

“I’ll kill you” I groaned approaching him with my knife about to stab before he escaped out this guys mouth like a coward, Sam helped the guy as I went straight to the girl I love

“Y/n! Can you hear me” I pull her up into my lap brushing her hair back

“Dean you came…….it hurts Dean” she weaved before she passed out in my arms

Normal pov

Waking up to a blinding light, adjusting I notice Dean is asleep in the chair right next to my bed his head resting on my hand, as Sam was slouched on the chair across the room

“Dean” he groaned before he shot up frantic to check on me

“Angel oh god how’re you feeling, I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you sooner”

“You saved me Dean, you always do……I missed you a lot” his expression softened as he held my hand

“Missed you too Angel, please come back with us I hate not knowing if you’re safe”

“Okay but only if I get to pick where we eat sometimes, I can’t live off burgers and beer all the time”

“Fine I’ll do whatever you want…..I love you”

“I love you too Dean”

[jasntodds]

Too Heavy | J.T.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Request: @just-lost-inbetween-worlds​ : Can I get Jason Todd (doesn’t matter which version) with the prompts: bloodied knuckles, wiping the others tears away, as well as crying into their chest. Maybe bloodied knuckles bcs of punching something in a mental breakdown and then the rest happens.  Bad Things Happen Bingo Prompts

Summary: Sometimes things get a little too heavy for Jason

Warnings: Angst, blood, mentions of death, mental breakdown, hurt/comfort

Words: 2,802

A/n: I was listening to a lot of Too Heavy by The Plot In You while I wrote this so here we are lol If you wanna be added to my tag list, click the link below, send me an ask, or comment!! You can also follow my library blog @peteprkerlibrary​ !! If you like this, please reblog it and/or talk to me about it!!

masterlist | request info | tag list

Everyone has bad days. They come and they go. It gets better. It always gets better. But for Jason, his bad days are sometimes so rough and harsh, the world collapses from under him. He falls through the cracks into a black abyss, surrounded by every failure he’s ever had. He falls and falls and falls until he finally hits the bottom and the wind is sucked from his lungs in a hard smack. Leaving him alone in the pitch black coldness. Today is one of those days.

He’s just gotten back from patrol and he was quiet not to wake you. He walks steadily to the bathroom but his thoughts are circling the drain. Every step he takes is like twenty pounds added to his ankles and another thought joins the damned ride. Jason’s chest grows heavy as he finally reaches the bathroom, quietly shutting the door behind him.

The worst nights of patrol involve kids and tonight did. It’s always the most innocent of people that get to him. Most nights, he can handle it because it’s part of the job. It’s one of the reasons he puts the helmet on every night. But tonight is different. Tonight is different because it didn’t have the hopeful ending it should have and it’s not fucking fair.

Jason’s hands grip the bathroom counter so hard he thinks he might shatter it in his palms. He almost hopes he does. He looks at himself in the mirror, his back slightly hunched over and he looks hollow. A discarded shell of who he should have been. And he can’t stand it. His head spins while his eyes slam shut and his grip tightens harder against the cool stone.

His chest starts to heave as his breathing quickens. His chest grows heavy and he wants to start ripping out every single one of his organs in hopes it’ll lift some of the weight. The heaviness is suffocating and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think this would be his end.

But he knows better.

And this is the never-ending hell he’s trapped in while the inability to save the kids tonight triggers memories to flood back like overflowing rivers in a flash flood.

There’s the echo of metal on concrete seeping into his blood stream and that menacing laugh that never should be called a laugh beats against his eardrum. The feeling of the panic he felt that day wraps him in a cruel and painful hug as if to be living off of his inability to breathe properly. Images of the Joker and the look on his mom’s face flash across his eyes and he can’t take the heaviness of it all anymore.

The grief he suffers with is nearly paralyzing and it is agonizing. They say grief gets better but when is it that supposed to happen? Because it’s been years and he can’t breathe and he wants to rip his lungs out of his chest just to feel anything other than this. He was just a kid.

Jason was a just a kid.

Tears burn his eyes, one slipping by and sliding down his cheek and he grits his teeth so hard they nearly shatter under the pressure. All he wants is for it all to stop for even a second. He wants one damn second of relief.

He looks up at his own reflection once more and he can see some bruising from last week and he hates it. The white streak in his hair almost seems whiter in the light of the bathroom and he hates it. He hates it. He hates it and he can’t do it. He punches the mirror in a quick motion, just once and it shatters into the sink and over the counter.

“Fuck.” Jason groans because he knows it was loud and he can’t stop the tears now. They’re drenching his face and his breathing is racing, quivering.

Blood spills into the sink as Jason hovers his shaking hand over it. Not a single part of him even cares or pays the stinging any mind. All he can do is try his best to breathe and shake his thoughts away but nothing works. They’re still there. Flashing across his eyes like lightning in the middle of a raging storm.

His legs start to feel weak as if he’s just gotten done running for miles on end. It’s getting harder to stand the more he tries to fight his own breath and thoughts. His head spins and he his stomach turns and twists into gnawing nausea. And he can’t even be bothered to stand anymore because that is just getting too damn hard too. His own body is growing too heavy with every passing thought and he swears that’s some sort of cruel joke.

Jason sits on the floor against the counter, hanging his head and pulling his knees up to his chest. Tears fall down his cheeks and he tries to fight them off with every thought he has but nothing works. They fall anyway, staining his cheeks in a wet mess.

“Jason?” You call from outside the door. 

The shattering of glass woke you up and for a few seconds, you thought someone had actually broken in. And you were nearly frozen, stuck thinking if you had a weapon of any sort in the bedroom you could use. But then those seconds faded and you didn’t hear footsteps or shuffling through the apartment. You didn’t hear anything and when you checked the time to see it was after three, you knew.

“Jay?” You call again, knocking on the door gently when he doesn’t answer.

Your groggy voice breaks his heart. He never meant to wake you up.

Jason slides his hands over his face and clears his throat. “Go back to bed, sweetheart.” Jason tries to stabilize his voice but you can hear the weakness and quiver. He’s mastered the art of hiding pain but not disguising the pain of crying.

Taking the knob in your hand, you twist it slowly, gently pushing the door open. You spot Jason still in his Red Hood gear, minus the helmet, sitting on the floor with drops of blood on the floor. He keeps his head hung and his forearms on his knees. You spot blood on his knuckle with open wounds before you see the broken mirror and your heart just breaks for him.

You step in slowly and cautiously as if moving too quickly will make him dissolve right into the floor. “Hey,” You crouch down beside him, tilting your head to try and get a look at his face that’s covered by his messy hair. “What happened, Jay?”

“I’m fine.” Jason forces the words from the back of his throat and he hates how weak they sound. 

You don’t like the answer because anyone who’s fine doesn’t break a mirror. Anyone who’s fine doesn’t sit on the bathroom floor at three in the morning with bloody knuckles crying. He’s not fine but Jason has never been very good at admitting to anyone when he’s not. He’d rather drown than ask for a life preserver.

You move in front of him, sitting on your knees. You reach out cautiously, putting your hands on his wet cheeks. Jason’s eyes shut down hard with your touch and you’re so gentle with him. Why? What’s he done to deserve it?

You pick his head up softly and Jason lets you. His eyes are bloodshot as he looks at you. His pretty blue eyes are now a haunting shade of navy, like the sky over the ocean in the middle of hurricane. Why does the world treat him with such cruelty?

“Please, go back to bed.” He nearly begs you because you shouldn’t have to deal with all of his trauma.

It’s not fair for you to lose sleep over him. He swears you shouldn’t and you don’t deserve it. All he wants is to be alone with his grief. If anyone has to suffer what he went through, it has to be him. It can’t involve you. Not you.

But you’re stubborn and that thing in your chest beats endlessly for him.

You can see his chest moving harshly with every breath and he might be Red Hood but he was Jason Todd first. A kid trying to survive the best he could. A kid who just wanted to learn and be a kid. Smart mouth and relentless as hell. But a kid no one looked out for. Red Hood looks out for so many people, but who’s supposed to look out for Jason Todd?

“Please, I’m fine.” Jason voice finally cracks as a tear escapes his bottom lid. “Just go to bed. I’ll be there a minute.”

You move your hands from his cheeks and he thinks, for a second that for once, you might actually listen to him. And he’d be lying if that didn’t hurt, too. But, it’s you and you were never very good at following his instructions even on good days so you move closer to him and stretch out your arms.

“Come here, Jay.” Your voice is soft, etched in worry and love.

He’s reluctant at first because he knows if he does, he’ll lose it entirely. Every piece of him that’s been able to hold in a sob will finally crack and that’ll be it. But he sees the worry in every tired line of your face and you always look so inviting.

“I’m worried about you. Please.” You plead with him, your voice cracking with a mix of tiredness and sadness. And Jason can’t hold it in anymore because you’re worried about him.

Jason moves his legs and moves closer to you, resting his head against your chest because at his point, it’s all too heavy for him to even try for a proper hug. And folding into you seems a hell of a lot easier for everyone. You wrap one arm around his side and rest your other hand in his hair. And just like he breaks.

A sob rips through his throat, echoing through the bathroom and you have to swallow the lump that forms in your throat. He shakes against you, sliding his hands to your back and holding onto your shirt. His grip is tight as if he’s stuck between thinking you’ll disappear if he lets go or that he’ll disappear if he does. Your hand runs through his hair and you try to console him, knowing there isn’t much that can help at this point. But you try by playing with his hair and whispering softly to him despite your own heart aching and breaking for him.

Tears brim your own eyes as you hold him against you. If you could, you would claw out your own heart and replace his with yours. Maybe that would help some of his agony. Maybe that would make his pain a little more tolerable. Maybe if you could swap out your hearts, you could take some of his pain away. You’d do it if it meant he wouldn’t suffer so much.

Minutes tick by and his breathing is still harsh against you but the sobs have slowed. His grip is still iron-tight on your shirt and all Jason wants is for the world to stop spinning. He wants the aching in his chest to stop and he wants everything around him to stop feeling so damn heavy.

You pick his head up, cupping his cheeks in both hands again. His cheeks are tear stained and you swear you’ve never seen him look so broken before. Your thumb awipe over his cheeks, brushing the tears away gently.

Jason nearly shudders with the action.

“It’s okay, Jay.” You assure him and your voice is strained as if begging him to believe you.

“It’s fucking not.” He sputters, his brows pulling together and you can see him clench his jaw. “It’s all shit and those kids deserved fucking better.” His breath is hot, boiling on your skin as he seethes. And you know what lead him here tonight.

He told you. Right to your face he told you he died. He left out the gory details of it all for your own sake but you know he was just a kid. And you know why he was there and about the Joker. He was just a kid.

“Kids?” You questions and you know Jason always has a bad night when it involves kids.

“Forget it.” He lets out a scoff because he doesn’t want to talk about it. You don’t need to know the details.

“Hey, no.” You shake your head, eyes scanning over his face as your brows pull together. “I’ll listen all night, okay? I won’t ask anything if you don’t want me to, okay? You can talk or not. But, you’re gonna be okay.” Your eyes lock with his and he wants to believe you.

But he also knows he’ll back here again. He always comes back here. Haunted. The ghost of who he was then and the ghost of who he should have been follow him. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to shake them as much as he wants to.

He places his hands over yours and you can’t help but notice how big his hands are whenever he does this. “Just so damn sick of it.” His voice is rough and exhausted.

“I know.” You nod with understanding.

You’ll never be able to understand how he feels or what he goes through but you try. And you see it across his face. You see it in the way he turns in his sleep, when he actually gets sleep. You see it in the way he’s always observing everything around him, always on guard. And you can see it in the way he is with his weapons, there’s always at least two weapons on him at any given moment. As much as you want to understand exactly what goes on inside of his head, you won’t but you can see it. So, you try your best to help and just be there in capacity he’ll let you.

“Why don’t we get you in the shower? I’ll wash your hair, clean up your hand, and we can get into bed? I’ll rub your back and you can tell me what happened if you want. Or I can read to you until you fall asleep.”

He’s almost always reluctant when it’s been bad. He never thinks he deserves the kindness and care you offer to him. On good days, he can accept it. It’s something he struggles with still because no one ever been so kind and careful with him before. So, it’s hard but on good days, he finds it easier to accept. But on bad days, like these, he’s reluctant because if he can’t see the good himself, why should anyone else? But he looks at your eyes that glossy with worry and you give him this look that makes him feel like he’s been put under a microscope. And you would do anything for him.

“Thanks.” He mutters, taking your hands away from his face. “I got it.”

“I know.” You nod your head. “I want to.” You smile gently at him, tilting your head slightly to the right. “You’re not alone, ya know?” You assure him because you think it must be lonely dealing with everything he goes through. “I got you.” 

He knows. As hard as it is for him to accept the care and kindness you offer him, he knows because he notices everything. He notices how he always wakes up with a blanket on him when he falls asleep on the couch and the way you always have his favorite protein bars on hand even though you don’t like them. You’re the one missing sleep when you have work in the morning to sit on the bathroom floor with him. It’s hard to accept sometimes and he gets in his own head about it sometimes, but at the end of the night, he has you.

And you’ve always had a way of lifting some of that weight for him, maybe without even trying.

“Okay.” Jason finally agrees, still a hint of reluctance in his voice.

You get to your feet and offer him your hand.

He almost chuckles because you can’t actually help him from the floor. But he takes your hand in his anyway, getting to his feet. You look up to him with gentle eyes before closing the distance between the two of you and wrapping your arms around him as tight as you can.

It takes a few seconds before you feel Jason relax under your hug and his arms come around your waist. His chin lays on the top of your head and he feels like he can breathe a little better now. 

When things get a little too heavy, at least he has you to help lift some of the weight.

Tag list: @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai  // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss // @ghostkingblake // @dgraysonss // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @vivian-555 // @kebonita // @deyja-the-duck // @jasontoddslover // @captainmarvels-blog​

[antisocialties]

Late Night Calls.

Matt Sturniolo x Reader

Summary: in which you call matt late at night when things aren’t going so well.

Warnings: mentions of mental health issues, angst, and etc.

To say today had sucked would’ve been an understatement to say the least.

Today was just one of those days where the second you woke up you felt like shit and wished you simply wouldn’t have waken up in the first place.

You looked up at the plain white ceiling with a blank and stoic look on your face. It was almost pitch black in your room, the tv wasn’t even turned on.

You couldn’t help but hate being alone right now with every aching bone in your body, thoughts racing through your head at a mile a minute. At this point you were quite convinced your head would never quiet down enough to sleep before the sun came up.

You rolled over from your back, reaching for the sheets beside you which your phone laid upon.

3:46 am. You let out an exhausted groan after seeing the time on your lockscreen. There was only one thing you could think to do right now that would actually get you to calm down and sleep.

You instantly clicked on your messages, clicking on Matt’s contact info and clicking the call button before sitting up with the sheets still covering your cold legs.

It rang a quite few times before being answered, you felt bad; assuming you’d waken him up from his slumber since you’d previously facetimed him a few hours ago before he’d said he was going to lay down after filming a car video with his brothers.

“Everything okay, babe?” He asked with a groggy and concerned voice.

“Not really, I still just can’t shake the low feeling i’ve had all day. I don’t even know why i’ve been feeling this shitty all day, I just know it won’t go away and I can’t sleep.” You confessed while holding back tears.

“You wanna talk about it some more?”

“Yes please. I’m really sorry for waking you up, I love you baby.” You quickly let out before interrupting your words with a sob.

You felt an immense amount of guilt for putting something this heavy on him, especially just after you’d woken him up so late.

“Y/n stop, you’re okay honey. I love you, the last thing I want is for you to be apologizing for coming to me when you need me most. We’ve already been over this countless times, you never need to apologize to me for things like this.” He spoke in a soothing but troubled tone.

Anytime you apologized for confiding in him with your issues, he couldn’t help but feel his heart break more and more each time. He never wanted you to feel like a burden to him, he’d never forgive himself if he couldn’t be there for you in your times of need.

“I love you.” you hiccuped, struggling to even get the words out as the pace of your sobs only got quicker and more violent.

You tried to force more words out to describe the heavy and dreadful feeling in your chest, but you couldn’t even form the proper words and were only met with heavy aching sobs.

“Alright i’m coming over, you don’t need to leave the door unlocked i’ll just bring my key.” He stated, no longer being able to hear your cries and not be able to do anything about them.

“Do you want me to bring anything?” He asked sincerely.

“I’m not gonna ask you for anything, I already feel awful enough waking you up and making you feel like you need to come over.” You sniffled.

“So yes. I’m getting food and ice cream. You can either eat it or save it for later, i’m getting it regardless.”

You sniffled and smiled to yourself, knowing how lucky you were to have a boyfriend like him.

“Alright babe, i’m leaving now so i’m gonna hang up.” he told you as you heard his keys jingling, before the sound of the call ending.

Your apartment was pretty close to their house so it only took him about 20 minutes to get to you, normally it would be less time but he stopped by McDonalds grabbing food and mcflurries for you both.

Your sobs had slowed and calmed down to where they had pretty much came to a complete halt, tears still occasionally dripping down your face.

You got up slowly and turned your led lights and tv on, also deciding to light a candle since you were trying to set a calm vibe for yourself and for him to walk into.

A few minutes later you heard the sound of a key entering the lock of the front door and the knob turning as he opened the door and walked inside quietly closing it behind him.

His calm footsteps approached your room from the living room of your apartment, his face peeking into your already open bedroom door with a soft comforting smile as he met your puffy eyes.

“Hi baby.” He greeted you while kicking his shoes off beside your door and walking toward your spot on your bed with a drink carrier and a large bag of food.

“Hi.” you croaked scooting over so he could sit down next to you.

He placed the drink carrier with the drinks and mcflurries on your bedside table closest to him, setting the bag on the floor beside the bed and scooting over to you to give you a peck on the cheek.

You didn’t even exchange anymore words before he wrapped his arms around you and coaxed you to lay your head in the crook of his neck as you two pressed your backs against the wall behind your bed.

You deeply inhaled, stifling back a sob as you took in his scent and the warmth of his body against your own.

“Thank you for coming all the way over here, I love you and I appreciate you so much. You’re the love of my life.” you babbled, hot tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Always, I love you more than you’ll ever know and i’m so glad I could be here with you tonight.” He told you in a soft voice before pressing a long kiss to the top of your head.

He grabbed your remote and clicked on the Disney icon on your tv, putting on Gravity Falls for you guys to binge all over again for the millionth time. This was a show you guys both really enjoyed, and found yourself watching late at night relatively often.

He grabbed the mcflurries out of the carrier on the small table beside him and offered you yours, assuming it would soothe your most likely burning throat from your aggressive crying.

You took it, softly thanking him before you put a small bite of the ice cream into your mouth.

You guys finished your ice cream and ate all of your food in silence, him getting up to throw all of your garbage away in your kitchen and quickly returning.

He climbed back into the bed with you, laying down so you could get close to him again.

You laid your head on his chest, feeling his soft cotton t shirt on the side of your face while his chest rose up and down at a calm and slow pace.

You breathed in his scent while hearing the steady beat of his heart as he watched the tv on your wall in front of the bed. You looked up at his face, noticing the slight look of concentration on his features.

Eventually he noticed you looking up at him and returned your gaze, his eyes meeting yours for a few seconds before he leaned down to press a kiss against your lips.

There was nothing better than being in his arms and exchanging affection with him when you were feeling so miserable. There was nothing better regardless of your mood in all honesty.

Your heart swelled remembering all of the times you guys had been in this position before, cherishing every single memory like this one your brain had filed away.

“You feeling tired yet?” he questioned.

“Yeah, I feel a lot better now too.” you nodded.

You snuggled into his chest while adjusting yourself again to get as comfortable as possible to sleep.

He noticed as you began to dose off, the show still playing at a decent volume in the background. He only knew you’d started to fall asleep because your breathing got deeper.

“I love you.” he voiced quietly as he rubbed your back, being cautious as not to wake you if you’d completely passed out.

“I love you too.” you mumbled into the fabric of his shirt.

He only smiled as he closed his eyes and continued to softly rub the small of your back.

He cherished you just as much as you did him, maybe even more.

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feel free to drop a comment if you’d like to be added to my tag list! i’m also still accepting requests for both matt and chris! feel free to send anything to my asks, just no NSFW! <3

ps i’m sorry to whoever sent this ask in first lol i accidentally posted it before i even wrote anything bc i pressed post instead of saving the draft to go pick a picture that fit the concept of the fic 😭

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tag list: @im-a-matt-girl @sturniolomads @hii-multifandom-toomany @stxrniqlo @mettsturniolo

[forlorn-crows]

𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒚 𝒅𝒂𝒚 14: 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌

pairing(s): mountain/cumulus words: 829

special shoutout to @belle--ofthebrawl for the original inspo for this prompt. cause we all want snackies from a big schweepy guy <3

✿

“Luluuu . . .” Mountain’s congested voice carries weakly down the hallway. The bed creaks as he no doubt flops over to the other side of the mattress where she once was, his whine of disappointment sounding soon after. The air ghoulette shakes her head, pushing the door open. 

“What’s wrong, sunflower?” she coos, placing the steaming mug of honey green tea onto the nightstand. 

Mountain’s face scrunches up into a frown, eyes squeezing shut. His cheeks bare imprints of his pillow, and when he lifts his head up she can see his upper lip is shiny with mucus, and the corner of his mouth coated in drool. His ear flicks at the disheveled hair falling over it.

“You lef’ me,” he mumbles. “Woke up and you weren’ cuddlin’ me.” Clearly, he’s still highly feverish, if his combination mumbling/whining is anything to go by.

Cumulus just smiles. She thinks it’s cute, Mountain complaining like a human man with a cold. He’d never be so whiny otherwise.

“I went to get you more tea, baby,” she soothes, whipping up a cool breeze to waft over his forehead. He hums and plops his chin down onto the pillows. Cumulus huffs a laugh and sits down beside him. “You were snoring up a storm, didn’t think you’d wake up before I got back.” 

“Hmpf.” Mountain tosses the blanket over his head and turns around dramatically, pretending to shut her off. 

“I bring you tea, and this is the thanks I get?” she says, mock offended. 

There’s a pause. The earth ghoul peeks his head around his shoulder, side-eyeing her and the mug. “ . . . wha’ kind?”

Cumulus smiles softly. Leans in a little like she’s telling a secret. “Green tea with honey. A lemon slice. Don’t tell anyone, but I also put a dash of honeysuckle syrup in it, because I know my baby loves it.”

Mountain trills, ears perking up. “Gimme,” he demands, shuffling to sit up against the approximately five different pillows he’d stashed for optimal sleeping. He holds his hands out and scrunches them in the air. Cumulus hands the mug to him carefully to make sure he doesn’t drop it.

“Aethe warmed the water for me, so if it’s too hot, I’m innocent,” she chirps.

Mountain’s mouth turns down and his eyebrows turn up in the middle. “Aww,” he says appreciatively. He smiles down at the steaming liquid. “Aef . . .” 

“You know he always has to help.” 

Mountain hums in agreement. He takes an experimental sip, groaning when the hot tea slides easily down his throat. He takes a big gulp and closes his eyes after, sighing heavily and smiling at the ceiling. “Yummy,” he compliments. “‘S nice. Warm.” 

“I’m glad, baby,” she lilts, running her nails through his hair. It earns her a happy rumble, Mountain’s tail pitching up the blankets where it’s buried under the many layers. They share a pleasant, quiet moment: Mountain sipping on his tea and Cumulus scritching in all his favorite places. 

The peace of it is nearly broken, however, when Mountain’s eyes start to droop, and he nearly tips the mug over into his lap when his grip starts to go as lax as his jaw. 

“Oh!—hun, you’re gonna—” the air ghoulette saves the mug just before it slips from his fingers, hardly spilling a drop. 

Mountain snorts and jolts his head upright. “Huh?” 

“Didn’t want you to spill,” she says, setting the mug back onto the nightstand. “Sleepy boy.”

He blinks slowly, eyes lingering shut for just long enough that Cumulus is momentarily convinced he’s fallen right back asleep sitting up. “You made me seepy,” he accuses. Leaving out the ‘l’ like a kit unable to pronounce it any other way. 

Cumulus cuddles up, tucking him back into the blankets and pulling him to her chest. “Maybe seepy pup needs his rest then,” she says softly, scritching around his horns this time. He grumbles, but goes down easily. “There you go, baby,” she smiles. The grumble turns into a purr soon enough anyway, so it’s safe to say it was all token protest. 

Mountain mumbles something, twisting his body so he faces her instead. He looks up at her expectantly, despite the fact he aimed all of his words directly into her belly. 

“Yeees?” 

There’s that pout again, fever-addled brain continuing to render him as hopelessly cute. “Kissy, Lus,” he says, as if she heard him perfectly clear the first time. He wriggles his face closer to hers. 

“You’re sick. Nooo kissy on the lips.” She boops him on the nose with her finger. “You may have an air kiss, and I’ll make it feel just like the real thing.”

Mountain grumbles again, squinting at her.

“Sicky equals no kissy. I promise you as many kisses as you want when you’re better, okay, baby?”

The earth ghoul flops onto his back with a sigh. The end of it catches in his throat, though, and he’s sent into a coughing fit, squashing any further complaints. 

𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✿

[undermine-the-instinct]

Flies in Honey

Mahito/Reader/Yuji Word count 3K

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, EXTREME NONCON, mIndbreak, character death (reader insert)/ You’re already dead prior to this fic, Mahito uses your body, Mahito is his own warning, humiliation, victim blaming, profanity.

Aged up characters. Spoilers for jjk S2. Consider this an Au where Todo dies and Yuji loses against Mahito.

Yuji doesn’t know how he got here.

It's dark, and damp, wherever he is. It soaks into the rags of his clothes and his exposed skin, gravel tearing at his back. He hardly feels it.

The cracks on the ceiling fissure and twist together, but he’d rather look at them. It's better to look above him than what lies before him.

He’s wearing your face. 

Above him, you sigh, breathy and high pitched, Your hips roll into his, and Yuji bites back a hiss. His hands lay limp at his sides.

“Why aren't you saying anything? I thought you would like this.” Your voice is wrong, you’re talking with his voice and Yuji feels the bile rise in his throat.

You switch rhythm, and Yuji chokes on his spit as you bounce up and down his cock. His hands spasm into claws, but no, he doesn't touch you. He won't, he won't.

You laugh. It's so fucked up but he sounds like you.

“You like this better, right?“

“Fuck you–” It was a bad idea to talk. Your– Mahito's hand shoots out and he sticks three fingers into his open mouth to gag him. Two on his tongue, the other on the roof of his mouth, keeping his mouth open. He chokes, but Mahito presses down on his tongue.

He’s going to come again. What number was this? He lost count around the fourth. All he could focus on was the hot coil in his belly, the tightening of his balls and that horrible fucking sound of your warped laughter when he spills, again.

It shouldn’t feel this good. He wants to tear his fucking skin off. He wants to bite down on the fingers in his mouth, he wants to curl into a ball and never wake up.

He's not going to admit to himself he's enjoying this, that he's missed this. It's not you. You're dead. You died, and it's Yuji's fault. All of it is. He got to you, and now he's wearing your likeness like it's a new coat, the bitch.

But damn, it really looks like you.

“I memorized everything about her, you know.” Your fingers leave his mouth, punched out gasps leave his chest while hands drag down his skin, drawing red lines. 

“She was fun to play with. Stubborn too. Kept fighting even when I made her unable to,” he giggles.

“But she made the prettiest sounds when she finally broke. Prettier when we slept together too. She was just like you–Human. Always trying to deny yourselves at your most desperate, out of some half formed sense of dignity. See?” He presses down with your body, chest to chest while your walls flutter around him. Yuji’s eyes roll back, his hands leave bloody gorges  in the ground.

“But human dignity is just the same as human depravity; you can't hide your baser instincts even in the worst circumstances, huh?”

Yuji would fight back, but his head is swimming, and his bones feel like they’re replaced with jello. There is a rage that simmers as he talks though, and Yuji bites his tongue until he tastes iron. It drips through the hole in his cheek. Mahito sees this and sighs.

"Your base instinct is to kill me. My base instinct is to murder your soul. That's what this is." He gestures between the two of them, not breaking pace. His hand drifts down, and he wipes away at the blood on his face, though he only succeeds in smudging it more.

“I did the same thing to her. Took your face and made her tell me how to do it right.”

“You’re sick–”

“I consider myself considerate. It's why you’re here and not dead.” He stops moving, tilts his head and meets Yuji's eyes in an eerie stare you've never given him. “Did you know that was my first time? I liked it.” You, fuck, he tilts your head, eyes pointed up in thought.

“Well, I'm a ‘human curse’ so I guess of course I would.”

“You fucking–” This time Yuji tries to buck him off, get some room in between them to get a hit in, but all he accomplishes is Mahito pushing him down and pinning his hands, going back to his earlier motions. Yuji's weaker now. Maybe its because its your face. He could never fight against you, even while sparring.

“That's how–I was able to memorize it too. All her faces, her sounds, what she likes. I wanted to understand you, through her. And now," a sound, high pitched and miserable leaves Yuji's throat.

"You like it too, right? A perfect replica, right? Wanna keep going?” Yuji just shakes his head, and tries to fight off his grip. But Mahito has more hands, and he remains pinned. He can't help the slight bucking of his hips, and when he notices, Mahito grins, a ruddy flush spreading across your face in a bald faced insult.

He can't breathe. He needs to vomit.

You had gone missing weeks ago, called on a mission to deal with a second grade level curse. Nothing too hard for you, it was a quick job and everyone had thought that you’d be in and out.

But cursed spirits have been acting strange lately, and everyone simply thought that it was due to the encroaching Halloween date. Due to various thoughts and practices towards the day, this was normal. But you had gone missing and the only sign of your whereabouts came from another encounter with the patchwork curse.

He went down to the sewers with Mr.Nanami, following the smallest clues they had towards your disappearance, where they met Patchwork. He had been vague and leering and lewd, and it was the first time Yuji saw Mr. Nanami’s face twist into such visceral rage. He mirrored the feeling, but Mahito had escaped, along with any other clues to where you were.

He had tossed a lump of...something to Yuji with a mocking grin, spongy and pale. They took it back to Miss Shoko, and it was confirmed to be a piece of your brain matter. Your death was confirmed.

Hope had dragged him along, weary and spitting blood, but losing you…was too much. Shibuya. Nanami, Kugisaki, Todo, you… His mind broke. He could feel the cracks. They fought, Mahito had knocked him unconscious, and dragged him to god knows where, and now he’s here.

And now he was faced with this horrible caricature of you, with too wide eyes and a leering grin that reminded him exactly of who was wearing your face.

Mahito didn't even seem that interested in the sex, too busy staring at the way Yuji reacted. His muscle spasms, the way he would jerk away from his touch or forward when he couldn't help it, the blank look on his face that sometimes twisted into an expression of such utter loathing– Or lust, and then his face would twist with such despair, a broken sob dragged from behind his clenched teeth, wrangled and bloody. Mahito felt the dark glee drip honey sweet through his soul, like the slick that ran down his thighs.

You really were a fun experiment. He knew how much you meant to Yuji, and initially just wanted to use you to damage his soul further. But where was the fun with that? You were something special. Yuji Itadori had plenty of friends and mentors, and killing any random person in front of him would always garner the same effect. But there was only one you. He wanted to understand you, and the exact place you held in Itadori’s life.

What made you special? What made you stand out to the one person, his natural enemy? Humans and their romantic relationships always seemed like a Greek tragedy to Mahito; Of course the person you let know all your weaknesses would be the one to destroy you in the end. Love always gave rise to hatred. It gave rise to a particular brand of hatred that made up Mahito, and if he was anything, he was always curious to know the full substance of his soul. That's where you came in.

“We would talk, and I'd have her tell me all about you–” Mahito drawled. “I had to pry out all the other stuff but she eventually spilled. I wanted to know everything you see,” he punctuates his words by slowly pulling himself off of Yuji's cock, before dropping down with a slap of flesh. He watches in fascination as Yuji’s lower belly flutters.

“We made deals the other half of the time. A few less experiments if she talked, or let me touch her.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you–”

“I got bored eventually, after she told me everything, and I took everything I could... I don't even remember what I did to her in the end."

Mahito wondered, if love gave rise to hatred, would you hate your lover for not rescuing you? Or for being the true target of Mahito's morbid intrigue? He never got his answer, you never voiced any thoughts like that, and strangely, he sensed no hatred at all when you died. Not for Yuji, or even for himself. You were probably too broken.

Mahito shrugged. “Oh well. She’s dead now anyways.” An ugly, violent sound tears through Yuji’s throat, and finally his hands reach out to grab at his–your waist with a bruising grip. He shoots up and doesn't let Mahito move, and Mahito is curious about this reaction, so he waits while Yuji catches his breath.

“You…how can you…just do that to people? She never did–she never did anything wrong–” His head comes to rest on your collarbone, and Mahito watches this all play out with an intense curiosity, and a growing glee.

Yuji continues to break down, tears slipping from his eyes down to the soft flesh of your breast.

“What the fuck did you do to her…why the fuck did you take her…" Mahito sighs, lets the familiar timber of your voice take over, and drags a hand through Yuji’s hair. Not as gentle a touch as he made you demonstrate on him, but Yuji shudders, and burrows further into the mimicry.

“Yuji.” At the sound of our voice, your true voice, Yuji's shoulders shake horribly.

So this is grief? Or despair? Mahito remarks. What's the difference? He watches Yuji as he shatters. Yuji sobs, ugly and loud off the sewer walls when Mahito starts moving again, but his hips thrust shallowly into your slick cunt.

Mahito wondered, had wondered, if love gave rise to hatred, then you just needed to love him, right? If he wanted to understand your place in his enemy's life, your place as his 'lover', than you just had to love him, right?  And lovers do things together, they talk about their vulnerabilities, they watch and learn their tics and preferences and dislikes and habits. They stick through the good and bad. And Mahito was….bad.

Yuji continues to sob, but he tilts his head back and starts fucking him back, soft whimpers slipping past his bitten lips.

“I’m sorry, I’m so damn sorry, ah–! Fuck, I'm sorry, I wasn't there, I let him get to you, fuck I’m sorry I let him hurt you–”

This isn’t even about the sex. But Mahito is a disaster curse–he was born from hate. And hate has flavors. Rage, vindictiveness, envy, glee; he’s all of them. And the hatred rising from Yuji Itadori is so potent and despair riddled that Mahito sighs, and in an act unbidden comes with a choked out gasp.

Its sudden. Mahito hasn't orgasmed once this entire ordeal before, but as soon as he does, Yuji groans, deep and guttural. His head flops back to the hard ground, and immediately his gasps turn shallow and fast before he pulls your hips down and comes in thick, hot ropes.

Is it because Mahito is wearing your face, or did he always hold on this tightly to you? Mahito is sure he’ll see dark purple bruises on your skin when he lets go, and Mahito decides he’ll keep them. He’s never fixed you, after all, so bruises were a common sight. He just wonders how it’ll look as it ‘heals’. Maybe Yuji could give him some pointers on the visual front.

Yuji lays there, and cries. The tears cut clean streaks through the blood and dirt and grime, and Mahito stares, and he stares. His pink hair is flat, and stringy with dried blood.

"Why are you pretending you don't like this?"

"What...?"

he tilts your head. "Its sex. Even if you're not one for carnal pleasure I still look like her. I still feel like her. Don't you love her?"

"No...I--"

"You dont?"

"I do, you're just--! Fuck, get off of me--" Mahito swats his hands away, almost halfheartedly, clicks his tongue.

"If you did 'love her' than wouldn't you stop me already? I read a plot like this in a book once... Shouldn't you kill me for 'defiling her memory' or something? You're enjoying this."

"I'm not--"

"You are."

"I'm--"

"You are. Stop denying it. I'm not going to stop if that's what you're scared of." Mahito chuckles.

“What the fuck…is your problem, what do you want?” Yuji gasps out. His breaths are shallow and his voice is high patched, chest rising up and down, up and down, too fast. He runs his thumb over his collarbone if only to feel the rabbit-fast pulse.

“What do I want...?” 

“Why me? Why do you want to break me? ‘Natural enemy?' I don't even know what that means...” Mahito is silent for a moment longer, enjoying the moment, before he leans over. With the use of Idle transfiguration, your mangled face takes up Yuji’s vision, and he feels the breath die in his throat.

“You are my natural enemy Yuji Itadori. But I can't kill you. Physically, that is. So this is the next best thing.”

“You, I–”

“Don't take my words too seriously, I am a curse after all,” Mahito brushes your hair out his face and leers.

“But you seem to think that this is a punishment. This is a reward, Itadori.”

“‘Reward’?” He hiccups.

Mahito nods.

“Without you, I would have never gotten to understand my soul on such an intimate level. I know the essence of my soul because of you.” He leans closer, breath full of mirth and rot.

“And I thought, surely you missed your little girlfriend. And isn't intercourse the most sacred act between two lovers?” Mahito shrugs.

“An experiment for me on whether this would fully break you or not. You can consider it a gift though.”

“You think…you think I want to see her like this?”

“Yes?”

“No!”

“Then would you like to see what's left of her?” Mahito points back to the mouth of the sewer. Tortured, anguish moans rise from there, and Yuji can already guess what was there. Despair grips his heart and rips it out.

“Don't worry, I didn't tranfigure her, actually. I bet I can find the parts of her around somewhere …but only if you ask nicely.” Again, he thrashes, but from battle, or loss, he’s weak.

No, Yuji knows why. He could never raise a hand against that face. Even now, seeing dark purple bruises on a body that even resembles yours makes guilt curl in his chest.

“Get off of me."

“What was that? You're talking so low I can't hear you.”

“Get off of me!” Mahito drawls out a low note, but surprisingly, he does as he’s told. Yuji hisses as he slides off his dick, letting him feel the drag of your walls and how they flutter. It's familiar, and Yuji wants to kill something when he thinks of how this curse must have learnt that from you.

He wants to kill himself when his breath hitches at the feeling.

Mahito gets off, but does not release his hands. The image of an extra pair of hands holding him down creates enough clarity for him to differentiate between the two of you, and Itadori growls under his breath.

Your face smiles down at him, and Itadori tries not to stare back. Just like that, the anger is gone. He’s missed you, after all.

“...You know I'm getting out of here, right?”

“And you’ll try killing me. I know. That's if you don't come back for this, though.” He gestures with a stitched hand the bare curves of your body.

“You’ve killed my puppets, transfigured humans, even the kid ones! Shibuya didn't break you, killing Mister 7:3 didn't break you, or that Gorilla, that hammer woman’s death almost did… but something tells me…”

He slithers up and slots himself against Yuji’s side, and it's an ingrained habit to hold you. He jolts back quickly enough in horror, but Mahito grabs his arms, and keeps them on him.

“Killing me while wearing this face would really shatter you, hm? it's why you didn't stop me when I dragged you here and did what I did. You let me. You let this happen." He shakes his head even before you, fuck, it's done. He denies it, because what else could he do?

Mahito moves to hiss in his ear. 

"Is it because of guilt? You're so human, Itadori Yuji.” And his eyes switch to that familiar silver and blue.

“Even if it's self loathing, I can still sense it. That hatred. You’ll come back, and I'll break your soul down some more each time. Little by little…until eventually, one of us kills the other. That's how this is going to go.” He rests your head on his shoulder, listening to the dull drag of his heart. The movement is so familiar that Yuji could cry again, but he holds it back.

“....So that's how it is.”

“Yup. Oh, and I'm still waiting for my thank you.”

“....” 

He sits up, and laughs at the way Yuji’s eyes go pinprick small, copying your laughter down to a terrifying degree. Yuji doesn't know how, he’s sure you never laughed in a place like this.

“Hate me all you want, it only makes me stronger. But, even if it's unconventional, I still let you see her, feel her. I want a thank you for that.”

And Yuji must truly be broken because what if I really never see her again? What if I never hear her voice or touch her? This here, horrible as it was, was both knife and balm, like peroxide on an open wound. Cleansing and burning.

“....”

“Well?”

If…he just pretends it was you, if he just watches your mouth and imagines….

He used to thank you after sex in the beginning, before you told him to stop thanking you like you were being paid to sleep with him. Of course, this led to the private joke, where you would demand your payment–anytime, anywhere, and he would smother you in kisses. Fushiguro, Kugisaki and even Gojo-san would roll their eyes or tease or gag, but he loved it. He knew you did too, with how often you used the joke.

“...Thank you.”

Fuck, he misses you.

“Nuh uh uh! Not like that!” Mahito shoots up, hovering your face over his again, noses touching. He switches his eyes back for yours, extra arms gone.

“Thank her. Like you used to. Go on.” He's broken. Yuji is broken.

He reaches a hand and cups the side of your face like he used to. You cant into it like a cat, and a fondness rises in his chest, just to be awashed by despair. He has to clear his throat, and still his voice breaks.

“Th-Thank you...” And because he can't help the fact that it's you, it looks just like you, he pulls you down for a kiss. It's so familiar, down to the way you would tilt your head to the side, and your tongue would swipe over the bottom of his lip. But Mahito bites down, reopening a wound from when he bit his tongue earlier. Blood fills his mouth, but Mahito laps it up. His tongue pokes at the hole in his cheek.

He pulls away, and his eyes are still yours, warm and loving, red smeared at the corner of your mouth. He smiles your smile. He speaks in your voice. Soft, so soft it kills him.

“You’re welcome, Yuji.”

[swxxtsxcchxrine]

His first time…

different bllk boys showing you new surprises every-time….

+warnings; overstimulation, begging, oral-fem receiving, dacryphillia, size kink, fingering, face sitting, squirting, impact play, praising, degrading, passing out

The first time he made you…

Squirt

his bag dropped as soon as he entered your shared home. you barely had time to react before his sweaty physique grabbed yours. you sat in his lap, his legs holding your nimble one’s open and spread out just for him. Your cunt was slick and his thick fingers worked their way around your warm walls. your cheeks were warm and your voice was strained.

“good girl. you got one more in there for me, yeah?” he asked cooing in your ear. he’d been at this for a while now. you didn’t know what the time was for your mind was far too dazed to comprehend the surroundings around you. you whined as his fingers curl against your clenching hole. your moans increased in pitch.

“that’s it, pretty girl…I know, I know,” he reassured. the knot in the bottom of your stomach tightened as tears gathered at the brim of your lash line. his skilled fingers applying pressure to that spot inside of you while his thumb focused on your throbbing bud. your legs burned and your back arched impossibly steep. he brought his other hand to your neck to halt your attempts to squirm away.

you squealed as the pressure got harder and your legs threatened to close on his hand. “s’too much! too much!” you squealed, bringing your hand down to his in attempt to slow him down. “slow…slow down please!” you pleaded. he chuckled lowly into your ear before kissing down your neck. “come on, pretty girl. I know you got something in there for me,”

“s’mean! please!” you cried to no avail. he shushed you with a kiss, muffling the strained moans. your stomach shifted as you felt a funny feeling replace the feeling you felt before. “wait…wait! I needa pee!” you sobbed writhing in his tight hold. you were seeing splotches of black, green and pink. “s’ok, let it go f’me. relax now, pretty,”

you gushed and shook around his soaked fingers. your eyes rolled back and your back arched hard. your lips were in an “o” shape however no sound came out. “your so good f’me you know,” he rubbed his hand that was on your throat against your shaking thigh in an effort to calm you down. you gasped, slowing gaining consciousness again. “didn’t know my pretty girl was a squirter,”

Reo, Isagi, Kunigami, Bachira, Chigiri, Nagi, Rin, Oliver

Tap out

your carefully pedicured feet were behind your head as this man folded you in the most obscene positions. you were spread out just how he liked. the sheets below you were soaked and there was a frothy white ring of your cum on the base of his cock. his thick girth hit the rim of your cervix in a rhythm that he knew you loved, but this time was different.

his eyes had a carnal desire burning deep within; his hips pushing you further to the edge, it was all too much. you swallowed, hard and heavy as his pace never seemed to halt. "you're such a good girl for me. i love you baby," he gasped out. you whined in response, far too dumb to give a proper reply, drool seeping from the corner of your pretty lips. "look at that. my pretty baby is too fucking dumb to say anything. what happened to that smart ass mouth of yours, huh?" his large hand mushed your face together as you mewled lowly. you could feel your eyes getting heavy and your mouth going slack. your mind began to fade before a sharp smack across you cheek brought you back to your sense. "fucking wake up, pretty bitch. I'm not done with you."

you let put a particular loud sob as his hand moved down to where the two of you were connected. his big thumb rubbed tight circled around your throbbing clit. your weak hands scratched against his tight pecs running across his hardened nipples. "babbyyyy...fucckkk," you groaned, using the last of your energy to try and pry his bigger body from yours. his hold loosened and you took the chance to try and run away, but he was too fast. he grabbed your legs and pulled you back, slamming hard into you. your back arched hard as a heavy orgasm washed over you and he took the opportunity to rub on your pretty clit even harder, like the sly bastard he is.

your body began to slowly slip from consciousness as the sounds of skin smaking, his heavy breathing and your own mewls began to merge into one before...

darkness.

you awoke to his firm hand tapping your cheek. "wanna go for another round, pretty? you tapped out," he feigned betrayal.

Barou, Sae, Reo, Kaiser, Gagamaru, Zantetsu, Shidou

[sinofwriting]

Whatever You Need - Daniel Ricciardo

Words: 3,517 Summary: After a shit one night stand, this was the last thing she expected to happen. Note(s)/Warnings(s): Angst with a happy ending, Best Friends to Lovers. Panic/Anxiety Attack, Near Throwing Up, Implied/Referenced/Mentioned Sex, Pregnancy, Discussion of Abortions, Off Screen Abortion. I promise that this has a happy ending. Reader goes by the nickname Kola (call-uh)

Masterlist | Support Me!

Sitting down beside Daniel, she practically buries her face in the mug of coffee he had made for her. It’s near scalding hot making her hiss, but she still takes another drink before setting it down and slumping in the booth, a frown on her face, eyes screwed shut as she wills the caffeine to kick in.

“Y’alright, Kola?” Daniel asks, giving her a gentle nudge to the ribs. She has to smile at the nickname he gave her when they were barely five, mispronouncing the word Koala. Now nearly thirty years later it was a name she’s heard more than her actual name. “I’m never having a one night stand again or just having sex in general.” “Oh?” And she can hear his eyebrows raise. Her eyes flutter open as he presses her coffee back into her hands. “He told me not to cum.” Daniel’s eyebrows raise higher, “what?” She nods, smiling though it’s fake. “Yep.” She pops the p. “Best part? I wasn't even close to finishing.” He lets out a low whistle. “Did he at least?” She sends him a look, cutting him off. “Really? Of course not. He gave a few more strokes, came in me, then practically collapsed on top of me. I didn’t even have an interest in getting myself off after.”

Daniel wraps an arm around her, pulling her into his side and she gladly pushes closer, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Kola.” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her head. “Anything I could do for you?” His voice pitches lower and it makes her breath hitch, want simmering inside of her. The words, the request is on the tip of her tongue. Because she knows if she said it that Daniel would. He’d gladly take her to his hotel room and take her apart. But the irrational fear of something going wrong and losing him forever because they finally cross the line from friends to lovers makes it way to the forefront of her mind and she shakes her head. “No, Danny.” She murmurs, and she can feel him slump a bit in disappointment. “Just need this.” “Of course, Kola. Whatever you need.”

—

She stares numbly at the test results open on her laptop screen. Because they couldn’t be right, shouldn’t be right. But when she screws her eyes shut, rubs at them and then opens them, nothing has changed. The same thing is there. A hand flies up to her mouth as a sob starts to come out, tears leaving her eyes, because this isn’t what was supposed to happen.

Her other hand joins in covering her mouth as more sobs leave. And her brain is just repeating the word no as she tries to keep quiet not wanting to wake Daniel in the other room. The thought of Daniel has her stomach turning and she’s scrambling for the bathroom, nearly slamming the door shut behind her before her knees hit the hard tile in front of the toilet as she dry heaves into the bowl.

Her hands clutch at the toilet as nothing comes up, the sounds of sobs and heaving intermixing.

Eight weeks pregnant, eight fucking weeks. And she hadn’t sex with anyone in a year except for that stupid guy that couldn’t even make her cum. She shudders at the reminder of that night. And now she was pregnant with his baby. His baby and not Daniel’s. Her heart clenches painfully inside of her chest.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. She had always wanted it to be Daniel’s baby that she had. She wanted that with him, a family. She wanted the slow, sensual sex with him as they tried for a baby. She wanted the weekly progress pics as her belly grew, Daniel surely smiling behind the camera as he took every single one. She wanted his hand resting over her belly, where her womb was, as they tried. She wanted a ring on her finger, the day they met engraved on the inside. She wanted Daniel. All of that was supposed to happen. Her first baby was supposed to be with him. All of her babies were supposed to be with him. And now that was ripped from her. All because she stupidly decided to have a one night stand, wanting the edge taken off by something that wasn’t her own hands or vibrator. And instead she had only gotten more frustrated and pregnant.

She’s no longer heaving but there’s still a sick feeling in her stomach as she lets go of the toilet and curls up in the corner of the bathroom, arms wrapping around her knees as she presses her face against them. Tears still run down her face as she takes short, stuttering breaths.

She was alone and pregnant. She had no partner to share the weight with. It was just going to be her. The somewhat tentative progress she had started making in getting over her irrational fear of losing Daniel once they crossed the line into more, vanishing.

Her breath catches in her throat, her chest constricting, panic fully settling in and taking a hold of her body. She digs her nails into her legs hoping the pain will restart her breathing like it has before, but it doesn’t and her mind is starting to panic. She feels numb and she’s starting to lose the feeling of her bare skin underneath her fingers and nails.

Then there’s hands on her own, pulling them away, pulling her nails out of her skin. There’s a voice bouncing off the bathroom walls but she can’t hear any of the words, can’t lift her head to see it. But then her head is being lifted away from knees, a single finger she thinks lifting her chin.

Daniel’s face is blurry and she doesn’t know if it’s from the tears or how she still hasn’t taken a breath.

“Kola. Kola.” Her name is faint in her ears and Daniel’s face comes a bit into focus. “Breath, Kola. Breath for me.” And then one of her hands is placed on his bare chest, just over the heated skin where his heart lays underneath. “C’mon, Kola. Breath.” Her intake of air is sharp, stinging, makes her cough at the force of it. Eyes closing at the pain.

“That’s my girl.” He murmurs, a hand now rubbing her back. Her next few breaths are just as sharp, but slowly they transition into shaky breaths until finally her breathing is matching his. “Danny.” “You alright, Kola? You haven’t had an attack that bad in a long time.” “I’m okay.” Her voice is quiet with exhaustion and she tilts her head back, letting it rest against the wall, eyes still closed. She can feel him looking at her disbelief, but he doesn’t say anything. Just stays crouched next to her.

Slowly opening her eyes, they focus on the patterned ceiling before she finally looks at Daniel, worry and care on his face. “Help me up?” He nods immediately standing, her hand that had still been resting on his chest at the quick movement. And then he’s grabbing both of her hands, hauling her up. When she stumbles, he’s quick to wrap an arm around her. “Let’s get you to bed, ya?” She nods, leaning into him.

Kola isn’t even surprised when instead of taking her to her room in the large hotel suite, he guides her into his. He helps her under the covers, adjusts the pillows for her before climbing in next to her. The two of them both turned on their sides to face each other.

His heart is thundering in his chest as he looks at her. Terror still somewhat grips him from waking up to the sound of sobs and then seeing her on the bathroom floor in the midst of one of the worst panic attacks he’s ever seen her have.

“Did something happen?” He asks, hand reaching out to intertwine their fingers, needing her touch. “I got my test results back from my check up.” His eyebrows furrow, remembering her going to the doctor for her yearly physical just a few days ago. “Did they find something?” He’s holding his breath as he waits for her answer, hoping, praying, that she isn’t sick. Doesn’t know what he’d do with himself if his girl, his world, was so sick that it sent her into a panic attack. “Yeah.” The slow answered breath, makes his heart clench as he takes a shaky breath. “What was it?” His voice is shaky. “I mean, is it serious?” The question makes something strange cross her face, something like heartbreak and suddenly his hand is cold, fingers no longer intertwined with hers. And she’s withdrawn into herself, even scooted back a little, like she’s prepared for a blow. “I’m pregnant.”

He stares at her, mind scrambling, the words struggling to process. But when they do the terror that had been gripping him, the worry vanishes, replaced by joy and he’s cradling her face in his hands, pressing his lips to her forehead in a kiss that doesn’t work because he’s smiling too wide.

Because she’s pregnant. There’s going to be a little Kola in the world. Hopefully a little boy that will be just like her but with his pension for chaos. He doesn’t think his heart could take her having a girl first, a little girl that looks just like her, he’d never be able to say no to her, just like he can’t say no to her mum. Though he doubts he’d be able to say no to a little boy either. But then again a little boy first means that when they do have a girl, he’ll have help protecting her from stupid boys who can only think with their dicks and are dumber than a box of bricks.

“Really?” He questions, “I mean, fuck.” He pulls back a little, still holding her face as he gives a breathless laugh. “How far along?” She stares at him, silence lingering between them for a moment. “Eight weeks. I’m eight weeks.” Her words are quiet and the look on her face, the way she had pulled away from him finally registers.

And his own joy, joy that he had let come over him without thinking about her, is gone. “I,” he opens then closes his mouth. “Do I,” he can’t make the words come out of his mouth, so he doesn’t. “Are we upset?” She gives a hesitant nod and he watches as the fingers that had been intertwined with his, curl into her palm.

He struggles to find why she is. She wants kids, they want kids. It had always been something they talked about in the future. He had held her hand nearly three years ago when she got tested to make sure she could have kids after finding out about a friend having fertility issues. She had held his when he also got tested just to get all their ducks in a row.

Was she upset just because it was unexpected? Eight weeks meant it was from that dickhead that couldn’t even get her halfway there. Was it that? Because it was the result of a one night stand. A shit one at that. The memory of that morning still makes him angry. She rarely gave into the odd temptation of a one night stand and he hates that it wasn’t good for her. It’s easy to ignore the jealousy there that it was someone else she fell into bed with. It didn’t matter who they were with before, as soon as they crossed the line that would be it, it would just be them for the rest of their lives.

His hand slips from her face to the bed, but he keeps his one that’s between the pillow and her cheek. “Why are we upset?” “It’s just me, Dan.” His brows furrowed in confusion. “I’m alone.” He opens his mouth to protest, because what the fuck? She wasn’t alone, he was here, right here, but he can’t because she’s continuing, a heart wrenching broken look on her face. “And it’s not yours. It’s supposed to be yours.” Understanding and a little sorrow of his own fills him. “Oh, Kola.” He breathes, then gathers her in his arms, holding her close.

“You aren’t alone.” He murmurs. “Never alone.” He punctuates it by kissing the top of her head. Holding her this close and understanding her upset makes the question that he wanted to ask earlier come easier even if he still dances around it a little. “If and I do mean if you want this baby it will be mine. Maybe not biologically, but we know that doesn’t matter really.” She tries pushing away, but his hold is too strong. “You don’t get it Daniel.” “What don’t I get?” Frustration leaks into voice, hating that she’s trying to pull away from him after having already done so once tonight. “What don’t I get?” He asks again and uses her name, her actual name. “It’s just,” her breathing has picked up a little, he can feel her legs move against his, and he realizes she’s flustered. “It was supposed to happen a certain way.”

He doesn’t say anything and she groans, pressing her head into his chest, trying to hide and he lets her for all of five seconds, wanting to see her face, needing to see it as arousal starts to burn inside him. “How was it supposed to happen?” He asks, voice low. She stares at the bare skin of his chest, feeling more blood rush to her cheeks. “I,” she opens and closes her mouth, licking her lips. “We were supposed to be married.” Her voice is quiet, barely above a whisper. He makes a low noise in the back of his throat, the hand on her hip tightening at the thought. “My ring would have the day we met engraved on the inside.” She hesitantly rests her dominant hand over his heart and is emboldened by the way she can feel it racing. “It would be slow, not so slow that its torture but close. You’d barely pull out the whole time, wanting to make sure that when you do finish it would be as deep as it can get inside of me.” His nostrils flair and he can feel his hardened cock twitch. Her eyes flicker down to where he’s somewhat pressing against her and then she’s taking his hand off her hip, ignoring the noise of protest he makes and she slips them under her shirt before pressing his where her uterus is. “You’d have your hand here nearly the whole time. Just wanting to feel, imagining me getting bigger.” “Kola,” he breathes. Finally she lifts her head and their eyes meet, the need and desire in his eyes making her gasp. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips and he snaps.

His lips are on hers, his hand on her lower belly moving to grip at her hip as his other hand rests on the nape of her neck. She eagerly returns the kiss, just about moaning when he rolls onto his back and settles her on top of him, not breaking the kiss except for a brief moment when his lips catch more the corner of her mouth.

“Wanted this, wanted you for so long.” He tells her when they break apart. “Me too.” He grins at her and she finds herself grinning back. He presses a sweet, small kiss to her lips before looking at her slightly serious. “I meant what I said. Whatever you do want, I’m here, it’s your choice. This baby will still be mine if you want it.” Her teeth sink into her bottom lip as she thinks. “I don’t know.” She thinks to earlier in the bathroom when she was sure that she was going to have the baby despite it just being her. To now with her and Daniel having crossed the line finally and she’s unsure. She knows that despite it not being Daniel biologically she’d love just as much as if it was so, but it also sits wrong, heavy inside of her that it’s not his. She thinks to his joy of finding out and feels her heart sink a little, because what if he changed his mind after and it wasn’t okay, which is unfair to Daniel because he rarely if ever changes his mind. It’s then she realizes as she finally gives it some thought that she’s already made her decision.

“I want an abortion.” She tells him, watching his face closely but nothing changes. He doesn’t even blink. “Okay.” He nods and there’s a strange mixture of emotions in his chest, a little sorrow and a little glee, he pushes them both away. “I’m worried though.” His brows press together and he’s taking her hands in his, intertwining their fingers in an all too familiar gesture. “About what?” “This isn’t fair to you and I know it’s not true.” She prefaces, because she doesn’t want Daniel to think she doesn’t believe him or have faith in him. “I’m just worried that after it’s all said and done, you won’t be okay with it.” He breathes in through his nose. “Sometimes Kola, I’d like to kick your brain’s ass for making you think things like that.” The seriousness in voice makes her laugh and she squeezes his hand. “Me too.” “I won’t change my mind.” He promises her, before taking a deep breath, because if she could be honest with him about this, he could be honest about how he was feeling. “Truthfully, I’m a little sad about it.” She nods, there was a part of her that was too. Overwhelmingly however it felt wrong to her. “But also, and this might make me a bad person, I’m a little happy about it, that you don’t want a baby that’s not mine.” He gives a dark chuckle, taking one of his hands away from her to run it over his face. “God, that’s fucked. I’m fucked.” “No.” She shakes her head, grabbing his hand back. “No, Daniel. I want an abortion because it feels wrong, that it’s not yours. I know that I would love it no matter what, wouldn’t love it less than the rest of our kids.” They both share a smile at that. “But, I don’t think I could go seven months of this with that feeling.” “Okay.” He swallows a bit harshly. “Do you want me to go with you?” “Please?” “Of course.” He smiles, “Whatever you need.”

Six Months Later

“Daniel.” He groans at the sound of his name. “Daniel.” And this time there’s a shake to his shoulder. “No.” He groans again. “It’s sleep time, Kola.” He mumbles, trying to pat her but patting the bed. It’s silent for a moment and he can feel the sleep already trying to drag him under when suddenly there’s a thigh on either side of his hips and a weight on pelvis that has his eyes opening, blinking as they try to adjust to the darkness in the room. “Oh.” He mumbles, sleepily smiling at his wife and the slight pulse of lust that had stirred in his body from her straddling him turns to a small steady thrum as he remembers she’s his wife. “You want a midnight romp?” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Save a horse, ride a cowboy.”

His hands are already creeping under his shirt she had put on ready to pull it off when she shakes her head, something he can just barely see, and his hands go back to rest on her hips, thumbs rubbing at the warm skin, letting her take her time for whatever she needs from it at, he risks a glance at the clock and nearly groans as 3:19am shows.

“Daniel.” She finally says after a few minutes pass by. “Hmm.” He hums, eyes fighting to stay open. “I’m pregnant.” His eyes fly open, left hand jerking away from her hip to turn on his nightstand filling the room with some light. “What?” He asks, staring at her. She smiles down at him. “I’m pregnant.” “Fuck off.” She laughs, a few tears slipping down her face. “Uh huh. Afraid you're really stuck with me now.” “Really?” “Yeah, really.”

He’s surging up, hands moving quickly to cradle her face as he presses their lips together, tears of his own falling. “Thank you.” He mumbles, pulling away before pressing kisses all over her face, murmuring it over and over again.

“How far along are you?” He asks, a hand going down to her stomach, resting where a bump will eventually be. “Eleven weeks.” His eyes widened. “Eleven?” She nods, smiling. “You work fast, Mr. Ricciardo. Only a week after we started having sex and you knocked me up.” “Damn, I’m good.” She laughs, but nods. “Apparently so.” She cards a hand through his curls, pressing a kiss to his brow. “Thank you, Daniel.” “Of course, Mrs. Ricciardo. Whatever you need.”

---

Taglist: @ireadthensuetheauthors @cixrosie @gemofthenight @topguncultleader @peachiicherries @lpab @copper-boom

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Girl Next Door ~ 2

A Constantine x Reader fic based on this imagine. Part 1

Summary: John Constantine has a crush on you. He wasn’t going to do anything about it though, until you strong arm him into coming over for dinner. Little do you know, this paints a target on your back for the local vampire coven… Rating: Explicit, NSFW, but no dead doves...😮 Note: I got Constantine on my brain, y'all! 😆 I write about vampire hunters all the time, but never from the vampire perspective. This was new. I hope you enjoy!🧡

2. whoever drinks my blood has eternal life

In the end, he was too late.

Oh, he killed them all, wiping out the entire coven with his magical holy shotgun, and a handy spell that basically burned the remaining undead to a crisp around you.

But you were already half dead, drained and forced to drink their blood in kind.

You were well on your way to becoming one of the Damned.

John knew this, as he cradled your cold body in his arms, carrying you like a bride to the cab outside the warehouse. He knew it as he held you close in the backseat, reciting ancient prayers over your fevered brow, hoping just this once God might grant him a good miracle, and not forsake one of his children just because of an unlucky twist of fate.

Your only crime, as far as he knew, had been extending the mercy of your kindness towards him, and that should not have earned you this.

He barely thanked Chas for a job well done, carrying you bridal style up the stairs of your apartment building. Rather than return you to your bed, he brings you to his. He doesn’t know if the vampire who you must have inadvertently invited into your home died that night, and all his holy weapons are at hand in his own space.

He lays you down in his bed, wishing he’d washed his sheets more recently for you. He wishes a lot of things, in the interim hours that follow.

He can tell that his incantations are not touching the dark magic that is taking hold of you, and he knows that he should just put an end to it here and now. You are damned, and there’s no going back, and who knows what chaos you will reap with your new thirst when you wake?

He can’t bring himself to do it.

Looking down at you, huddled in a ball, trembling as your body is dying and remaking itself anew—he falls to his knees to talk to God, though his words aren’t exactly a prayer. “Our father, who art in heaven…fuck you. I hope you're happy, asshole. Another innocent who you should have protected, fucked over by your stupid games. Why? Why is it always the good ones? I hate you. Amen.”

He takes your hand in his, and only because you are practically unconscious in the fever-pitch of your transformation, does he let his eyes fill with silent tears.

One more soul he was too late to save.

One more weight upon his conscience.

He cries for you. For himself. For the impossible odds God and the Devil pit against humans, then punish them when they're just not up to the task. Flesh is weak, but They made you this way. None of it is fair.

Constantine has never actually been present at a Turning. He doesn’t know how long it will take, or how you’ll act when you come out of it. He has crosses and holy water to keep you in line if he has to…or maybe you’ll rip out his throat, and he will absolutely deserve it after what he let happen to you.

He wonders how the vampires knew about you. Did they watch through the window from some impossible perch, as you made love? Maybe he would never admit it out loud, but that was what that merciful night together had felt like, with you.

This was a hell of a reminder, as to why he couldn’t ever let anyone get close.

It never ended well.

Fully clothed, shoes and all, he spoons your smaller body with his arm around your waist, and waits.

***

When at last you wake, the first thing you are aware of is a heartbeat, right next to you. Behind you. Pressed against you. You hear it like a drum, thundering in your ears. There is a grinding pain in your belly. You are so hungry.

You do not recognize your surroundings, or the bed you lay in. A heavy arm is draped over your waist. You study the large hand upon the sheets, long fingered, veiny. Maybe you know that hand.

Slowly you turn, to find John Constantine beside you. He looks up at your through hooded dark eyes. He was dozing, but no longer.

“Y/n?”

You take a deep breath, and the smells that hit you: his aftershave, sweat, deodorant, dirty sheets, scotch whisky in the kitchen. Old Chinese food. But most of all, you can smell his blood, and it is the sweetest thing you’ve ever smelled.

You lean towards him, mouth open, hands reaching.

You don’t know that your incisors have lengthened to deadly little points.

Casually, John holds up a little crucifix between you. You feel it like a hand pressing back against you, and instinctively you flinch.

What is going on with you?

“John?”

You feel something long brush your lip, and you reach up to touch your teeth, finding the sharp points. Your eyes go half-dollar round as you nearly cut yourself with the tip of one.

“What happened to me?”

He sighs, and there is so much weight and sorrow in that one exhalation of air.

“I’m sorry, y/n.”

“John?” The panic in your voice starts to rise.

“Shh. Don’t get excited. It won’t be good.”

A rampaging new vampire was the last thing he needed on his hands.

“Those things took me,” you whisper, your hand covering your mouth. You start to remember what happened, those creeps who snatched you from your apartment, the impossible things you saw. They were monsters. Vampires. Things you only thought existed in folklore, books, bad B movies. And they’d told you a little about John Constantine too. That he was some sort of demon hunter, crazy as that fucking sounded, who clearly they wished to do harm to.

“Yeah.” 

“They took me,” you repeat with emphasis, still trying to understand.  

A longer pause, pregnant with lots of words you sense he doesn’t quite know how to say.

Again, he settles for, “Yeah.” 

“Why?” 

“I guess…they thought that you mean something to me.” 

After everything that happened, this hits you like a knife between the ribs, a long sharp blade aimed right for your heart.

“Do I not?” 

“Come on, I didn't mean it like that.” 

Yes he did, and you realize... that maybe he's just like all the others. 

At least he'd warned you. 

You just...had hoped, anyway, like the stupid little romantic you are. 

You look down, unable to meet his eyes. 

You kind of want to cry, but you're not even sure you can anymore. 

“I came for you as soon as I knew,” he says quietly, not liking this at all.

You nod, your lip quivering.

“What's going to happen to me?” 

The haunted way he looks at you rends your heart in two.

“We'll…figure it out.” 

“I'm hungry...I think.”

He nods gravely. 

“I was afraid of that.”

“What am I going to do?” 

“I'll...try to help you.”

Your eyes go to his throat again. The thought should be gross, but...you just feel hunger pangs, instead—and a confusing wave of desire.

He notices the focus of your attention, and looks uneasy about it. Your eyes have started to glow.

“Why don't we start with the wrist?” he deadpans, not enthused about your untried razor-sharp fangs in his throat.

You nod shakily, tears in your eyes. “I'm sorry,” you say. 

There's a flicker in John's soulful brown eyes, and though he says nothing, you feel his guilt as though it's your own. You feel it crawling over your skin, and it scares you. 

What is happening to you? 

“Come on,” he says gruffly. “Let's get this over with.” 

You've seen the movies, and you’re not a total idiot. But the thought of actually...biting him? And drinking his blood? It freaks you out, ok, even if every cell in your body is singing out for you to swallow him down. The smell of him. You'd thought it was intoxicating before. Aftershave, spice, and cigarette smoke. The smoke was good only because it ticked some deep buried memory box in your subconscious. But now...it’s like you can sense the strength of his very soul, in the smell of his blood, and you know he will nourish you. 

These thoughts come to you unbidden, and you don't even really know what they mean. Just... that they are unequivocally true.

You take his wrist, the blue veins there seeming to dance for your new improved vampire vision, as though you can see the blood pumping within them.

This is so fucking weird.

“You’re going to be really strong now,” he cautions you. Then, the corner of his mouth ticks. “So be gentle with me.”

Your eyebrows raise at the thought that you could actually hurt him. This big, strong man who threw you around not so long ago like you were just a doll. You’d loved that, truth be told. The memory is so sweet that it almost makes you want to cry again.

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

“You should do it now,” he says. “Because you’re just going to get hungrier, and young vampires when they’re hungry are at their most dangerous. I’d hate to have to—”

He cuts himself off before finishing that thought. Your eyes drift to his nightstand, the holy water, crucifixes, and a broom handle piece that has been sharpened into a nice neat stake. Just in case he has to shove it through your heart.

“Could you do that to me?” you ask quietly before you can stop yourself, still staring at the stake.

“I don’t want to find out,” he deflects. “So come on. Pull up your big girl panties.”

You glare at him, taking his wrist again. “I think I have a right to be freaked out about this.”

“Sure, but it is what it is,” he fires back unkindly. “You’re a vampire now. You have to drink blood to survive, and you’re Damned. Welcome to the club.”

You frown at him, your eyes flashing dangerously. You notice him tense, his attention flicking over to the stake on the bedside.

“You’re afraid of me now,” you marvel. 

“A little, yeah.”

“And I should be afraid of you? They told me what you are.”

“Let’s agree to have a healthy respect of one another, alright?”

You sit quietly, contemplating him. With his wrist in your grasp you can feel the thump thump of his pulse through your entire body, like bumping bass out of a speaker. It is distracting, and as you think about what you must do a warmth rises in you, a tingling rush of power that spreads from your fingers into his arm. It makes him shudder, his pupils suddenly blown wide with desire.

This feels good. Better than the fear, although you’re ashamed to admit, that had been delicious too.

You don’t know how you’re doing any of this. It’s just happening, and you let your new instinct take you, straddling his narrow hips to find his burgeoning erection straining against his slacks. You are still wearing the sundress those creatures took you in, and nothing but the thin cotton of your panties barricades the space between you and him.

He is so handsome, and strong. His blood smells so strong, and it fills you with an aching desire, wetness flooding between your legs. Suddenly the desire to bite him while he is inside you grips you like an iron fist, some ancient knowledge of arcane pleasure pulsing through your veins. You blink, the urge receding only slightly, and you do not know it but your eyes glow like coals. It’s strange, how your body feels cold, except where your skin is touching his. Your points of contact are almost searing, in comparison.

“Y/n…”

“What?” you taunt him. “You don’t want me now that I’m a monster?”

You can still hardly believe this is really happening to you.

“I think you can feel that’s not the case.”

Again, you sense his fear, cloyingly sweet upon your tongue. You like it, and that is the thing that brings you back to yourself. Wanting anyone to be afraid of you is so opposite your true nature that it shocks you.

“Fuck. I’m sorry,” you apologize again, squeezing your eyes closed.

“It’s alright,” he says in that deep voice of his.

It’s not. It’s really not.

“Just…can we get this over with, please?”

“Jesus Christ.”

“He’s not going to help you now, believe me. Just…go slow, ok? Don’t bite me too hard. I need use of my hand still, if you don’t mind.”

You let out a shuddering breath. It feels weird, and you realize…you don’t need to breathe? Taking in air is a reflex, but there’s no effect of your body processing oxygen.

Jesus fucking Christ.

“Okay. I’m going to do it.”

“Any day now.”

“Shut up.”

This is the thing that actually makes him smile, that slight curl of lips that is like a full-on grin for most people. Maybe it’s stupid—but it gives you courage.

You graze his skin with your new sharp teeth, and like a beachcomber searching for treasure with a metal detector, you just sense the sweet spot. You move as carefully as you can, pressing down into his flesh to make two neat little holes.

The spill of blood is divine, and you don’t have time to think that it’s gross. It fills your mouth and it is good, and you are so hungry, and you can’t get enough. The magic in this bloodletting rises like a tide, desire crashing over the both of you in a tingling, intoxicating rush. You feel everything, and there is no extricating the sexual pleasure from the gustatory. They are one and the same with this man, his delicious, powerful blood filling your mouth, his strapping body beneath yours, his hips bucking against you.

You feel his hand slide up your thigh, his thumb seeking the molten center of you. When he makes himself stop just short of your panty line you whine in protest, straining for his touch, but he resists your goading, his fingertips digging into your soft flesh. Perhaps you should be grateful, that he is strong enough to resist the pull of this magic between you, trying not to debauch you while you feed for the first time and everything is new and you have no idea what is happening. And yet, you can hardly think past how wonderful it would be to have his teeming erection buried inside you to the hilt while you drink him down.

You would tell him all this, but you can’t bring yourself to separate your mouth from the font of his delectable lifeblood. In fact, you don’t know how you’re going to stop, period.

It’s just so good.

John watches you through heavy lidded eyes, seemingly enjoying this as much as you are. Yet he has more sense of the situation as well, and when he tells you, “That’s enough, y/n,” an inhuman keening of protest escapes from deep in your throat.

“Y/n…” he warns again, his words thick with desire. “You have to stop.”

You close your eyes, telling yourself just one last mouthful.

That was two long sucking draughts ago.

Suddenly you feel a searing heat very near your face. Startled, your eyes fly open to find the crucifix there before you, and you hiss in answer, scrabbling back on the bed away from the holy item. With John Constantine’s blood on your lips you cower, shielding your eyes with a hand.

With a shuddering sigh he lowers the cross, sitting back against the headboard of his bed. He presses a tissue against his wrist, and your eyes are drawn to the crimson stains flowering on the wad of paper beneath his fingers.

What a waste, you think, before shaking the thought away.

Then the horror of what could have happened dawns on you.

You could have drank him dry, and in the heat of the moment you would have done it gladly.

Oh God. What have you become?

“I’m sorry,” you apologize again. “Are you ok?”

He actually has the gall to smirk at you, as though any of this could be funny. “Yeah. Not the first time I’ve lost a little blood.”

There’s some inside joke in that statement you don’t understand, though you sense the darkness of self-deprecation in it.

Somehow, you feel simultaneously sated, and horrible. With a whimper you curl up at the foot of his bed, closing your eyes against the world. You can feel everything. You sense the people in the building, the fragile sound of their juicy little hearts beating. Even outside, the life on the street, men and women going about their lives with no idea what lurks in the shadows, wanting to eat them up…

But most distracting of all, the sheets beneath you smell like John, and the lust in your blood has yet to abate, even if the feeding is over. You feel it marching across your skin like red-hot ants. The desire to crawl up the bed and press your bloody lips to his is real, and you fight it with everything you have, because you don’t imagine he’d appreciate that very much after what he’s done for you. The sour expression on his face did not match the size of the tent in his pants, that is for sure.  

You wonder, is it going to be like this every time you eat from now on? The thought does not thrill you.

“Hey,” he goads softly, and your eyes fly open to regard him. Again, your irises shine like lanterns, fueled by the roil of emotions warring in your heart. “Come here.” He holds out one of those beautiful hands to you. Hands that you had so relished upon your body, on your flesh, in your hair…hands with such thick, beautiful blue veins…

You’re not sure how he knows that you want to be held, but now you fear it too. You fear what you are, and your ability to control yourself around him. Because the truth is you still want him very much, and he’d basically told you point blank that you mean nothing to him. The thought weighs on your heart now like a thousand stinging needles, and you feel your eyes fill with moisture of some kind.

So, vampires can cry after all.

You touch a finger to the corner of your eye, and see it comes away tinted red.

You kind of want to throw up.

“Maybe…I should go,” you say sadly, sitting up. You’re certain you look as disheveled as you feel. Your hair is a bird’s nest. Your once pretty floral sundress is dirty and torn. No wonder he doesn’t want you.

“If…you want.” Why does he sound sad about it? Shouldn’t he be glad to see the backside of you? Constantine the Demon Hunter? If you’d been nothing but a one-night fuck as a human, he certainly didn’t want to spend time with you now.

 “You know you’re going to need a dark place to rest for the day?”

Is he actually worried about where you’re going to sleep?

“Okay.” You think you can manage that, in your apartment next door. Or maybe…you’ll see what happens, if you watch the sun rise. Maybe it would just be better that way. Are vampire suicides double damned? You’ve never really been a religious person, but he’d said it like it was A Thing.

It reminds you of what John had said earlier. “What did you mean before? When you said join the club?”

He sighs, reaching for a pack of cigarettes on the night stand. “I’ll tell you some other time.”

Feeling like you’ve now been dismissed, you slide from the bed, standing on bare feet. You should be sore, but your movements are lithe, liquid as a cat’s.

Something else to get used to.

You can feel Constantine’s eyes glued to you, and you dare to take one last look back, waiting to turn to a pillar of salt. He’s so handsome it hurts, even in his rumpled state, his cuffs rolled up his forearms and his tie loose around his neck. How do his soulful dark eyes seem to hold all the sorrow of the world right now?

“Bye, John.”

He just nods, and you let yourself out.

***

Much to your surprise, ten minutes before dawn, you hear a knock on your door. You know it's John. You can tell by the sound of his breathing, the sound of his heart beat. You can smell him, and it is a heady thing in your nostrils. When you do not answer he just lets himself in, the cheeky bastard. 

He finds you sitting in one of your thrift store chairs by the window, one of the only ones not broken in the mess the vampires who took you left behind. He does not like this, you can tell, by his hairline frown. 

“Hey.” 

“Hi.”

“Hate to tell you, but you're going to have to find a new way to get your vitamin D.”

“Ha ha,” you say, turning back to the window. A few people are out and about below. This city never really sleeps. 

“Hey,” he says again, crouching down by your chair. “I know this is a lot...”

The look you pay him is not exactly kind. He plows forward anyway.

“But take it from someone who's been there. Hell isn't a place you should be in a hurry to go.” 

You blink at that. He says it like it's so black and white, not a hint of uncertainty. Not faith. Fact. Once upon a time, you might have questioned his sanity. Not anymore. 

“Sounds like you've been.” 

“For about two minutes. It was enough.” 

“What was it like?” you whisper. 

“Pure agony.” 

Your eyes go wide at hearing that. 

“So...want to show me your bolt hole?” he asks.

Once upon a time you would have capitalized on the opportunity for inuendo with such comedic gold just handed to you for free, but you’re not in the mood. You just stare at him.

“John...You're a demon hunter. Why do you care?”

He tries to meet your eyes, but in the end can only look away. “Come on, y/n. Just…don’t give up yet, ok?”

He just feels guilty, you tell yourself, and you pry yourself from your chair with a sigh. You’re not sure what the point of anything will be, anymore. But maybe you’ll make an effort to go on, because he asked you to.

Sometimes, that’s all it takes.

“Fine.”

You figure the closet will be the darkest place in the apartment for you to hide.