#i don't like going to bed. because i don't have a daydream. i like sleeping though. its great

[xxf0rg0tt3n-b3st14xx]

I think I figured out what the hell I was experiencing almost a week ago. It was hypnopompic hallucinations.

It's something that happens just before you fully wake, you might see things that aren't there. Also, rarely sounds and tactile can be experienced, too. It also can happen when your sleep is interrupted and fall back to sleep quickly as that happened to me where it was like a loop of failing to fully wake to end it.

This does greatly explain the spider hallucinations I sometimes get, especially in the past.

It's something that I guess is a common one off experience people can get, but is far more common with people that have narcolepsy. Also, you might get them more often if you're depressed, too.

Though mine I believe is triggered by stress and anxiety, most often not.

[squirmydonnie]

CW: unreality/ nudity/ self harm?.

[secretsandwriting]

heyyyy ryyyyy <333

since ur requests are open i thought id go ahead and ask if you're mayhaps open to anything for batmom? i don't have a completely solid idea but maybe smn like batmom has been getting threats or maybe hate or smn from somebody and everyone's reactions and how they get hella protective?

obv no pressure and you definitely do not have to write this

hope you have a great day bb

Heyyyyy, so this grew hands and wrote itself, I hope you enjoy it. It did end up with a lot of backstory.

Earned Position

5.3k words

You knew this would happen. Once your relationship with Bruce got out there would be an influx of love and hate. You also knew that everyone else knew that as well. It was common knowledge than anyone around a celebrity of sorts would experience that. 

Of course you did the normal things, turned off most notifications and only looked through areas online you knew would mostly be safe. You blocked tags and and only followed people you knew or ones who didn’t post about drama. 

When you did stumble onto hate, you moved on. If someone kept sending you nasty messages you blocked them, when they made other accounts to keep sending the same things, you changed your settings so only those you followed could message you. 

It wasn’t something you wanted to deal with but it was something you could handle. Something you started mentally preparing yourself for when Bruce’s attention on you lasted more than 4 dates, even more so when you caught yourself daydreaming about him.

You were not going to let random bitter people on the internet destroy your happiness like they did their own. Your family however, wanted to destroy what was left of your haters' happiness. Something you were trying to curb, but trying to tell a family of vigilantes who considered you the best mom in existence not to destroy your haters was like talking to a brick wall. Over the years, you had gotten used to it. It barely even registered anymore. But there had been a recent influx of the hate and while it didn’t bother you, it bothered the rest of your family. None of them could stand people talking bad about their mom.

While you hadn’t been there while the older ones were young, the second you had introduced yourself to them, you had taken a very important role in their lives. None of them realizing it at first. All of them had gotten used to the random women Bruce brought home that it took a little while for them to realize how important you were. 

Dick wasn’t sure at first. Thinking you were just another girlfriend that wouldn’t last long. So he didn’t really interact with you much. Ignoring your existence when it wasn’t too rude, or at least obviously rude. Until one night when he was staying at the manor and had a nightmare about his parents death. 

Bruce had an open bed policy. As long as there was still room for him, his bed was open. A policy he had started when Dick had gotten old enough he was worried he wouldn’t be allowed to go when he had a nightmare. Bruce had always reminded all his kids, that nightmares don’t go away just because you’re older and that needing comfort wasn’t something they would outgrow. 

The thing was, you were there. Girlfriends didn’t mind when children did it but they never liked it when his adult kids did it. The shaking in his hands and the way he saw them fall in the darkness of every blink told him the only way he was getting any sleep was with someone. 

Hopefully he could just slip into Bruce’s side and leave before you woke up. That was the plan until he found Damian on Bruce’s side and you had been pulled closer to Bruce taking up what was left. You moved a little and Dick took that as his sign to deal with it himself until he heard you whisper his name. He hummed so you knew it was him and not some random stranger standing over Bruce’s side of the bed. 

“Nightmare?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on.” You lifted the blanket next to you, “Bruce told me you guys come here when you have nightmares. There's plenty of room over here for you.” Dick hesitated for a second before giving in. He needed sleep anyway. You weren’t when you said there was plenty of room, Dick had most of your half of the bed. Once he had settled on his side, facing away from you, he felt you pull the blanket over his shoulders. 

“Night Dick, sleep well.” For some reason, that was what did it. Once the tears started they didn’t stop. Silent sobs made him shudder and he felt one of your hands gently rubbing his back. “Oh Dick.” There was no pity in your tone and he found himself rolling over and curling into you. Your chin resting on his head while you rubbed his back. 

The next day, he followed you around like a puppy. Your side of the bed became his favorite when he had nightmares and it wasn’t long before he turned to you for general comfort over anything.

Jason met you at his grave. Neither of you exchanged words, but he caught something in your gaze he didn’t quite understand. He also wasn’t sure why you were at his grave either, he didn’t know you when he was younger. 

When he saw the Gotham News post about Bruce and Your 2nd anniversary, it brought more questions than answers. Why were you at his grave alone? Let alone longer than a few seconds. It was an odd way to gain more of Bruce’s affections. 

Every Tuesday you would be there, leaving flowers and talking softly to the stone. Every time you left, you would smile and nod, the look in your eyes he couldn’t figure out was still there. Every time he would strain to heat what you were saying and only be able yo a few words here and there. 

6 months into it, the routine changed. You brought a blanket and Basket with your usual flowers. You did what you normally did with the flowers but instead of talking to the stone you waved him over. When he didn’t move, you stopped what you were doing and looked at him. 

“Jason Todd, I have been keeping your secret for 6 months. Helping me spread this blanket and having lunch won’t change it.” He stared at you while you waited expectantly. Eventually when he could get himself to move, he came over and helped. He sat down where you motioned for him too, all while trying to figure out how you knew.

“Bruce mentioned this used to be your favorite when you were younger so I asked Alfred to teach me how to make it. I hope it's up to your standards.” He looked at the plate of food you handed him. It was almost overflowing with food, all of which reminded him of the good times back at the manor before he died. “Alfred also sent your favorite cookies when he heard I would be eating at your grave.” The bag of cookies was placed next to the basket, within easy reach.

“Why?” Was all Jason managed to choke out around the lump in his throat.

“I decided early on in life, no matter who I was with, I would love their family as my own. My grandfather hated my grandmothers side and it caused a lot of pain in all the generations. I decided I would never do that to another family.” Jason found himself back in control enough to start eating. 

“So when I started dating Bruce and he told me about you, I decided to treat you like you were my own. Even though I had never met you and you were dead. Most of what that meant was keeping your grave clean and always making sure there were fresh flowers. While I did that, I would tell you everything that was going on.”

“How did you know it was me?”

“Your eyes, they may be a different color but they looked too similar. So I did a little digging and found pictures of your biological pictures to place the face shape it matched. I think however you look more like Bruce then either of them.”

“Are you going to tell them?”

“As much as I would love to. It’s your choice. You’ve been keeping this to yourself for a reason. If I can help you get to a place to tell them, I would love to. But I won’t say a word until you're ready. However, I would like to keep having lunch with you.” 

A year later, Jason reintroduced himself to the rest of the family a lot calmer than originally planned and was glued to your side anytime he felt overwhelmed that night. Every Tuesday after that, lunch was scheduled.

Tim was nervous when it came to you. He was still living in the manor so he saw you more than the older two. You always seemed nice and respected his privacy but Bruce was always with you so you obviously would. 

It was when he wasn’t around that worried Tim. Bruce attracted golddiggers and they were always mean when Bruce wasn’t there. When you were given a copy of the key, Time braced himself. 

Of course he knew that if he told Bruce anything that happened like that, Bruce would break it off. He had always told them that they came first. But he also knew that Bruce liked you a lot. All the other ones Bruce liked a lot that turned out to be horrible, he broked it off. Tim had seen how it had made him upset and he really hated doing that to him. Maybe he could deal with it for once. 

So when Bruce left for a business trip, Tim was Expecting the worst. What he didn’t expect was for you to knock on his door and ask if you could join him. When he agreed and stepped back so you could come in. He expected you to go to his bed or his desk chair not, the oversized bean bag on the floor.

“I have a question for you but you can’t tell Bruce yet.” Here it comes. “What would a funny way to tell him I know he’s Batman?” Tim wasn’t expecting that one. “I was thinking a lot of batpuns but his paranoia is too bad for that.”

“How did you figure it out?” You walked him through your process and didn’t say anything as he wrote parts of it down. Once you finished explaining the process for Bruce, you explained any way it was modified in figuring out their identities.

“Who do you think I am?”

“Red Robin.” Tim found himself getting excited. 

“You know those notes you leave him in his office?” You nodded. “You should leave those in the Batcave.” You considered it but your thinking was interrupted but Tim shouting. 

“No! One night when we’re all in the cave, you could bring some snacks!” 

“You just want snacks when he’s lecturing you don’t you?”

“Maybe..”

“Alright, but you have to tell the others so they can tell me what snack they want.”

So Tim slowly and carefully went through all his siblings, letting them know you figured it out, Bruce didn’t know, and what the plan is. Every time he relayed a snack to you he’d watch how carefully you’d write it out to make sure you had it correct or look up recipes if you couldn’t find it in stores. 

Two weeks later, Tim was the one who sent the signal in the middle of a lecture everyone was receiving and he got a front row seat to see Bruce’s face when you walked in and handed out snacks before giving him a kiss and telling him to be nice and leaving. 

Any other worries were left in the dust when you helped him win the nerf war for the best seat in the home theater. He thoroughly enjoyed his spot next to you while Bruce swore revenge from the other side of the room.

Damian treated you politely but that was it. His mother was still alive and he didn’t want another one, one was more than enough. Not only that, but you were weird. 

One time when you were over, you found one of his report cards. Immediately you were praising him. He didn’t understand why, he had basically failed one of his classes with an A-. You should be disappointed like his mother would be, not hanging it up on the fridge and telling people not to touch it. Definitely not taking him out for ice cream and calling him so smart. He definitely shouldn’t be feeling any pride when he walked past it, but he still was. 

When he was practicing his violin and Messed up, you were supposed to tell him to stop failing, that he should be better. Not smiling at him and telling him he’s making good progress. You should be telling him that he should have memorized that piece in a day. He shouldn’t be feeling any pride when he finally does memorize it, it took him 4 days to learn it.

When he was struggling to learn a language, you were supposed to tell him to work harder. He could do better, after all, he already knew so many. Instead you just smiled and recommended a break to refresh his mind. 

When he snapped at you in Arabic, he expected you to be upset since you didn’t know what he said and it was obviously not something nice. Instead you set the rule that if he was going to use Arabic to speak to you when upset, that he had to teach it to you and if what he said wasn’t something you had learned yet, he had to tell you in english. When he told you what it meant, you didn’t even get upset. He definitely shouldn’t be as excited as he was when you actually started learning. 

So many more little things piled up, leaving Damian confused. The differences between how you and his mother treated him was so big he didn’t know how to process it, he liked you and all the little things made him happy in a way he hadn’t really felt. But he still loved his mom, When he had enough of it, he asked you to stop. He still wanted to love his mom. Once again, you did something you weren’t supposed to.

“Oh Damian, I’m not trying to replace your mom nor am I trying to make you feel like you can’t love her or she doesn’t love you. Your mom and I show our love in different ways and its ok for you to love or like both of us. You mother loves you and she will always be allowed in your life if thats what you want.” You weren’t supposed to do that, but Damian was really glad you did.

Barbara wasn’t sure how you would react to her. She wasn’t just Bruce’s kid. She had a loving family she went back to every night. Most people weren’t really a fan of that, one of Bruce’s past girlfriends had some strong and hurtful things to say about it. 

When you took her for a day out, she found herself warming up to you but still waiting for the other shoe to drop. One of the new places you had planned to go, didn’t have wheelchair access. Like all the other girlfriends who had done this, she expected you to be annoyed that your plans had to change or you would just leave her outside while you shopped. 

You didn’t seem to notice her hesitation, just looking at what was next on your list and starting the trip there. When Barbara stared a little longer at a new movie that was in theaters, tickets and snacks were bought and you listed to all the lore she told you about before it started.

While it had been a nice day, Barbara wasn’t convinced. One day was easy to fake. Sure she had lots of fun, but Barbara was used to fakes when it came to Bruce’s girlfriends. Of course she wasn’t complaining about you being nice, she just wasn’t sure how long it would last. 

“Did you hear about that boutique?” She looked up from her food to look at her dad. “That new one that you tried to go to with Bruce’s girlfriend? Well there was a report that it didn’t meet the Americans with Disabilities act and the boutique is in trouble. People are speculating they’ll have to close down.”

Later that night, Barbara looked into it. They were in trouble, pretty big trouble from the looks of it. Towards the end of the article she found the name of the person who reported it, she wasn’t sure who she was expecting. Not you for sure but the Name Y/n L/n took her by surprise and filled her chest with feelings she couldn’t describe. 

The boutique ended up closing but a new one opened. Once it was open, you were the first to ask her to go. That weird feeling came back when she wheeled herself up the ramp and through the door you held open for her. Later that night, in the privacy of her room. She decided she liked you. 

Steph seemed like she liked you, she acted like she liked you, she didn’t really like you. Sure you were nice, Bruce loved you, the others were warming up to you, but she wasn’t sure how to feel about you. So she stuck with not actually liking you but pretending to. 

So when she was around you, it was all smiles and jokes. She wasn’t a big fan of it all but she did it because she knew you were important to Bruce and that was enough of a reason for her. She knew Bruce and the others could see through the act but as long as you couldn’t, that was enough. 

When Bruce announced he had to leave for a business trip right before she could hand him the parents visit for one of her AP classes, something the new teacher liked doing. She tucked the paper away. When Tim gave her a questioning look, she shook her head and later swore him to silence. 

Every time she heard someone mention their parents were going, she felt a pang of jealousy in her chest. Every time Tim mentioned bringing it up to you, she swore him into silence again. It wouldn’t be the first time no one showed up for her. She was however thankful you wouldn’t be at the manor as much so she didn’t have to pretend to like you.

When the day arrived, Steph was not having a good day. School dragged on slowly. Slower than normal. When school finally ended, she had to sit in the classroom and watch everyone else that was in her class leave and the parents of her classmates show up while no one was there or coming for her.

Someone sat in the seat next to her, she expected another family member of one of her classmates. Definitely not you. She couldn’t return your smile, too unsure of how you found out, the fact you actually showed up, and how she felt about you being there. You leaned a little closer so that the others in the room wouldn’t easily overhear. 

“I know I’m not your parent and someone you just pretend to like so if you want me to leave I will. But I figured someone was better then no one. Oh, and Tim wanted me to tell you he didn’t spill. Your teacher called the manor because no one had RSVPed for you and I answered it.”

That night, as Steph showed off all her hard work to you, the charade fell. She actually enjoyed her time with you and the boost of pride as you oohed and ahhed over all her projects and listened to her explain all the little details. That night, Steph realized, she didn’t need to keep pretending. She liked you, until she found out you didn’t like her favorite show but a nerf war solved that. 

Cass could tell you were different then the other girlfriends, your body language as you interacted with all of them showed it. However that didn’t mean she knew how to interact with you.

She had learned that she was fairly hard for new people to interact with. She also knew she had trouble interacting with people she wasn’t fighting. So it wasn’t a surprise when it started rocky. 

What was a surprise, was when you found out she was still having trouble reading and writing, you stepped in to help. Well, that wasn’t the surprising part, a lot of girlfriends did that. The surprising part was the amount of patience you had when it was only the two of you. 

When one method didn’t help, you tried another. Never once did you snap at her or call her a name. Everytime you got frustrated you would stop and look at her, say something along the lines of “If I had as much trouble with this as you do, I wouldn’t want to keep trying. You're doing absolutely amazing! I’ll keep looking for other ideas, but for now, lets take a break and get a treat.” 

Cass wasn’t sure why that always made her feel better, but it did. Every treat you brought was something you made just for the tutoring sessions and it always reminded her of what Alfred had told her once. “Something made with love for you will always taste better.”

And when a method that made it a little easier to learn was found, Cass found herself smiling along with your cheers. Bad days where she couldn’t seem to make any progress were always met with the same excitement, cheers, patience, and treats that all the others were. 

Cass still wasn’t sure of what to think of you exactly, but she knew she liked you and that you cared about her.

So when Tim saw the new rise in hate, a sibling meeting was called. They all went through each site, blood boiling as they saw what people were saying about their new parent. Plans were made, declarations of war were ready, and anger fueled all of them. Bruce could tell something was going on, but he wasn’t sure what it was and as long as it didn’t get out of had, he wasn’t sure if he had the energy to deal with it. 

War was declared in an interview by Steph. The lady was asking questions when the topic switched to Bruce, then you. The reporter was clearly trying to subtly find some dirt on you and Steph was not going to stand for it.

“Oh yeah! Y/n! She’s the best!” She put on her best press face. Trying to hide her anger over the hidden intent. She didn’t have to lie or act when talking about you but the change in the lady’s face going to disappointment when she didn’t get anything she wanted was making her look very punchable. 

“She’s always showing up for us and making sure we’re doing ok. If Y/n and Bruce were to break up, I think most of us would go with Y/n.” The way the lady kept trying to get anything really got on her nerves and Steph decided she needed to get out of there before she started using the lady’s face for target practice. You wouldn’t like that.

Cass was the first one to resort to violence. They had asked a thinly veiled question, basically asking if you were a golddigger. So she punched him in the nose and leaned down to flip the camera off. She hated interviews already but that made it so much worse. She hoped you wouldn’t be too upset with her punching the guy though.

Jason, surprisingly enough. Did not get violent… physically. He did however curse one out and threaten him when the reporter implied you were forcing them to say nice things. When the reporter kept pressing Jason broke his mic and told him if he ever heard him talking bad about you again, a broken mic would be the last of his worries. Jason knew you would be disappointed but he had held back, he didn’t shoot the guy like he wanted.

Tim threw his coffee at one reporter because he heard them say you were nothing but a regular person who didn’t deserve any attention. He then took over her segment, threatening the company to air it or he would make sure they went bankrupt. Once he finished his threats, anything he said was praising you name. Telling everyone how amazing you were and how much they all loved you.

Barbara made it a point to bring up everything you did for the community when they tried to throw some shade at you in an interview. She had documents to prove it and hacked their systems to add them into the interview so they couldn’t claim it was fake. She also made sure to run over his foot when she left. 

Dick punched a reporter when they tried to ask him what you were really like behind closed doors. He told them the truth, that you were just as good, kind, patient, and loving behind closed doors as you were out in public. He didn’t throw a punch until the reporter disregarded that as asked again because she couldn’t be that good. Dick knew a lecture would be coming once you saw, but he would rather sit through a lecture then let anyone tarnish your name.

Damian spent 10 minutes cursing and threatening a reporter in Arabic when they asked him if you had ever hurt him. When he was done, he told them in english, that if he ever got asked that question again, he would impale them. He knew you were going to make him sit down and translate everything and the general response you would give but he didn’t care, no one speaks bad about either of his mothers.

Bruce figured out what was going on after Steph’s interview. He saw the ones where they assaulted or threatened the reporters and made sure his lawyers were on standby to keep the kids out of trouble. After all, he had seen more than they had. 

He had watched as you tried to connect with Dick early on, how you worked hard to try and get somewhere. He had woken up before you when Dick had come in that night and heard how you handled it. He had woken up the next morning to find you holding Dick close, like you were trying to protect him from the nightmares. He had seen how you never turned Dick down when he wanted comfort, no matter how serious or silly the matter, and he had heard your excitement when you told him Dick liked you.

Bruce had seen the way you never missed a visit to Jason’s grave, on a visit of his own, he saw how much care you showed the stone marking it as his lost son. While he hadn’t been sure why it was alway the same time on Tuesday, he didn;t mention it. He felt the way you would sob in his arms after each visit, a year after the tradition started, you always said you had promised not to tell and he watched as you kept that promise even if it tore you to pieces. Once the shock and tears wore off for a little bit, he could see the trust that Jason had in you.

He heard the way you questioned if you should have a key to the manor, you didn’t want to make Tim uncomfortable in his own home, or how you questioned if you should visit while he was gone. Not wanting to stress Tim out when there was no reason too. He saw the way you and Tim grinned at each other when you brought snacks down for all the kids he was currently lecturing. He head the excitement in your voice as you told him about the tour Tim had given you of the Batcave and the shared laughter as you and Tim worked together to win the nerf war.

Bruce saw how you worked to give Damian the affection he didn’t think he needed. He felt you crying in his arms upset over the fact Damian thought you would be angry because he made a mistake or struggled in a class. He heard you practicing your Arabic as you got ready for bed and he watched as you stress paced over whether or not you said the right thing to him about his mother. 

He saw how angry you had been when you came back from your day out with Barbara. He had heard your call with your lawyer as you tried to figure out what to do. He saw you going through the laws and making a list to make sure your lawyer didn’t miss any. He heard about the movie you didn’t particularly care about and the lore you remembered in case of another because you wanted Barbara to have someone she could tell all of her favorite things too. 

Bruce saw the pictures you had taken from the school night. He heard all the details from you as you praised Steph’s work. He saw the way Steph stopped acting around you and the silly arguments the two of you would get into for fun. He heard the way you would listen to her as she verbally worked out her problems. He saw the way Steph looked for you in a crowd, the way she knew you were there but not where you stood exactly, the thought of you not being there never crossed her. 

He saw the way you stayed up late, researching different ways to teach reading and writing. He heard the patience and kindness and you worked with Cass. He saw the way you always made a treat just for Cass to have after each lesson because you wanted to reward her hard work. He heard the way you cried for Cass when she had a bad day and got frustrated with herself because you knew she was smart and you wanted her to see it too. He heard your celebrations when Cass made any progress, no matter the size. 

Bruce heard, saw, and felt the way you worked hard to have a relationship with his kids. How you had mourned for their losses, celebrated their wins, and felt their pain. He saw the way his kids blossomed under your care, growing to be better and more confident in themselves. The way you cared for them as if they were your own flesh and blood. So when he was asked about his kids behavior, he said as much. 

“Y/n has worked hard to be accepted by them. She’s given so much of her time, effort, patience, and love and never wanted anything in return. She always shows up for them, no matter what the occasion is, big or small, it doesn’t matter. If they want her there, she’ll be there. Everytime they need or want her, she’s there. She never judges them and treats them as if they were her own blood. Of course their upset and lashing out, people are insulting the woman who has cared for them more then most of their biological mothers.”

Later, a clip of you scolding Bruce and all the kids went viral. While you were scolding them over their behavior and making the kids who had reacted with violence or threats write apology letters because asking mean questions does not make it right to respond badly especially when its someone just trying to start drama. Everyone one noticed that there was no actual bite to your tone and no anger when they all refused to stop acting like that. In fact, there was a small soft smile on your face as you shook your head at your family.

[darknight3904]

𝘑𝘶𝘯𝘰

𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘏𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘖𝘷𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵, 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥…

𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘱𝘰𝘰𝘭 & 𝘞𝘰𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘦 (2024).

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘖𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘓𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵.

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘦. 𝘌𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘵 𝘚𝘮𝘶𝘵 18+

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 1.9𝘬

𝘉𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘺 𝘚𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘢 𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳.

𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵 / 𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 / 𝘔𝘺 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

It was an understatement to say Logan Howlett was good-looking. Every day waking up next to him was like an episode of America's, or well, Canada's next top model.

If there was a god up there, you wanted to thank them for whatever was in Logan's genetics, Even now, with messy hair and half awake, he was giving you butterflies.

"Quit starin', bub." Logan huffs as he brushes by you to get to the coffee maker.

You swore he was some alien from another planet. Seriously, how was he this hot?

Even at work, you found yourself daydreaming about him.

"Y'know, you're not paid to slack off." Matt huffed as he rearranged a shelf that some kid had messed up.

Your coworker's words had you groaning in annoyance. How could he be so inconsiderate? Interrupting your thoughts like that?

"The shop is literally empty!" You huff looking around at the little bookstore.

"Well, if I don't have a hot boyfriend to dream about, I don't see why you should get the privilege to." Matt grinned

"Whatever." You roll your eyes, "Not my fault he's the whole package."

Nearly a week had passed since you had gotten to have real alone time with Logan. Between work, running Laura around, and Wade's impromptu visits to your shared apartment, you and Logan hadn't seen much of each other.

Normally, you'd be able to accept this, after all life was busy. But, today it was like someone had lit a fire under you and the only way to put it out was with Logan in between your thighs.

Perhaps it was just because it was ovulation week, but all you could think about was getting home and pulling Logan into bed with you. God, you missed him so much...you were a ball of hormones and want as your mind wandered, imagining little versions of you and Logan running around the apartment, terrorizing Laura and Wade when he visited.

Friday night was often filled with stress, usually, you were sitting on uncomfortable metal bleachers, watching Laura's soccer games. But, this week was different, the game had been rained out and Laura had convinced you and Logan that she could sleep over at a friend's house.

The soft clink of keys had you turning towards the front door. Finally, Logan was home.

"I'm back." He announced as your cat, Jingle jumped from your lap to greet the man.

"Missed you." You smile as he plops down on the couch next to you, pressing his lips to your forehead briefly

"Wade kept me out longer than I thought he would." Logan says, "His fucking mouth is going to get him killed one day."

"If he could die." You snort

Logan lets out an amused scoff as he pulls you into his lap, eagerly pressing a kiss to your neck. His hands are a welcome weight as they settle on your hips, squeezing at the soft flesh there.

"Laura at her friends?" He asks with a coy smile

"Mmhm. Dropped her off myself." You say, wiggling your hips a bit in anticipation.

" Gonna take a shower," He says, "Meet me in the bedroom?"

You giggle and smile at the mischievous look on his face.

"Make it quick." You press a kiss on his cheek.

The scent of Logan's shampoo wafts down the hallway as you shimmy into something you've been keeping a secret for a few weeks. A lacy blue babydoll lingerie dress sits on your body as you quickly step into the matching thong it came with. You stand in front of the full-length mirror Logan hung on the back of the door to your shared bedroom.

You mess around with your hair, trying to find the perfect look, and then swipe on a strawberry-flavored gloss, one of Logan's favorites. You can't help but feel a bit giddy as you take in your appearance. Messy hair, shiny lips, and the perfect little number on your frame, you're sure to drive Logan even crazier than he already was for you.

The squeaking of the bathroom door's hinge's have you whirling around, unsure if you should lay on the bed, or perhaps sit on the edge.

You don't get a chance to make up your mind as Logan pushes the bedroom door open. A deep green towel is wrapped around his waist as your eyes greedily roam his perfect torso.

Logan sucks in a breath as he crosses the room to be closer to you. A big hand runs up your side, ghosting over your chest and then back down to land on your waist.

"Where'd you get this?" He smiles, eyes anywhere but your face.

"bought it a couple of weeks ago." You softly say, suddenly shy under his gaze, "Do you like it?"

"Love it." Logan smiles, meeting your eyes and letting the towel drop from his waist.

You let him push you down into the soft sheets of your shared bed, moaning a bit when his hands begin to wander.

Warm lips press against your neck, and then your collarbone, and then they begin to trail down to your chest. Logan's hands push the thin straps of your dress off your shoulders and his mouth begins to softly tease one of your nipples while one hand delivers feather-light touches over your panties to the mess between your legs.

Logan's mouth leaves your chest as he pulls you to the edge of the bed, letting his knees hit the ground as he gently pushes your legs apart. His hands pull your panties down and you hear a deep groan when the wet fabric finally hits the floor.

"Missed her," Logan says, pressing a miss to your upper thigh

You roll your eyes at his comment, he had recently taken up talking to your cunt, referring to it as her.

A loud moan escapes your lips as he buries his head between your thighs, licking up your slit and gently sucking at your clit.

"Ugh, Logan..." You groan, you're extra sensitive after a week apart.

Your hips jump off the bed when he slips two fingers into you, pressing at the spongy part that only he can reach.

"Fuck-" You gasp as he sucks at your clit again, this time rougher than the last.

Finally, this is what you needed, you groaned again as you pictured what was coming next. Your stomach tightened with need for release as your cunt wept and ruined the sheets below you. You were desperate for his cock, craving the way you knew it'd stretch you out, putting an end to the past week of torture.

Logan pushes your hips back down as your body goes taut and your orgasm takes over. Your hands tug at his soft brown hair as your chest heaves.

Logan presses a kiss to your clit one more time before sitting back, his eyes looking up at you.

"Not bad." You sigh, a dopey smile on your face

Logan lets out a scoff as he stands up and pulls you further up the bed with him. You greedily run your hands down his chest, admiring the way his muscles tense as your fingertips tease them.

"Greedy," Logan comments as you pull him on top of you

"Can't help it." You sigh, "I've missed you."

"I can tell. She's like a fucking waterpark down there." Logan laughs as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

"You're gross." You comment as you feel your face heat up

"Only for you," Logan says

You suppose you might've had a clever retort but the push of the cock that you had craved all week long has you shutting your mouth.

Logan's hips gently meet yours as he sets a slow pace. A quiet moan leaves his lips as you wiggle below him. The stretch of him is as good as you remember but you need more.

"Harder." You groan as he looks down at you

"Don't wanna hurt you, sweetheart," Logan says worriedly

You a frustrated breath tumbles from your lips as you wiggle your hips unhappily. Logan was always so considerate and gentle with you. Always taking his time and making sure you were okay. He was truly ethereal in the bedroom. But, right now he was driving you nuts.

Logan lets out a loud oof as you push him off you and down onto the bed. You can tell he's confused as you settle yourself into his lap and reach into the bedside drawer.

A smirk plays on his lips as a pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs come into his line of sight.

"Those for you?" He asks, "Want me to tie you up, bub?"

You roll your eyes as he plays with the thin strap of the lingerie that had fallen off your shoulders.

"They're for you." You smile as you grab his wrists, pulling them behind his head so he's stuck to your bed frame.

Logan's smile falters a bit but he lets you maneuver his arms anyway, "I can break these, easily."

"But you won't." You whisper into his ear and bite at the flesh there

"But I won't." Logan softly says, his eyes following your figure

Warm butterflies swim in his stomach as you line him up with your cunt again. He's never tried this position with you before, fearing it might be too much, after all, he wasn't the smallest guy around.

A soft groan leaves your lips as you sink down on him again. He feels your nails dig into his shoulders a bit as his head falls back a bit.

"New position?" He asks, regaining his confidence when he sees you're not in pain

"Mmhm." You say, focused on moving your hips

Logan's eyes widen as he lets you take what you want. The soft fuzz on the handcuffs tickles his skin as he itches to run his hands up and down your pretty body.

"Careful," He cautions you as you roughly move your hips above him

"Logan..." You groan, your eyes squeezed shut

He groans, as your pace quickens. The lust that clouds his brain is a tough fog that he can barely think through. He's worried that you're going to hurt yourself like this.

"M-Missed you so much." You confess, "Been thinking about you all damn week."

"Yeah?" Logan smiles and presses a kiss to your collarbone

"Yeah..." You sigh, "I've been so fucking horny lately."

Perhaps it's your admission or the lacy little thing that has yet to come off your body, or the new position, Logan's not entirely sure, but something in him snaps. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so worried about treating you like some delicate little flower.

The handcuffs don't stand a chance as he frees himself, from them. His hands come up and he quickly pulls out of you. A loud frustrated whine leaves your lips as you let him manhandle you.

"Logan I want to-"

He cuts you off as he spins you around and presses your chest down into the bed. You can feel the way he towers over you as he palms your ass, clearly liking the way it's on display for him.

"Have you ever tried this one?" His deep voice crowds your mind as he pushes into you again. A long moan leaves your lips as he chuckles at your submission.

A wonton cry leaves your lips below him as he finally moves his hips, cock hitting all the right places inside you.

Finally, you were getting what you wanted.

Not me disappearing into the void and then coming back and deciding it's the perfect time to write a bunch of smut...

Comment to be added to the taglist.

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[knoxic]

Cycle of Greed

Azriel x Reader | p1 - p2 - p3 - p4 - p5 - p6

summary: Azriel suspects Elain is his mate, reader is ignored, Rhysand and Cass are protective of reader

wc: 2,3k

warnings: Azriel... self hatred, insecurities

a/n: reader's nickname is Ace but there's no physical descriptions

It started subtly, coming home and not noticing her boyfriend's absence, too tired to notice, waking up to a cold and empty bed, brushing past it thinking Az must have been busy, even though he never mentioned anything. The first time you noticed he wasn't, it hit you like a slap to the face.

A family dinner was scheduled tonight, even though you had dinner with your family all the time, tonight was the only night of the month no one was allowed to miss. Rhysand made sure all of you would be free.

You had woken up early today, before the sun had risen, Azriel not being in bed with you didn't seem weird at all, Az often left the bed before the sun was up, he had trouble sleeping and once he woke it was hard to go back to sleep. After spending some time reading in bed you decided to make breakfast, after washing up you went downstairs, expecting to see containers of food left in the sink but there was none, so either Azriel hadn't eaten when he got home or he didn't come home at all. But again, she brushed it off, he probably had a good reason for it.

After eating breakfast, you went to change into your training clothes, just because it was an off day didn't mean you should skip training. Normally, you used a punching bag to literally beat your stress away but today you weren't even stressed, there wasn't even someone to keep you entertained, so training ended up being just boring.

Again, you came back to an empty home, no signs of your boyfriend. After a few minutes of staring at the walls you decided that perhaps a few hours in Velaris would be exciting, maybe you would visit Feyre's gallery. Walking through the streets is definitely a nice thing, the people passing by know who you are and what you do but still gave you friendly smiles. Watching the children play freely and unbothered made you wonder if, someday, your own children would be doing the same, little Illyrians terrorizing the streets of Velaris.

"Hey! Wasn't expecting you here today." Feyre's voice snapped you out of your daydream.

"Well, I'd rather spend hours looking at your paintings than the blank walls at home." You laughed.

"If that's the case then come with me, I just finished a new one." She slipped her arm through yours and pulled you further into the gallery. Fortunately for your boredom, Feyre had kept you busy the whole day, showing you her new artworks and even making you paint with her.

Hours later you were finally coming home, your feet screamed at you to sit down but you refused to winnow, not wanting to miss out on any new place that might have opened. You were so tired that your mind wasn't anywhere near Azriel, fully focused on resting as soon as you reached home. You only realized you had fallen asleep when the front door banged closed, your boyfriend's scent filling your nose.

"Az?" You sat up rubbing your tense neck, the couch, as comfortable as it was, was not meant for sleeping.

"Yeah, didn't know you were here." He seemed confused and... angry?

"Are you okay?" You slowly made your way towards him but he stepped back, turning towards the stairs.

"Fine, I'll go wash up for dinner, don't follow me." And with that he ran up. You took his anger as the result of his work, figuring that something had probably stressed him out.

Your eyes that were still foggy from sleep had finally cleared, allowing you to notice how dark the living room was, it was already night and you had probably slept for a couple hours. When you went up to bathe, you heard a loud bang from your bedroom. Azriel often isolated himself as to not take his anger out on anyone close to him, so you continued walking towards the guest bedroom, washing up in the adjoined bathroom. Only when you were finished did you make your way to your bedroom, the door was fully closed so you opened it carefully, the bathroom door was left open so Azriel was probably downstairs. You dressed up unhurried, taking the time to choose your clothes, fixing your hair and choosing shoes. When you went down, Azriel was nowhere to be seen, you called out to him but received no response, perhaps Rhys had called him?

'Rhys, is Azriel with you?' You asked, praying he would hear you.

'Yes, he said he thought you wouldn't come." Rhys answered, his voice oddly quiet, without its usual confidence. 'Are you two okay?'

'I– Yes? Well, I think so? Did he say anything?' Not once had it crossed your mind that your relationship was the cause of Azriel's stress, were you stressing him? If so, why didn't he say anything?

'Never mind. Are you coming?' Suddenly you weren't sure if you should, maybe Az had gone alone because he didn't want you there. 'Please come...'

Rhys pleaded, scaring you even more. Rhysand never pleaded.

'I don't know,' you were still standing in the middle of the living room, you could just winnow, but would your boyfriend want that? 'Maybe I should stay home tonight–'

'No. It's family dinner, fuck Azriel's dramatic ass, I don't know what's wrong with him but it's not your fault. You're coming, even if I have to go pick you up myself.'

𓂃

"My office, now." Rhysand's growl seemed to vibrate through his bones.

"Rhys–"

"No! Azriel." He walked out of the room, leaving Azriel to stare at his back, Elain kept gazing at him wide eyed. 'Come with me or I'll come to your girl, your choice.' His mind talons not bothering to make a gentle appearance.

Azriel left without looking back, still feeling Elain's gentle gaze following him. His heartbeat ringed in his ear, time seemed to pass by slowly as he walked the corridors to Rhys' office, darkness consuming the corners of every wall. The doors were left open showing his brother's back facing him, as soon as he entered they banged closed, before he said anything, Cassian winnowed beside him.

"What's wrong?" Cassian looked at them both, his hurried voice echoing through the silent room.

"Azriel was kissing Elain." Rhys turned to look at them both, giving Cassian a nod towards Az, his arms crossed against his chest while he leaned against the desk.

"I didn't–"

"You were going to!" Rhysand spat, making Azriel shut his mouth, he couldn't deny it.

"Wait–" Cassian stepped forward, watching as Az lowered his head, gasping when he realized it was true, "No fucking way! Did Ace break up with you?" Azriel's only response was a deep sigh.

"No, she didn't." Rhys answered for him.

"Brother..." Cassian's hand met Az' shoulder, "Why?" He was pissed but needed to know why Azriel was acting like that.

"I think–"

"Huh, you're not even sure." Rhys scoffed, shaking his head.

"I think Elain is my mate."

"What? Az, that's really serious..." Cass spoke softly, almost unsure. "Are you sure?"

"I– No, but it just makes sense!"

"How, Azriel?" Rhysand yelled, stepping closer to him. "How does it make sense? You've known Ace for centuries, been dating her for 80 years, you live with her! I swear I thought you were going to propose to her soon!" His hand met Azriel's sholder, shaking him. Rhys sighed, dropping his head and shoving Az away before turning back to sit on his chair.

"Az," Cassian started, "Does Ace know?"

"No, I don't know how to tell her." Az muttered the last part.

"You'll have to find a way. I don't know why you think Elain is your mate and not her but she deserves to know. Having a mate doesn't necessarily mean you two should be romantically involved, nor should you be anything at all, but it is clear that you're attracted to Elain and that's just... unacceptable."

"Why?" Azriel said exasperated, "Three brothers for three sisters, it just makes sense!" He yelled,banging his hands on Rhysand's desk.

"Are you insane?" Rhys yelled back, standing up from his chair. "You are in a relationship, Azriel! It doesn't matter if it makes sense, be responsible, she's not just a fling you had, you can't push her aside just because your cock gets hard around a pretty female. Ace is your girlfriend, has been for almost a century, the possibility of another female being your mate should not interfere in your relationship with her, it didn't have to. Elain could end up being just a great friend, or even better, Ace could be your mate..."

"If she was my mate, don't you think it would've snapped by now?" Azriel's question didn't really sound like a question.

"Is that all you heard from everything Rhys said?" Cassian looked incredulous.

"Azriel..." Rhysand's patient was slipping away. "I do not know what to say to make you understand–"

"There's nothing to understand, Elain is my mate and I want to be with her."

"Then fucking break up with Ace first!" Darkness crawling their way around them.

"What the fuck, brother?" Cassian yelled, for the first time that morning. "Didn't you learn anything from Mor leading you on all those centuries? You want to be with Elain? Fine, but break up with your girlfriend first. Just know that there's a lot in line here..." Silence enveloped the three of them, tension sitting heavy on their shoulders.

"Leave, go talk to Ace and fix this shit," Rhysand rubbed his temples, "Don't do to her what has been done to you."

𓂃

Azriel spent a few hours flying above Velaris, trying to forget about what had happened, he didn't know what he did wrong or why Rhysand was so upset. He decided to come back and talk with Elain first, then he'd talk with you, but Rhysand's talons scratched his mind walls as soon as he saw her, telling him to stay away from her until he broke up with you. When he got home he was so upset that you were the only thing keeping him from his possible mate, that when he saw you, he would definitely take his anger out on you. You were so relaxed and he was completely the opposite of that, your eyes puffy from sleep while his were bloodshot from the lack of it.

He couldn't stop the sudden hatred that consumed him at hearing your voice, he wasn't sure if it was directed at you or him, he spend the whole day resenting you while you were here worried about him. He couldn't stand the sound of your comforting voice, not while comparing it to Elain's, your eyes searching for his with so much love and he wondered when was the last time he really stared into them.

So he ignored you, he wasn't sure what he had answered you, his whole body aching with stress that he just wanted some form of release. Release that never came, he thought that by the time he finished bathing he'd feel better, but he didn't. Nothing seemed to work, the warm water did nothing to help soothe his muscles, and no matter how much he scratched, he still felt dirty.

Stepping out of the bathroom only angered him further, your scent still lingered even after hours of leaving the bed. Azriel didn't know what he'd do if you talked to him again, didn't know what he'd tell you, if he lied you would know, and if he didn't... you would be hurt.

𓂃

As soon as your eyes focused on the house, you wanted to winnow back home, but Rhys didn't give you a chance to do so. The front door being yanked open made you tear your eyes from the window, where you could see silhouette with wings, the smile your High Lord greeted you with was comforting. He was loyal to his brothers, if you had done something to upset Azriel, he wouldn't be smiling at you like that.

"You came!" He waved his hand, calling you inside.

"Someone threatened me." He laughed at your attempted joke, no humor filling your voice. As you walked closer to him, he pulled you into a hug, it didn't really seem like it was for you, his chin rested on your shoulder like you weren't almost half his size, it was comforting nonetheless. An exaggerated gasp pulled you away from each other's embrace.

"That's like the worse form of betrayal!" Cassian cried out, his hand that was resting on his chest reached out to push Rhysand away. "We could've had a family hug but you were selfish." His strong arms engulfing you into an embrace, lifting you off the ground, he let out a dramatic groan as if it had taken him so much effort to do so.

"Stop it, you're going to squeeze her." Rhys laughed, tapping his brothers shoulder.

"Jealous." Cassian whispered in your ear, making you giggle.

By the time Cassian set you back down, you had forgotten you were worried, if that was Rhysand's intention when he came to greet you at the door, it had worked. You were pulled inside by the hand, Cass gushing about all the things there were for dinner, his groovy voice muffling out a female giggle. The table was set only a few minutes after Cassian had sat her down, his conversation topics never ending. The first time she saw Azriel, he was coming out of the kitchen, right after Elain.

"She needed help with the dessert." Nesta muttered, her voice filled with something she couldn't exactly place. She couldn't dwell on it further, Azriel was looking at her now, his feet glued to the ground. It was clear he really wasn't expecting her to come.

[crimsonblackrose]

Sometimes I forget why I like the city because I spend so much time hurrying to where I need to go with my head down and trying to cram too much in. It’s not just because my friends live there, or because I have good memories from school. It’s that I can meet a friend I haven’t seen in ages there and take her to get her first local pizza and the staff will be ecstatic that she’d never had one, it’s that we can go into little shops and they’ll and chat about their products because they’re passionate about whatever niche shop we found and I’ll learn something, like what exactly sulfur looks like, that a little shop that’s trying to get cats adopted unexpectedly was nearly always sold out because they were next to a tattoo parlor and people coming and going from that shop would see them and go oh hey, let me go play with some cats. That we can go to a bar and the bartender will look at me and go “You look nice, don’t be nice.” and I realize that I’d been understood so suddenly and in such a specific way and setting that aside because the bartender didn’t mind making me a different drink if I didn’t like one was such a pleasant experience. That I can pop into an indie bookstore right at the same time that all these parents are taking their kids to reading time and then turning around to go to the cafe and get their drinks, preparing to settle in. Or that I can go to a museum and the kids in a family ahead of us could see that we couldn’t quite figure out the thing we were supposed to do and looped back to say “Do you mind if I show you?” and then were pretty happy to help. Let alone just how nice people in general are when you all come together in the middle of an awful snowstorm to make art. Or if you ask the old guy sitting at the visitor kiosk looking bored what historical things there are to see in the building he’ll be like “Oh boy are there a lot of things to see” and rattle off a happy list of things to see.

[arminsumi]

First request ever: Can you make a story about Gojo, where their both in a relationship but gojo had to end it because he was afraid that she would be in danger?

Thank you! Keep up the good work, I love your stories!!!

LET ME MARRY YOU

↳ GOJO さとる + fem!reader

The risk of dating you his too much for him to handle, so he breaks it off, only for him to come back to your doorstep years later and ask: "Let me marry you."

2k

Note : istg each time i edited this... the wordcount grew lol. i hope u enjoyyy 🥹💗 tysm for enjoying my work it means everything

Warnings : angst -> fluff (?) -> happy ending trust me, Shibuya arc spoilers (Ep 9), manga spoilers (chapter 221)

🍒 More from Jay : Gojo works / Gojo fave works / JJK works / oct. reqs open

The risk of dating you is thrilling when Satoru's just a teenager in puppy love. But as he grows older, and heads into those dreaded 20s, the risk makes him more and more nervous.

What if something happens to you?

He presses kiss after kiss to your forehead and feels his chest tremble, feels his lips quiver, as he refrains from telling you the truth about the Jujutsu world. Satoru just can't do it.

There are so many instances of him saving you from curses that you're oblivious about. He just smiles strangely, and you wonder why he looks like he's just seen a ghost. Because he has, those pretty eyes see ghosts. But those pretty eyes also see you, "What am I looking at?" he responds after you ask why he's looking at you so tenderly, "I'm looking at my future wife." he flirts just to fluster you.

That's at the cafe, when things are still simple. He keeps thinking to himself, as he lays with you in bed some nights;

I want to marry you.

I'm going to marry you.

Please let me be your husband one day.

As if he's trying to manifest it.

Everything is okay-ish... until he gets pangs of fright when your name starts to be known outside of his closed circle of friends.

It's October 11th.

Gojo Satoru breaks up with you.

He leads you to believe that the two of you are just "right person, wrong time". It all hurts an incomprehensible amount for him, to finally cut the string that tethers the two of you together.

He sits on the stairs, head in his hands, mourning.

He starts many mornings with crying spells that last until midday.

He destroys evidence of you and him. In case anyone ever finds it and thus finds your apartment, or work, or college... or anything.

But he can't part with a very special photo. It's you and him in Okinawa, sharing a cheesy kiss at the beach. In the moment this photo was captured, Gojo remembers having whispered some dirty joke in your ear and that's why you smiled so big into his kiss.

He drifts to sleep to the lullaby lovesongs that defined your love.

Years pass, he refuses to even talk to you. The heartbreak worsens with time, he laughs when he realizes that on his 27th birthday.

Isn't time supposed to heal all wounds? Someone said that to him once. Well, they must have been lying without realizing it.

The day Gojo Satoru is sealed, he looks into Suguru's eyes, and remembers you through them. When he resides in that awful prison realm, he only thinks of you you you you you you you oh god he misses you so much that it feels like the very thought of your smile stabs his chest. Every memory is painful. Every flashback puts one more crack in his heart.

"Can't I ever catch a break...?" He laughs to himself, chattering skeletons making their eerie symphony around him.

He thinks. Ponders. Wonders. Broods. Daydreams. All about you. Always about you. Never anything else. Just his first love, from the late spring of his 17th year.

His earthly goddess.

The purpose of his benevolent actions.

He cries. And sobs. And weeps. Because no one can hear him but the skeletons and he's sure they don't mind the sight or sound of a 27 man howling in pain over a lost lover.

It's not just your relationship that he's mourning. But the fact he can't feel you in this cube... that he can't feel your presence in the world... that's worse than the heartbreak. At least through all these years, he's been able to sense your existence. Feel the subtle ripples of your soul no matter how distant you are; you'd be stood in a coffee shop, he'd be at Jujutsu High teaching, and yet feeling you.

Because as he promised to you at 17, "Half my soul is yours. And half your soul is mine. I'll always be with you even if I'm not there."

He has the biggest breakdown of his life in that little cramped suffocating claustrophobic eerie creepy box.

It's 19 days later. He's out. He's back in the world. And he feels the sense of you, your existence, swelling in his chest, tickling his mind, prodding his heart.

"Gojo sensei, where are you headed?"

"I'm gonna go find my other half." he says cryptically.

It's a stark bright day.

Gojo Satoru knocks at your apartment door.

You open it.

He looks at you, and you look at him.

"Hi."

"...hey...? Wow. Haha... you grew into your features, huh?"

Your voice fills his heart with life.

"You too... glad you still live in the same place... I was worried you might have moved out..."

"... Ah, Satoru, you'd be able to find me no matter what corner of the world I resided in."

Your laugh fills his mind with pleasant memories.

There's an a magnetism between you and him just like there always used to be. It feels like two magnets connecting at last, after feeling the distant attraction throughout all these years of distance.

"You're right." Satoru says after a silence of just staring into your eyes.

"I'll always find my way home."

A silence ensues after he says this.

"...haha... don't cry... or I'll cry..."

"... Satoru... I thought of you every day after you left me at the station."

"... me too."

"... why did you leave?"

He stares at you.

"... I was scared of you being in danger."

He gulps.

"Me? In danger? But you're the strongest, why would it matter."

Oh god that's right. You said it then when you were 17, "You're the strongest" and he carried that title with him from then. And now you've said it again. He's reminded. He feels a bit stupid. A bit ridiculous. A bit...

"You're right..." he chokes up. "I am. I could have protected you I guess..."

"... yeah, duh."

He smiles meekly.

It was more complicated than that, sweetheart. But I won't tell you.

He hesitates. He contemplates.

"I have to tell you everything... will you promise to believe everything I say even if it sounds insane?"

"Of course. What is it?"

He inhales deeply. And instead of blurting out his whole life story of being a sorcerer in the Jujutsu world, he just leans in and kisses you hard and truthfully. Cups your cheeks. Closes his eyes. Tastes you like a sweet from his childhood that he hasn't had for years. Presses to you. Takes in your scent.

Yeah yeah... he'll tell you everything in a minute.

But for now just let him kiss you until he runs out of breath.

Let him just...

"Hey..." he pulls away, gasping, "Let me marry you."

"Haha, Satoru..." you take it as a joke and laugh, because it sounds as bizarre and unexpected as one. Then you realize there's that serious look on his face. "... Satoru?"

"Can I?"

"... what?"

"Can I please?"

"... huh??"

"Can I marry you, please?"

He looks at you and waits for your answer. His poor heart. It's palpitating. His whole chest cavity inspires with love for you. This man that you haven't seen in years has just asked if you'll let him marry you — with very specific wording.

Can he? Will you let him?

It's funny in a way, because you think to yourself; this is such a Satoru thing to do... show up unannounced years later on your doorstep and ask for your hand in marriage as if no time has passed, as if you know the full story.

"Satoru... what happened to you throughout these years for you to come back to me and ask for my hand in marriage?" you ask, genuinely baffled.

He swallows slowly. "I know I sound like I've lost my mind. But I promise I haven't."

"That's hard to believe. The Satoru I remember was always on the brink of mania. A bit insane but not quite."

You make him laugh. "Yeah..."

"So are you asking to marry me out of insanity?"

"No."

"Well alright then. I guess I'll marry you."

You make him laugh again, with that funny tone. He hasn't laughed genuinely in years... it's always been that plastic laugh. But this is his genuine laugh. Silky and quiet. The opposite of his demeanor.

"I guess I should be explaining everything to you properly... before I ask you something like that."

"You're damn right..."

"... don't scold me too hard when I tell you all the reasons I left. Or, if you do, then at least hold me while you scold me. And run your fingers through my hair like you used to."

"Satoru."

"Yes?"

His heart throbs. He looks at you.

"Stop standing at the doorway and come inside."

"Oh."

You sigh. He smiles. Then he bows his head so it doesn't hit the top of the doorframe. Damn tiny Tokyo apartments. Your archway always had it out for the crown of his head. You laugh when he bumps into it just like he always used to.

So the two of you sit down and just talk. And talk. Maybe cry a bit. Actually, you cry a lot. And he holds you. And he says he's sorry. He says sorry over and over, as if the word is a bandage he's trying to wrap around all your heartbreak wounds that he caused.

"I'm sorry."

Satoru's apologies aren't easy to come by, and when you receive them, they nurse your heart. It's the gentleness with which he says it, and earnest too. Each successive sorry means more than the last.

"My angel..."

When you call him this after he vents to you about his time in the Prison Realm, and his overwhelming duty of being the strongest, he breaks down completely and just weeps in your arms.

He sobs like you've never heard him sob before, like a dog.

Finally. At least for a moment. He could be weak. Let down his guard. Be raw. Be emotional. Not a teacher. Not a sorcerer. Just your boy. Your Satoru.

Your consolation is all he wanted throughout these years. He looks up at you, eyes red and sore, nose sniffling, and stares at you like he can see your soul.

"...Satoru?"

"Marry me."

You chuckle again.

"If that will stop your tears..." you joke.

He sniffles loudly and swallows, composing himself.

"I thought about marrying you so much when we were together... 'n I tried so hard to bite my tongue when your name nearly rolled off it while talking to my students some days. I was always..."

On the verge of saying your name.

He sniffles long and hard and waits for your hand to weave into his hair.

"Will you think about it?"

"I will."

There's a silence. Satoru feels hopeful. He lays on your chest, arms around you like you're his whole world that he won't dare let go of again.

"There." you say with finality. "I thought about it. Let's get married."

"That took you, like, ten seconds."

You laugh with him. "Yeah... I already knew in my heart when you asked me at the doorway... you know... Satoru... it's funny. When you left, it felt like half my soul was gone. And when you knocked on my doorstep, it felt like I was whole again. Does that sound freaky, or does it tie into all this... Juju... Jujutsu stuff?"

He's silent.

"I have no idea."

"Wow. My future husband isn't knowledgeable at all." you joke.

His heart flutters at 'future husband'.

"Sorry." he says, smiling softly, "My mind is blank when your fingers are running through my hair."

The two of you go on and on, until you're laid in bed sleeping at each other's side. Resting. And god, did Gojo Satoru need a good rest.

In your arms, he's no longer an insomniac.

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

[venomhoundfanworks]

Hazbin Hotel - Vox Kink Headcanons

Personal kink headcanons for my beloved tv man Vox. Not doing the more obvious/universally accepted kinks. Instead I'm writing about some of my more... niche takes.

My other work can be found on my masterlist >>HERE<<

WARNINGS: Gender neutral reader, but is AFAB for the last section; all the kinky shit obviously; Valentino mention (18+), MDNI, NSFW below the cut ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Domestic Kink ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

For those who don't know, a domestic kink is being turned on by doing everyday couple things. Things like cooking, cleaning, that type of thing. Vox basically gets turned on by you two being a couple and taking care of each other. The man is so love starved he just gets sent to another planet by those simple everyday shows of affection.

If you start helping Vox get dressed in the mornings, he will melt into a puddle. Every. Time.

It started simple enough, Vox was in a rush so you thought to help him put on his coat. Sliding it onto him, adjusting the collar, straightening his bowtie... You didn't notice how still he went until you went to fix his sleeves and you looked up into his wide, almost feral eyes.

Vox desperately crashed his lips against yours as he pulled your bodies flush together causing you to squeak. Only then did you feel how hard you had made him as he grinded into you... Needless to say, Vox had to reschedule his entire morning.

Vox will come home to you cooking dinner and just bend you over the counter. Whispering in your ear, 'Your so sweet doing this for me, Sugar. Now let me take care of you."

I have had the scenario floating around of you making Vox breakfast in bed one morning just as something nice to do for him. You dont think too much of it, he has been so tired and overworked lately so you figure any extra sleep he can get would do wonders for him

Vox however, absolutely fucking loses it. When you wake him up with tray in hand, he... just kind of stares at you. What do you mean you already made breakfast? Wait you have breakfast? For him? For him in bed?

You actually thought the man might have bluescreened. It takes you setting the tray down and grabbing his hand before he starts moving again.

Vox pulls you into his lap and starts peppering kisses all over you. He just cant believe that this is actually happening; that your here with him, that you did such a sweet thing, and oh god does he love you so much.

He actually is daydreaming about it the rest of the day and bragging about it whenever he can.

Comes home early that evening just to surprise you and spend a romantic evening together (totally not because he accidentally pent himself up gushing over you all day ABSOLUTELY NOT).

✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿

Recording/Being Recorded ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

(This one might not be a niche take but I'm putting it here anyway cause I want to yap about it)

I wasn't quite sure if there was a specific name for this kink. But what I mean by this is Vox loves to specifically record you two having sex. Like an amateur porn thing. However. These videos are meant for his eyes only.

Vox would murder anyone who so much as tried to get their hands on these videos. God help them if they actually saw one. Its not even a matter of honor or anything, its a matter of only Vox is allowed to see you come apart like that. Vox is the only one allowed to hear you make those sounds.

Vox honestly isnt going to even bring this whole 'recording you two' thing up unless he trusts you completely. Even then he is super sheepish the first time he asks about it. Vox knows your going to be suspicious and, yeah, you rightfully are due to his association with the porn moth.

It takes a bit of prodding for you to get out of Vox that he sees it as a different way to enjoy you. To experience you. He will get to see your beautiful body at angles he never could while he plows into you. He can finally see the look of pure ecstasy on your face as he eats you out, diving his tongue as far into you as it can go.

Vox is over the moon when you finally agree to let him place a camcorder in your shared bedroom.

You viscerally notice how much more relaxed and strangely content Vox seems to be next time you two have sex. Vox always had this certain tension to him and its just... gone now.

What you don't realize is that 'tension' was Vox's underlying fear of how transient you were. He was always trying to absorb as much of you as he could, to memorize every part of you. But now he felt like he could truly let himself enjoy the moment knowing that he will be able to listen to your heavenly sounds on repeat, analyze every little twitch he causes, and fully see every expression you make.

A deep, deep, dark part of Vox want to tell Valentino to cancel every shoot he has for a day. To reserve the studio just for you two. To spend an entire day taking you in every way imaginable. Bringing you to bliss in every messy way he possibly can. Getting you to make every obscene noise that beautiful voice of yours can make.

But Vox knows that he could never trust Valentino to not make a copy of you two for himself. So he will stick to his amateur recordings. Anything to keep you safe and to himself.

Whenever Vox is missing you at work (or whenever he gets a free moment honestly), he starts watching back one of your now countless sex tapes. He will let the odd feeling of comfort wash over him as he sees the adoring looks you give him and hears you two exchange words of love. God, he can't wait to get back home to you.

✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿

Cock Warming ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

OKAY. I think I've gotten the point across that Vox is a certified lover boy™ who basically wants to imbibe your very being. Whelp. This is just more of that.

Don't get me wrong, Vox loves sex. Sex is great. But having you on his lap, his cock inside you, the two of you as close as two beings can physically get, and just- enjoying that... It hits differently you know?

Say its due to his mechanical nature all you want, (insert joke about 'plugging in' here) but Vox loves to feel like you two are truly connected. When your bodies actually become one like this, he is just that much closer to perfect.

As stated previously, will let you sit on his lap and cockwarm him anytime you please. Vox's absolute favorite times are when he has to do work ironically. He can never stop the blissful smile he makes as he has you in his lap. Vox will gently hold you with one arm while the other tries to get work done. You always end up giggling whenever you kiss up the side of his neck or monitor and Vox lets out the most contented sighs.

Honestly, just start going to work with him, becoming his personal cocksleeve whenever he is in his monitor room. A blanket draped over the two of you to hide what's actually going on.

Since the poor guy has no choice but to sleep on his back; you can easily do the same thing for bedtime. Climb on top of him and delicately slide him inside of you. Vox will just look up at you with the most lovedrunk expression as you bend over him and nuzzle into his neck, your body draping over his, and Vox pulling you impossibly close as you both fall asleep.

Its times like this that Vox questions why anyone would even need heaven.

✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿

FURTHER READING ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

One of my favorite posts that just goes over a evening being Vox's s/o can be found >>HERE<<, its by the talented @lqveharrington

Another really good post by @liveontelevision where Vox gets jealous of your work with Valentino and decides to start recording you can be found >>HERE<<

Then lastly, quick headcanons by @voxsremotec0ck where Vox is spying on the reader then catches you masturbating can be found >>HERE<<

[biolumien]

Hi Hi! first time requesting like this and I just recently finished watching the latest episode of Kaiju number 8. I was wondering if your could write something for Vice Captain Hoshina.

I was thinking something along the lines of a reincarnation storyline? Maybe Reader is a renowned painter or something. And one day they come across a dream of Hoshina in their past life and they paint his face. And Hoshina is suddenly bombarded by a few officers/cadets a few days later about a sudden article blowing up online with a painting that had extremely similar structure to his face. And maybe they'd end up meeting because of it?

I love your writing. Particularly the one with the glasses reader that I read a few days back. You're free to change things as you see fit. And I'm sure whatever you come up with will be very nice. Sorry if my words are confusing. I don't speak english language that well. 😊👌 Thank you if you decide to write for this ask.

notes: ok the way i am. actually obsessed with this i hope you enjoy!!

every 'one line' drawn.

soshiro hoshina x gn!reader no warnings, i think wc: 1768

in your dreams, you always see the same face. red eyes watching your face, purple hair framed over his face and the feeling of a callused hand on your hand, on your cheek. and every time he leans into kiss you, you find yourself pressing your face closer to his, as if desperate, and then you wake up. 

and when you wake up, you always feel the telltale trickle of a tear down your face, the feeling of salt on your tongue. 

there’s no time to wonder what the dreams ever mean, what with your job as a painter. you lived commission to commission—and while your customers were always high brow and paid generously, still meant that you couldn’t be lost in daydreams forever. 

and in your studio, with the pungent smell of turpentine and linseed oil, with your hands inevitably smeared with oil paints, it was easy to forget the stranger whose hands felt rough and weary, and yet held your face with measured gentleness. it was easy to forget him—up until you went back to bed, and you’d always be back in the same dream. 

“i keep seeing you,” you murmur in your dream. “who are you?” 

the man laughs. 

he seems sad, for a second. 

“a dear friend,” he responds. you see it on his face, the way his lips twist at his words, that it’s not quite true. and he leans in again, watching your face. “it’s okay if you don’t remember me.” 

“but i do,” you say in protest. you think you remember this face. “i want to.” 

you must remember this face, surely—this face that, upon your words, looks sadder. and then you wonder if he’s even real—or if this is simply your subconscious, saddened that you can’t remember. saddened that your mind replays this moment, again and again, a repeated brushstroke pulling open the blank canvas underneath. 

“we all want things we can’t have, sometimes,” the man says. 

he leans into kiss you, 

and you jolt up out of bed, awakening to a phone call from your manager. 

“hello…?” you mumble into your phone, pressing it against your cheek as you rub the sleep out of your eyes. “it’s rare you call me randomly like this…” 

“tis no random call,” your manager responds. “you’ve received a request to exhibit some of your works from a museum. will you do it? i hear the pay’s pretty good.”

“mmm… any specific theme?” you ask. 

“not really. they said to let your imagination go wild.” 

“hm.” 

you touch your lips, and when you close your eyes, you see a hint of those crimson eyes again. 

“alright. i think i’ve got a pretty good muse this time,” you say. 

[…]

hoshina wasn’t exactly someone who was very in the know about art. his job, for one, meant that it’s not like he would exactly be interested in art in general, and it’s not like he was even spending his days off on art museum trips or admiring the local art scene. 

so why was it that everyone seemed all abuzz about art today?

and why did it seem like there were more eyes on him than before? not that he particularly abhorred attention or anything, but the eyes seemed to be looking at his face specifically. 

his eyes flit to some of the new officer recruits—iharu, reno, kafka… fuck, even haruichi and aoi? what the hell was going on—huddled around a laptop. haruichi’s brow furrows as he stares at the illuminated screen, and then flits up to look at hoshina. when hoshina stares back, harder, haruichi’s gaze immediately ducks back to the laptop.  

okay. 

well, something was definitely up. 

hoshina strolls over to the recruits, who immediately seem to start panicking—the panic is written across kafka’s face more obviously than the others, and reno elbows kafka in the side. 

“what’s all this about? if you’ve got time to huddle you’ve got time to run laps—” hoshina starts, leaning over at the screen before—

“about that, vice captain,” iharu says. 

hoshina’s in stunned silence staring at the screen, because… isn’t that—

“holy shit,” hoshina says. 

“holy shit indeed,” haruichi says grimly. 

on haruichi’s laptop screen is a painting of— him. hoshina’s damned face, brows gentle and a softened smile on his face. it was a beautiful painting, and yet—there was something sad about the smile, the brows belying deep sorrow. 

“this painter’s pretty well-known, too, aren’t they?” kafka asks. “for like… the psychedelic stuff.” 

“no,” reno says. “they’re like our modern-day monet or something. impressionist paintings.” 

“impressi-what? how do you know this much about art, reno?” iharu asks, wrapping his arm around reno’s neck in a headlock. reno coughs, slapping iharu’s arm. 

“shut up,” reno chokes out, but even as the bickering picks up, hoshina’s gaze is still transfixed on the painting. 

it’s him. no doubt about it. 

“i’ve never talked to them before,” hoshina says after a moment. at once the arguments rattle to a halt, but in the empty relief of silence is the carved truth—that the painting is definitely of him, and its painter was a person who he’d never talked to before in his life. 

“the artist is going to be doing a panel about their exhibition soon,” haruichi says, glancing up at hoshina. “i think they can get me a ticket if i ask.” 

“… just don’t expect me to lighten your laps around the training course,” hoshina says with a chuckle. 

[…]

you hated speaking in front of an audience. cliche, of course, the introverted artist that squirrels away in in their studio—but that was often your reality. you liked to say you wanted your work to ‘speak for itself’, as it were, so you didn’t often make public appearances. 

but your most recent exhibition, featuring the painting of your mysterious dream visitor, created far more buzz than you could have asked for. suddenly everyone and anyone wanted an answer as for who your muse was, why he had a very striking resemblance to soshiro hoshina of the japan anti-kaiju defense force’s third division, and had you gotten permission from hoshina to do it? did you have a specific message surrounding your work?

“just stick to the script,” your manager says to you. “i talked it through with some of the reporters and i wrote some answers for you if you’re scared.” he hands you a slip of paper, and your eyes scan the page, and you swallow the lump in forming in your throat. 

“i shouldn’t have done the painting after all,” you say.

it was strange. in the days and weeks you’d worked on the painting, you hadn’t seen your muse in your dreams at all. you’d been forced to rely on only the memory of the dream–which only seemed to get fuzzier and fuzzier until it became barely a wisp. and now, in those ensuing weeks that the painting has been on exhibition, you almost felt embarrassed of the painting–its vague subject matter might have been charming and a little kitsch, but charming and a little kitsch wasn’t supposed to garner this much attention.

“nonsense,” your manager says. “it’s a wonderful painting.” he pushes you by the back, gently urging you forward. “they’re ready for you.”

you push past the door separating you from the reporters–and then are immediately flashbanged with cameras and lights, and jumbling, layered voices creating a discordant symphony that made you wince.

“um. thank you… for…” you wince as your grip fumbles on your microphone, nearly dropping it, the feedback screeching across speakers. “um. sorry. i’m not exactly the best public speaker–my repertoire of events… like this, isn’t many. but thank you for attending this panel… surrounding my exhibition of my latest work. i’ll answer… a few questions.”

the reporters looked like a jumbled blob for the most part–a thrumming organism of similar faces that melted together into one homogenous mess, a splotch of badly-mixed paint on the palette that you’d scrape away with a knife and discard. 

reciting your manager’s written responses wasn’t the hard part. as you continued to banter, your eyes swept across the crowd.

what were you even doing here?

you wanted to crawl back to your studio, already, and go back to painting. at least then the idea that you’d dreamed up some man who bore a striking resemblance to someone who already existed would fade away with time. and then your eyes found that telltale shade of crimson and purple–for just a moment. and you think his eyes meet yours, too–crimson eyes the exact shade as the one in your dreams. 

his eyes widen. 

“... as you were saying?” a reporter’s words float back to your ears, ephemeral, and you pause.

“can we… no more questions.” you shake your head, finding your vision swimming, blurring, and you raise a hand wiping tears from your face. “sorry. something just… came up–”

and you push into the crowd, trying to find the face from your dreams.

that had to be him, right? his face? it was like as soon as you saw him, the underpainting of your memories flowed back to you–a heartaching loss pounding in your chest. something was wrong. something was missing, because you’d forgotten–and now that you’d remembered it, it hurt. 

“i’m sorry,” you say. 

“you’ve nothing to be sorry for,” the man says to you, and leans in to kiss you. “i’ll find you again in the next life.”

“i’ll remember you,” you say. 

the man watches you, a somewhat sad look on his face.

you press your thumb to the corner of his lip.

“and when i do, i’ll do something big. to capture your attention. and then your eyes will be on me forever.”

you finally manage to catch the man in the crowd, and you realize you’ve seen him before. only once or twice, though–on a small poster or on television. soshiro hoshina, of the third division. you did know this man–but just barely.

he lets out a surprised noise as soon as you collide with him, and you gasp breathlessly. 

“i’m sorry,” you say, looking up at hoshina. “i just… have we…”

“met?” hoshina answers your question, cocking his head, blinking down at you.

“yes,” you say. “i think… i think so. maybe. we… you look familiar.”

hoshina blinks, and then smiles.

it’s so different than the way he smiled at you in your dream. the corners of his lips quirk up, his eyebrows relax almost as he watches you. 

“i thought so too,” hoshina says, and you hear relief in his voice. “so… um. hi.”

“hi,” you respond, and he laughs.

[chaptersleftunwritten]

Mine, All Mine

Blurb: Eddie has been infatuated with you from the moment he first laid his eyes on you and he is determined to make you his.

Pairing: Stalker!Eddie Dark!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Dark!Eddie, mature/dark themes, stalking, manipulation, attempted kidnapping, 18+.

-

divider by @cafekitsune

The first phone call arrived mid spring. A shrill ring tearing your nerves to pieces at around 2 a.m. on a Tuesday morning. You awoke with cold sweat beading on your forehead, your mind still hazy with sleep as you reached over, leaving the warm comfort of your soft duvet and grabbed your phone from its receiver.

“Hello?” Your lips barely part for the words as they are mumbled from your mouth. Your eyes stinging with fatigue as you try to pry your lids open. You are met by what you thought was silence, and instead of overthinking it, you hang up. Returning back to your lulled state of slumber.

However, little did you know that it was just the beginning of a long array of phone calls. They all arrived at the same time most nights. Your body began to expect the phone to ring but your heart would jump every time, startled by the sudden noise from beside your bed.

“Who is this?” You’d cry, rightfully terrified into the speaker. It had taken weeks for you to even register the laboured breathing coming from the other side of the line. Deep, staggered breaths penetrating your ears like knives, “What do you want from me?!” Your terror turned to anger- you just wanted a full night of rest. You even contemplated ripping the landline from the wall and stomping on the plastic until it was mere shards entangled in the fibres of the carpeted floor- but you never did, because part of you was morbidly curious as to who was calling... and why.

Every time you'd answer the phone you'd hope to hear a voice. Something new that could lead you to who this was but all you got was the eerie breathing. Why did they keep calling your house, were they from your town, your neighbourhood- did they go to Hawkin's High? You were clueless. No one had ever shown this much interest in you before now... before these late night calls.

You knew this much- the person on the other side of the line didn't enjoy when you got too heated with them. They hated to hear you yell or cry and so they would hang up immediately every time that you did. It was more frustrating than anything else- you were plagued with horrendous thoughts- was this just innocent? Or were you in danger?

-

At lunch time the majority of the students gathered in the canteen to enjoy their meals whilst you and Chrissy Cunningham lounged outside on the large dusty red concrete staircase which led to the schools main entrance and reception. The sun split the newly blossoming trees with veiled dispersed light causing a welcomed warmth to drown your skin.

"That is seriously messed up!" Chrissy's shriek brings you back from your hazy daydream and you blink at her mindlessly, nodding your head in agreement, "Have you told anyone else?" She questions, her hands taking yours. You and Chrissy sat on different ends of the popularity scale, however despite all of your differences you had remained close since you were children. Today was the rare occasion where you both got to catch up whilst none of her cheer friends 'minions' were around to give you icy glares and hurtfully snicker at your appearance beneath their breaths.

Your head gently sways from side to side, "No, just you. I don't want this to become a big thing, Chris." your grip tightens around her hands that are slotted with your own, "Keep this between us, yeah?" Your eyes are pleading with her more than your voice ever could and Chrissy nods her head, flashing you one of her sweetest Chrissy smiles.

"Of course. Scouts honour!” She throws her hand over her heart jokingly and you have no other choice than to take her word for it. She has been good at keeping secrets in the past- so you trust that she will, for your sake.

Unbeknown to you, Chrissy was not the only pair of ears listening in on your confessions that day. Lingering on the opposite side of the staircase smoking a cigarette against the brick wall, hidden by the shade, was no other than Eddie 'the freak' Munson. The orange glowing cherry bud at the end of the cigarette illuminated and contoured his face in a hellish haze.

When Eddie had heard your displeasure of the phone calls he decided it would be best to take a break from dialling your number so frequently- especially if you were now telling people. He couldn’t risk having his little secret getting out.. his obsession with you coming to light.

What would you say? Would you confront him? Hell, the sheer thought of it made him both frightened and enthralled. To have you talk to him- even if you were screaming at him- would be an absolute pleasure.

Eddie isn’t quite sure why this fixation with you started, but when it did it was like a match that was struck to a canister of petrol. He remembers even the smallest of details about you: Like, how one day at school he had noticed a small smudge of mascara on your eyelid and he pictured you getting ready in your bathroom mirror just for him. He also thinks about your favourite go-to sweater and how it has a stain on the right cuff from you painting both at home and in art class. Over the course of his phone calls he had managed to engrave your soft sleepy mumbles and moans deep into his memory. You were all he thought about- not even Dungeon’s and Dragon’s could distract him from that fact.

When the phone calls became unsatisfactory, Eddie took to standing outside of your house. He would come after nightfall and he would watch you from across the street, a black hood pulled over his luscious long locks. He knew that if you clocked his hair style that you would know it was him instantly… he couldn’t chance that. He loved to watch your eyes slit with confusion as you buried your head in frustration into some mathematics homework or how you would prance and dance free spirited around your room to some Kate Bush songs that would play from your stereo. He wish he could afford a camera so he could keep these sights of you forever, but he had to settle for his memory for the meantime.

With each passing night it was as if Eddie got closer and closer to your house until eventually his face was mere inches away from the glass of your bedroom window, so close his breath would appear on the window pain. You always made the mistake of leaving your curtains open, blaming it on how you loved how the ‘natural light’ awoke you in the mornings- Eddie would counter that you’d leave them open for him. He liked the idea of you knowing that he was there, and allowing him to stay and observe you.

Eddie never saw a problem with what he was doing. He would never hurt you and his intentions weren’t to frighten you… he just wanted to feel closer to you. He wanted to know you. At some point along the course of these visits Eddie became somewhat- braver. He’d notice a window open and he would climb inside, careful to not disturb his sleeping beauty in the nearby room. He felt like a knight climbing the cursed tower in which his princess was held captive in. He would sweep the house for trinkets and memorabilia that he could steal to tide him over to the following night; these often came in the form of loose pairs of underwear you had left laying around or a used bar of soap from your bathroom. Nothing too big that you might notice is gone.

It was innocent… in the beginning. Until the need to have you all to himself escalated to Eddie clearing out the back of his van. He kitted the vehicle out with duvets and pillows and blankets- but also with duct tape and handcuffs. He felt out of control. He needed you all to himself, you were too good for this horrible world. Someone might hurt you, or worse, take you away from him. He had to do something, right? To protect you.

No one would suspect you were with him at his trailer. All of his neighbours kept themselves to themselves and there’s no way they’d ever call the police considering most of them were also drug dealers. He could keep you safe. He could love you more than anyone ever had- you’d never feel alone with him, he would take care of you.

-

Your bedroom is cold as cool air sweeps through from your open window, blowing your red sheer curtains with each gentle gust. The temperatures were creeping up in Hawkin’s, meaning a lot more of your windows were left open all night long. You’d never think anything of it as you’d switch your bedside lamp off for the night, slotting yourself comfortably into your duvet cover as you waited for sleep to succumb you to darkness.

But tonight something felt wrong… something deep within your chest trying to warn you of nearby danger. You had never thought twice about the safety of your community- but tonight felt off. Something was different. Your movements are sudden as you slowly creep toward your window, peering out from behind the curtains into the abyss of your garden.

You gasp, your stomach hitting the floor at the sight of your own reflection blinking back at you in the glass. You had almost dropped to the floor at the sight of yourself but thankfully it gave you just cause to breathe a small aspirated laugh at how ‘paranoid’ you were being over nothing.

Or so you thought.

Your skin pricks with goosebumps as your body temperature drops to what feels like below freezing. Each and every one of your delicate hairs standing on end as you had turned around and your eyes fell onto shadows dancing beneath your bedroom door- someone was in your house on the other side of it and it looked to you that their next pit stop was your room.

You feel as though your bare feet have weights attached to them as you attempt to quietly move over to your bedside table, switching on the light in hopes that it’ll drive the intruder to flee. But it doesn’t. Your heavy heart is pounding in your ears and it’s making every thought inside of your brain inaudible.

“I’m calling the police!” Your yell is half hearted and Eddie can tell that you’re afraid. He decides in that moment that tonight is all or nothing and he shakes the door handle to your bedroom, pushing the door open his warm eyes fall on your stiff frame. You are flush against the wall, your hand is trembling as you hold the phone to your chest- clearly you have been unable to dial a number yet, “Eddie?” Your voice quakes and Eddie ventures further into the room, his hands splayed out in front of him to try and reassure you that he means you no harm.

You and Eddie weren’t close in any way, shape or form. But to see him in your bedroom- it didn’t unsettle you in quite the way you expected. You knew who he was, everybody did. He just wasn’t popular in the way that Chrissy or Billy was… he was the Hellfire Club master. He was the freak of the lunch hall and the King of the weirdos. You never saw him in that light, though. You secretly admired him. He was so unapologetically himself, he was so outward and fun and you actually wanted to get to know him better. You were just never brave enough, the only time you had spoken to him was art class where you had asked him if you could borrow one of his paintbrushes- and without hesitation he let you. He would give you anything you’d ask for.

You had developed a minor crush on Eddie and you had gone so long without even realising it. He was definitely your type: Dark eyes, dark hair with the bonus of it being long, his style was so unique and intriguing and the cherry on top? He had tattoos. The black ink against his pale skin made your stomach flutter and your teeth to chew on the inside of your cheek. Whenever you’d see his forearms you’d have to force yourself not to stare at him for too long in fear of being caught.

You’d dote on his remarkable talent with charcoal and how unafraid he was to embrace the true darkness and messiness of the artistic medium. Sometimes when you would see his finished portraits you could almost swear they resembled you in an abstract way.

“Hey, sweetie… let’s put the phone down, yeah?” His voice is so calm and kind and his steps are tedious as he slowly makes his way toward you but you don’t budge. Your head shaking ‘no’ as you try and keep the distance between you both.

“Stay ba..back!!” You warn, your finger finding the dial of the phone, “What are you doing here, Munson?” Your usual sugary sweet tone has been replaced with malice and Eddie’s lips twist into a frown. He can’t understand why his baby angel is reacting this way- it’s not like he’s hurting you.

“Put the phone down.” He asks again, his voice sterner this time as he pushes his hood down from his head to his shoulders, exposing himself fully to your gaze, “I’m not gonna hurt you.” He holds out his pinky to you, in a form of a promise and it causes your heart to swell in your chest. You study his expression for any sort of faux honesty, for any twitch of anger or evil but you ultimately decide that Eddie isn’t a threat to you. At least not for now…

Returning the phone back to the receiver you hook your pinky cautiously with Eddie’s and you watch as a smile contorts his lips. Eddie’s mind buzzes with excitement at the small form of intimacy and his chest tenses with impatience. He needs to act now if he wants this to happen.

Eddie was here to take you with him. His van is parked a couple of houses down from yours to avoid suspicion… but as his eyes find yours he can feel a battle brewing within himself. Maybe this is a bad idea? Maybe there is another way for him to get close to you that doesn’t involve you hating his guts for the rest of your lives together?

“What are you doing here?” You ask again, your voice is softer now and Eddie widens the gap between the both of you. He stretches out his fingers before tensing them into fists and shoving them into his jacket pockets. He doesn’t trust himself around you, not when you are both so secluded from the rest of the world, “Eddie?”

It takes everything in him- his blood, his bones, his sweat, his fucking soul- for him to not follow through on his plans for the night.

“I heard someone was bothering you.” You perk an eyebrow at him, wary of how he retained this information, “I heard you talking to Cunningham last week. I wanted to check up on you, I guess.” His shoulders shrug and he winces at how nonchalant he is being. He wants nothing more than for you to know how much he cares for you. He wants to collapse at your feet and worship the ground you walk on- but instead he is forced to play pretend. To act like he doesn’t give a fuck when he does. He really does.

But when your features soften and a smile finds your cheeks Eddie decides that all this pretending is worth the reward. If it means you’ll look at him like that- he’ll never stop playing pretend, “That’s really kind of you, Eddie…” You come toward him, your arms flying around his shoulders as you embrace him in a tight hug, “Thank you.” Your words are spoke into the curvature of his neck and his rigid body is quick to mould into yours.

His strong arms are wrapped around you tightly and part of you thinks that you should feel uncomfortable- but you don’t. You hope that the embrace will last forever. Yours and Eddie’s connection feels like one that should have happened a long time ago and you hate that it hasn’t until now.

As innocent as the hug seems to you, it has Eddie’s dark thoughts swirling- they are demanding action from him and Eddie can feel adrenaline picking up the pace of his beating heart. His eyes flutter open and he catches sight of you both in your vanity mirror. Your small frame engulfed by his shadowy image makes his teeth come down hard onto his pillowy bottom lip. The picture alters his brain chemistry beyond comprehension and it doesn’t even take him a second to decide…

“I’m so sorry.” The whisper is sinister as it echos in your ear canal and it makes your eyes ping wide open. Eddie’s grip around you tightens to almost suffocating, like an anaconda snake squeezing its prey to death. Your mind starts to spiral out of control with fear. You don’t scream- for some reason you can’t, your throat won’t let you.. but you do fight against him as he lifts you from the ground, securing you there on his shoulder as he begins to walk out of your bedroom.

You claw at his back, your fingers coming to grip the solid wood of the doorframe as you cling onto it for dear life- but Eddie is stronger than you are and he rips your fingertips away from the only leverage you had. You watch helplessly as the light of your bedroom fades out of your line of vision and you are abducted to the blackened world outside.

Prisoner to Eddie Munson.

-

taglist: @colorful-white-ideas @littlered0000

[adelheidvonschicksal]

In the Hybrid AU, would Gojo be a rabbit or another cat hybrid? Because you’ve got Rabbit Gojo who’s using his cute looks to his advantage but also secretly horny all the time and wants to breed little cute bunnies inside you. Then you’ve got Catoru, who’s the pamper type who loves making mischief and knocking things off the table just for funnsies.

Yes, Avy and I talked about this a few weeks back, and came to a consensus that he’d definitely be a bunny! (pampered Catoru gives me fuzzy feelings too. Because he’s pretty like one of those persian cats with blue eyes.) I do think it’s funny that baby rabbits are called kits/kittens, too.

+breeding, dubious consent, hybrids, fem!reader

Gojo’s a smart and silly little bun bun, who definitely uses his cuteness to get what he wants! He may have an adorable twitchy nose, whiskers, and fuzzy ears. His bouncing around during JJK 0 is his version of zoomies, which is what tricked you into taking him home.

Yet, he causes nothing but trouble. Digging through stuff around the house, constantly eating your snacks, bothering your curtains and sheets, and taunting the neighbors’ dogs. You thought you were getting a sweet, innocent bunny, not Bugs Bunny.

If he can’t work his way out of something on his own, he’s confident his luck will get him out of any trouble he causes. Always laughing away the problem because he has “lucky rabbit’s feet”.

He loves it when you scratch the top of his head and groom him. He’s super-fast and can fight well, so you don’t have to worry about him getting into fights with other hybrids. In fact, wolf-dog hybrid Suguru is his best friend.

He really likes sweets and fruits too. Gojo would inhale them if you let him, reminding you of the folklore of rabbits making rice cakes on the moon. With Gojo’s sweet tooth, you can see why it became a legend.

He’s bonded himself to you, so he loves to cuddle up with you for daily naps and tries to groom you. However, he’s really bad about keeping you up during the late hours and early morning when he’s the most awake before sleeping throughout the day like an innocent lil’ fuzzy.

Gojo scent marks you, constantly dragging his chin over your head and against your belongings to let others know you’re a part of his territory. He gets pouty, grumpy, and clingy when you’re around other rabbit hybrids. He also has really bad personal space issues, circling around you and yapping away to get your attention (because he considers you his mate!).

He wants to breed his cute little bunnies in you. He wonders, “How many kits can humans have at one time?” Two? Three? Six? Sometimes those shows on TV have 9! He thinks 6 is a good overall goal number. To start, anyway.

He's going to think about it all day, every day. There's a reason the saying "breed like rabbits exists". He gets so hard thinking about you. You don't even have to do anything. The idea of breeding you with his babies, a daydream of little yous with the same bunny ears as him is enough to make him want to mount you.

You think playing with his fluffy tail, watching it flick back and forth, and rubbing his fuzzy white ears is a cute way to tease him but all you’re doing is working up an already horny mind that was ready to mount you as soon as you rolled out of that bed in the morning.

If you pet him one more time, he’s going to grab you, pull you into his lap, and use his thick legs to part yours. You barely touched your bunny, but he’s already hard and pulling out his dripping cock to breed you. It’s your fault for starting it, doe! And if you try to wiggle away, he thinks you’re just playing a game with him. Weren’t you just grooming him?

Gojo will treat you so well most of the time though. He knows how to use his tongue to groom you, especially down there, and he is aware he has you when you start to make pretty little moans for him. He’ll have you soaking wet and choking up before he thinks about breeding you with his cute little fluffballs. You’re not even going to think about it when he presses his weight against your back, bites hard on your shoulder, and start to thrust like he's possessed.

He’ll keep going into you’re overstimulated and begging for rest, but he keeps his arms wrapped around you to stop all your squirming, begging not just yet, one more time, doe. It’s always one more time with him during his rut. One more orgasm, one more thrust, one more kit--please, please, please, doe--he knows you can.

[lamnwar]

Hey me again, lmao

Could you do Kiyoshi + Gom as husbands, If so thank youuu xxxx

Hi there, love! 💕 love love love this request!! I spend all my time daydreaming abt being married to these boys LMAO it's embarassing 😭 alsooo ik I took long before getting to your request but I wanted to finish all the big os requests first before working on hcs bc it's more heafty so sorry for my shitty habit of taking too long for simple stuff :((

HAPPILY EVER AFTER // KNB Headcanons

Context: what I imagine married life to be with these characters. 🥰

Pairing: GOM + Kiyoshi x gn! Reader (gender not specified)

Warnings: mainly fluff and crack, can get a bit suggestive in Aomine's (of course it's always him 😭) so mdni!

AKASHI

Rich, handsome and a gentleman!!! Literally the Holy Grail of husbands

The kind to spoil his pretty spouse out of love

Takes you out on a date at some fancy restaurant at least once a week

He's also very independent!! Now, I think he's the kind to hire people to help around the house but that doesn't stop him from doing chores

He'll always help you doing stuff for the house if you need

He has amazing taste!! Take him furniture shopping and you'll end up with on of those houses you see in AD

Brings up the subject of you dropping your work so you can stay home while he's the breadwinner

He's a bit traditional in that sense because he really doesn't want you to work if it's unecessary, you know?

I mean he's crazy rich so does that even make sense to make you work?? (Unless you absolutely want to)

Wakes you up every morning with a kiss!

He always had the proudest smile when he introduces you to people as his spouse <3

MIDORIMA

TREATS YOU LIKE A ROYAL OMG

This man takes marriage very seriously, listen

He most likely did a deep analysis of your birthchart before deciding that you are the right one for him

Naturally, as your husband, he gotta get you your lucky item of the day everyday

You don't even believe in that stuff but it's his love language, I guess

Not much one to go on dates unless you want to, then he'll be up for it

He's more one to enjoy time with you at home

Something like having a nice diner and cuddling while you read

The kind to love going grocery shopping with you

Every once in a while, he'll buy a fancy bottle of wine just to share it with you

A very supportive husband!! Every project you have in mind, he's already done the research to find the most efficient way for you to accomplish your plans

Not a PDA guy but he'll happily hold your hand when you're at gatherings together

May not be very vocal about his love for you but you better believe that he talks proudly of his spouse to every one he knows

KISE

He is OBSESSED with you

Man never left the honeymoon phase, he's so crazy about you

Takes you to his fancy modelling events and shows you off to every one he meets

He also buys you lots of clothes and acessories

Dare you say something is cute, he's already inside the shop buying it for you

Tries his best as chores but it's not really his thing

Will help as much as he can, though!

Breakfast in bed kind of guy hihi

And it happens a lot because let's be real, that man isn't the kind to let you sleep at night

Like I said earlier, he's never left the honeymoon phase so... yeah

Wants to be the kind of husband that gives you his credit card and tell you to do what you want with it but you have to decline

It's ok though, he'll fine plenty of other ways to spoil you

You have that cute habit every week of taking baths together

The kind to miss a day of work to take care of you when you're sick!

AOMINE

Daiki never thought he'd ever get married, but then he met you

Not the best at being a husband but he really tries!

Like he makes an effort of not being too lazy and messy

Leaves the chores to you mainly, but will give a hand

Like if you're cleaning around and need to put stuff on the top shelf, he'll do it for you

Not the best cook so he lets you make food while he does the dishes

I'm trying to delay the obvious but that man never stops being horny for you

Literally sits and daydream of fucking you on every surface of your home

Gets so riled up at the sight of that ring on your finger, he can't believe your all his

The kind to follow you everywhere you go, even if it's for some stupid errand

Takes you out to the beach or for a picnic as soon as the sun is shining outside

Buys you clothes he thinks you'd look good in and surprisingly, he's got amazing taste

Loves when you refer to him as "husband" in conversation!!

MURASAKIBARA

So casual about being married, most likely because to him that doesn't change a thing about the way he feels about you

Likes that now he gets to have you with him all the time

Cooks for you! Buys you snacks! Takes you out on restaurant dates!

Sharing is caring so he only ever shares his snack with you

I can see him being into matching outfits (if you can find any that fits both him and you)

A bit lazy so he doesn't help around that much unless you tell him to

And even that, he'd do some chores before getting distracted

But listen, it's ok though because he makes up for it in over ways

He's very caring, only because you're his spouse

Cuddles in bed, at all time! He just feels clingy sometimes

He smiles softly when he plays with your hand and sees the ring on your finger

He likes to sit you on his lap often

Basically being a husband doesn't differ much from how he was as a boyfriend

Very casual about calling you his spouse all the time, even in front of others

KIYOSHI

Kiyoshi Teppei was born to be a husband!!

Because he grew up with his grandparents, he's got the habit of taking care of a household and the people living in it

So he naturally took in most of the chores and he's good at it!

Doesn't want you to get tired either so he'll do most things

Pays attention to all the little things so you're always comfortable

He also likes going for a run/the gym with you and he's so encouraging!

Has the stupidiest smile on his face everytime he looks at you

He holds his grandparents as a reference so he really hopes you'll both grow old together, still madly in love

Don't get that man started on building a family, he just gets too excited at the idea of being a parent!

He'd be a great one too, but the final decision is up to you. Either way, he's just happy being with you.

I don't know what else to say because he's just made to be a husband, yk?

Yeah, probably the best person to marry <3 (I'm very biased)

[ianblogs4]

Imagine if like Shang Qinghua had sensory needs, imagine him being genuinely scared to sleep for the first time in the northern desert because he feels that he can't sleep in another bed that isn't his own, without the pillow that he daydreamed of having after seeing a beast with the fluffiest skin that he had ever seen just trying to destroy An Ding peak and you better believe that Shang Qinghua used ALL of his connections to get just a bit of that skin that was just enough to make a pillow, his comfort pillow.

Imagine Shang Qinghua having THAT favourite inside robe, that he will use for a week and be very sad when it needs to be washed, it has holes, it is tearing and undoing in so much places but Shang Qinghua has had it since he was an inner disciple, just the fact that it still fits him is a miracle itself.

Imagine that Mobei-jun is trying to court Shang Qinghua by gifting him skins to put on his bed and Shang Qinghua being horrorized just by the thought of sleeping with something different in his surroundings, that's just impossible!

After Mobei-jun had seen the secret disgust that his servant and also the guy that he liked had for the skins he decided to change tactics and gift him wool robes, what a horrible idea

Shang Qinghua plainly hated them because they felt wrong in his skin and that overwhelmed him so much, but he felt obliged to use them because he had already rejected one of his king's gifts. But he disliked wool so much that he cried while putting them on and was very teary, with red eyes and a red face while on court until his king "got annoyed" (got worried), went to a side room with him and asked what was wrong and Shang Qinghua just cried, standing there, he ugly cried because everything felt wrong, his whole body felt so wrong, every movement feels very wrong and even being still feels wrong. Mobei-jun freezed, he didn't know what was wrong with this little human that always amazed and confused him, but he realized it wasn't the crying that Shang Qinghua did when he wanted something from him, this was actual crying. Shang Qinghua couldn't even talk to explain to his king what he disliked, what he needed and why he felt just so wrong. Mobei-jun just managed to mutter that he should not worry for court today and should just, go to his room and relax.

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

Mobei-jun was very confused.

He was always confused about his little human, his actions and his entire existence was plainly a mystery to this king, but he did want to know him, because he knew that he was doing something wrong about the human, but Mobei-jun doesn't really know almost anything about humans! His only knowledge was learned on the run and with a lot, a whole lot of errors and confusions in the way. But Mobei-jun did know someone that knew more about humans that they don't eat raw food and they don't like being hitten, and it was Luo Binghe.

-----------

-So you're saying that you want to know about humans?- Luo Binghe said, kind of annoyed that Mobei-jun requested a "very urgent meeting" for this.

-Yes.- Mobei-jun responded, very seriously

-Why... Why do you even want to know about humans?- Luo Binghe just said, already smelling that he will not leave this conference room very enthusiastic about living another day as Mobei-jun's confident or more like dictionary of human terms

-Because Shang Qinghua is not happy with the things I'm gifting him- Mobei responded, with the worry on his face that only Shang Qinghua would've noticed. The fact that Mobei-jun didn't even know what Shang Qinghua would like as a gift and this man solved him like a puzzle so many years ago made him easily frustrated

-Look, the only thing I know about your little human is that he is friends with my Shizun so you shouldn't ask me- Luo Binghe said, just the knowledge that this was, once again, about that little human that likes to say weird things in a weird language with Shen Qingqiu and that for some reason Mobei-jun has tried to wife up for some time now and from the ranting that Luo Binghe didn't even knew if those few words counted as ranting, it was not going well just made him very annoyed

-Then take me to your Shizun- Mobei-jun said, very happy that he was going to get answers

Luo Binghe though that he very much hated that the non-existent romance in between Mobei-jun and his human was bothering him so much even before starting.

--------

-So, what do you want to know about Shang Qinghua?- Shen Qingqiu said behind his fan, while the smell of incense and hot tea burned on his nose

-Everything- Mobei-jun confidentaly said

-Okay I'm... What do you mean by everything?- Shen Qingqiu tried to add some clarification to the question he asked before

-Everything- Mobei-jun repeated

-... Okay let me rephrase that, why do you want to know everything about Shang Qinghua?- Shen Qingqiu added, hoping to have clarified something

-Because the gifts I'm giving him are not making him happy- Mobei-jun admitted

-So, what kind of gifts are we talking about?- Shen Qingqiu said, happy to be going somewhere

-I gifted him skins for his nest and he didn't use them then I gifted him wool robes and he cried when he used them- Mobei-jun said, remembering the sour memory of Shang Qinghua's ugly crying in front of him

-... To start he doesn't have a nest where did you even get that idea? And to follow, why did you even try to give him WOOL robes? Do you know that he hasn't touched wool in more than 7 years because he hates the texture? He cried the last time that he did. You know how hard it was for him to sleep for the first time after he had been kicked out of Caing Qiong because they didn't let him take any of his comfort robes neither his comfort pillow? I had to take those to him because I was so worried! Do you even know what "sensory needs" mean?!- Shen Qingqiu shouted, he was so tired of people not understanding his best friend's needs that he just unleashed everything, every single time that he happily went out of his way to accommodate his friend, something that no one seemed to even try to do even if Shang Qinghua asked them specifically to do so. Shen Qingqiu knew that the discomfort that his soul brother lived in everyday was nothing that only he could disappear by making accommodations every time that Shang Qinghua came to his bamboo house by not putting incense, only serving in fully white silverwear and putting a silk pillow for him to sit. Shen Qingqiu isn't particularly interested in silk but after knowing that his best friend loved it he decided to buy a silk pillow, just for his friend to sit on and not look constantly overwhelmed from having a disliked texture under his legs.

Both Mobei-jun and Luo Binghe, who came running after hearing the screams, were frozen there. Neither had ever seen Shen Qingqiu so enraged, losing that "I'm more than you" mask and just unleashing his rage, the rage that he kept for years after his friend confessed to him that he had sensory needs and he explained the things that made him uncomfortable in his bamboo house.

Shen Qingqiu breathed heavily while sitting again and trying to fix himself up - I'm very sorry, you not knowing how sensory needs work just enrages me because you are doing all of this so wrong you don't even imagine it- Mobei-jun left that day with new knowledge, a list of gifs, scents, types of robes, skins, foods and the general likes of Shang Qinghua.

----------

-Oh! How did you know that I love medlar incense?

-Mm, I just guessed it

---------

-Silk sleep robes? That's so comfortable, I love it. How did you know?

-Mm, I just guessed it

---------

-My king, you have been feeding me noodles for dinner for two weeks, why do you do everything just right?

-Mm, I just guess

_________

Idk if everyone just feels sensory needs like I do but I think that giving Shang Qinghua sensory needs would be so interesting like, him hating to go to missions and just wishing to be a peak lord to just have the security to sleep in the same bed everyday (spoiler alert: he doesn't)

[fluffytriceratops]

I am DESPERATE for some 2k3 Donatello dating headcanons, literally give me anything PLEASE I AM OBSESSED

𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 - 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨 [𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟑]

notes: i gotchu bestie. <3 lemme know if you guys want these for the other 2k3 turts as well! :D also sorry for taking literal ages to get this request done for you! thank you sm for requesting i hope you have a wonderful day/night! <3

warnings: brief nsfw mentions, mature language, 

tags: @thelaundrybitch @turtle-babe83 @leosgirl82 @rheawritesforfun @s-s-ironnie @post-apocalyptic-daydream @mysticboombox @drowninghell @lec743 @raphielover  @raphslovemuffin80 @squirrelfurs @bibiz82 @pheradream-15 @kikithedreamerwriter @m1dnyt3-w0lf @scholastic-dragon @moonsua1 [if i've forgotten anyone i'm so sorry please comment or dm me and let me know and i'll add you right away so i don't forget in the future!]

(if you would like to be tagged in my future tmnt x reader related work, feel free to let me know and i'll happily add you!)

i love you all sm! i'm sending all the virtual hugs and well wishes to you!! <33

---

- as usual, 2003 donnie has an obsession with coffee. so if you get this mans some coffee expect an INSTANT marriage proposal. [honestly what ver of donnie doesn't have a coffee addiction?] 

- likes to do your hair. it's calming to him and helps him think. hes watched a lot of youtube videos and stuff for it, so he knows what he's doing too. he likes to try new styles n stuff on you. everyone knows when he's particularily stressed or can't seem to figure something out because you seem to have a new hairsyle everyday until he's fixed whatever it is that's bugging him, 

- will also handmake beads and stuff to put in your hair. <3 

- makes jewelry for you, esp out of silverware and other things. it always turns out so beautifully. 

- late night drives. donnie has insomnia and his brain works a lot during the night/evening. so expect to hang out a lot with him during this time. driving at night at new york is super pretty and peaceful too. esp when it's just the two of you. [so long as you don't mind the hectic city hehe-]

- cuddling with him while he works. includes sleeping on him/in his lab when he works really late into the night. he'll later carry you to bed. 

- painting on his shell/body for funzies. and if he does the same to you don't expect it to look too great because 2k3 donnie can't draw for shit. 

- donnie will gift you homemade cards with stick figures on the cover cuz again he cant draw but he knows you'll adore it no matter what just because he made it. plus you think its funny as hell and he adores your laugh. 

- hes actually really good at photography. and he has loads of pictures of you. you two go out and take pictures together sometimes. it's always a lot of fun. and they always turn out great. 

- late night talking sessions are a normal for you. 

- donatello tries his best to get you to sleep at a decent time, but sometimes you'll refuse if he isn't coming to bed with you just to get him to go to sleep earlier. he'll probably lay with you for a while, unable to actually sleep. maybe he'll read or listen to music to help pass the time. sometimes he will also sneak back out of bed once you've fallen asleep, and when you catch him you give him a good talking to. 

- he really needs to take better care of himself. he's always putting those he cares for above himself. so you're always there to make sure he's okay and that he's doing what he needs to do to be happy and healthy. 

- you guys hardly ever fight. donnie isn't one to argue with you. he's a very gentle and kind soul. he rarely raises his voice. (but when he does you find it hot as FUCK- lets be honest--) 

- fix it felix. always fixes things for you, even if you dont ask it of him. if he's at your place and notices something needs to be fixed he'll just do it for you. even if you insist he doesn't have to, he will anyway because he loves you. it brings him joy. and honestly, you should just let him because it probably stresses him out a little thinking about how your door isn't closing properly or your car sounds funny or your light keeps flickering- 

- you like to prank him on occassion, this includes the whole "i filled my tank with the special gas-" or "i let them put premium air in my tires and they gave me a really good deal". it freaks and stresses him out, at least in the moment hehe. its very funny but keep in mind he'll get you back. 

- him reading to you sfghfdgkjhdfg (id die please-) esp if you have trouble sleeping or something. 

- coffee dates are a must. even if you dont drink coffee. 

- donnie napping curled up on your chest/on top of you. you tracing the grooves of his shell. you've learned he finds this very comforting and it helps him fall asleep. 

- hes a definite switch- lmao.

- very gentle and understanding. he's like your personal diary or therapist and you're the same for him. 

[bucketslutz]

Don't Be Late (Professor Logan Howlett/Fem Student Mutant Reader)

A/N: This one's a doozy, don't know how I feel about most of Logan's dialogue in this one but oh well! Enjoy!

Chapter Summary: Awkwardness ensues when you arrive at Logan's class on Friday, finding no one there but him.

Warnings: 18+, mindors DNI!!!!, drinking, reader getting drunk, puking, swearing, light depiction of anxiety disorder, sexual harassment (nothing bad happens to reader, light harassment only)

Word Count: 4,712

Chapter 3

This is the fourth night this week you’ve masturbated to the thought of your professor. Unfortunately, your fingers don’t offer the same release that you’ve been seeking from Logan. Instead of relieving the pressure that spreads through your body, your orgasms leave you dissatisfied and in need of more relief. But you can’t. He’s your professor, and downright terrifying to speak to. He makes every hair on your body stand on end, like your body is in a constant state of flight or fuck. Plus, you’re pretty sure he hates you. He stares at you, makes rude remarks, and barely even pays you any mind. But, goddamnit, sometimes you swear his lips curl into somewhat of a smile when he sees you. And you haven’t seen him smile at much of anything. But you cannot misconstrue tolerance with infatuation. He just might hate you less than everyone else, which could be enough for you to get through the semester without anymore anxiety than you already have.

You turn over in bed with a huff and glare at the clock. 2:14 am. If only you spent as much time studying as you did masturbating, maybe you’d get your masters a year earlier. You almost fear going to sleep. Afraid that another dream will leave you hot and bothered in Logan’s class tomorrow, and you don’t like that he has that effect on you. You repeat a mantra as you doze off, I do not want to fuck Logan Howlett.

…

It’s been a good morning. You woke up, no explicit wet dream, with enough time to manifest a Colombian dark roast and one of the best breakfasts you’ve had in a while; which you enjoyed while watching the sunrise from your roof. For a brief moment, you considered flying to class. The weather was perfect, making you long for a place you could traverse the sky in peace without a worry of who might see you. You often find yourself dreaming of such a life. How freeing would it be to fly around the world, helping people in need, exploring areas unknown? As much as you daydream of this life, you still know deep down that your dream can never become a reality. No, every day you hear of someone else being killed just because they’re a mutant. Or others disappearing off the streets and thrown into secret government labs where they conduct god knows what kinds of tests on them. That’s not a reality you ever want to face. You don’t want to think about how the government might exploit your powers. The thought of them abusing the atomic structures you manifest to create weapons of mass destruction makes you sick. No matter how desperately you wish you could display your strengths for good, you can’t. And that breaks your heart.

Despite the unfortunate stifling of your powers, your morning still ends up going just as well as it started. You’ve timed your commute perfectly; slipping into your favorite parking spot with just enough time to walk to class, Colombian dark roast in hand. You open the door to Logan’s class, quickly stopping dead in your tracks once you see that not a single one of your classmates are here yet. You check the time on your phone, there’s only 3 minutes until class starts.

“I was beginning to think it was something I said,” Logan’s voice calls from the front of the room, his broad frame leaning against the white board., “Did everyone tell ‘ya to skip?”

You chuckle softly, “No, Logan, I think it was actually something you said.” He furrows his brow, you clarify, “Wednesday when you left class you sorta said ‘see ‘ya Monday.’ So I think people just got confused.”

“Huh, and I guess you’re here…” he trails off, wanting you to explain.

“The convenience store. You said you’d see me on Friday, so, I just assumed you misspoke the other day,” you conclude, your fingers fiddling with the lid on your thermos. He just stares at you for a beat, making your anxiety swell in your throat. Is he mad at me? I think he’s mad at me, you think to yourself, “Not that you messed up or anything! It’s definitely everyone else’s fault for not following up with you, or whatever.”

“Right,” he says, giving you an incredulous look. You definitely weirded him out. The way he’s looking at you makes your breath hitch, and not in a good way.

“Anyway,” you continued, setting your coffee on a nearby desk, attempting to drive the topic of conversation elsewhere, “I might as well give you this.”

You approach Logan slowly as you rifle through your shoulder bag in search of your essay. Your fingers anxiously fumble between each folder and binder in your bag, incapable of grasping anything. You halt your approach, digging deeper in your bag to find the folder containing your essay. Jesus Christ where the hell is it. You’ve been searching for hours, has it been hours? Or 15 seconds? You cannot tell because time has halted right here. Blue folder, blue folder, blue folder, you repeat to yourself, hoping your thoughts do something to pop the folder in your face. Finally, after years of searching, you’ve found it. You pull it out of your bag with a breath of relief, stepping forward as you intend to hand it to Logan. A gasp escapes your lips when you slam straight into Logan’s tall frame, stumbling backwards, nearly falling until hands grasp your waist and keep you upright.

“You alright?” Logan asks, his hands remaining fixed on your waist. You look up at him through your long eyelashes, your hands planted flat on his chest for support.  You cannot help the fluttering in your heart at your proximity to him, feeling your arousal swirling inside you at the feel of his strong hands holding you tightly. Logan stares at you from above, breathing heavily through his nose; his sharp, repetitive inhales almost sounding like a dog sniffing the air. You struggle to form a coherent thought, the only thing flooding your senses is the smell of Tobacco and pine emanating from Logan. Only a few seconds have passed, but as far as you know time doesn’t exist anymore. Logan loosens his grip on your sides, smoothing your jacket down with his hands before letting you go. You clear your throat, trying to shake the impure thoughts that are swarming your mind.

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you,” you exhale, handing him the folder, “Um, my essay. Here you go.”

“Right, thanks,” he smirks as he takes it from you, “Don’t suppose you want to be the only one hearing my lecture today.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” you affirm eagerly, watching Logan’s smile dissipate into a pursed line. He was joking, oh my god. Kill me. “Oh! You were kidding! No, I’d much rather be home right now. Definitely do not want to be here…with you.” Your words grew quiet towards the end, unsure if your recovery was even remotely smooth at all. If you could even call that a recovery.

“Oh, so you don’t want to be here with me?” he questions, his arms crossing over his stiff chest.

“No! No, no, of course I do, you’re lovely, I mean, not—I don’t hate you is what I’m saying. You’re lovely, as far as professors go,” you stutter, a clammy layer of sweat forming on the palms of your hands. He’s silent, his eyes burning a hole into your soul. Surely, he’s mad at you, “I would so love to sit and listen to you lecture, if you want, totally up to you. I’ll be here taking notes and listening if—“

Logan calls your name with a chuckle, interjecting your ramblings and bringing them to a halt.

“I’m just messing with ‘ya, bub,” he assures with a self-satisfied smile, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. You can tell he gets a lot of enjoyment out of making you uncomfortable, giving himself personal satisfaction every time you squirm under his gaze.

“Oh,” you mutter dejectedly, your face blushing red from embarrassment, “right, well, you sure got me.” You attempt a laugh to hide your anxiety. Fiddling with the strap of your bag, you try to focus on anything else than the tears of embarrassment that prick the corners of your eyes. You hate this feeling, someone making a fool of you just because of your gentle, people-pleasing demeanor. It makes you feel weak, even though you physically aren’t, but no one knows that. They just see a meek, quiet girl that they can walk all over and take advantage of.

“Shit, are you okay?” Logan asks, a surprising level of concern in his voice. His knees dip slightly, craning his neck to your level to try and meet you face to face. You keep your eyes to the ground, not wanting to embarrass yourself further by crying in front of your professor just because he teased you a little bit. You’re surprised to feel fingers grasp your chin, gasping as Logan lifts it to so you’ll meet his eyes. Tears haven’t fallen down your cheeks yet, but you’re sure you look embarrassing; flushed cheeks, watery eyes, parted lips inhaling air shallowly. Logan looks concerned, which surprises you. It seems out of character for him, considering he only speaks to cuss someone out.

“You look like you need a drink,” Logan says, not a hint of humor in his face, fully meaning this seriously and earnestly. Like it could solve all of your problems.

“I can’t drink I have class,” you whimper, slightly confused.

“Not now, later, here—you got a paper? Pen?” he asks as he drops his hold on your chin, holding his hand out while he waits for you to hand him what he’s asking for.

You nod, shuffling through your bag for a notebook and pen, retrieving it and handing it to him with a sniffle. He starts scribbling something on an empty page.

“9 o’clock,” he hands you the paper, an address is written on it, “go there, I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Oh, no, I can’t ask you to do that,” you declined politely.

“You’re not asking me to do anything, I’m asking you,” he corrects, a firm tone in his voice making you nervous to say no. It’s almost as if he isn’t asking, merely telling you what you’re supposed to do, but disguising it as an ask to seem less brute.

“Okay, 9 o’clock,” you conclude, nodding your head in agreement.

…

What the hell are you doing here? This is inappropriate. This breaks multiple codes of conduct. But free booze? Who are you to decline an offer like that. The outside of the establishment is like any other mountain-town, backwoods, rural dive bar. It honestly wasn’t too far from where you live either, maybe you ought to give this place a visit more often. You step out of your car and approach the front door, lit with a neon red “open” sign flickering in and out of consciousness. The door jingles and creaks when you open it, causing a few of the patrons to turn their heads towards you before promptly returning back to their drinks and games of pool. The air smells of stale cigarettes and salt, rock music droning through a busted jukebox in the corner. Straight ahead, you see the bar, lit dimly by more neon signs and faulty overhead bulbs. A familiar figure is already there, Logan’s flannel-covered back is to you, hunched over what you can assume to be a drink he’s been nursing. You approach the bar-seat next to him, pulling it out with a sharp scratch to the ground, causing Logan to turn his head in your direction. Before you can even mutter a greeting, the bartender has already intercepted your attention.

“What can I get you?” he asks, scratching at his scraggly beard, a rag draped over his thin, tattooed shoulder.

“Um, Woodford and coke?” you ask as you get comfortable on your stool. The bartender laughs at your request.

“This ain’t that kind of place, missy,” he quips, you try and look at Logan for support but he’s focused on his beer, “I got Maker’s, Jim Beam, and Jack, what’ll it be?”

“Maker’s, I guess,” you concede, watching as the bartender walks down the bar to make your drink.

“Bourbon girl, eh?” Logan remarks, adjusting in his seat to face you.

“Um, yeah, I don’t like much clear liquor,” you say, trying your best to avoid eye contact, “or, it doesn’t like me at least. Some of my worst nights started with a bottle of vodka.”

Logan laughs, catching you off guard, you laugh lightly with him. The bartender sets your drink in front of you, you thank him with a smile.

“Open or closed?” the bartender asks, but before you can even think of a response, Logan answers for you.

“Put her on mine, Jim,” Logan says.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to—“

Logan gives the bartender a stern look, and he walks away, no contest.

“Thank you,” you grin, taking a sip from your glass.

“Don’t mention it,” he waves off, the same warning in his voice as last time. There’s a beat of awkward silence. You’re not sure what to say, or why he even asked you here.

“I um—“ you pause, trying to find the right words, “I appreciate you going out of your way to try and make me feel better about earlier.”

“I didn’t go out of my way,” he corrects, turning back towards the bar, his body now parallel with yours, “this is usually where you can find me this time of day.”

“Oh, well, thanks for inviting me, I guess,” you correct your previous statement. You purse your lips, wanting to explain your behavior earlier. But you’re not sure if that’s appropriate, you feel bad that he had to take pity on you just because you got choked up from him making fun of you. “Look, I at least want to apologize for the way I acted earlier and—“

“Save it,” he interjects with a raise of his hand.

“I’m…sorry I—“ you stutter, trying yet again to apologize for your presence, causing Logan to cut you off with a wave of his hand again.

“You don’t need to keep doing that. Have your drink. Relax. I’m not pissed at you,” Logan reassures, his voice stern. You’re convinced that his voice doesn’t fluctuate from that kind of tone too often. But despite the sternness of his voice, you feel your shoulders relax. You’re holding his gaze but you don’t feel like you’re about to combust. You feel…fine. You feel just fine.

“Huh,” you mutter, a curious tinge to your voice. Relax. Have your drink. You ponder the glass for a moment, considering it. Fuck it. You raise it to your lips and chug, swallowing every burn the Maker’s leaves down your throat without a care. Logan’s brows raise at your sudden gratuitous impulse.

“Okay then,” he remarks with a grin.

A buzz floats around your head, your chest heaves from your uninterrupted drinking.

“Rick!” you call, attempting to get the attention of the bartender.

“Jim,” Logan corrects you quietly, smiling in amusement as he takes another sip of his beer.

“Jim! Can I have another?”

…

You’re four bourbon and coke’s into your evening, and you cannot recall the last time you had this much fun. You beat Logan twice at pool and watched him take fruity, girly shooters for each loss, per your request. Currently, you’re in the middle of another game, a tied score bringing out your competitive edge. Logan’s frame is bent over the pool table, lining up the perfect shot. You chew on the straw in your drink as you unabashedly ogle his ass. Damn, he looks good in those jeans. He makes his shot, the cue ball ricocheting off of the edge and barely skimming the 8 ball he was trying to get in.

“Damn it,” he grunts, turning away from the table, his chest rising and falling in frustration. You giggle in excitement, ready to take your turn.

“Jim! I’d get started on that lemon drop if I were you!” you call, your voice slurring slightly as you’re ready to claim your victory over your professor.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, bub,” Logan warns, clearly a bit more annoyed at the fact he’s losing than he’s letting on.

“Oh, don’t you worry about me, baby,” you counter, a teasing, almost sultry edge to your voice. Logan holds his eyes on you, watching as you bend over the pool table to make your shot. You close one eye, carefully trying to line up the cue ball in the direction you want to go. The ball is towards the center of the table, but you’re so sure that you can manage on your own, balancing on your tip-toes.

“Need a hand?” Logan asks, trying his best to hide his amusement at the precarious position you’ve put yourself in.

“Shh!” you snap, “I’m concentrating! 8 ball, corner pocket.” You make your shot, but your feet slip out from under you with the momentum you built. You almost crumble to the floor, but Logan’s hands catch you around your ribcage first. He lifts you onto your feet, but in your buzzed state you’re having a hard time maintaining balance.

“Easy there,” Logan drawls, keeping his hands so temptingly close to the side of your breasts. You’re jelly in his hands, letting him take hold of you in whatever way he wants. You could spin around and make out with him right here, which you honestly consider for a moment. But before you can, Logan leans his face close to your ear, his beard tickling your cheek.

“Looks like you scratched,” he whispers, his gravelly voice reverberating around your skull. Any other day, this would make you wet immediately, but the competitive monster inside of you is awoken. You shake your head in disbelief, turning your focus back to the pool table. There’s no sight of the white cue ball anywhere. You suddenly find your balance, scrambling out of Logan’s grasp to search for what pocket the ball got shot into. ‘Lo and behold, it made it into the corner pocket you were aiming for.

“Goddamnit,” you curse, stomping your foot in frustration, gripping the table with white knuckles.

“I told you not to get ahead of yourself,” Logan taunts, one hand planted on the pool table, the other on his hip. You scowl at him, trying to find a clever comeback, but your liquor soaked brain is coming up dry. The sound of your name turns your attention towards the bar.

“I got ‘yer lemon drop right here,” Jim calls, setting the sugar rimmed shooter on the edge of the bar closest to you.

“Get her a shot of Tito’s to wash that down with, will ‘ya, Jim?” Logan chimes, maintaining eye contact with you. Your jaw drops in shock at the deliberateness of his actions. The nerve.

“Are you trying to get me to be more sloppy just so you can beat me again?” you question, your eyes narrowing as you cross towards him. You stand just a few inches in front of him, squaring up to him with a challenging look in your eyes.

“I think you’re doing a good enough job at being sloppy by yourself,” he teases, eyeing you up and down. You roll your eyes as you brush past him and towards the bar to retrieve your punishment. Lemon drop in one hand, Tito’s in the other.

“Bottoms up,” you chime, maintaining eye contact with Logan as you lick the sugar off the rim of your glass, taking the shooter down with one swift gulp. You wince slightly, before humming in satisfaction, the sweetness masking the vodka just enough. You exhale in preparation for your next drink, closing your eyes and willing yourself to not think too hard about what you’re going to inevitably do to yourself. A single lemon drop is not enough to make you blackout and puke all over your house, but another shot of vodka on top of that might just put you on that track. Swallowing your hesitance, you bring the glass to your lips and choke it down in one gulp. Frowning at the way it burns your throat, sending tingles down your spine.

“Oh, wow,”  you grunt, your face twisted into a pained expression. “Okay, fuck you, m’gonna win this next one.”

Logan snorts at your drunken confidence, already anticipating what might happen next.

You did not, in fact, win the next one.

Logan cockily slams a shot glass of clear liquid in front of you, causing your jaw to drop in surprise.

“Thisn’t fair,” you pout, leaning against the pool table for support.

“I choked down 2 lemon drops because of you, the least you can do is take this shot of tequila, princess,” Logan counters, offering you a slice of lime and a flimsy packet of salt.

“Bitch, this’s tequila?!” you exclaim, too drunk to even comprehend the fact that he just called you princess.

“Bottoms up,” he says teasingly, pushing the glass towards you, clearly quoting you from when you were more confident earlier. “Unless you’re feeling like chickening out on me.”

“No! I jus’ don’ wan’ get too drunk before our nex’ game,” you slur, almost tripping over yourself. Logan sighs, considering your drunken state for a moment.

“Tell you what,” he starts, “I’ll do half this shot with you if you quit your whinin’, got it?” You nod eagerly, accepting his proposal. With your confirmation, Logan takes the lime in his mouth and bites it in half, giving you part of it. You secretly wish he gave you the half that was in his mouth. He rips the salt packet open, and you watch earnestly as his tongue swipe along the back of his hand before he pores some of the salt on it. You follow suit, wetting the back of your hand with your tongue and allowing Logan to pour a bit of the salt on it. Logan goes first, licking the salt up, swallowing half the shot down, and finishing it off with a bite of the lime. You try and stifle a gag when you look at the glass of clear liquid. You sigh, closing your eyes tight as you lick the salt off the back of your hand, choke down the tequila in one gulp, hoping the squirt of lime juice in your mouth will save you. It does not. Your throat burns and you involuntarily shiver at the contact of the liquor on your tastebuds.

“I’m gonna get these back to Jim,” he gestures to the stack of glasses that’s accumulated over the course of your games, “rack ‘em up for me, princess.” Logan nods to the pool balls, indicating for you to get another game started. You oblige, leaning over the table to retrieve the balls and placing them into the plastic triangle. A gasp escapes your lips when you feel a pair of hands grasp your waist. Assuming it’s Logan, you smile, craning your neck to get a view of him. You startle when you see a complete stranger pressing up against your rear. A yelp leaves your lips as you scramble up onto the table in an attempt to get away.

“Don’t be like that, baby, I was just saying hi,” the strangers gruff voice beckons to you from where your feet are hanging off the table. You scrunch your face in disgust. He has a long, unkempt beard with yellow teeth peeking out behind it. His hairline is thin and greyed, his figure broad and heavyset. He towers over you, making your stomach churn.

“No thanks,” you say, sternly, sobering up slightly in an act of self preservation. The stranger doesn’t let up, though. Still attempting to pull you towards him by grasping at your ankles. You don’t register anything else around you. Not Logan’s shouts from the other end of the bar, you don’t see him rushing towards the stranger either. Your preservation is the only thing on your mind.

“I said no, asshole!” you shout, reeling your legs back before kicking into his chest with as much force as you can muster, your abnormal strength sending him flying all the way into the back wall 10 feet away. He crashes against the wood paneling, leaving a dent in his wake, groaning and writhing in pain on the ground. Your adrenaline dissipates, allowing the realization of what you just did to really sink in. Someone of your size should not have been able to send someone like him flying in the way you did, and the way that Logan looks at you, indicates just that.

“…You okay?” Logan asks carefully, reaching towards you, helping you down off of the pool table. You tumble off the surface, allowing Logan to fully support your weight. “You, uh, seemed to have it pretty under control there.”

“I don’ skip leg day,” you slur, feeling your mouth suddenly fill with saliva, your natural instincts of self preservation just dissipated, and you now are feeling the full brunt of every sip of alcohol you had tonight. The blood drains from your face and a wave of nausea washes over you, “Logan, I think’m gonna—“

You can’t even finish your sentence before you hurl the upset of your stomach all over the floor in front of you, Logan just barely missing the line of fire.

“Shit,” Logan hisses, trying to support you as best as he can without getting your puke all over him, “Okay, let’s get you out of here before you kick someone else through a wall.”

You’d find that funny if you weren’t painfully nauseous right now. Logan slings your arm around his neck, you’re limp around him, like a rag doll. The next few hours are a blur. You’re delirious, incapable of forming a coherent thought. You might recall Logan asking for an address, or directions. But you don’t remember what you said, or if you even said anything in response through your drunken stupor. Which leads you here, hunched over the toilet in Logan’s bathroom, as he tries to shove croutons in your face in an attempt to soak up the liquor that’s strangling your stomach. You’re half awake, ready to fall over and sleep this off. So you do just that, fall over, that is. You’re snuggled into the shag rug on his bathroom floor, reveling in its softness. Oh, this is perfect. You think to yourself, dozing off already.

“C’mon, you can’t sleep on the floor,” Logan grunts, scooping you up off of the bath mat. An incoherent whine escapes your throat at your loss of comfort. You snuggle into his chest, seeking the same comfort you were just robbed of. Your body lowers onto something soft and plush. You sigh in approval, spreading your arms across the expanse of this luxuriously soft bed. Ready to get comfortable, you groan in indignance at the stuffiness of your jeans. You ungracefully unbutton and prod them down your legs, freeing your body from the stiff discomfort of the pants. You hear a throat clear, and feel the comforter get pulled out from under you and then promptly over you, cocooning you in a soft, pillowy heaven. The soft fabric feels so nice and cool against your bare legs, clad in nothing, save for your panties. You silently thank your sober self for wearing a tank top and no bra today, allowing for optimal sleepwear.

“There’s water for you here,” Logan tells you, gently, gesturing to what you think is the nightstand, but you can’t bear to look at it.

“Don’t puke on my bed,”Logan warns. The light gets turned off and you sigh at the peaceful nature of the space. You inhale, reveling in the scent of Logan that lingers on the bed.

“Hm, bed smells like you,” you hum in satisfaction, finally feeling your sleep begin to overtake you. There’s a beat of silence that hangs in the air.

“Night, princess.”

...

A/N: hehehehehehe😈😈😈😈 I hope y'all had as much fun reading the bar scene as I had writing it. I loved writing reader letting loose a bit and not being so anxious, hopefully she stays that way but you'll have to wait and see. I'm getting oral surgery tomorrow so I'm not sure when the next update will be. click here to view on ao3.

Tags: @wolviesgirl @sanemis-piss

[nytb]

If you were mine

Click here first <3

A dinner party leads to a hot encounter with what seems to be a master of all trades, Alexia now filled with lust and desire for more.

“Want to explain why you left in a hurry last night?" Mapi questions her captain, leaving the woman no time to rest after practice ended.

"You know, I could have just wanted to leave"

"If that were the case, Y/N wouldn't have left running after you like there was something to fix" The defender's quick wit taking a hold on the situation "Want to tell me what actually happened?" she smirked.

It wouldn't be implausible that her childhood best friend had laid it on thick on Alexia and it might have somehow backfired. Unrealistic? Yes, but implausible? No.

The midfielder took a quick glance around her, making sure that nobody else would be able to hear her confession.

"God, what didn't happen - " flashbacks from the previous night in her head, smiling from ear to ear.

"Spill it"

"So..." Alexia started "Have you ever not have had to think? Like whatever was happening was meant to happen and it's not like you don't want it to happen so you're just there - happily participating?"

"Ale, I think that you lost me"

"How about you give me another excuse to be around her and I will give you all the details" she smirked, Mapi always loved to know all the gossip, especially when she wasn't involved in it.

"Wait - around wh- " she questioned, only to realize it before finishing her question "You and Y/N?"

"Mhmhm" Alexia nodded, clearly proud of herself.

"Wait so the whole 'you need to celebrate getting a new apartment' thing was a setup?"

"You catch on quick" The midfielder laughed "Sadly, I think that your girlfriend got there first"

Mapi's gossip game was lacking.

"Tell me everything" the defender ran behind Alexia as she made her way to the locker room. The latter turned on her hips, tapping at her friend's shoulder as she punctuated every word "One. More. Excuse." she reminded Mapi of the deal she had previously offered.

It didn't take long for the defender to concoct a plan to trap her childhood best friend in Alexia's reach.

A quick pop up, that her media team would gladly encourage, at a major concert in Barcelona.

"You do know that I hate these things right?" Y/N complained, getting dressed in Mapi's guest bedroom.

"Just think that right after we will go to your favorite sushi bar" the defender, who was sitting on Y/N's temporary bed, said "And if we get real crazy we pop by a tattoo parlor and get a new design on that arm" she smirked.

Clearly Mapi was the influence quiet homebodies begs for.

"I will even skip over the fact that you called Rosalia's concert a thing" she air-quoted the last word "And you should know that that's a serious offense in my book"

Y/N broke in laughter "Sure, because you now listen to the latest music and aren't still caught on the songs your parents still listen to" she mocked.

"Again, I will let that offense slide by" the defender stated "Aren't I an amazing friend" grinning from ear to ear, only to confess the real reason they were heading to a concert.

"Just be aware that this whole thing is a setup"

"Yeah I know, my agent has been grilling me to actually show up this time"

"Oh no cutie, she's not who I'm talking about"

Y/N turned on her feet "You're telling me that you got me to renounce training days just to hook up with one of your friends - again?" This time the boxer didn't sound as happy.

"Yeah because you had such a bad time with them" Mapi mocked "But don't worry, this time I'm not the one that planned who you're meeting"

"I'm not sleeping with your girlfriend's friends Mapi" Y/N crossed her arms, now staring at her childhood friend.

"Loosen up, this is all Alexia's doing."

Y/N's face turned blank, probably thinking about her previous encounter with the Barcelona midfielder.

"Stop daydreaming" the defender threw her friend a shirt "And cover up, you're making me feel frail."

"I have asked you if you wanted to come train with me in the past" she slipped into the tight fitted shirt.

"Yeah, you still need something over that" the defender groaned "Can't have you looking like that."

"Looking like what?" Y/N complained "I always wear this sort of stuff”

"That's the problem" the defender argued "You're always making the rest of us look like potatoes, even us athletes."

"Cheer up, in a couple of years, when all this fighting thing ends I will look just like you." Y/N joked.

"Maybe I should also teach you how to be funny" the defender threw her own dig "For when you can no longer rely on looks to get women"

"I have other traits" Y/N smirked.

"And somehow I think that that's why Alexia is so adamant on seeing you again" Ingrid joined, smiling as she greeted Y/N "What about we actually get going now? I have been keeping watch on that blonde all day - and it's tiring" she joked.

Damn - no wonder Y/N hates these things, people practically glued to one another, screams coming from every direction - this must be what introverts picture hell to be.

Getting greeting and her media press appearances over and done with, Y/N made her way to her VIP gifted tickets.

Being a star with a great agency backing her was a great asset, especially for Mapi as she managed to get a free concert and an easy setup with one single phone call.

"Remind me to thank your agent"

"So you're the one that made this happen" Y/N laughed "You had me thinking that my agent thought I liked this sort of music for a hot minute."

"And what's wrong with this sort of music?" Alexia questioned, shimmying past Ingrid, aiming her question at the boxer.

"Hi, I'm Y/N and I think that I messed up again" she extended her hand out, making a clear reference at their first encounter.

"Funny" Alexia said sarcastically "You should probably get more clothes" she stated "There is nothing wrong about having those peek through every shirt you wear" the midfielder pointed at Y/N's abs "But it's getting a bit repetitive"

"Weird, I was thinking the same thing" Y/N approached Alexia, bringing her into a hug and as she reached her ear she whispered "If you were mine you wouldn't be wearing that right now".

Alexia's excuse of a tank top that barely covered any of her skin wasn't to Y/N’s liking, let alone the short booty shorts she had on - if she was trying to cover the least amount of skin possible she successfully pulled it off.

"Maybe I'll invite you when I go shopping" Y/N disguised her previous statement, allowing herself a quick glance over Alexia's figure "Or send you along my assistant to pick outfits for me" she smirked.

"You have an assistant? Let me give you my assistant's number, maybe they want to be friends" she joked, taking the opportunity to place her hand on Y/N's shoulder.

"Maybe it's me who wants her number"

The midfielder's hand flew to her own abdomen, crossing her arms like a discontented child "I liked you more when you were more action and less maybes" Alexia stated, clearly annoyed at the boxer's previous statement.

Y/N snuck into the midfielder's personal space, slightly taking hold of her hips, moving past the group but not before taking the opportunity to whisper at Alexia's ear.

"Jealousy looks good on you"

And she was off, letting everyone knew that she was on the first drink run of the night.

"What was that?" Ingrid questioned, flustered at what just happened "What actually happened between you girls?"

"A lapse in judgement" the midfielder replied, seeing that Y/N was already being wrapped by someone else's body.

Mapi, followed her captain's line of sight, sympathizing with her situation "It's probably not what it looks like" she stuck up for her childhood best friend.

"Don't" Alexia's cold statement put the defender in her place "She's literally salivating at her for goodness sake"

Y/N's return to the group had the drinks she brought along with a couple of women overshadowed, especially by the Barcelona midfielder.

"Found these two in the pit" the boxer laughed, they were also Mapi's friends.

"OMG I haven't seen you girls in forever" pure enthusiasm in her voice, greeting them euphorically.

“See? Only friends" Ingrid spoke at a tune only Alexia would hear

That probably calmed the midfielder's jealousy for a minute, but she would be damned if it were only her that would be feeling that way tonight.

Dancing with strangers, her hands travelling through another person's body, her own fully leaned into it.

Y/N was fuming.

"You think that this is funny" the boxer approached, clearly pissed but hiding it underneath the coldness of her statement "Come with me" she grabbed Alexia's wrist, taking her away from the concert.

“What!?" the midfielder crossed her arms as soon as they got to a less crowded hallway, stopping Y/N dead in her tracks.

"Don't give me attitude" the boxer warned "I will teach you how to behave" and with that statement Alexia found herself up on Y/N's shoulder as she was carried out of there.

The midfielder fought it at first, but seeing Y/N's determination, and being highly attracted at the possibilities of whatever this was leading towards, she simply closed her grip around the boxer's abdomen. Grinning from ear to ear at her previous performance, clearly over the moon that it worked.

Setting Alexia back on her feet right next to Y/N's car, the midfielder made her way to her car's bonnet, leaning against it.

"No." Y/N groaned "I'm not rewarding whatever that was."

"Oh really?" Alexia leaned backwards, resting her weight on her arms firmly placed behind herself "So what will you do?" the midfielder continued, clearly provoking Y/N, being successful at every turn "Punish me?" she smirked.

The boxer's answer was simple. She made her way to Alexia, settling herself between her legs, she pulled the midfielder by her short's waistline, getting her to stand straight.

"I clearly have a lot of things to teach you"

"What if I don't want to be taught"

"Don't lie now" Y/N whispered at the midfielder's lips "There are better things we could be doing than having this" she pointed between the pair of them "conversation"

"This is a conversation to you?"

"I would rather it not be one"

Y/N placed space between them "Get in" she ordered opening the passenger door.

"And if I don't want to?" she argued.

"I would go over there and make you want to get in"

Alexia leaned back onto the bonnet, yet another provocation. Y/N groaned.

"Have it your way" the boxer closed the door roughly, a loud echo on the underground parking filled the air.

"Don't say that I didn't warn you" Y/N groaned at Alexia's ear "I will have you begging for me to let you enter my car"

A promise that would soon be fulfilled.

The boxer pulled Alexia into a rough kiss, exploring her mouth as the midfielder reached for Y/N's shirt, pulling her even closer.

"No." Y/N stated, grabbing the Catalonian's hands away from her shirt, placing them on the car's bonnet "They stay there" she ordered.

For a while they did but as Y/N nibbled at her ear, unbuttoning the midfielder's shorts, she had no other choice than to break the command given to her.

Alexia tried her best to grab onto Y/N's hair, she wished to pull the boxer’s lips back to her mouth, but Y/N reacted quicker.

Grabbing Alexia's neck, firmly choking her she whispered into the midfielder's mouth.

"So disobedient" she started, placing Alexia's hands back on the bonnet "Let's make it easier for you" she smirked

“You move, I stop."

"No" Alexia argued back.

"I told you not to give me attitude, it wasn't a suggestion."

"Or what?"

"You wouldn't want to find that out." she warned

"Actually, I do."

That ignited a flame in Y/N, Alexia was getting what she so eagerly requested.

The boxer rose her hand, placing two fingers on Alexia's lips "Suck" she ordered and the midfielder gladly obliged "So beautiful" Y/N whispered "What a shame that you're so disobedient" she took her fingers back, lowered them into the midfielder's pants "I will teach that out of you"

"It's more fun this way" she argued back

"I will show you how untrue that is"

Y/N roughly inserted both fingers at once, no warmup this time.

"You move, I stop" she reminded Alexia the simple command she had to follow.

As Y/N expertly curled her fingers inside Alexia, bringing the midfielder into a state of pure lust, the Catalonian learned that rolling her hips - as she looked for release - was getting her nowhere, so she fought against her body's urges, at times struggling with it.

The boxer made it her mission to edge Alexia for as long as possible, ignoring every request for release that slipped the midfielder's mouth.

"More" she begged as Y/N worked her clavicle, roughly sucking on it, leaving hickeys only a few people would see.

"Say you want to get into my car."

"I want to" she whispered as she arched her back, looking for release.

"Beg."

"Please" Alexia whispered into Y/N's mouth, making the boxer stop, placing space between the both of them she walked towards the car’s passenger door “Now wasn't that easy” she opened the passenger door again.

"You're just going to leave me here and stop cold turkey on me?" Alexia was raging.

"I don't reward disobedience" Y/N stated "Now, get in."

The midfielder did just that, buttoning her shorts as she gave Y/N a death stare.

"Did I allow you to do that?" the boxer pointed at the short's button.

Alexia's death stare remained, not granting Y/N an answer.

"So disobedient"