#i feel very useless whenever I’m like this

[roman-o-cheese]

Happy “panic attack at the thought of doing anything” season guys!!!🎉🎉🎉

[chososdiscordkitten]

Synopsis: calling the jjk men good boy's for the first time ^-^

Includes: 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨, 𝐇𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢, 𝐍𝐚𝐨𝐲𝐚, 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨, 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢, 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐨 >_< Content: GN!Reader, no explicit smut- mostly just soft stuffff, just one dick jump I think..? jjk men being simpppps

MDNI

Choso Kamo

The discovery that Choso liked praise was no surprise. If he had a tail, it would wag whenever you praised him; we know this. 

But finding out he liked this kind of praise- that’s what shocked you. 

It came out of your mouth so quickly. As though you had been calling Choso that more than you called him by his name. 

He was making dinner- pattering around the kitchen with your eyes following his every move. You found it endearing how he insisted he would cook, “All you need to do is sit pretty and wait.” he would demand. 

No objections coming from you, knowing if Choso didn’t cook- you would be eating takeout instead. 

And when he offered you a spoonful to see how it was tasting, you closed your eyes with a pleased hum. 

“Now there’s my good boy.” 

You swore it was instinct- like you couldn’t filter the words that left your lips. 

And as though time stood still- you opened your eyes with pinched brows, and your lips pulled to the side. 

The little glimmer that shined in his eyes was one you only see in wonderfilled children when they see a candy store. 

His cheeks blushed with a little smile forming at the corner of his lips, had his heart beat any faster in his chest you would have heard it. 

“I’m a..?” he whispered, looking at you and wanting to hear you repeat it. 

You got the hint he liked it from the moment you opened your eyes. Blinking innocently as his hand held the spoon tightly. “A good boy.” you smiled, trying to keep the embarrassed blush heating your cheeks at bay. 

“My good boy.” you reiterated, watching his cheeks become deeper pink.

Choso nodded- as though this was some standard compliment that didn’t make the appendage between his legs jump at the name. 

‘A good boy.’ he mouthed with a giddy smile as he continued making dinner. 

For sure this only drove him to keep showing his affection with acts of service- only to hear your lips call him by that little name. 

And you were happy to call him that if it meant he would keep looking at you with the same love drunk eyes. 

After that, he would do a favor to you- not expecting anything in return except the new found pet name he wanted to hear you say. 

So when he would bring you something you had asked for—the TV remote, a charger, or a snack on his way home—his heart would pound just waiting for the little name. 

His head would rest on your chest with your hands rubbing small circles on his back and the other playing with his hair. Intent eyes watching the film you had put on- as though you were able to feel the stiffness of his shoulders. Waiting for the name. 

You placed a kiss on his forehead, “My good boy.” you hummed against his skin- feeling him ease into your grasp with a soft exhale. 

Hiromi Higuruma

You were sitting in the apartment office, scanning documents with hazy eyes till your mouth suddenly felt very- very dry.

But then you remembered you had a perfectly able boyfriend sitting on the living room couches waiting for you to finish working. 

You picked up your phone- swiping through the useless apps and clicking on Hiromi’s contact- hearing his ringtone through the closed door before hearing the dial click. 

Taking on a slightly stern tone, “I’m only a few feet away from you-” he started, only for you to sigh dramatically. 

“I don’t think i've ever been so thirsty in my wholllleee life.” you sighed, pressing your forehead onto the desk and hearing a little chuckle rumble through the speaker. 

You could hear the smile in his words, “That so?” almost sarcastically. 

Humming a lazy ‘Mhm’ “How I wish I had a tall, strong, handsome boyfriend to bring me a glass of water wiiiittthhhh three- no. Four ice cubes.” You exhaled dramatically. 

Hearing another little chuckle, “If only.” he muttered, playing coy to your specific demand. 

You gave a frustrated exhale- “Hiromi, be a good boy and bring me a glass of water.” this time more demanding, no longer having the patience for his game of playing coy.

You furrowed your eyebrows- unable to comprehend just how tired you had to be to say that to him. The silence heard from the phone made your stomach fall. 

Hanging up the phone with a small curse. Wondering if you had crossed a line that hadn’t been drawn by either of you. 

You sat up and started working again- far too embarrassed to go out for your own glass of water and settling on the fact Higuruma wouldn’t bring you one. 

That was till you heard looming footsteps behind the door of the office, hearing the door knob jiggle and widening your eyes at the hundreds of scenarios that raced in your mind. 

There Hiromi stepped- casual as ever with a glass of water in his hand. Unbothered, and cool as a cucumber as he placed the glass on the desk with a little kiss on your forehead. 

This made you think the call was cut out at the perfect moment. 

You muttered a small ‘Thank you.’ still shy from the tired, unfiltered words that left your lips. Hiromi started walking out, his back facing you as he halted his steps at the door frame. 

“Honey?” he asked, not even bothering to turn around. “Did you call me a good boy?” Your heart plummeted to your stomach from the question as your cheeks started warming. 

You parted your lips to speak, watching his neck turn and peer back at you. “Depends..?” you squint your eyes, hearing a little laugh leave his lips. 

Irking his head, almost to urge you to finish. “On whether you liked it or not...?” you whispered, looking at his expression soften. 

His nose crinkled in the slightest- “I think I did.” he whispered back with a little crinkle formed on his nose. A nod from your warmed face in return, mindlessly accepting his confirmation and mouthing a soundless ‘ok.’ 

Turning around and taking a step out of the office and closing the door behind him. Knowing he would have to hear it a few more times to be sure he liked it or not. 

Naoya Zenin

Rare were the times when the want to call Naoya a good boy arose. 

He could be such a cunt sometimes- so the urge never really rumbled in your mind. 

But when he would be sweet- when his hands held a gentle touch when cleaning a scrape you got on your knee. Or when he would gently clasp your necklace on for you- knowing you wouldn’t be able to see. 

He would do those sweet things with a furrowed brow and a pouty lip- sure. But his hands showed his true feelings. How gentle they could be at times- that’s when the pet name would threaten to leave your lips. 

But when you would hold his head in your hands, looking at him like an idiot in love- “My good boy.” you murmered, watching a light grimace form on his face at the name.

“Good boy?” he asked, almost disgusted. 

You nodded your head- so sure that Naoya was as you said. “You’ve never called me that.” 

He was so used to the strange pet names you would call him just to get a rise out of him- and he was sure this one was no different. 

You shrugged, “You’re hardly ever a good boy. But when you are- I should tell you, shouldn’t I?” You murmured, being able to feel the warmth on his cheeks fill your palms- even if his expression said otherwise. 

“M’not a dog.” he muttered. 

“If you were- I would have trained you to be a good boy all the time by now.” 

That’s when Naoya pulled his face from your hands and looked away from you. Not wanting to continue the conversation, knowing his cheeks must be flushed by now. 

And the last thing he wanted was you on a power trip from making him blush. Especially from being called a good boy.

But when you started calling him that—Pavloving himself into thinking the little endorphins that would simmer in his brain would only happen if you called him that. And you only called him that when he was kind.

Naoya warmed to the name slowly- barely even grimacing at the callousness you’d say it with whenever he would be sweet. 

Unknowingly, he was being trained to be nice and polite with one ‘good boy’ at a time. 

Satoru Gojo

The times you would praise Gojo were always met with an, “I know.” smug and cocky in his actions to brush off your praise as just compliments. 

But the first time you ever spoke those words to him- a praise he had never heard before now, and eager to hear it again. 

Satoru had made a stupid comment about how you didn’t show your affections enough- “I’m deprived of kisses.” he murmured, complaining to you as though you didn’t spoil him rotten with your affections. 

And in retaliation, you denied him any kisses or hugs. Show him what deprivation really was. 

You were washing dishes, with a whiney Satoru behind you, his hands wrapped around your waist with his chin on your shoulder. “This has to be considered abuse!” another complaint as you denied his advances. 

“You said I was cold and negligent, so I’m showing you how cold and negligent I can be.” You smiled to yourself, turning off the faucet and drying your hands on a nearby towel. 

Hearing a stifled whine of desperation huff from his nose at your denial. “Jus’ gimme one kiss-” aiming his lips at your cheek only for you to pull away. 

Turning over to look at him- faces inches apart with his hands daring to tighten their grip on your waist. Tilting your head to the side with a snide smile. “Only good boys who don’t complain get kisses.” 

From how close he was- you could see the glimmer in his eyes become blinding at the pet name. 

His features going soft with parted lips- “I’m good-” he choked out, looking at you with goal-oriented eyes. “I’m soooo good-” he muttered, bordering on panicked from the idea that you didn’t think he was. 

Gojo’s hands gripped harshly at your hips. “Have you been a good boy?” you asked, almost sarcastically—as though you were speaking to a puppy. 

He nodded- eager to hear the new compliment leave your lips. Only you nodded ‘no.’

“I don’t think you have ‘toru.” you hummed, his lips coming closer to yours with a sad pout. As though the idea of him being good in your mind was the most important thing he needed to hear. 

He only placed his forehead onto the crook of your neck with a sad puff, your hand going up to his undercut, softly stroking the back of his neck in some feigned consoling. “Tell me i’ve been good.” he muttered quietly.

So spoiled from you caving with a little pout here or there. Practically putty in your hands as your other hand caressed the side of his face. 

Rolling your eyes with a playful sigh, “You’ve been good.” with a half-assed tone, only for Satoru to look at you with sad eyes. Expecting more than what you offered. 

Pressing a soft kiss onto his forehead and pulling away, “You’re a good boy.” you murmured, watching the light return to his eyes in sync with the little smile on his lips. 

Blinking rapidly as though he was trying to blind you, “My good boy.” and that’s when he got his fill for affection for the next few minutes. 

Then came the task of having to call him that whenever he wanted to hear it- looking at him with a displeased look, knowing you’ve created a monster that thrives on that special kind of praise only you could offer. 

Kento Nanami

We can all agree- Nanami is the one who deserves to be told he’s a good boy the most, right?

There were times when the urge blossomed in your mind- at the tip of your tongue and so close to calling him that pet name. But you never did. 

That was, until you got the guts to test the waters. 

Laying on your back, a few minutes before bed and unwinding while on your phone, and beside you; a hazy Kento that was waiting for you to turn off your side table lamp. Always waiting for you to get ready for bed before allowing himself to fall asleep. 

You let out a soft sigh before turning off your phone. Rolling onto your side with Nanami watching you from the side of his vision. Only this time you didn't reach for the little nob to turn your lamp off. 

You only stayed on your side with a pensive hum leaving your lips. “Scratch my back Ken,” you muttered, clearly tired with your eyes closed. 

Though you couldn’t see it- or hear it, you knew he had a little smile on his face as he shifted onto your side of the bed. A little shiver ran up your spine when his fingertips grazed the small of your back as he reached beneath your shirt. 

A satisfied sigh left your lips when his barely present nails started circling small scratches between your shoulder blades, your cheeks tingling from the words you dared say. “Such a good boy.” with a little smile on your lips, Nanami couldn’t see. 

Nanami didn’t fully process your mumbled words, only offering a hum in response as he kept up the gentle scratches. 

But when his brain started thinking about what you said- thinking if he misheard you. Slowing his hand with furrowed eyebrows, “Did you call me a-” he hesitated in what he thought he heard. 

“A ‘good boy’..?” bordering on a whisper from the nerves of being incorrect. 

Only the little ‘Mhm!’ that left your lips swatted those nerves away. “You’re such a good boy- always so nice to me.” you hummed, closing your eyes against the pillow with his hand still acting on your demand.

A pensive hum left his lips before slowly dragging his hand out of your shirt. You opened your eyes in dread, thinking he didn’t like it- only to hear him plop on his side of the bed with a throaty exhale. 

“Then be good and scratch my back.” he murmured, clearly too tired to process what he had just demanded- and the tone he used opened a whole other can of worms. But seeing as it was only fair- you did the same. 

Toji Zenin

He had been bugging you to finish your work for a while. Poking and prodding at you to stop working and pay attention to the film he put on to distract you. 

Toji had this thing where he pretended not to care- but you could see that it bothered him with every little side eye he made at you when you would stop typing for even a second. Hoping you were looking up at the TV instead of the screen on your lap. 

But every side eye he would make, Toji would find you still working. 

Going as far as nudging you with his elbow to mutter some bullshit lie he thought up on the spot. 

“M’hungry.” he muttered when you would look over at him. 

“Then eat.”

Only a few minutes of an action movie fight before another useless lure for conversation left his lips. 

“S’cold in here.” trying to bait any conversation he could think of. 

You scoffed, knowing exactly what game he was trying to play. “Get a blanket,” he quickly said, not even wanting to lose your train of thought. 

Then another, and another, and another. Till he finally spilled what he really wanted- “You don’t wanna go lay down or somethin-” with a pouty lip and furrowed eyebrows. You sighed and looked over at him.

“Or something?” sarcasm filled your tone as you looked back at the screen. 

Toji rolled his eyes with an exhale- another sassy trait he had learned from you. 

He parted his lips with an inhale. 

“Good boys wait politely, Toji.” you spat- pinched eyebrows and an avoidant gaze as he looked over to you. 

“When have I ever been polite.” he murmured- barely audible and in an annoyed tone. 

“When have you ever been a good boy?” you retorted, surprised he didn’t catch it the first time. 

He only let out a slight hum at your declaration. 

Toji didn’t really bring it up after that- and neither did you. As though the words hadn't processed in his brain till a week later. 

Looking at you across a metal table at an outdoor cafe- “Did you call me a good boy the other day?” almost with a little grimace on his expression. 

You pursed your lips- making Toji think you were going to deny it. 

“No. I said you’re never a good boy.” 

He only raised a brow at your proclamation- sucking his teeth with an inhale, “That’s not true- and you know it.” dismissing your words before taking a bite of the half sandwich you bought to share. 

Takuma Ino

One of the sweetest boys I can imagine. 

Always would he try to be as gentlemanly as he could- reminding himself that when it came to you, he would bend over backward had you asked. 

But there would be times when it would slip his mind entirely. 

Going shopping with him turned from just a quick pit stop- to an hour, then two hours. 

While ordering boba in line, your hands held shopping bags on each side. Ordering your own drink before Ino ordered his. 

He always found it offensive when you would even think of reaching for your wallet- so he would scoff infront of the cashier before tapping the chip of his card onto the little black screen. 

“How am I supposed to pay you back?” you muttered through clenched teeth, taking a few steps to the little wait area as they prepared the bubble drinks. 

He muttered something like ‘You don’t have to pay me back, what else am I here for.’ brushing you off with a little scoff. 

Ino didn't even notice the bags in your hands- his brain fried from how long you had been in the overcrowded mall. He only noticed when you moved the bags to one hand and shifted your stance slightly.

He looked over at you with a soft exhale- reaching for the bags, “Baby, don't tell me you don't have a ssssuuuuper strong boyfriend to hold these for you.” taking them from your hands and watching your expression soften. 

“What kinda boyfriend would let you walk around holding your own bags-” he scoffed, jokingly making fun of himself as you smiled warmly at him. 

Be it the general brain splitting headache you felt at that moment- or the heartmelting warmth you felt looking at him, “You're such a good boy.” you muttered- bordering on an illegable whisper, but Ino heard it. 

His eyes widened in the slightest and parted his lips at the name. “Me?” Ino whispered back, you only nodded ‘yes’ with tired eyes. Leaning in a little to you ear- too cautious for anyone to hear. “A good boy?” he whispered again. Watching the little smile on your lips widen with eager eyes. 

“The goodest boy.” you whispered with a smug tone- knowing he liked being praised in general. You knew he would like the little name. 

-

(a.n) does this count as smut? kinda a grey area me thinks. Didn't know how to tag it. (p.s) im so hungry rn and need to go spend wayyyy too much money on tile :(

[fancyfeathers]

Hey Fancy! Apologies if this is a wee bit long but it’s a random platonic yandere Batfam idea I’ve had for a long time. Adopted daughter who becomes an investigative journalist. (With Outlast crossover)

Darling was a product of one of Bruce’s affairs and he never really cared, he paid child support and that’s about it. Darling didn’t care as she and her mother were happy together until they weren’t. Darling’s mother starts to have to work longer hours, coming back more and more hollow until there’s nothing left but her corpse. Darling had a gut feeling her mom died because her mom’s boss was cutting corners in safety at some chemical plant and forcing long hours on workers. 

Of course darling has to go to her father’s house now and live with him (I imagine she was adopted a year before Jason died) after a week she’s asked if she wants to become Robin to which she refuses. She wants to fight the criminals who act as altruists, such as corrupt leaders and politicians, companies who have blood on their hands but hide it, because that’s the hero who could save her mom. Bruce accepts this but the family just seems to forget her. Not out of maliciousness, except for Damien, they just don’t have time for a non-vigilante sibling. She feels alone and when Tim and then Damien are welcomed into the family they neglect her too. Damien even mocks her for being useless. The only family she had there is Alfred, as he made sure to care for darling whenever s he could. 

When darling turns 18, she gets out of that house and goes to a university to study journalism. She becomes an investigative journalist who gained her reputation for going deep into the depths of corruption’s depravity and meets this one dude named Miles Upshur who she becomes partners with as they both are freelance journalists because they don’t censor the truth. They get an email one day telling them about messed up things happening at Mount Massive asylum.

They both go and cue the events of the game Outlast and Outlast Whistleblower. I’m not sure if you are comfortable with the contents of those games so I summarize it by saying the patients were being experimented on and broke free causing Miles to get trapped in the asylum with no way to fight back. He only has places to hide and a camera with night vision that drains his batteries. He gets very injured and Whistleblower is the same concept as it’s the same place but from the perspective of the one who sent the email. I imagine the darling was somehow separated from miles but ended up getting out of there with the whistleblower.

She took the footage and instead of letting the whistleblower release it, as the company begging the asylum would hunt him and his wife and kids down, she would be the one as her reputation precedes her. But after dropping the whistleblower off at his home she has no choice but to go to her old one, cause if the company couldn’t ruin her reputation, could just silence her like they did with everyone else. The batfam is going to be very confused when a freshly traumatized, bloody,and bruised darling shows up on their front porch, clutching camcorders to her chest like a lifeline. Who knows, they might just not let her out if this is how she ends up after being on her own.

again really sorry if this is weird or too long! It’s just been brewing in my brain and I needed to share it

God it’s been forever since I played Outlast, I don’t remember everything about the game cause I was screaming and crying for the most part and I literally could only watch Whistleblower and had to skip some stuff

This might not be entirely game accurate cause it has been a hot minute but I will do my best

I do not think Bruce would be exactly neglectful especially since this is yandere content and obsession starts when they normally meet their darling, like a root that takes hold and begins to grow after certain events. I imagine that her mom did not want her daughter to meet Bruce cause she thought he would not be a good influence, the whole billionaire playboy persona. She raised her daughter on her own until her death, her daughter can remember sitting in the hospital when the doctor told her that she was dead, died of radium poisoning, her body decaying while she was still alive.

She remembers sitting in the waiting room of the hospital, waiting after the staff called her biological father to pick her up, a nurse sitting with her. She knew why her mother did not want her to meet her, but her mother was wrong to an extent. She honestly expected someone like Alfred to pick her up, who she knew because he would meet with her mother for fund related affairs since she did not want her daughter knowing her father…

But Bruce was the one who picked her up, in fact he practically came running when he got the call from the hospital when he was at a gala.

When Bruce came into the hospital waiting room, he kneeled down to her level and took her little hands in his, he felt so sorry for not knowing, he could have helped, but for now what he can tell her is…

“Everything will be okay, I’ll keep you safe.”

Bruce is not intentionally neglectful, he really does try his best, but between being Batman and handling his daily affairs as Bruce Wayne he just does not have the time besides to have meals with her. He does keep her safe, puts a tracker in her bag or jacket in case anything goes wrong, but as if something will go wrong while she is playing soccer after school.

Dick is also probably very busy as well to give her much attention but he is pretty similar to Bruce in the way that he cares but he just does not have the time to now that he is Nightwing. He occasionally takes her out to do things, and he apologizes for not being able to spend more time with her, but he is just so busy.

Her and Jason are probably the closest, he is her big brother in his eyes. He helps her transition into her new home the most, making pillow forts, playing video games, taking her out to play in the snow. Then one morning she comes downstairs to see Alfred looking so solemn and Bruce sitting in an armchair in the living room, his head in his hands and still in the Batman suit, but no sign of Jason…

“Dad?”

She knows something is wrong so she hugs Bruce and it is the first time she sees him cry, he hugs her back, as if scared to let her go… but that is because he is.

“Oh sweetheart… I am so sorry.”

He was going to ask her to be a Robin one day, Jason would not have the mantle forever since after all Dick didn’t, but now he can’t stand the idea of loosing her, so he’ll keep her safe, even if that means keeping her at an arms length.

I think after Jason’s death he would probably send her to boarding school in a safer city like Metropolis or boarding school in a small town with next to no crime rate. It breaks his heart to send her away like that, but it is what keeps her alive. She comes home on the holidays and breaks but there is just an aura about the house now that Jason is gone, a constant state of sadness and as if a hand is holding onto her, which is fair because when she is home she isn’t allowed off of the manor grounds, Gotham is just too dangerous. That doesn’t mean they make more time for her, no her summers and holidays are just as lonely as they were before, only this time she is isolated from the outside world and left lonely by her own family.

Tim is similar to Dick in the way that he feels bad but does not make much of an effort to spend more time with her, even less so than Dick does. He only texts her every now and then so show he somewhat cares and talks with her at family meals, but that’s it.

Then there is Damian, she cannot stand him. She knows he grew up entitled in the League of Assassins but he cannot even pretend to be nice. He talks to her as if she is beneath him, despite the fact that when he is brought into the manor she is a senior in high school.

“No wonder you never became Robin, why would father let the most useless child even-“

“Damian, that is enough!”

Luckily Bruce or Alfred normally intervenes and defuses the situation before Damian says something too extreme.

Then she graduates high school and moves on to university, which Bruce pays for in full without hesitation. It is there in university that she meets her partner in crime, Miles Upshur. They are practically joined at the hip and then when that first finals come around and their project is to do a mock investigation and article and they get to choose a topic to do it on and then Miles asked her…

“Hey, what do ya want to do this on? Lexcorp? Abuse in the ballet industry? Maybe-“

“The radium scandal in the Gotham City Chemical Plant.”

“That’s oddly specific, why?”

“It’s how my mom died.”

And that’s how everything started with their chosen path of investigation. They graduate and the two of them even get photos in their graduate robes and degrees together. Her family comes, which an empty seat to honor Jason, despite him watching from a back doorway, she does not need to know what happened to him in the Lazarus Pit and he certainly won’t be caught dead with Bruce at the time.

Bruce is only okay with her going into journalism because he thinks she’ll be working behind a desk at a paper, not what her and Miles plan on doing…

If he knew he certainly would not be happy and try to find a way to interfere…

But sadly he never remembered to ask exactly what she was going to do.

Her and Miles have done a number of stories together, after the first five or so Bruce found out the kind of work she was doing and repeatedly called her to try to talk her out of it, but she would ignore his calls every time.

It was just supposed to be another job, not whatever this was…

They got an email from an anonymous worker, asking to investigate the Murkoff Corporation and their actions at Mount Massive Asylum. The two even joked during their car ride over to the asylum, laughing about stories she shared about her life at the manor and their old college days, they had no idea what they would find inside.

The asylum even looked messed up from the outside, but the inside was a thousand times worse…

Patients who were experimented on, and now they were inhuman and trying to kill, disassemble, mutilate them, you get the idea…

An insane priest to put it lightly…

Dead bodies all over, murdered in horrible ways…

Everyone left alive in there was less than human, insane, or just about to go insane…

And when I say insane, I mean Joker levels of insane.

They get separated along the way, which is good for her, but not so good for Miles.

She makes it out alive thanks to their anonymous source who sent them the email in the first place, Waylon Park who is a software engineer. The two escape together and due to her shock she can’t remember much until long after she left Waylon at his home and she is pulled over at a rest stop half way between Lake County, Colorado and Gotham City, New Jersey, way to exhausted to continue on. She reaches for her phone and finally calls Bruce back.

“D-dad… are you there?”

“Yes, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“S-so much… I want to go home… please I…”

She passes out from exhaustion while on the phone…

But luckily, do you remember what I said about Bruce putting trackers on her things? He never stopped when she was an adult.

When she wakes up she is back home in the manor, in her old room. She is laying flat on her back with everyone around her, even Damian and…

“Jason?”

“Ya… I’m here, lovebug. Just rest, you certainly need it.”

“Need it? For fucks sake she is missing a finger!”

“Dick, shut up-“

Bruce yells them to shut up and he holds her bandaged and stitched hand in his…

“Sweetheart, what happened?”

She only points to the camera in her things as asks them not to play it in front of her. They all watch it together in the Batcave before patrol and…

“Oh my god.”

It is worse than what the Joker did to Jason.

When she finally recovers and is going to write the story and-

No she is not allowed to, Bruce will handle the situation, most likely bringing it to the attention of the Justice League.

In fact she is not allowed to write another story again, she is not leaving the manor again. She is not a hero, she is just a reporter, and Jason is unable to fully move on after what happened to him so how well will she fair out in the real world in her fragile mental state? What if something happens that triggers those memories? They are not letting her take that risk.

Most days she is kept in her room, a controlled environment to make her feel safe. Then most nights one of her brothers or Bruce sleeps beside her in bed after patrols in case nightmare come up and she wakes up screaming. If her mental state get too bad they’ll sedate her so at least her mind is calm and she is not getting flashbacks. Bruce eventually gets her a therapist to work through what happened to her so at least she can have some what of a normal life after what happened…

Well as normal as you can get when you are locked inside for the rest of your life.

[vero1shere]

guns and roses

pairing: wolverine x fem!reader

word count: 4.1k

summary: your boyfriend’s back from a mission, and it becomes pretty obvious you missed each other. 

warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut with fluff sprinkles, slight choking, begging, slapping (once), unprotected sex (wrap it up guys pleasee!!), p in v, teasing, oral sex, breastplay, fingering, cumming inside

a/n: guys i swear i can write more things other than smut i’m just ovulating. also the title is from the ldr song, i don’t know if the band fits but if it does i’ll take the win.

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“You’re back”

It was morning. The pale sun had risen behind a thin veil of clouds and you had been up far too early, waiting and expecting, and in your own giddiness entirely missed the sound of his motorcycle pulling up. You were several steps away from the door when its handle rattled and the wood creaked open. Seeing the familiar figure of your boyfriend, you didn’t waste a moment in coming close, standing up from your bed.

“Didn’t mean to wake ya darlin’,”he held you closer to his chest by placing his hands on your hips. Logan had been gone on a mission for 2 weeks and you had very much missed him.

“Wasn’t sleeping,” you slid a palm slowly up his arm, until your hand nestled warmly on the back of his neck. “How did it go?” you asked.

“As I expected it.”

“And the contact?”

“Useless.”

“Oh.” You gave a fake pout, twirling a lock of his hair between your fingers. “And here I was waiting for you to come home as the newest global hero.”

He gave a curt laugh. “Waiting for me, huh?” he said, his eyes looking down at you in a way that made your skin heat up. You were in your bathrobe. Perhaps not the prettiest clothing item, but it was the nicest thing you owned and you knew exactly how its low cut showed you off.

You leaned in closer, letting the robe slip slightly off your shoulder. “Not at all,” you whispered.

Logan looked at you, a small smile tugging on his lips. “Right,” he said. And then, “C’mere.”

You moved in to kiss him readily, his hand on your cheek guiding you closer, mouths slipping together in a well versed familiarity. You weren’t one to doubt his abilities, but a fierce feeling of gladness came over you whenever you shared that first kiss after a time apart. You didn’t like it when he was gone and always had that special vulnerability course through you like a nervous strike of lightning upon seeing him again.

He was kissing you slowly, in that gentle way he showed at times, one hand in your hair and the other rubbing at your hip. There was something rather domestic about the notion, you thought to yourself, meeting him at the door with a robe on. You decided you liked that feeling.

His tongue ran across your bottom lip and you let him in, gladly, sighing into his mouth, before sputtering and pushing him away.

“You taste like shit,” you laughed suddenly, wiping at your mouth. When the excitement of his return faded, you actually looked at him properly for the first time. “And you look like shit too.”

“Oh thank you doll, always so sweet,” he chuckled.

“You taste like motor oil,” you said, unable to contain a smile as you looked him over and realised he was covered in grease marks, his military boots grimy to the hilt. “What the hell happened to you? Did you go into a sewer? Actually, no, don’t tell me. We decided on the don’t ask, don’t tell rule and I will stick to that. Go wash, then we can continue.”

“I think we can continue now,” he said in a low voice, reaching out for you again.

“No,” you said quickly, slipping out of his reach. “Logan you’re filthy.” 

He gave you an unimpressed look but began nudging a boot off with a foot. “Alright,” he muttered, haphazardly kicking his boots to the side and turning to the bathroom. You watched as he lazily tugged his shirt up and over his head. To your great amusement, you saw a faint line around his shoulders where clean skin met dirty.

Hearing the sound of water being turned on, you walked over to the window and peered at the sky outside. Faint clouds diluted the sun’s light, but they were grey in colour and the air was fresh that morning after a humid night. 

You cupped your cheek into a palm. You had missed Logan. Being apart made all sorts of thoughts rush through you, of confessions unsaid and feelings that maybe what he was doing with the xmen wasn’t the safest thing for him. You knew it wasn’t just about the sex, and that was enough sometimes, but since getting closer, hearing him speak, knowing that on the odd time he smiled wide his left cheek showed in it a dimple, there was something more behind your devotion. Something you knew you would need to voice someday, or perhaps leave it perfectly silent as it was already, whispered only in the hard kisses when he left and in the way you caressed his back when he had night terrors.

A hand lightly brushed the hair off the back of your neck, interrupting your thoughts.

“Care to inspect me now, officer?”

With a smile you turned, noting that his skin seemed a shade lighter, and wrapped your hands behind his head.

“Looking good,” you said, idly noticing he had a towel tied around his middle. “I can definitely see some improvement.”

“Even my hair is still damp.”

“Yeah, and I bet a whole handful of gunk came out of it.”

He rolled his eyes, tucking his arms around your waist. “Y’ sure know how to kill a mood, don’t you, sweetheart,” he muttered.

“Oh, I’ve been in the mood for days, baby.”

He kissed you like he was desperate, and you liked to believe he was. Your hands clawed into his hair, drawing him impossibly close, slipping your tongue into his mouth to meet his. One of his hands slid up to wrap itself warmly around your neck, the other at your hip held you tightly against his body.

To your surprise, you realised that he didn’t taste like cigarettes, even though you knew he smoked more while he was away. Instead, you could just faintly taste the cheap toothpaste you shared.

“What are you smiling about?” he breathed out, breaking away from you for an agonising moment.

What could you say, because you loved him? “I’ve been waiting for this,” you tell his mouth instead.

You let yourself be moved and pressed against the wall, barely registering anything beyond the way Logan was kissing you somewhere around your clavicle, and that one of his hands was sliding slowly down your body, pushing away folds of the robe. He palmed one of your breasts, the flat of his thumb drawing across your stiff nipple before pinching it, doing the same to the other. A jagged moan passed your lips as he slouched to bring his mouth to your chest, all teeth and tongue, biting hard on the flesh in a way you knew would leave a mark. His mouth covered your nipple, and you dug your nails into his shoulder as he suckled on it. Little sounds were coming out of your mouth without restraint and you couldn’t help but growl when his mouth came away with a wet sound.

“Pent up, baby?” he said with a smirk, his eyes dark as he leaned in to capture your lips. You felt his hand cup your breasts again, smearing his saliva across the hot skin, before moving over your ribs and the curve of your stomach and tugging the bathrobe loose.

You weren’t wearing anything beneath and he noticed and chuckled into your mouth.

“You really were waiting for me, huh?” He kissed you and leaned back, looking appreciatively over your bare body, running his hands over your hips and up again. “I wonder if you’re wet for me already, too.”

You didn’t get a moment to think of a coherent reply, though you knew the answer plainly, as his hand finally went to where you needed him most and your hips rocked into him as he slid his fingers easily through your wet folds. He breathed something you couldn’t decipher and leaned in close to bite your ear, a thumb brushing maddeningly light over your aching clit.

You rocked into him again, desperate for more, and he sucked on your neck, hard, enough to make you cry out, and slipped a finger easily inside you.

“So wet for me,” he murmured into the skin of your neck. “Did you fuck yourself thinking about this while I was gone?”

A second finger joined, and the heat pooling inside you seemed to almost make you dizzy and you leaned your head back against the wall, panting, nodding.

“Yes, yes,” you gasped, sucking in a breath as the fingers pulled out of you almost completely, and moaning as they were thrust back inside you. You wanted to say something more, but the words got lost in your mouth as his hand picked up speed and his thumb began to make agonising circles over your clit, and your brain couldn’t focus on anything except how good it felt. Logan was panting in your ear and you closed your eyes, one of your hands on his neck and the other gripping onto his arm, meeting every thrust of his fingers with your own hips.

His fingers curled inside you and you were grateful that your hands were on him, or else your knees may have buckled. An obscene sound came out of your mouth that he swallowed in a bruising kiss, teeth clacking painfully together as you both came close too forcefully, but the pain was immediately replaced with pleasure and you bit down on his bottom lip.

Suddenly, the fingers left you, and you almost swayed on your feet at the loss, making an unhappy noise. Forcing your heavy lidded eyes open, you felt your heartbeat in your throat as you watched Logan bring the slick covered fingers up and into his mouth. He gave you a look that promised you wouldn’t be walking later.

“Bed,” he rasped. “Now.”

You shrugged quickly out of the robe, letting it fall forgotten at your feet, and moved. You loved it when he got to the point of making orders.

“On your back, up against the pillows.”

You complied, breathing out of your mouth as you settled at the far end of the bed and watched Logan tug off his towel, kicking it to the side. Your eyes went immediately to a scar in his lower belly, and you traced its shape before looking at his cock, which was already hard and arching into his hand. Watching you, he slowly stroked himself.

“That was clean,” you said, in a voice you hoped sounded disapproving, nodding your head towards the towel.

“Right,” replied Logan, getting into bed. “Mention it again and I’ll gag you with it.”

It was a tempting offer, but you were in no mood to be quiet and, realising where he was positioning himself, instead eagerly parted your legs for him. He gave you a smug smile for that and, bringing his hands to your thighs, manoeuvred your knees over his shoulders. He pressed a few kisses and bites to your inner thighs but you could see he was stretched thin for more foreplay and you didn’t mind that at all.

Reaching out, you curled your fingers into his hair. You let your nails gently scratch against his scalp.

“Please,” you whispered. 

If his kisses were desperate, there was something more to the way he ate you out. The first broad lick from his tongue made your hand fist up in his hair, but if it hurt him he didn’t say. He took you greedily, fingers wrapped so tight around your thighs it always left you with bruises, tongue lapping you up in quick, hard strokes.

You were moaning openly, interrupted by gasps whenever his lips would focus on your clit or the tongue pushed deep. A heavy heat was building through you, and you could feel the muscles in your abdomen tighten. One hand holding on to the headboard behind you, you looked with hazy eyes at Logan, noting the red marks over your thighs, the way his dark hair spilled across your skin. He wasn’t looking at you and you noticed his shoulders jerk out of rhythm to his mouth and, somehow, your temperature only got hotter.

“Are you fucking yourself, Logan?” you said in a shuddering voice, feeling sweat slide down the side of your face, breathing heavily. “Are you fucking yourself to my pussy?”

He shifted and you pulled away your hand as he lifted his head. Your mind spun seeing your own slick glisten on his lips and mouth.

You thought he was about to answer, but instead he pushed his sweat darkened hair out of his eye and gave you a dog like grin.

As his mouth lowered again, he had a finger in you, and then a second. By the time he slipped the third one in, you could feel your orgasm building. He was sucking on your swollen clit, fingers pushing hard and fast into you, the wet noise only covered by your own wanton sounds.

Your fingers, once again in his hair, trembled and tugged.

“I’m close,” you forced out, biting hard on your bottom lip, nails scraping against the wood of the headboard. “Fuck, Logan. I’m close.”

“Oh, yeah?” You could just feel him smile as he said the words against you. It made you tug harder on his hair, in a way you knew would burn, and that brought in him a new vigour and his fingers inside you curled against your front wall.

You were pretty sure you screamed. He did it again and the orgasm hit you like a red hot flame, your hips only barely being held down by his free hand, bucking into his fingers and mouth. He fucked you through it, until you shuddered with your entire body, throat too tired to make another sound, chest heaving as you blinked and stared at the ceiling.

“Wow,” you said.

You heard a chuckle and watched Logan lick his fingers and wipe the back of his hand over his mouth before coming close and kissing you. You loved kissing him like that. There was something about tasting your own self in somebody else’s mouth that drove you insane.

“I don’t think I can feel my legs,” you told him, running your fingers down his chest, not ignoring the way his breath stuttered as you did.

“I’ll make you feel ‘em again,” he said.

You hummed into his mouth, lips curling into a smile as you finally took him into your hand, stroking him with an easy flick of the wrist, eating up every little sound he made.

“Looks like it’s time for us to switch sides,” you breathed, smearing his pre-cum under your hand, the touch familiar and making you ache for more. “How do you want me?”

He didn’t ask. In a quick movement you found yourself on top of him, the wind knocked out of you, both of his hands on your hips. You grinned.

“Alright, baby,” you said. You leaned forward, running your hands over his body, rocking just enough against his cock that it made him hiss. You moved in to kiss him, letting your breasts press against his chest. “I’ll make you feel good.”

You rolled your hips, a shudder of pleasure going through the both of you as his cock brushed over your sensitive clit. If your head wasn’t in post-orgasmic bliss you might have thought it mildly embarrassing how wet you were or how you readily awaited to come again. But you didn’t care about that, you cared about feeling good and making sure Logan felt that extra. With an evil little smile you arched your back, holding on to his shoulder as you kept rocking your wet cunt over him, and wrapped your free hand over his neck.

It was a gentle hold, enough to explain what you wanted to do and enough for him to decline. This wasn’t yet a common thing the two of you did, but you wouldn’t have minded if it was. You looked at him but he didn’t decline, only stared back at you, hand gripping your thigh, breathing through an open mouth. You tightened your hold, only by a fraction, rewarded by a groan, and then you tightened it again and he leaned his head back, opening more of his neck to your hand.

Your mouth was going dry. You felt like you could come undone by his expression alone, head thrown back and eyes closed, hair sticking to the back of your hand. You leaned in close, listening as his breath caught in his throat, and gave his neck a squeeze.

The noise that came out of him was unholy. He bucked beneath you in a way that made you suck in your own breath before pressing your lips warmly against his ear.

You went to kiss him again but suddenly he wasn’t there and with a yelp you found yourself being rolled roughly onto your back and Logan’s teeth instead by your ear.

“Think you can just tease me the whole time?” he growled, his weight on your body driving you crazy, hand roughly palming your breast. “Think I haven’t been waiting for this too?”

Oh, God.

“Beg for it.”

“Fuck me,” you whispered, hands grabbing at his face and arms and side. “God, please, Logan, fuck me. Please.”

He raked his teeth down your neck and you cried out, nails scratching his back as he positioned himself above you, lifting one of your legs under his arm, licking the red mark he had left.

“Fuck, Logan, please. Please.”

You had dreamed of this. You were so wet that he slid inside you easily, and you released a sound that was half a moan and half a sigh of relief. He filled you up perfectly, stretching you in the way that you knew and craved. Your sensitive cunt seemed to feel it all twice-fold and you felt your eyes close in pleasure.

He pulled out of you, slowly, almost until the tip, before pushing back in a quick, hard thrust that sent your head flying back, the feeling amplified by your position. He didn’t take you slowly, he fucked you hard and fast, until your individual moans became a single, desperate sound. Your hands scrambled to find purchase on the bed, getting a fistful of sheets when his thumb pressed roughly over your clit, sending hot sparks through you.

The sound of flesh against flesh intermixed with your breaths was intoxicated. You reached for the hand that was at your cunt and brought it up to your mouth, licking his fingers and running your tongue over the joints. You could feel his grip tighten over your slowly numbing leg and opened your mouth a tad, so he could see your tongue swirl around the digits, smirking.

His next thrust wiped the smile off your face. He was hitting you in the sweet spot that sent you seeing stars, and the wet fingers went over to your hip instead, holding you firmly down as he wanted you. And you had no qualms about that. You could already feel a second orgasm growing.

Then you felt the sharp snap of teeth over your ear and Logan snarl, “Turn over. Now.”

You practically whined as he pulled out of you, quickly grappling a pillow and rolling over to your front. His hands parted your legs from behind and you heard him spit and shuddered as fingers ran through your swollen, wet folds.

“You’re driving me fucking crazy, sweetheart,” he muttered above you.

You rocked your hips into his hand, looking over your shoulder and watching, hungrily, as he stroked himself while touching you.

“Why don’t you fuck me like you mean that then?” you said.

You memorised his buttons like a sailor memorised the stars. With a noise you were pushed forward, nose in the pillow you quickly managed to salvage, and then he was fucking you, one hand gripping your hip while the other slapped you sharply across the ass. You tried to match his speed but he didn’t let you, pressing you firmly down against the bed with his own weight until the only thing you could do was bite the pillow, crying out with every thrust.

A second orgasm was heating up inside you. One of his hands had tangled itself in your hair, every sharp tug only making your muscles tighten. You were overwhelmed with it all, euphoria like bright lights behind your eyes. You wanted to give yourself to him, every part of you until there was nothing left, opening up like a flower in bloom.

His weight shifted and you could feel him on top of you, feel the way his hot breaths landed on your skin.

“You close, baby?” he rasped.

You groaned and blabbered something that you hoped sounded like an affirmative. You were so sensitive and full, you knew you needed only a small push to tip over the edge again.

You felt his stubble scratch against you and then the telltale drag of his hand beneath, over your chest, down your stomach.

“Oh, god.”

His deft fingers were at your clit and you everything but mewled as he began to rub at it, every thrust hitting you perfectly. He was somewhere behind your neck, panting, pressing kisses and bites on your skin.

“Come for me,” he coaxed in a low voice. “You know I like it when you do. Come on, doll. Just for me.”

His fingers and his cock were all too much. You came undone with a loud cry, clenching around him as his fingers worked over your clit. The orgasm hit you like a tidal wave and your thighs shook, gripping at the headboard as his breath hitched and he came too, fucking you through it, leaning heavily over your back. You felt your vision turn hazy and gave a moan as you felt him spill inside you, moving your hips what little bit you could into his jagged thrusts, eating up every breathless sound he made by your ear. He pushed into you a couple more times before halting, breathing like a bull behind your head.

Whimpering as he pulled out, you watched with sated eyes as he lay down beside you with a heavy groan.

“Shit,” he whispered, out of breath, and in your stupor you couldn’t help but smile.

The clouds ended up defeating the sun and with the blinds half drawn the room turned dark and grey. You were lying on your back and Logan sat on the edge of the bed to your left. You idly rubbed a hand over his back, the both of you comfortably nude, drawing shapes over the red marks you had made. In his left hand he held a lit cigar and was slowly turning his leather jacket around in his right.

“Is that a fucking bite mark?” he said with a snort, holding up the jacket.

You didn’t stop your hand. “I missed you,” you said, grinning at the ceiling.

Logan chuckled at that, giving the jacket one more look before throwing it over to a chair beside the wall. He took a quick drag and blew out strands of smoke. There was something aggressive about the way he smoked. 

You ran your palm up to his shoulder, thumb making gentle circles in the skin.

“Did you miss me too, Logan?” you asked quietly.

There was that vulnerability again. You had never asked that question properly before, not without a defence of being coy or teasing. You began thinking of ways you could laugh it off when he sighed and brought his cigarette again to his mouth.

“I did,” he said.

You looked at him, at the familiar curve of his back, at the lines of muscle that you had long memorised and knew by touch. He didn’t turn around and he didn’t look at you yet somehow those were the most genuine words you had ever shared.

The bed gave a miserable creak as you sat up, reaching to put both your hands on his shoulders, pressing your chest against his back and tucking your chin into the curve of his neck. He sighed again, and leaned into your touch.

“I’ll have to go again soon,” he said.

“I know.”

“It’ll be a few days at the least.”

You ran your fingers through his hair, prodding gently at the scalp, tucking away the small, relaxed sound he made deep into your heart.

“I know, baby.”

He took a drag and turned his face away from you to blow away the smoke.

[vrystalius]

Upper moons vs

Human nature of petting everything and or copying noises

Imagine them watching their human stop to pet an animal based demon (like a demon cat) and copying their meows and noises

(The demon can’t do shit bc they’re there. Muzan silently glaring, Douma claiming the demon is a personal pet now, kokushibo doesn’t need to even be there, his scent is STRONK, Akaza silently chuckling.)

The Upper moons + Muzan’s reaction to you snuggling with a cat-demon

The Upper Moons + Muzan reacting to you being all cutesy with a cat-demon.

Pairing: Muzan, Kokushibo, Douma, Akaza x reader

Note: I imagined this cat-demon to be extremly disgusting and deformed. Some kind of weird horror creature XD I’m thinking about writing a fic about the hashira/upper moons get cursed and get cat ears of some kind. Also, this was fairly rushed. So sorry! <3

Muzan Kibutsuji

Muzan was experimenting with his blood and demon transformations, and what kind of different types of demons he can create. Just recently he made a cat-like demon. The behaviour of the creature was similar to that of a street cat. It had claws, patches of fur, cat-like ears and a short tail. It was even able to meow and purr, he noted. That thing is useless and hideous. Better to dispose of it before it causes any disturbances and annoyances.

He caught you snuggling up with this hideous demon while he was away to pick up his brand new suit. Muzan was not fond of the creature purring and laying its head on your lap while you were trying to teach it how to meow properly. Even glancing at the disgusting creature was enough to make Muzan feel a strange mix of disgust, disappointment and jealousy. Is he neglecting you to the point of you being willing to let this… thing��� cuddle onto you? Also, why is this demon even daring to come this close to you?

Needless to say, disposing this waste of his blood was much sooner done than originally planned.

“Do not ever come too close to my experiments again unless either I am present or I allow you to.”

Kokushibo

Kokushibo always made sure to leave his scent on you at all times. Sometimes he’d give you one of his yukatas to wear or he might leave his scent by kissing your neck, marking your skin with hickeys.

This was a way to protect you from other demons approaching you and warning them of who is your protector whenever Kokushibo himself is not present.

Therefore, this cat-demon did not approach you. It smelled Upper Moon 1’s scent around you from across the halls of the infinity castle arc.

You never got to meet him.

Douma

He’s not fond of you interacting with other demons, especially the ones below Douma. What if they get too comfortable around you, hm? What then? He’d have to kill and eat them! He would never allow that!

This cat-demon was send to Douma by Lord Muzan to send out and search for the blue spider lily. He noticed pretty quickly how fond you became of this creature. You’re petting its fur, scratching behind the ears and even tried to imitate the meows its throwing at you.

Douma has a weird feeling in his stomach when watching you two. On one hand, you seem pretty happy with this weird pet cat demon. On the other hand, Douma could get you a regular kitty! That way, he doesn’t have to share you! Or if you want, Douma can meow for you. He just doesn’t really want you to be around this cat demon anymore! (Is he feeling jealous? He couldn’t possibly!)

“Dear lotus, how about you pet me instead, hmm? I can even meow for you if you like!”

Akaza

Who the hell is this damn demon? Why did this cat creature think it can just snuggle up onto you and act like you’re not already taken, huh? Can’t that thing notice Akaza’s smell on you? Oh it’s fucking infuriating him. He’s trying very hard to not slam the head of this freak against the floor until it dies and returns to the hellhole it came out of. The audacity to snuggle up on your lap and to act all innocent and stupid. Perhaps that demon creature is too stupid to realise that it’s utterly disgusting.

Yet, you welcomed it and scratched the fuzzy head of this demon, copying its odd meowing.

“Baby. Let it go.”

💠

My brain is getting fried right now by school work, so I might neglect asks for a little while to concentrate on my own works. I sometimes can’t fully concentrate or come up with good things for asks, so so sorry! I’ll work on them on the weekend and days where I feel more energised! <3

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!

Take care of yourselves <3

[hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch]

Venom intertwined

Summary: Wanda just wanted you and Venom to stop fighting that’s all she wanted, why did it escalate so much?

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, no spicy stuff, fluff, a crushed Pb and jelly sandwich (poor Nat)

A/n: I rewrote this since tumblr decided to delete it, hopefully it’s good, there will be a part two but when? Whenever I write it 😂

“Y/n why are you limping?” Nat barley moved from her place on the couch as you tried, but failed, to walk through the house without anyone noticing your injury

“I’m not limping you’re just incompetent” you laughed but Nat just rolled her eyes “I’m a well trained assassin Y/n I can spot a bee 5 miles away and blindfolded, you’re limping”

You flopped down next to her on the couch unable to hide the pain any longer “okay fine! Yes I’m limping are you happy now?”

Nat ignored your snarky comment instead pinching your arm getting a shout in response “enough with the snarky comments, why hasn’t Venom healed you yet?”

Venom’s head snaked out and you rolled your eyes knowing the rant was coming

“Y/n said that I was useless and she did not need me to live her life, so when someone who was paid to kill us managed to stab us in the leg I refused to heal her since she can obviously take care of herself”

Their head turned to you and glared and you glared back “you are a very childish bastard you know tha-

Venom slammed your body against the floor snapping the coffee table in half

“Ahh my sandwich” Nat said sadly picking up her now squashed sandwich “I was looking forward to that”

You scuffled with Venom on the floor which looked funny to anyone not knowing about Venom since it looked like you were just fighting yourself

“Take it back!” Venom growled

“No!” You shouted back

Suddenly Wanda burst the door hearing the commotion “woah what’s going on?!”

“Your girlfriend and her parasite ruined my Pb and jelly sandwich” Wanda glared at Nat and made a mental note to tell Maria to make more sandwiches to keep the grumpy assassin happy

“Okay you two stop!” Wanda’s plea went unanswered as you continued to fight with the symbiote so she used her magic to still you “hey!” You shouted still trying your best to fight

“I will separate you two if you don’t behave!”

Wanda barely registered Nat’s shout of “no!” Too focused on the fighting going on right now

You didn’t respond to her threat so Wanda, without thinking of the consequences, pulled Venom out of you and dropped you both to the ground, you fell to the ground feeling hallow for the first time in years, nothing felt right, your skin didn’t feel like your own and you couldn’t breathe, everytime you tried your heart sounded louder in your ears, wait your heart? That hadn’t made a sound in years.

Your eyes landed on the mess of symbiote on the ground, seemingly looking for you, when you reached your arm out you hoped they found you when your vision started to fade, after what felt like hours your body warmed back up and you felt the symbiote flow through your body and Venom’s voice piercing your ears “I am back Y/n you can relax now, we will be safe again soon I will heal you” you remained on the ground shaking slightly trying to keep relaxed like Venom said

Wanda and Nat watched you, watched you reach out for Venom and watched the colour returned to your face and your breathing return to normal, Wanda came close to you

“Baby I’m so sorry” Wanda tried helping you up but you scrambled away from her into the corner scared and afraid “no! No stay there Wanda!”

Wanda backed off unsure on what to do but Nat was there to try and help, “Wanda, you know her and Venom are entwined, DNA and all it’s dangerous to pull them apart you could’ve killed her”

Wanda gasped “I know I know! But I just wanted them to stop fighting I didn’t know what to do. And why didn’t you stop me?!”

Nat shrugged “I didn’t think you’d do it I also shouted stop but you still did it so it’s not my fault”

Wanda sighed knowing Nat was right and turned to you again jumping back seeing only Venom glaring back at the two women “Y/n?”

Venom stood tall and all trace of you had seemingly disappeared “you tried to kill us Wanda, someone who loves us would never do that”

Wanda’s eyes watered “no no baby please I didn’t mean to hurt you I just wanted you to stop fighting with Venom” she tried to hug the symbiote to give comfort but Natasha pulled her away

“Wanda they’ll tear you to shreds in seconds!”

The assassin kept tight hold of the witch as they both watched Venom turn to the window and turn back to them both, one side of your face revealed which gave Wanda hope but it was quickly dashed “Y/n? My love are you still there?”

“Don’t follow us” Venom overtook your body once again and leapt out of the window leaving the women alone without knowing where you were going or if you were coming back

“No Y/n! Come back!” You’d never been away from Wanda for more than a couple of days but she had no idea where you were going

***************************************

It was a while before either woman moved, Nat was still clinging onto Wanda as the redhead sobbed for you to come back hoping everytime she glanced at the broken window she’d see your form but it never came

Eventually Maria found them both, she sent Nat off to tell Tony and Bruce what happened and if they could help

“Wanda? Wanda can you hear me?” Maria sat in front of Wanda holding her head in her hands “she’s gone” Wanda whisper sobbed and Maria nodded “I know, they were spotted in Times Square running all over the billboards, they’re heading for New Jersey it seems”

Wanda brightened up and stood “New Jersey?”

Maria nodded “yeah why?”

“Y/n was going to buy a house there, she was going to ask Tony to borrow some money and work it off doing missions and let Tony and Bruce do some experiments on Venom”

Wanda turned to leave but Maria was quick to grab her arm “woah! Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“To New Jersey, she needs me I need to fix this”

Maria shook her head holding tight onto the witch “Wanda I mean this with all the love in the world but you caused this, you knew damn well what would happen and I’m pretty sure if you just turned up you’d start fighting with Venom and lose”

Wanda admitted defeat sighing and sitting down on the couch wiping more tears from her face

“Okay here’s what’s going to happen, you’ll have a shower and get yourself sorted then meet myself and the others to discuss what’s going to happen okay? We’ll get her back I promise”

Wanda didn’t speak but Maria took her silence as an agreement and left the room. But Wanda didn’t have a shower or meet everyone she instead got into her car and was currently on her way to you to fix this, she was going to fix this.

******************************************************

Meanwhile in New Jersey you were sat in that very house you were buying, Venom still being at the forefront keeping your body safe while it healed

“Are you feeling okay Y/n? Your body was so cold”

“Yeah I’m okay, just really confused, I can’t believe Wanda would do that”

Venom agreed “she tried to kill us”

You went to say something more but the front door opened revealing a witch standing there

“Why hello stranger, looking a little mouldy there”

The symbiote split their face revealing your own shocked one

“Agatha? You’re back?”

“Awaiting my favourite little alien’s return”

[risuola]

▶ BOYFRIENDS — two is better than one.

contents: college+roommates!au, alcohol consumption, college party kind of situation, groping mentioned — wc. 845

a/n: you were voting in the poll and picked the stsg protecting the reader from the drunk so there we go! our boys making sure we're safe!

𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙈𝙀𝘿𝙇𝙀𝙔 | series masterlist

“C’mon cutie, it’s jus’ a dance.”

You’re far from being a mind reader. Sometimes you struggle with getting the point of something someone is telling you straight on, but this time you were sure it wasn’t a dance the man wanted from you.

A thick stench of alcohol saturated the air whenever he was leaning towards you, rendering the oxygen useless because you’d rather suffocate than introduce that toxic waste into your lungs. You were trapped, between the counter in a small, dorm kitchen and a guy you recognized from a sport’s team popular in your college. He’s not the top dog, average at most, but famous nonetheless and apparently such condition turned his ears deaf to any sort of refusal. The small of your back burned in the place where he glued his hand and it wasn’t a pleasant type of burn.

“I’m not gonna dance with you, get away, creep,” you scoffed, frowning upon the stubborn behavior and pressing the open palm of your hand against his chest, trying to put your strength against his own. No luck there, he didn’t budge the slightest.

“Hard to get, huh? I like that,” he grinned and next thing you noticed was a hand on your butt, squeezing the flesh like an orange. You flinched at the feeling, digging your nails into his forearm, doing about as much damage as a little kitten. That’s why you didn’t like college parties. “You sure are a feisty one, aren’t you?”

“Get. Off.” A groan left your throat and your fist clenched to your side. A knee itched to meet his crotch, a drink in your hand begged to be spilled over his stupid face and wash off his stupid smile, maybe even refresh his stinky breath a little.

You thought about violence, your body tensed and muscles contracted, getting ready for a strike, but then, you heard a hum. Soft, melodic, like a cotton and silk, soothing your nerves and making you relax. The sound made you stop; it made the drunk stop as well and your position shifted.

“Does my beautiful mochi have a problem here?”

You could physically feel how Satoru removed the unwanted hand from your rear and the wince on the boy’s face in front of you told you his grip was much heavier than the tone of his voice suggested. Then, your friend wrapped his arms around your waist, effectively pulling you out of the toxic orbit; your back met his wide chest and his chin dropped to rest on your shoulder. His bright blue eyes sized the guy in front of you from above the dark shades he wore that night and you noticed him smiling. It was confident, it was judging and so very challenging. You could tell he wished to get down and dirty with the drunk.

“And you are—?”

“Her boyfriend. Back off.”

“Boyfriend, huh? Bullshit,” the boy scoffed, clearly unable to comprehend the danger he put himself in. He hiccupped drunkenly and then found Suguru in the crowd, pointing at him. “That bitch told my friend her boyfriend is that guy.”

Satoru hummed again, amused, and then chuckled vividly. You felt his embrace tightening protectively around you and his fluffy hair tickling the side of your face. As if summoned, Geto made his way towards you and soon he joined your other side.

“Suguru, this guy over there called our girlfriend a bitch and dared to lay a hand over her ass,” Gojo painted the picture with a sweetly threatening tone and even pouted a little for the added effect.

“Oh yeah?” Brunette mused, raising an eyebrow and you heard a soft crack of his bones when he tilted his head to one side and then the other, stretching his neck. Oh, how menacing. “It can’t be.”

You watched as confusion washed over the features in front of you. The guy was drunk, but it seemed as if the dots were finally connecting in his brain, as if the message was reaching and realization was sinking in — very likely the sound of Suguru’s cracking knuckles made the process much more quick and efficient.

And he crumbled.

The boy shrunk under the set of gazes and tensed atmosphere. Mumbling something incoherent, he backed off, grabbing a can of beer on his way as if pretending to not be bothered when very visibly he was.

You sighed.

An exhale of relief made you wilt a little inside the protective embrace of Satoru’s arms. You felt your body relaxing.

“Thank you. He was damn persistent,” you addressed your friends, smoothing over the hands snaked around your waist and looking up at Suguru.

“Always,” brunette smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead, while Satoru nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck. Then he bit you, of course he did, but this time you let it slip.

“I’d be persistent too if I saw those tits unattended,” the snow-white mumbled, and Geto immediately nagged him, causing the dramatic roll of blue eyes.

You, on the other hand, laughed.

Those idiots.

taglist: @kibananya @r0ckst4rjk @rixo-19 @soraya-daydreams@hyun0200 @ilykii @roscpctals99 @mushkasstuff @siimp4youu @juicedcherry @themoreeviltwin @stevenknightmarc @ms5m1th @local-mr-frog @minimorale @lansy-4 @dancer545

[rapturously]

Dwayne or David facesitting. Period. Like, vampires don't need to breathe! Hell, let em stay down there for hours. Also, am I too gross or crazy to think about having fun during that time of the month? 🩸

blood moon.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. | dwayne (the lost boys) x fem!reader

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓. | drabble — requested.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. | 3.7K.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. | SMUT (mdni), dubious consent (mild coercion) cunnilingus, oral sex (f!receiving), reader is on their period, bloodplay (lots of it, he’s a vampire), facesitting, biting, hair-pulling, pet names (mama, girl, sweet girl), dwayne is hungry and he’s nasty, kissing, vampire antics, possessive dwayne, Dwayne is a little selfish in this

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄. | wow ,,, a fic three days in a row ??? you can tell I’m hyperfixated because I’ll produce a ton of content very rapidly. Also, I love dwayne so much, he’s my daddy. ALSO — please keep sending me horny requests for the lost boys, I’m being fed !!! also, hello to all of my new followers & tlb fellows :)) love y’all and hope you enjoy!

A blood moon — it was a humorous term that your mother used to use for your menstrual cycle, something that you’d grown to despise with every fiber of your being. It was another unfortunate shackle of humanity, a reminder that you were still flesh and blood. Whenever your time of the month came about, you were always tempted to beg David for a sip of that forbidden wine.

The oppressive heat of the cavernous labyrinth that the boys dwelled within had felt somewhat comforting to you as you curled up on Dwayne’s makeshift bed, form contorted into the fetal position. A slow, agonizing pain spread throughout your lower abdomen, making your muscles feel weak and useless.

Sunset was just upon the horizon as you struggled to endure the suffering that you were forced into with each passing month. The mattress felt cool and smooth underneath your cheek, having abandoned the scattered pillows in favor of awaiting your demise. You wanted to sob, biting at the inside of your cheek, teeth scraping against flesh as your fists balled into the blanket.

Everything hurt — what began as a dull ache soon manifested into a pain that gripped your entire body. Your back was sore, head throbbing, and your insides felt as if they were being stirred around by the hand of another. You clenched your teeth, not wanting to move from your spot, anchored to your slice of space.

Once dusk fell, the vampires you’d been living with came to life, no longer hanging from the rafters of some dark, damp alcove. You could heat Marko and Paul’s guffaws and laughter, accompanied by David’s stern, tempered remarks. It all served as idle background noise, prompting you to close your eyes.

The noise dissipated — it was too quick for your liking. Silence settled in, save for the faint rustling of ambience within the cave, combined with something rattling around out in the remnants of the old lobby.

As much as you didn’t want to move, you sluggishly rolled out of bed, discomforted by the sensation of sloshing liquid rushing between your legs. It was the worst part of your cycle — the unpleasant sensations, the feeling of being wholly unclean. You draped a blanket around you, hobbling from Dwayne’s roost.

Strong, veined hands were buried within the grease-laden guts of a motorcycle, dismantling a variety of components. The vehicle was partially dismantled, stripped down to the metal underbelly. Dwayne’s dark tresses were disheveled from slumber, parts of scrap scattered around him. An elongated, metal screw was lodged between his teeth as he concentrated on his work.

He could smell you long before you’d crept into the lobby, but he hadn’t expected to see you in such a downtrodden state. Dwayne was often respectful of your space, especially during your cycle. It wasn’t something he would ever endure, but watching you writhe and suffer wasn’t entirely enjoyable, either.

“Dwayne?” You croaked, awkwardly shuffling across outcroppings of debris and dirt, draped in your shoddy sheet as you spotted your boyfriend. There was something beautiful about him, particularly when he practiced his hobby of playing mechanic. Specks of black oil lined his forearms and fingertips.

Without missing a beat, Dwayne turned to look at you, hazel hues drinking you in with reverence and concern. Dark brows furrowed together as he abandoned his current project, grabbing at the tattered, red cloth that rode around within his back pocket. “Hey,” That familiar baritone held a subtle warmth to it. “What’s wrong, Mama?”

You knew that he knew, but he still asked you nonetheless. As he swiped away at the oil and pungent grease, Dwayne stepped closer toward you, stooping down to press a kiss against the top of your head. You smelled wonderful, natural sweetness intermingled with that of your menses.

“Everything,” You exhaled, shuddering when his large palm splayed out across your back, rubbing soothing circles into your sore flesh. “Where are the others?” Admittedly, it was a bit unusual to see Dwayne alone without the company of the pack.

“Hunting,” Dwayne confirmed, and without hesitation, he hooked a strong, taut arm underneath your legs, hoisting you up as he carried you like a blushing bride. Cradling you against his chiseled chest, he made sure you were back in bed, where you belonged. “I was worried about you.” He confessed, laying you back against the mattress.

His throat was burning — a fire so intense that he wanted to scream, but Dwayne was rather talented at smothering his hunger for the good of another. His thirst would be extinguished soon enough, whenever he could leave the cave to find unsuspecting tourists. He sat down along the edge of the bed, hand massaging into your thigh.

Guilt rippled through you, knowing that Dwayne had abandoned the hunt to tend to you, this fragile human. His brows furrowed together — he must’ve been reading your thoughts. “I’m sorry. You should go feed.” You encouraged him, despite keening into the comforting chill of his hand.

Dwayne’s mind had gone elsewhere — there was a way that he could feed without having to abandon you. Of course, it was purely self-gratifying and your best interests were secondary to his starvation, which crawled across his stomach, burning a hole through him. He kept quiet, gingerly massaging your leg with his hand, which drifted towards the swell of your hips.

He didn’t like seeing you this way, agonized and letting yourself sit in the suffering. “If there was something that I could do to help, would you let me?” Dwayne asked, gazing down at you with an incendiary look. It was distinct, reminding you of the plethora of times he’d seduced you. Your stomach lurched, insides feeling as if they were withering away.

Your expression was somewhat quizzical, lips parting slightly as you reached for his arm. He was so much bigger than you — the strongest of the pack, urging you closer until his fingers could sweep away the hair framing your visage. That thick, coppery swarm of blood invaded his nostrils, singing his throat yet again.

“What do you have in-mind?” You asked, somewhat hesitant as he caged you in between his arms, bending down to press a hungry kiss to your lips. Sex was the furthest thing on your mind, but you relented, moaning into his mouth as you reached for his dark tresses.

Dwayne was a phenomenal kisser — passionate and slow, as if he were savoring every second of it. Though, he had a tendency to let it whirlwind into something ravenous and primal, fitting for the quiet, stoic vampire. He exhaled, kissing you with a thinly-veiled desire, hand moving to cup your jaw.

“Could take the pain away.” He uttered, withdrawing from your lips with an indiscernible expression. Dwayne was always difficult to read — endlessly complex, an enigma that you wanted to unravel. His mystique was always present, but you knew him better than most.

To you, it was an act of generosity — you were gullible, naive to Dwayne’s true intentions of feeding from you whilst making the ache fade away. Your heart fluttered within your chest, causing you to wet your lower lip. Dwayne’s thumb rubbed along your jawline.

“How?” With a soft gulp, you swallowed the growing lump within your throat, feeling his lips graze your jugular. His natural musk was enticing, often intermingled with the twang of stale copper and machinery oil. Dwayne shrugged his jacket off, bulky musculature engulfing you.

His shadow eclipsed any sliver of torchlight as he bathed you in darkness, gaze dusky as he gave you another deliberate kiss. Dwayne was silent, adjusting himself until he knelt at the foot of the bed, partially on top of you. His hand pushed against the inside of your knee, and that’s when you stopped him.

“N—No,” Your protest was weak, embarrassment rippling through your voice. There was something that felt inherently dirty to you, if Dwayne intended to follow through on whatever it was he planned on doing. “Dwayne, I don’t think it’s a good idea.” A shrewdness crept into your tone.

He read your mind — you thought he wanted sex. If you weren’t in so much pain, he would’ve been fucking you within an inch of your life by now. Dwayne’s chest rumbled with a brief chuckle, lips curling into a faint smile, pearlescent teeth glimmering against his caramel skin and stubble-coated visage. “Not like that,” He exhaled. “Something else. Help us both.” He murmured, stroking along your leg.

So that’s what he wanted.

Admittedly, you were a little nervous about the idea. He’d never insisted on feeding from you before, and certainly not in this manner. It sounded so crude and messy in your head. He’d bitten you, but never enough to cause any lasting harm. “I don’t know.” You mumbled, feeling another sharp, dagger-like jolt course through the pit of your stomach.

“It’ll make the pain go away,” Dwayne was gorgeous — like a chiseled god, crouched between your legs as he sought your consent. Of course, it was somewhat swayed through consistent persuasion, but there was something mutually beneficial to be found in this. “Let me.” His voice dropped to a husked octave, dripping with something amorous.

You were still hesitant, heart beating like a fluttering of a hummingbird, swift and constant, pounding just above your breast. Goosebumps coalesced along the length of your spine, crawling across your flesh like a tidal wave as he pressed a series of kisses against the inside of your thigh, face dangerously close to swarming forward.

“Okay, just — Just go slow.” Molten heat sloshed within your belly as Dwayne stalked forward, musculature parting your legs. He was so broad and strong, smooth underneath your fingertips as they brushed against his taut, veined forearms. He bracketed you in, arms like a cage as he kept you close.

Dwayne felt that blistering itch within his throat, the urge to feed, to savor the sanguine heat between your legs. He had no intention of being slow. Once the feeding commenced, it was difficult to stop. “‘Course, girl.” He nodded, dark eyes glued to your features as he flattened down against the mattress.

Sinewy hands curled into the waistband of your panties, slipping beneath the shirt you wore, one that didn’t happen to be covered in age-old blood. You were flustered, beginning to squirm as Dwayne peeled it all aside, menstrual pad included.

He rucked your shirt up, propped up on his elbows as his palms gripped at your hips so hard that it was sure to leave bruises. That smell of blood hit him immediately, scorching his throat and insides until it was all ash and dust. Dwayne was silent, broad tongue parting past until it drew along the length of your cunt.

Blood wept from your core, which felt uncomfortable for you, initially. You huffed, nearly sinking down into the mattress in a heap as Dwayne began to openly lap at your slit, drinking you in as if you were the most delicious thing he’d tasted. Your cunt clenched, nerves set ablaze as his nose bumped against your clit.

You tasted saccharine — coppery and vitriolic, but it was his sort of feast. Dwayne let out a grunt, lapping at the blood that oozed from your cunt, letting it linger upon his lips, invading his senses. Once he heard your sweet moans from above, he tugged you forward, a growl ripping through his chest.

Those aches and pains were sluggishly beginning to ebb away, soothed by the vampire who drank from between your thighs. It wasn’t as much as he wanted, but it was enough, tongue raking hot embers across your cunt as the pleasure unfurled within your stomach.

“Dwayne,” A blissful sigh escaped you, back beginning to arch off of the bed and toward his mouth. Your fingers clamored to hold on, finding their purchase amongst his tousled mane of jet-black hair. He’d eaten you out before, but not like this. There was the added element of blood involved. “D—Dwayne, don’t stop.” You whimpered.

Within the dim light of the alcove, those orange flickers of light from the small array of candles made his skin look like velvet. Those dark eyes never left you, pinning you in-place as he drank freely from your cunt. Your menses stained his mouth with red, tongue occasionally drifting from your entrance to your clit.

A burnished, golden sheen glistened within his eyes, hunger somewhat dissipating. He wasn’t satisfied nor satiated, intending to drink his fill — as for you, he suspected you’d have to endure his constant lapping and sucking until you were nothing more than a sobbing mess.

Your poor legs were quivering, wobbling on either side of his face as he steadied you, hands clamping down to keep you still. He idly massaged into the pliant flesh of your thighs, tongue assaulting your cunt with a viciousness to it. Crimson dribbled down his chin, but your flow was beginning to taper off from your prone state.

A myriad of throaty, wanton mewls escaped you, toes curling in delight as he gingerly suckled at your clit. The sensation was temporary, fleeting as his attention drifted elsewhere, tongue lapping at another slow-trickling rivulet of blood. Dwayne hummed, deep and gravelly, stubble tickling the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs.

It was only when he withdrew that you were babbling and stammering, wanting to know why he’d suddenly stopped. “W—Wait,” You whimpered, pitiful as ever, cunt aching something awful as he licked at his lips. Seeing Dwayne’s mouth and chin drenched in a darker shade of scarlet made you feel hot, heat creeping through your belly. “Please.”

His hearty chuckle made you irritated, but it was short-lived. You watched as Dwayne settled himself onto the mattress beside you, hues a vibrant gold, his countenance stained in your menstrual gore. “I’m not finished, pretty girl. Still hungry.” He reassured you, and plucked you up with two strong hands.

You were eternally grateful for Dwayne in that moment, who placed you on his chest. Without missing a beat, he bumped you forward, and you were gazing down at Santa Carla’s most stoic, vicious predator. An endless hunger danced within his eyes, soon to be quelled by the delicious blood that pooled between your legs.

Dwayne could tell that you weren’t expecting this, and it certainly made it all the more enticing for him. You were so smitten, his sweet little human. He’d fantasized about having you sit on his face until you were nearly unconscious, but this was all the more sweeter. Embarrassment flooded through you, but Dwayne seemed entirely unphased.

Initially, you were scared of hurting him, a notion that Dwayne found to be a little too innocuous. He could hear your heartbeat pounding away beneath your collarbone, thrumming like the beat of a drum as he lowered you back onto his mouth.

Your knees pressed into the mattress on either side of his head, dark tresses splayed out like a halo. With this newfound angle, you were staring at Dwayne — or more like, he was gazing at you. His tongue quickly invaded your throbbing cunt, blood catching on his lips. It was messier this time, making you tremble beneath his hold.

A liquid heat coursed throughout your body, pooling heavy within your stomach. Cruor oozed from your throbbing cunt, and now that you weren’t lying on your back, Dwayne was getting another taste. He continued to dutifully lap at your slit, ensuring that he didn’t miss a single drop of blood.

It sat thick and heavy upon his tongue, beginning to bring some semblance of relief to that raging fire that scorched within his throat. His pain was relinquished, and so was yours — a mutual exchange. Even then, he wanted more, digits digging into your haunches as he flicked his tongue over your clit again and again.

There was something disgustingly entrancing about the way he greedily lapped at your core, face buried deep within your cunt, hungry for your menses. If he wasn’t a creature of the night, you might’ve been somewhat indifferent to all of this, but he was bringing you such a wave of relief.

You wiggled your hips, accidentally grinding yourself onto his face, and Dwayne indulged you. As he lapped at another stream of crimson ichor, you moaned, chest heaving with heavy pants and wanton mewls, hands perched along the rickety, half-torn headboard.

“S—Shit,” You exhaled, tears stinging your eyes as you began to make that steady climb toward your climax. Dwayne didn’t stop, never relenting or slowing any movement as he lapped at your cunt, broad tongue swiping over every inch of your slit. The pleasure began to outweigh any pain you felt, muscles spasming. “Dwayne!” A whine left you, head rolling forward.

A deep, guttural growl emanated from Dwayne as it rumbled throughout his wide chest. It was mesmerizing to watch him from above, your hands splaying themselves along his bronze shoulders. His mouth drifted toward your inner thigh, and he looked to you, seeking approval before he bit you.

With a messy, lazy nod, your cunt throbbed and pulsated with molten heat, causing your nails to dig into Dwayne’s skin, hard enough to leave behind crescent-shaped imprints. Golden, crimson-ringed irises flashed in your direction as his countenance contorted into something inhuman, monstrously beautiful in your eyes.

Pearlescent fangs and pretty teeth sought out the pliant, soft flesh of your inner thigh, and he bit down — hard. It left behind the angry-red marks of unusual teeth as ringlets of a sanguine color trickled down your leg. Dwayne licked his lips, appraising you with an incendiary stare as he hastily collected every scrap of your lifeblood.

“M’close,” You whimpered, shuddering when he pressed a kiss atop the freshly-formed bite. His face promptly nestled back to the cleft between your legs, drawing another stream of your menses into his mouth before seeking your clit. “Close.” You said again, breathless and drunk with desire.

Dwayne felt his cock twitch within his jeans, able to smell your arousal through the haze of blood. The siren’s song of cruor was far more powerful, but even then, he could savor both with a feeling of sheer delight. His hunger steadily dwindled, fed by your saccharine cycle — if only you were like this all the time.

His lips formed a tight seal as he began to suck, causing you to nearly double over. “Don’t stop, Dwayne,” Perspiration began to break out along your body, coalescing along the length of your spine, dewy beneath the shirt you wore. “Please, please.” You were desperate, wanting to feel that white-hot explosion of a release.

Exhaustion settled in, your energy having been expended by keeping yourself aloft atop his face. Your cunt tasted sweeter than anything he’d had before in his centuries of existence. Dwayne considered you to be his fountain — a very captivating fountain. His touch screamed with amorousness as he rocked you into his tongue.

At last, your body began to quiver, muscles twitching and spasmodic as you climbed toward your orgasm. Dwayne could feel your weight fall a little heavier atop him, and he happily supported you, so long as you were bleeding. He added that edge of teeth, letting them graze over your clit with a feather-light pressure.

It sent you careening over the edge, cumming onto his mouth with enough mewls and moans to last him for days. It echoed throughout the alcove, and you were on the verge of sobbing, having gained some sliver of relief in the end.

Dwayne lapped at your cunt through it all, consumed by the shadow of greed and possessiveness. He could hear the rest of the boys clamoring throughout the cavern, which soured his mood just a little. They had a poor habit of acting up whenever you were enduring your menstrual cycle — understandable, of course, but an annoyance for Dwayne.

With a grunt, he gently nudged you back onto the taut, musculed expanse of his chest. His mesomorphic stature felt so solid underneath your pliant body, and your hands brazenly felt along his sternum. There was no heartbeat, forever frozen by immortality. His countenance was one of sheer satisfaction, lips and chin smattered in your blood as he licked at his mouth.

“Feel better, don’t you?” Dwayne mused, unable to withhold that little twinge of amusement in his voice. His large hand rubbed and massaged along your thigh, drifting up towards your hips, and then back down again on a continuous loop.

You nodded, feeling all warm when his body shook with a brief tremor of laughter. Dwayne sat up just a little bit, palm grasping at the back of your neck as he brought you forward for a very intimate kiss. A startled gasp tore through your throat, but he held you there, letting you taste yourself — ichor and all.

“Thank you.” Your voice was barely above a whisper as your entire physique hummed and buzzed with satisfaction. Of course, the ache of your cycle never fully dissipated, but Dwayne had certainly done his part in quelling the pain, for now.

Dwayne gingerly patted the swell of your ass, copping a feel in the process before pressing another string of kisses against your neck. He grabbed at the hem of your shirt, rucking it up a-ways. He was quiet, and you were fine with that, eyes widening as he wiped his mouth off with the remnants of your nightshirt.

Jesus — you knew better than to tempt fate, arousal stinging at your core again. You huffed, taking a moment to compose yourself as you attempted to reach for your panties. He intercepted you, snatching your wrist before your fingertips could even reach the lace trim.

“Not tonight, girl,” Dwayne uttered, placing you right beside him, bulky arm curling around your frame. He made you feel so safe — a glaring juxtaposition to his ravenous hunger and vampiric state.

You felt a pair of fangs tauntingly scrape over your jugular, able to feel the chill of his bare chest nudging into your back. “Might get hungry later.” He rumbled, pressing a chaste kiss against the back of your shoulder.

[cyborg-franky]

Thank you @tenzeniths for the support and I hope you enjoy this <3<3 Marco, Ace, Thatch, Izou [POLYAM] x GN Reader with chronic fatigue SFW WC: 1,500

You hated how you felt all the time, your body betraying you at every chance it got You felt tired, exhausted daily. Before you’d taken to the sea it hadn’t been so bad, more of a mild inconvenience but now you were part of one of the strongest and most notorious crews in the world. You really, really noticed it and you knew everyone else could tell you struggled.

Could see how you’d be okay one moment, your normal cheerful self and helping around the place. Either in Marco’s office helping with paperwork or with patients. Helping Thatch in the kitchen with dishes or cooking. You’d go on a mission with Ace, sitting alongside him on his Striker as you checked out a nearby island. Or when you helped Izou teach his division skills on the battlefield. 

But after a few hours, sometimes not even that, you’d feel all your energy drained, your ability to keep up, pay attention, or even stand just depleted, and you’d curse yourself and your body for being so useless and weak. You knew you couldn’t help it but that still didn’t make you feel any better. You didn’t feel like an equal to any of your wonderful partners.

Marco

He understood it better than the others. After all he was a doctor. Whenever Marco saw you flagging, the tell-tail signs you were struggling. If you weren’t working with him at the time, and he saw you starting to lose all momentum, he’d ask for your help.

Anything to get you in the office and sat down. He didn’t want you to get hurt where you couldn’t concentrate.

If you were already working with him when you started to feel the fatigue hit, chances were Marco knew before you even felt it fully hit.

“Come sit on the couch,” he’d say with his hands on your shoulders, rubbing soft circles with his thumbs as you sighed, the sound heavy as you looked up at his lop-sided smile and kind eyes. “I’m fine Marco,” you’d fight him on it, not wanting to feel you couldn’t even do something as simple as sitting at a desk and reading.  “It’s just paperwork,” 

He clicked his tongue and gave you a tsk knowing he was going into doctor mode any second. “It’s still mentally taxing. There is no shame in needing a break yoi.” He said, voice firm as he gently rocked you, urging you to leave the chair and go do as you were told.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” You mumbled and rubbed your forehead, feeling the agitation at yourself growing as you stood. “Don’t be sorry, it’s a medical condition and as much as I appreciate you trying your best, I don’t want you pushing yourself baby bird,” He said and kissed your forehead, leading you to the sofa sitting you down.

“I feel useless,” you added as he fussed over you, getting a blanket to drape over you. “Not useless, never useless yoi.” Marco brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “You keeping me company, that’s all I need.”

“Really?” “Yes, I promise.”

Marco had a way of calming you down. You soon settled and felt yourself drift off into a well-needed nap.

---

Thatch

Less chill about things than Marco.

Will 100% be on your ass about have you eaten today? Do you need a snack? What about water? Are you staying hydrated?

Thatch is the actual mother hen of the four.

If he wasn’t satisfied with the answer, he’d give you this look, tapping his foot but you knew he meant well.

You’d been helping out around the deck that afternoon, trying to at the very least. You sighed and slumped against the mast as you closed your eyes and tried to stop the lightheaded feeling rushing through you as you gripped the handle of the mop tighter, something to ground yourself as you tried to shut the world out. 

You could feel it, the way your energy just drained. You’d felt so good this morning that you’d fooled yourself into thinking you could do everything. But now you were paying for such a bold claim as mopping the deck, which had well and truly sapped all you had moments ago.

“Hey pumpkin.” You opened your eyes to see Thatch, and he had a worried expression on his face as he folded his arms over his chest and examined you. “How ya feelin’?” He asked as you shrugged your shoulders. “I’m fine,”

He tsked and gave you a scrutinizing gaze as you practically wobbled in front of him. 

“Come get something to eat,” 

“I’m fine,” you were stubborn, a trait many of the Whitebeard pirates shared. Thatch sighed and dropped his arms by his sides before he lifted you up effortlessly, slinging you over his shoulder and ignoring your protests.

Soon you were sat in the kitchen as Thatch made you a sandwich, making sure there were veggies and protein to help you perk up. 

“You didn’t have to,” you mumbled, feeling bad as he’d obviously spent most of the afternoon prepping for dinner tonight. “I know, but I wanted to.” he gave one of his classic broad grins and handed you the plate, kissing your forehead. “I gotta look after you. The others would kick my ass if I didn’t right?” he said, chuckling and ruffling your hair as he looked at you with such adoration.

After that you were given a chair and helped him do some lowkey little effort chores so you felt useful but it wasn’t too much.

--

Ace

People assumed Ace wouldn’t understand what you were going through. They thought that he was young and so full of energy that he couldn’t possibly relate.

Except, he could.

The times he’d wear himself out [granted, it took way more than it did for you] he would be overwhelmed with the need to sleep and just pass out in random places.

A type of exhaustion-based narcolepsy Marco had explained.

You both could see the signs in one another and as much as you wouldn’t wish anything bad on people, let alone someone you loved, it was comforting to have someone in a similar camp as yourself.

You could feel your feet dragging, feeling the aches in your body and were aware your mood was starting to dip lower and lower as your ability to cope with the day whittled away. 

Ace walked over and saw you looking frazzled.

You could tell Ace wasn’t much better. He didn’t have his mischievous glimmer in his eyes, his dark circles prominent and the smile on his face was a shadow of a smirk. His posture was slouched and lazy as he nodded to you.

“Do I look as tired as I feel?” you asked with a sigh and collapsed against his chest, feeling arms around you as he used you to prop himself up as much as you needed him. “Worse,” he laughed and kissed your head.

“Maybe we need to get you to bed,” Ace hummed, running a hand down your back. “Ace.” you looked up at him, giving him a look. 

Ace scoffed and rolled his eyes, pulling away enough to see the frown on your face. “Not for anythin’ like that. Although…” he trailed off until you jabbed him in the side. “I’m kiddin’!”

“A nap, just a little power nap to get us through till tonight, huh?”

Now, that did sound nice…

“Oh Portgas, you tease…” You sighed and let him pull you away to his room, where you both promptly fell onto his bed, embraced by the soft pillows and tangled messy sheets.

Neither of you had even managed to take off your shoes as you cuddled together to recharge.

--

Izou

Izou was much more ‘tough love’ than your other partners.

But even so, he tried his best to understand and learn about your illness. Knowing you couldn’t help it any more than someone with a broken leg could.

He was more of a fan of ‘preventative’ measures. Seeing you exhausted and fighting to stand up was hard for him, unsure how to deal with it in a positive way without feeling he was being condescending or coddling you.

So you’d have these little tea sessions and pamper evenings with him. 

“This one is said to relax your body and mind, makes rest all the more revitalizing,” he said and poured you a tea as you sat across from him with a facemask on, feet in a tub of warm water with all sorts of oils and herbs.

You weren’t sure how much of these things would really work but it was nice to be so cared for and doted on. This was Izou’s way of doing his best to show he cared and wanted to help.

“Tastes… bitter?” you said, slapping your lips together. “All the best remedies taste bad,” Izou countered as he sat down and sipped his own, making a happy sound as he closed his eyes. 

The room was nice. His room always smelt like incense and flowers, and the colours he’d chosen to decorate his space with were also calming. You felt good here, felt good with him.

“How do you feel?” he asked as he watched you, taking in all your little movements and reactions as you basked in comfort.

“I feel good, I feel like I’m recharging.” you watched the smile grace his face as he nodded. “Good,”

[anna-the-undertaker]

Pick-a-fic prompt:

Newly arrived MC being unable to deal with the Brothers to the point of debating leaving the exchange program and thus running to the relative peace of the castle to step back and reflect (focus on the Royals)

OR

Newly arrived MC being unable to deal with the Brothers to the point of debating leaving the exchange program and thus running to the relative peace of the castle, but the brothers find MC’s diary where their doubts are written as plain as day (focus on the Brothers)

Sorry this took so long to get to, I've just been so busy working, prepping stuff for moving, and I got absorbed in the fic I am working on. I chose the second one and ended up giving it more angst. I hope this is what you were asking for. Enjoy :)

Failure

MC had never felt so small.

From the moment they arrived in the Devildom, they were an outsider—human, fragile, and completely out of place. The brothers tolerated their presence, but only just. Every day was a new challenge, a struggle to keep their head above water in a world so different from their own.

Mammon, their first pact and appointed guardian, never missed an opportunity to remind them of how much of a burden they were. "Oi, don’t just stand there lookin’ useless. If you’re gonna stick around, at least do somethin’ useful, huh?" He’d toss those words at them with a grin, almost like it was a joke, but the sting was real. His careless remarks hit hard, especially when MC was already trying to find their place in this strange world. Mammon didn’t see the damage; to him, they were just another chore to deal with, something that got in the way of his schemes.

Leviathan wasn’t much better. Whenever MC tried to interact with him, they were met with his judgmental stare, as though they were trespassing. "What’s a normie like you doing here? Don’t you have somewhere else to be?" His voice was laced with annoyance, making them feel like some bizarre creature that had wandered into his private world. He kept his distance, never giving MC a chance to show they could connect with him, too. His obsession with his fictional worlds only made them feel even more like an outsider, as though they’d never understand or be worthy of stepping into his life.

Satan? Satan barely acknowledged their existence. If he ever looked up from his books, it was with frustration, as if MC’s very presence disrupted his thoughts. "Can’t you see I’m busy?" he’d say, his voice cold and dismissive. He wasn’t cruel, but his indifference hurt just as much. It was like MC was invisible unless they somehow got in his way.

And Asmodeus—Asmo treated MC like an accessory, something to admire for a moment and then discard when something more interesting caught his eye. "Darling, if you're going to wear something that dull, I really can’t be seen with you." His words were often accompanied by a smile, but the superficiality behind them was clear. He made them feel like an object, like their only worth was tied to their appearance. Even worse, Asmo never seemed to consider how his constant fixation on perfection weighed on MC, making them question their own worth more and more each day.

Beelzebub? He rarely acknowledged MC at all. His focus was always on food, and even when he did notice them, it wasn’t in a way that made them feel seen. "You smell different. Wonder if you’d taste good," he’d say offhandedly, as if it was just a passing thought. He didn’t mean any harm, but hearing those words was unsettling. It made them feel even less like a person and more like some temporary guest who didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.

But Lucifer… Lucifer was the hardest to bear. His demands for perfection pressed down on MC like an unbearable weight. He expected them to adapt instantly, to know things they couldn’t possibly know, and when they inevitably made mistakes, the look of disdain in his eyes was enough to crush them. "I need you to be better," he’d say, his voice calm but sharp. MC could never shake the feeling that they were constantly being judged, constantly falling short of his expectations. His false sense of care grated on them the most—he acted like he was guiding them, but to MC, it felt more like control.

Everything was so new, so overwhelming, and no one seemed to care that they were struggling. They couldn’t keep up, and instead of offering help, the brothers’ habits and personalities only deepened their isolation. The teasing, the judgment, the indifference—it was all too much.

So, they ran.

It wasn’t a dramatic escape. They didn’t even pack their bags. They simply left one night, slipping out of the House of Lamentation and making their way to Diavolo’s castle. If anywhere in the Devildom could offer peace, it was there. Leaving behind their diary, a collection of their thoughts, hopes, and fears. They didn’t expect anyone to find it. Writing had been their only outlet, the only way to cope with the growing weight of their struggles.

At first, the brothers didn’t notice their absence. Days passed, and the empty seat at the table went unremarked upon. Only when the small disruptions became too obvious did Mammon speak up.

"Oi, where’s the human? It ain’t like ‘em to just disappear without a word," he grumbled. But even then, his tone was more annoyed than concerned.

Lucifers sharp gaze swept the hallways, his mind turning over the details of MC’s sudden absence. He’d been busy—too busy, really. Between managing his brothers and fulfilling his duties, MC had slipped from his radar, and now… now he realized he hadn’t checked in on them in days.

It wasn’t until Satan, searching for a book, came across MC’s diary tucked away in a corner of their room that the truth was revealed.

Satan made his way to the eldests office, frowning as he thumbed through the pages. "Lucifer, you should see this."

Lucifer took the diary, reading in silence as his eyes traced the words MC had written. The others were called, and soon they all knew what MC had been feeling.

The entries were raw, filled with MC’s doubts and pain. Each brother’s name was scrawled across the pages, followed by confessions of how their words and actions had hurt.

“Mammon makes me feel like I’m nothing but a burden. Every time he calls me useless, it’s like he’s confirming something I’ve already been afraid of. I’m just in the way here.”

“Levi never sees me as more than a ‘normie.’ It’s like I’m some strange animal in his eyes, something he doesn’t want to understand. He shuts me out every time I try to get closer.”

“Satan barely notices I exist. And when he does, it’s always with that look… like I’m a problem he doesn’t want to deal with. I guess I am a problem.”

“Asmo’s always commenting on how I look. I know it’s not personal, but it feels like all I am to him is an object. A pretty thing to dress up, but never good enough to really matter.”

“Beel doesn’t seem to care one way or another. He’s so focused on his hunger that I don’t think he even notices when I’m around. When he does, it’s just another reminder that I don’t really belong here.”

“Lucifer… I don’t know how to describe it. He expects so much from me. Too much. He looks at me like I’m failing him, like I’m not worth the time it takes to help. His care feels false. I can’t keep up with his demands, and I don’t think he even realizes how much I’m struggling just to stay afloat.”

And then came the final entry.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore. Everything is too much. The brothers… they don’t care about me. I’m just another responsibility to them, one they didn’t ask for. I’m seriously thinking about leaving the exchange program. Maybe I should. Maybe I’m not strong enough for this.”

The brothers were silent and exchanged glances, the weight of the words sinking in. They just hadn’t realized how much their habits, their personalities, had affected MC. Mammon’s constant jabs, Levi’s distant hostility, Asmo’s superficial comments, Satan’s cold indifference, Beel’s lack of attention… all of it had chipped away at MC’s sense of self, until they felt like they didn’t matter.

Lucifer closed the diary, his jaw tight. "I didn’t know they felt this way," he said, his voice low.

Mammon shifted uncomfortably. "I didn’t mean it like that. I thought we were just messin’ around."

Levi rubbed the back of his neck. "I didn’t think they cared what I thought. I mean, I barely even know them."

Satan’s frown deepened. "We’ve all been too focused on ourselves."

Asmo’s eyes were wide with guilt. "I didn’t realize… I just thought they were shy. Or adjusting." He looked down, his usual confidence gone.

Beel said nothing, his expression a mix of regret and confusion. He hadn’t even noticed how much MC had been struggling, too wrapped up in his own needs to see theirs.

"We need to bring them back," Lucifer said finally, his voice firm.

At the castle, the brothers had expected to find MC sulking, perhaps still angry or hurt. They had come, armed with apologies and, for once, a united front. Lucifer led them, the weight of the diary heavy in his hands. It felt strange, unsettling even, to think they had been so blind to MC's struggles. They had planned to convince MC to stay, to promise things would be different this time.

But when they arrived, the castle was eerily quiet. Barbatos greeted them at the entrance, his face impassive, but his eyes held a hint of something… regretful.

"Where is MC?" Lucifer asked, his voice tight.

Barbatos looked at the group for a moment before lowering his gaze. "You’re too late."

"What'dya mean, 'too late?'" Mammon blurted, stepping forward, his usual confidence replaced with a flicker of panic.

Barbatos sighed softly, his tone unusually firm. "MC has already returned to the human world. They made the request to Lord Diavolo, and it has been granted."

The weight of his words sank in, and the brothers stood in stunned silence. Lucifer, for once, had no immediate response. Mammon’s shoulders slumped, and Levi's hands fidgeted nervously at his sides. Asmo’s mouth opened as if to say something, but no words came out, while Beel’s expression darkened in quiet contemplation. Satan clenched his fists, the anger rising, though not directed at anyone but themselves.

"Why?" Levi muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.

"Because," Diavolo’s voice echoed through the hall as he approached them, his expression serious, "they didn’t believe things would change. MC had been struggling for some time, and none of you noticed. They felt abandoned. They were overwhelmed, and by the time you realized, it was already too late."

The silence was suffocating as the future King of the Devildom regarded them with a mixture of disappointment and anger.

"You failed," Diavolo’s voice echoed through the room, each word a sharp blade. "You were given one task—one simple requirement as part of this exchange program. To make MC feel welcome. To make them feel as if they belonged. To get to know them and have them know you in return. To foster understanding."

The brothers stood in a line, shoulders hunched, guilt pressing down on them like a heavy weight. None of them dared to speak.

Diavolo’s gaze shifted to Lucifer, his disappointment palpable. "And you," he said, his voice soft but laced with reprimand, "I expected better of you."

Lucifer flinched at the words. His usual mask of calm confidence shattered under the weight of Diavolo’s gaze. For a moment, he felt utterly powerless, a sensation he had long fought to suppress.

"You let this happen under your watch. You let MC suffer to the point where they felt they had no choice but to leave the Devildom behind entirely." Diavolo’s words were like a hammer, each one driving the guilt deeper. "You let them slip through your fingers."

Mammon, Levi, Asmo, Beel, and Satan could do nothing but hang their heads in shame, their usual bickering and antics gone, replaced by the crushing realization of how badly they had failed. This wasn’t just about MC’s disappearance—it was about everything they had overlooked, every word they hadn’t said, every opportunity to make things right that they had ignored.

Diavolo took a breath, his tone softening slightly but still firm. "You were supposed to protect them. Instead, you pushed them away."

The silence was heavy, unbearable. None of them could meet Diavolo’s gaze.

"You will return to the House of Lamentation and reflect on what has happened here today," Diavolo said, his voice a final command. "I hope, for all our sakes, that this failure teaches you something."

With those parting words, Diavolo turned his back to them, and the brothers were left with nothing but the weight of their failure pressing down on their shoulders.

They sulked back to the House of Lamentation, each one lost in their own thoughts, their usual banter replaced with a somber silence. They had been too late. MC was gone.

Lucifer

Lucifer sat in his study, the heavy silence of the House of Lamentation pressing down on him. The others had retreated to their rooms, each of them nursing their own guilt, but Lucifer remained still, staring at the open diary on his desk. MC’s words were a stark reminder of his failure—his failure to see, his failure to act, his failure to protect. The very thing he prided himself on—his ability to maintain control, to ensure perfection in everything under his watch—had crumbled in the worst possible way.

Failure.

The word echoed in his mind, gnawing at him like a relentless force. Lucifer's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white as his anger rose, burning in his chest. How could he have allowed this to happen? How could he, of all people, have been so blind? He had always maintained order, ensured everything ran smoothly. He had taken on every responsibility, every burden, to prevent things from falling apart. But this...this was a disaster.

It was intolerable.

The weight of Diavolo’s words still hung heavy in the air: I expected better of you. The sting of those words cut deeper than any reprimand he had ever received. Diavolo had placed his trust in him, and he had let him down. Worse, he had let MC down—an innocent, fragile human who had come to the Devildom trusting they would be safe, that they would find a place here.

Lucifer stood abruptly, shoving his chair back with a force that sent it crashing against the wall. His usually composed demeanor shattered as the rage he had been holding back erupted. He slammed his fists down onto the desk, the sound echoing through the room. Papers scattered, and the sharp crack of wood under pressure reverberated through the air.

How had he missed it? How had he, with all his precision and attention to detail, been so oblivious to MC’s suffering? His grip on control, his obsession with perfection, had blinded him to what was truly important. He had been so focused on maintaining order, on keeping his brothers in line, that he hadn’t even noticed the cracks forming right in front of him.

And now, it was too late.

MC was gone—back to the human world. They hadn’t even waited to see if things would change, if the brothers would make things right. They had made their decision, and it was a resounding statement of just how much Lucifer had failed them.

His chest tightened with frustration. He had been so focused on pushing MC to adapt, to fit the mold he thought they needed to fill, that he had ignored the reality of their struggles. He had looked at them through a lens of expectation rather than understanding, and now they were lost to him. To them all.

Lucifer closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to reign in the storm of anger and guilt coursing through him. This failure—the bitter taste of it—was unacceptable. He couldn’t undo what had been done. He couldn’t change the fact that he had let Diavolo down, that he had let MC down.

But he could make sure it never happened again.

Slowly, Lucifer opened his eyes, the flames of anger still burning but now tempered by a cold resolve. He would not allow this to break him. He would not allow this failure to define him. He had to remain strong—not just for himself, but for Diavolo, for the Devildom, and for his brothers.

But deep down, the rage simmered, a constant reminder of his imperfection, his weakness. He had been shown the one thing he hated most: his own limits.

Failure.

It was something Lucifer would never forget. And never forgive. Not himself, and not the others.

Mammon

Mammon sat on the edge of his bed, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, his hands tangled in his hair. The silence in the House of Lamentation was deafening, pressing down on him in a way that made his chest feel tight. MC was gone—back to the human world. They hadn’t even said goodbye.

His first instinct had been to brush it off, like he always did. Make some flippant comment about how MC would be back soon enough, that they just needed a little time to cool off. But as the hours passed and reality settled in, the truth was undeniable.

MC wasn’t coming back.

"Dammit..." Mammon muttered under his breath, his fingers tightening around his hair as if that could stop the thoughts running wild in his head.

He replayed the last few weeks in his mind—the constant teasing, the jabs, the way he’d brush off their efforts with a casual, "Oi, don’t be so useless." He never meant it. Not really. It was just how he talked, right? But now… Now, he couldn’t stop thinking about how it must’ve sounded to them.

How it must’ve felt.

He always thought MC knew he didn’t mean anything by it. They were just words, stupid little insults thrown out without thinking. It wasn’t like he actually thought they were useless. Hell, he was actually starting to like them—though he’d never admit it out loud.

Mammon groaned, flopping back onto his bed and staring up at the ceiling. Why did he always do this? Why did he push away the people he cared about, acting like they were some kind of nuisance when they weren’t? It was just… easier that way. It was easier to hide behind the tough guy act, to pretend like nothing bothered him. But it wasn’t true. It had never been true.

And now it was too late.

"I didn’t mean it," he whispered, his voice breaking in the quiet room. "I didn’t mean any of it..."

But what good did that do now? They were gone. MC was gone, and it was his fault.

Mammon’s heart clenched as he thought about all the times he’d made fun of them, all the times he’d called them a burden, a hassle. He’d acted like MC was just some human getting in the way of his plans, but the truth was that they had become more important to him than he’d realized.

He didn’t show it—he didn’t know how—but they mattered to him. They made him feel different, like he wasn’t just the "Great Mammon," the greedy demon who was always causing trouble. When MC looked at him, it felt like they saw something more, something better. And now? They were gone because of him.

Mammon kicked his legs out in frustration, his shoes thudding against the floor. How could he have been so stupid? Why did he always have to mess things up? He had the chance to make MC feel welcome, to make them feel like they belonged here, and he blew it.

And Diavolo’s words kept ringing in his ears. You failed them.

"Yeah, I know!" Mammon snapped at the empty room, his voice harsh with guilt. "I know I screwed up! I get it!"

He sat up suddenly, running his hands down his face in frustration. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to be their protector, their guardian. They were his pact holder, he was their first. He was supposed to look out for them, not drive them away. He hated that feeling—the helplessness that came with realizing he couldn’t fix this. He couldn’t just throw money at it or charm his way out like he usually did.

MC was gone, and it hurt more than he wanted to admit.

Mammon stood up, pacing his room. His mind raced, thinking of what he could’ve said or done differently. Maybe if he’d just told them how he really felt, if he’d stopped pushing them away and acting like they were a bother… Maybe they wouldn’t have left.

"I should’ve been better," he muttered, clenching his fists. "I should’ve told ‘em… I should’ve made ‘em feel like they mattered."

But he hadn’t. And now he was stuck with the gnawing regret that he might never see MC again. They were back in the human world, and they’d never want to come back to the Devildom, especially not after how he and the others had treated them.

He was the Great Mammon, sure. But what good was that title if he couldn’t even keep the one person who actually made him feel like he was more than just his sin?

With a choked sob, Mammon collapsed back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling as the tears began to fall.

He’d failed them. There was no getting around that. And the worst part? He’d never get the chance to make it right.

Leviathan

Leviathan sat in front of his monitors, eyes staring blankly at the paused screen of his latest game. His headphones sat around his neck, the usual buzz of online matches long forgotten. The quiet of his room wasn’t the kind he liked. It wasn’t peaceful or calming. It was suffocating.

MC was gone. Back to the human world. They had left without saying anything, without a word, without… him knowing. He hadn’t even noticed they were gone until the others started talking about it. And now that they weren’t here, the reality of the situation was starting to sink in.

Levi chewed on his thumbnail, anxiety swirling in his gut like an endless whirlpool. How could he have missed it? How could he not have seen what was happening right under his nose? His stomach churned with guilt as he thought about the way he’d treated MC since the moment they arrived.

Normie.

That was what he called them. Over and over again. He’d pushed them away, called them a nuisance, acted like they didn’t belong. He had no idea if they liked anime or games, but instead of giving them a chance to show they could understand his world, he had shut them out before they could even try. Why? Because they weren’t like him. Because they weren’t part of his world. Because it was easier to call them a "normie" and keep them at arm’s length than it was to let someone else get close.

Levi groaned, burying his face in his hands. He hated himself. Why did he always do this? Why did he always ruin things before they had a chance to be good? He had been scared—scared that MC would judge him like everyone else did, scared that they would see how awkward, how pathetic he really was. So he kept them away, treated them like some kind of animal when really… he had wanted them to be a part of his life.

They had tried. He could see it now, in hindsight. MC had tried to talk to him, had tried to get to know him, had actually listened to him when he'd rant. And what had he done? He’d dismissed them. Pushed them away. Called them human or normie—never their name—as if that was the only thing they could be.

He swallowed hard, guilt gnawing at his insides. If only he hadn’t been so wrapped up in his own insecurities, maybe things would have been different. Maybe MC wouldn’t have left.

But they did.

Levi curled in on himself, hugging his knees to his chest as the realization settled in. They were gone, and it was his fault. His fault for being too afraid to let them in, too scared to admit that maybe he wanted them around more than he’d ever let on. He hadn’t even realized how much he missed them until now, until the space they used to occupy in the house, in his life, felt empty.

And Diavolo’s words kept ringing in his ears. You failed them.

"Of course I did," Levi muttered, his voice thick with bitterness. "I always fail."

He had failed to be a good brother, failed to be a friend, and now, he had failed MC.

"They must think I hate them," Levi whispered, his chest tightening painfully. "They probably think I never wanted them around." His voice cracked, and he quickly wiped at his eyes with his sleeve, but it didn’t stop the tears that threatened to fall.

Because that wasn’t true. It had never been true.

Levi wanted them around—he had liked having them around. But how could they have known that when all he ever did was push them away, call them a normie, and act like they didn’t matter? He had been too caught up in his own head, too worried about them seeing the worst parts of him, to let them see the good.

Now they were back in the human world, far away from him, and he had no idea if they would ever come back. And if they did, why would they want to come back to him? The shut-in otaku who made them feel like they didn’t belong?

"Stupid," he muttered angrily, wiping his eyes again. "I’m so stupid…"

He stood up suddenly, pacing the room, his hands tugging at his hair in frustration. What if MC never came back? What if they decided to stay in the human world forever, away from all the pain and rejection the Devildom had offered them?

Levi’s heart pounded in his chest, panic rising as the what-ifs piled up in his mind. They were gone. And he didn’t know if he’d ever get the chance to tell them the truth, that he wanted them here, that he—needed them here.

But now it was too late.

With a deep, shaky breath, Levi sank into his tub, curling up again as his anxiety wrapped around him like a suffocating blanket.

It was always too late for him.

Satan

Satan sat in the library, the silence around him sharp and oppressive. The book in his hands remained unopened, his mind too preoccupied to focus on anything but the gnawing feeling of guilt twisting in his chest. MC had left. Gone back to the human world without so much as a word, without waiting for anything to change.

He ran a hand through his hair, jaw clenched tightly as Diavolo’s admonishment replayed in his head. You failed them. The words stung more than he expected, not because they were untrue, but because they were painfully accurate. He had failed them. They all had. And now the damage was done.

Satan wasn’t like Lucifer. He didn’t thrive on control or perfection, but failure still left a bitter taste in his mouth, especially when it was something that could have been prevented. He prided himself on understanding things—on reading people, situations, emotions. And yet, somehow, he had missed what was right in front of him.

I barely even acknowledged them, he thought bitterly, eyes narrowing as the realization sank deeper. When MC first arrived, they were just another part of the exchange program—an obligation. Someone he was forced to tolerate. He had never thought of them as more than that.

They had tried to speak to him on several occasions, asking questions, trying to understand the world around them. He had dismissed them each time. Not out of cruelty, but out of indifference. There were always more important things to focus on, more pressing matters in his mind. Books to read, knowledge to gather. What did it matter if a fragile human was feeling out of place? He’d barely given them a second thought, and now that they were gone, that indifference was coming back to haunt him.

Satan drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. He wasn’t angry at MC—not at all. He was angry at himself. He should have seen it. He should have recognized the signs. But instead, he’d brushed them off, barely looking up from his books when they entered the room. It was no wonder they had felt invisible. To him, they had been.

"How could I have been so blind?" he muttered under his breath, his grip tightening on the edges of his book.

His dismissive attitude had hurt them, but it wasn’t just the indifference—it was the frustration. The few times he had acknowledged MC, it had been with impatience. He’d grown annoyed when they asked questions, irritated when they didn’t immediately grasp the complex information he threw at them. He had expected too much from them. Expected them to just understand a world they’d only just entered.

I was unfair.

The admission grated on him, but it was the truth. He hadn’t given them the time or attention they needed. He had treated them like a distraction, like an inconvenience. And for what? Because they weren’t like him? Because they didn’t understand things as quickly as he wanted them to?

It was absurd. It was… disappointing. In himself.

Satan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his temples, trying to keep the anger in check. His temper was always there, simmering just beneath the surface, but this was different. This wasn’t the kind of anger he could lash out at. It wasn’t something he could destroy or control. This was guilt—a slow, burning guilt that twisted in his gut and left him feeling powerless.

I failed them, he thought again, the words echoing in his mind like a relentless chant.

They had left because of him. Because of the way he treated them, the way he ignored their presence. The diary had made it clear—MC felt like they didn’t belong, like they were a burden. And he had done nothing to change that.

He had let them slip away. And now they were back in the human world, far beyond his reach.

Satan stood up abruptly, pacing the library with sharp, determined steps. He hated this feeling—this powerlessness. He wasn’t like Lucifer, obsessed with perfection, but he wasn’t one to accept failure either. Yet here he was, unable to fix the mess he had helped create.

He stopped in front of a bookshelf, his hand hovering over the spines of the books. Usually, the smell of old pages and the promise of knowledge would calm him, would ground him. But now? It just felt hollow.

Books couldn’t solve this.

Knowledge couldn’t solve this.

For once, all the intellect in the world meant nothing. He had failed MC not because he lacked understanding, but because he hadn’t cared enough to try.

He closed his eyes, frustration boiling in his chest. "I should’ve done better," he whispered, his voice low and filled with regret. "I should’ve listened."

But it was too late. They were gone. And there was nothing he could do to change that.

For someone who prided himself on knowing so much, Satan realized now that he had understood so little. And that knowledge—more than anything else—cut deeper than any reprimand Diavolo could have given him.

Asmodeus

Asmodeus sat in front of his vanity, staring at his reflection. Normally, he would be admiring the flawless way his skin glowed, the way his hair framed his face perfectly, or how his latest outfit highlighted every one of his best features. But today, the usual spark wasn’t there.

MC was gone. They had left the Devildom and returned to the human world, and they hadn’t even said goodbye.

Asmo frowned, twisting a lock of hair around his finger as he glanced down at the collection of beauty products scattered across his vanity. How could they have left like that? Without saying anything to him? No farewell? No goodbye hug? They had just… disappeared.

And they didn’t even tell me?

That part stung. He was Asmodeus, after all. Everyone loved him. Why wouldn’t they want to talk to him, to tell him what was going on in their head before leaving? It wasn’t like he had been mean to them—he’d been nothing but fabulous! He’d complimented them, given them fashion tips, even helped them choose outfits when they were looking drab.

He huffed and crossed his arms, his eyes flicking back to the mirror. "I don’t understand," he murmured to himself, inspecting his perfectly manicured nails. "They could’ve at least told me if something was wrong."

But as he thought about it, something uncomfortable started to settle in his chest. He hadn’t exactly treated MC like someone who mattered, had he? They were just the new human, someone for him to toy with, to dress up like a doll, to show off. He had treated them more like an accessory than a person. Every compliment he gave was followed by a backhanded comment about how they could do better, how they could look more fabulous. He had made everything about their appearance—about how they looked, what they wore—without ever thinking about what they wanted, how they felt.

And that diary entry… the one about him.

“Asmo’s always commenting on how I look. I know it’s not personal, but it feels like all I am to him is an object. A pretty thing to dress up, but never good enough to really matter.”

Asmo’s heart clenched uncomfortably as those words echoed in his mind. They hadn’t been meant for him to read, but now that he had, he couldn’t stop thinking about them. MC thought they didn’t matter. That they weren’t enough for him.

That wasn’t true! He had thought they were cute from the start. Sure, they had a long way to go in terms of style and confidence, but he had liked being around them. In his own way, he had enjoyed their presence. He just… never said it. Never showed it beyond superficial praise.

Had he really made them feel like that? Like they were just some toy to be discarded when something more interesting came along?

He bit his lip, eyes dropping from the mirror. "I didn’t mean to make them feel that way," he whispered, a strange knot of guilt tightening in his chest. "I just wanted them to look their best, to be their best."

But that wasn’t really the point, was it? MC hadn’t needed someone to tell them how to dress or how to look. They had needed someone to tell them they belonged, someone to make them feel like they were important beyond appearances.

Asmo sighed, sitting back in his chair and staring up at the ceiling. He hated this feeling—this heavy, nagging sense of regret. It wasn’t like him. He was Asmodeus, the Avatar of Lust, the most beautiful being in the Devildom. People flocked to him for advice, for attention. Everyone loved him. So why did it matter so much that one human didn’t?

Because it wasn’t just any human. It was MC.

They had trusted him. They had spent time with him, laughed at his jokes, let him play with their hair and help them pick outfits. And what had he done? He’d brushed them off like they were just another pretty face, like they weren’t worth getting to know beyond the surface.

And now they were gone. And it was his fault.

Asmo twirled a ring on his finger absentmindedly, the usual sparkle of his jewelry doing nothing to lift his mood. "They probably think I never cared about them," he muttered, his voice soft. "And maybe I didn’t… at least, not the way they needed me to."

He hated admitting it, but it was true. He had cared more about how they looked than how they felt. He had been so focused on making them into something he could be proud of that he hadn’t stopped to think about what they needed.

And now they were back in the human world, thinking they were never good enough for him. Thinking they didn’t matter.

For the first time in a long time, Asmo wasn’t thinking about himself. He wasn’t thinking about how he looked or what outfit he’d wear tomorrow. He was thinking about MC—about how he had hurt them without even realizing it. And that guilt, that realization, clung to him like a weight he couldn’t shake.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the vanity and burying his face in his hands.

But it was too late now. MC was gone. And all the beauty in the world couldn’t change that.

Beelzebub

Beel sat at the dining table, staring blankly at the plate in front of him. His usual appetite was gone, a strange hollowness taking its place. The silence felt heavier than usual, and for the first time in a long while, food couldn’t fill the emptiness inside him.

MC was gone. They had returned to the human world. And he hadn't even cared that they had disappeared.

He ran a hand through his hair, his brow furrowing as the thought settled in. He hadn’t paid much attention to them, hadn’t really thought about them as anything more than a human—something fragile, something that he wasn’t supposed to eat. They were just there, part of the exchange program, someone to tolerate but not worth focusing on.

Beel sighed, glancing at the uneaten food on his plate. It didn’t make sense to him. Why did it feel like something was missing now that they were gone? He hadn’t been particularly close to them. He’d never really taken much interest in what they did or said. They were just… human. And humans were something he didn’t think about much, aside from the occasional urge to eat one. But even that wasn’t really a problem. He knew better.

But still, the fact that they were gone—it didn’t sit right with him.

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest as he thought back to the few interactions they’d had. Whenever he saw them, he’d mostly been focused on food. Sometimes he’d make offhand comments about how they smelled different, or how they might taste good, but that was just the hunger talking. He didn’t mean it personally. He had never meant to make them feel uncomfortable.

But maybe he had.

“Beel doesn’t seem to care one way or another. He’s so focused on his hunger that I don’t think he even notices when I’m around. When he does, it’s just another reminder that I don’t really belong here.”

He frowned, the knot in his stomach tightening. They were right. He hadn’t cared one way or the other. To him, they were just another face in the Devildom, another human who wasn’t supposed to be eaten. He’d never gone out of his way to talk to them or get to know them.

He hadn’t thought they mattered.

But maybe they did.

Beel sighed again, his large hands resting on the table as he stared at his empty plate. He hadn’t done anything to make them feel welcome, hadn’t shown any interest in them beyond his usual blunt, hunger-driven remarks. To him, MC had just been part of the background, something he didn’t need to think about.

But now they were gone. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized that maybe he had missed something important.

He had seen how the others treated MC—the teasing from Mammon, the indifference from Satan, the distance from Levi. He had heard the way Lucifer demanded more from them, how Asmo insulted them under the guise of advice. Beel hadn’t said much, hadn’t gotten involved, but he hadn’t done anything to stop it either. And now that he thought about it, that made him just as guilty as the rest of them.

"They must’ve felt so alone," Beel muttered to himself, his brow furrowing. "And I didn’t do anything to help."

He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much now. Maybe it was because MC had been part of their lives for a while, and now that they were gone, there was a strange emptiness where they used to be. He hadn’t realized how much he had gotten used to seeing them around, hearing their voice, watching them navigate the chaos of the House of Lamentation.

But now that they were gone, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing.

Beel stood up, pacing the room slowly. He wasn’t like Lucifer or Satan, always thinking things through, always analyzing the situation. He didn’t think too deeply about the people around him most of the time. But now? Now he wished he had paid more attention. Maybe if he had, MC wouldn’t have felt so isolated, so invisible.

"They were more than just a human," he muttered, a pang of guilt hitting him. "But I never treated them like they were."

He hadn’t thought they mattered, and that was his biggest mistake. MC had been a part of their world, even if they were human. They had been right there, trying to find their place, and Beel had done nothing. He hadn’t meant to hurt them, hadn’t meant to make them feel like they didn’t belong—but his indifference had done that anyway.

And now, it was too late.

Beel stopped pacing, leaning against the wall and staring down at the floor. He didn’t know what to do with this feeling. It wasn’t like hunger—he couldn’t just eat something and make it go away. This was different. It was guilt, and it was heavy.

"I should’ve cared more," he whispered, his voice quiet in the empty room. "I should’ve made sure they knew they were welcome."

But they hadn’t known. And now they were back in the human world, far away from all of them.

Beel clenched his fists, frustration welling up inside him. He hated that they had left feeling like they didn’t matter. He hated that he hadn’t done anything to make them stay.

But what could he do now?

[hellishjoel]

dark paradise 

5.2k / pairing: dbf/neighbor!joel x f!reader

Series Masterlist l Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4

summary: Your mind is flooded with the memories of your private time with Joel in his woodshed, but he hasn't reached out to you since the bonfire and it's been a week. You go next door to give him a piece of your mind.

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), no outbreak, smut, age gap (reader is in her early 20’s, Joel in his 40’s), dbf/neighbor!joel, semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, pet names, praise, Joel being a horrible communicator and texter

A/N: I edited this 12+ times and kept changing stuff, so therefore there’s probably mistakes. There’s your one and only warning lol. I’m so excited you guys are eating up the first part (off to the races), I hope the next parts to come keep ya’ll entertained ;)

“Joel-” You clenched your eyes closed. “Outside? Are you serious?” Your scolded whispers were useless. Now that Joel knew you had these needs, he wasn’t going to let you be underserved.  He perched one of your legs over his shoulder, the other spread to the side and held open by the warm palm of his hand. You could feel his hot breath on your inner thighs, your walls fluttering as he came closer and closer to your core with each kiss to the exposed skin.  “On the tailgate, Joel?” You whimpered, a flash of concern passing over your face.  “I know how much you love the truck, baby.” Son of a bitch.

Time seemed to slow after your interaction with Joel in his woodshed. The days following the bonfire were filled with excitement but quickly followed by dread and anxiety. It had been a week. 

No text, no calls, no anything.

It wasn’t that serious. It was just Joel. Besides, you had a vibrator to fill the void until he finally decided to reach out to you. Whenever that may be. 

Days one and two were the most riveting. Every time you thought of Joel, your heart raced a little faster. You didn’t have a long list of sexual endeavors, so this was still noteworthy. Giving head to your hot forty-year-old neighbor. You wondered what else would come from it. More importantly, when. 

Days three and four felt routine and mundane. After picking around your breakfast and staring out the window to Joel’s empty driveway, you would wander to your back porch to read a book on the dock. 

You were lucky to catch glimpses of Sarah. Her summer was busy with her friends from school and working a part-time job to afford having fun the summer before her senior year. If she was free, you guys would jump in the lake, sit on the dock together, tell stories, and catch up on everything that was happening in each other’s lives. Well, not everything.  

Days five and six were torture. Your vibrator had died from its excessive use, and your fingers weren’t cutting it. You wanted Joel, you needed Joel. You hated to admit it, especially since he hadn’t paid a singular ounce of attention to you since the bonfire last Saturday. Even worse, after deciding to watch Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron with your family during a movie night, you started thinking even the horse was kind of attractive. 

Day seven started with your room covered in a pale blue light. You didn’t know what time it was. You weren’t sure how much you slept, but you knew it was very little. This ache was pestering your insides, spreading a rot like an old tree log. Your mind couldn’t fade away from the way Joel felt inside your mouth, the way he filled your throat, and you breathed through the choke. Or the way he finished on your face and your tongue.  

Your well-painted memory of it all was already beginning to fade. The details weren’t as crisp, you wanted to remember every detail and hold on to it for as long as possible.  

That’s what you were trying to imagine at this ungodly early morning hour. The birds weren’t even chirping outside yet. Your fan slowly circled, trying to cool you off from the sticky Texas heat. You wished your windows weren’t jammed closed.

You heard a thud outside, your body alert as you swiftly sat up and peeked out the window. 

Despite it being a Saturday, you watched a tired and slow Joel walk out to his old pickup truck and toss a brown bag lunch inside. Where was he off to so early?

He was wearing his chunky worn-in work boots, splattered with drops of white paint stained into the leather by the steel toe. They were heavy with each step he took on his rickety wooden deck. His faded dark blue jeans sat snug on his hips with his wallet stuffed in the back pocket. His dark hair dashed with silver grays was still damp from his morning shower.  

You watched behind foggy glass as he patted down his jeans and mumbled something, swiftly turning on his heel and lightly jogging up his steps before disappearing inside again. 

Seeing him after a week of silence bubbled up a hint of anger and annoyance in you. It annoyed you that he looked so good. 

Your feet found their way onto cold hardwood before you could waste another second. You would give him a piece of your mind in fuzzy slippers and an oversized rusty-orange Texas Longhorns t-shirt that was so draped over you that it covered your black sleep shorts. 

You tiredly navigated your way out of your room quietly, not to wake your parents down the hall. You crossed your arms and hugged them to your body, the early morning chill hitting you once you were outside. You crossed your driveway to his truck, slowing once you reached his perched-down tailgate. Joel had resurged from his house with his truck keys in hand, his steps slowing once you two shared eye contact.

You’d be standing here all day if you expected Joel to speak first. 

“Hey.” 

He gave you a small nod, his eyes dropping to the shirt that reached the tops of your thighs before they managed their way back up to your face. “Mornin’.” 

He closed the gap between his porch steps and his tailgate, setting down his toolbelt and box in the bed. He looked rigid, tight in the shoulders and chest. His close proximity made you step a few paces back, the length of the tailgate separating you from Joel. 

You were afraid that if he stood too close, he might feel how badly you wanted him by radiation alone. Especially now, fresh out of the shower, half-wet curls plastered to his forehead, still smelling a little musky with his body wash.

You finally let out an aggravated sigh, hip landing against the tailgate with your arms still crossed. 

“So… where are you going this early on a Saturday?” Your face still held a slightly pinched expression though you tried to ask a casual question. 

Your curiosity made the left side of his mouth tick up in a lopsided little smirk. 

“You wanna tell me the real reason you came over here?” Joel’s tactics were ruthless. It made you feel small, young. But you weren’t, not anymore. 

You took in a sharp breath through your nose, eyes on his as your head fell to the side. Finally, the ticking time bomb inside you was counting down. All of your pent-up sexual frustration would be launched at this lumberjack of a man. 

“You haven’t texted me.” 

“Christ,” he muttered, annoyance passing over his face. “Sun’s not even up yet.” 

“Joel.” You pushed. 

“Haven’t texted you in a few years.” He said lamely. 

“I know, the last thing I have from you is asking me what you think my dad would like for a birthday present.”

“I value your input.” His teasing didn’t make you any less angry. Joel could tell. “I don’t text anyone much besides Sarah. ‘ts the only way I can get ahold of her. Don’t even remember I own a phone half the time.” 

“I know.” Your arms crossed tighter around your body. “But I have… needs.” Your voice awkwardly teetered as you evaded his eye contact.

“Needs? Do ya, now?” Joel’s accent came out swinging, his signature smirky-smile working in combination with his cocked up eyebrow. But your face held evidence of your disappointment. 

There’s a gentle lull. He should have texted you, and you shouldn’t be here telling him that. He knows. Or maybe you shouldn’t expect so much from a guy like Joel. No wedding ring, brooding, a bull with horns, Joel. Wouldn’t know it was his birthday without Sarah reminding him, Joel. Wouldn’t leave the house if he didn’t have to, Joel. Wouldn’t think to text his horny neighbor next door, Joel. 

“Didn’t text me either, sweetheart.” He points out, making your head snap up with wide doe eyes. Shit. He was right. 

You didn’t text him, either. You were just sort of expecting it out of him. You hoped he would lead the way, be the guide, reach out wanting more. But that wasn’t Joel. Were you both playing this devilish waiting game? You felt a little silly, your insides wrapping in knots as he surveyed you. 

“Well I-”

“You what?” 

He was the one grilling into you now. The sun began cresting over the water, bleaching your surroundings in a pale orange. The sun’s glare caused Joel’s eyes to squint slightly to block it out. 

You rolled your head to the side and wiggled around as you tried to stand still against his tailgate. Your frustrations were evident as you rubbed your crossed legs together. 

This wasn’t the same girl who took a leap of faith in his woodshed, who crossed the boundary between nothing to something, and set you and Joel up for a thrilling summer. You just wanted him to tell you that he wanted it too. To fuck around and do something different. Make this summer worth a damn. 

“I didn’t know if you wanted more.” You finally muster up, your voice smaller than you intended, shifty eyes looking over his. 

Your statement made him scoff, having to look away from you with a wicked smile. The orange luminescence of the sun warmed his otherwise cold face. He was amused, maybe even a little offended by your statement. 

“‘Course I want more.” He strained before pausing, his voice lowering as he took another step closer. “Look at you. Wearin’ my shirt.” He said before he towered over you, making the first point of contact as his hand reached for your hip and pulled you in closer, his fist clutching the worn-in orange t-shirt. 

You blinked a few times before looking down where he fisted the material. Shit. He was right again. 

Joel had given this to you the last summer you were in Danbury. You and Sarah took a late-night dip in the lake, and she wanted you to sleep over and watch a movie in the basement. You were too lazy to walk back home and change, so Joel gave you a towel and his Longhorns t-shirt.

You easily could have snagged a shirt from Sarah’s closet, but Joel caught you sneaking into his house and dripping water everywhere.

“Just take this. Go dry off. Get warmed up.” A statement laced with annoyance and precaution for his floors, but also attentive care. 

It was probably supposed to be just for the night, but you stole it. 

You remember that evening vividly. It was the first time you fantasized about Joel. Because the shirt wrapped you up and smelled of his musk and deodorant. It brought on a certain warm fuzziness in your tummy. The shirt had been incorporated so much in your wardrobe these last two years or so, you had forgotten its origin. But it was Joel’s.

And now you were standing here in front of him, his shirt draped over your body like an oversized blanket, showing the curves of your tits. He was fantasizing about you too. Fucking you while wearing his shirt.

There was an undeniable tension that now settled between the two of you, one you surely couldn’t satisfy in his driveway. But that didn’t mean Joel didn’t feel the same way. 

His hold on your hip tightened, your lips parting in surprise as his other hand came to your waist and hoisted you up onto the tailgate of his truck. 

He was hot, possessive of your body wrapped in his shirt. 

“Does it look like I don’t want you?” Joel’s voice was husky, lust filled. You liked getting this sort of reaction out of him. His question caused an ache in you, white heat pooling in the base of your stomach. 

Your neediness for him returned. Addicted to his touch, you felt a rush of adrenaline pulse through your body. Joel parted your legs with his body by standing between them, your little fists gripping his large biceps as you tried to regain your bearings. He was so big and burly, wide set shoulders, and a toned chest. You wanted to see him shirtless, examine his body when your time together wasn’t so limited. 

“Joel,” his name dripped off your lips with desperation, sweet like honey. He knew how you said his name when you wanted him. It brought back vivid memories of you kneeling in front of him in his woodshed.

Comfort brought you back, knowing it was safe to lean in and start kissing his stubbled neck. You didn’t want to kiss his lips, it still felt too intimate. Joel picked up on your hesitations and silently obeyed. 

Once you got to the base of his neck by the collar of his shirt, he let out a surprisingly loud grunt that he tried to jam down into silence but had failed. It caught you off guard, the ways he displayed his pleasure.

You moved back in, eager to duplicate the noise as you paid special attention to his sweet spot. You suckled and glided your teeth over the pinpoint before he forced himself away. 

“Keep it below the collar, sweetheart.” His twangy southern drawl was drenched in pleasure.

You smirked as you tugged at the collar gently with your teeth, letting it go and seeing it snap back into place around his tan neck. 

His lips found the crook of your jawline, his lips brushing your earlobe as he took it between his teeth and gently nibbled. The sensation struck a nerve down your center, a weak whine echoing against the collar of his shirt as you tried to stay quiet. 

The air had warmed up with the sun’s presence, the birds starting to chirp. Your parents could wake up any minute now, being the early risers they were. 

You pulled away to gauge his reaction. Joel was looking between you and the horizon carefully. He was debating. You both had so little time. 

“Your parents.” He pointed out, his voice ridged with pain as he planted his body between yours, his large palms splayed on your lower back and upper thigh with his fingers ghosting your sleep shorts.

“Work.” You reminded, lightly tugging on the sleeve of his shirt, fingers delicately brushing over the faded Miller Contracting logo on his breast pocket. 

You’re compelled to tell him that you need him. Because you do. You need him terribly. 

There was a silence, a deliberation of the masses. Stop while you’re ahead, at least you and Joel realized you were on the same page about wanting more. You could let him go, you should let him go. Meet up another time when it was less risky. 

“You’re not pulling away.” Your whisper broke his thoughts. Your long lashes fluttered, and your eyes were filled with an eagerness only Joel could satisfy. 

He rolled his head around, jaw tight before shaking his head. 

“Well, you have needs.” His words were filled with grit, promise. Be quick. 

Your arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, feeling the planes of his back under your small palms. Both of Joel’s big hands moved under your t-shirt, your lips parting at the feeling of his calloused and rough hands traversing your soft body. He liked how soft you were, you could tell by the way he was delicately exploring you with his lips plastered on your neck. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you whisper, grinding your hips against his desperately while one of your hands wound into the damp curls at the base of his neck. He could use a haircut soon, the longer strands winding around your fingers.

His body loomed so much over you that you were arching your spine, your legs desperately wrapping loose around his waist until he had sufficiently guided you onto your back. 

Suddenly his presence lifted. You didn’t realize you were seeing stars until he pulled away. He had way too much of an effect on you. 

“Don’t have time to fuck you right, pretty girl.” His words made you puff out a desperate sigh. 

“But-” 

“But you have needs.” He finished for you, your head feverishly nodding. The truck bed had odd ribs, half your back raised up an inch while your other half was on a little slant. It was uncomfortable to lay your head down on. Once Joel was tugging down your sleep shorts, you were quick to forget the discomfort. 

A heavy breath left you as Joel tossed your shorts over his tool belt in the truck bed beside you, feeling him pull your body closer to the edge of the truck bed with your legs pried open for him. 

Your eyes widened as he sunk to the ground, jaw dropping as your eyes looked to the sky. Holy shit.

“Joel-” You clenched your eyes closed. “Outside? Are you serious?” Your scolded whispers were useless. Now that Joel knew you had these needs, he wasn’t going to let you be underserved. 

He perched one of your legs over his shoulder, the other spread to the side and held open by the warm palm of his hand. You could feel his hot breath on your inner thighs, your walls fluttering as he came closer and closer to your core with each kiss to the exposed skin. 

“On the tailgate, Joel?” You whimpered, a flash of concern passing over your face. 

“I know how much you love the truck, baby.” Son of a bitch. 

You wished every second with him right now wasn’t fleeting. You wished he could take his time. But the both of you were so wound up anyway, you were happy just to have him be a guest between your legs. 

Joel’s beard stubble tickled your thighs, his warm lips leaving a wet trail to your cotton underwear. Your hands needed to stay busy, one planting itself against one of the ribs of the truck bed and the other fisting his toolbelt that adorned a Carhartt patch. 

Joel’s mouth was absent for a moment. He was admiring you. Admiring you with your legs spread for him in his Longhorns shirt that was several sizes too big on you. Heat chased through your body, a sly little smirk on your lips. 

“Time is of the essence, Joel.” 

He didn’t say anything back. He was staring at the wet spot that had formed through the material of your panties. He hummed, cocky satisfaction filling him to the brim. 

Joel placed an excruciatingly soft kiss over your covered mound that had you writhing under him eagerly. His palm planted your thigh down again, feeling you quiver under his hold. 

You swallowed a lump down your throat as he pulled your underwear to the side, out of his fucking way. He was seeing you for the first time. It made your chest heave with shakier breaths. 

You were glistening for him, wet and gleaming in the sunshine that was starting to dance across the lake and over the truck. Panic flooded your core. He was taking his damn time. You needed him now. 

“Joel-” you warned again, but it was too late. 

His nose nuzzled against your clit as he flattened his tongue and licked up your center, tasting you properly. Your head dug into the truck bed, a loose moan leaving your parted lips as you closed your eyes and experienced a sweet paradise. His tongue flooded you with his saliva, Joel’s taste buds in galore as he tried you for the first time. 

You wondered if he thought about you tasting you like this before. The thought as well as his head between your legs left you humming in appreciation. 

Your free hand found its purpose, nestling your fingers into Joel’s hair while his head made gentle nods against your core. His jaw was slack, mouth lodged open as he consumed your sex in its entirety. He didn’t leave one centimeter of you unmarked. He commandeered the landscape like it was his territory, his possession. 

Puffs of his name left your mouth, you couldn’t help but be vocal when he made you feel this good. 

Joel’s tongue moved now with purpose, precision. He lapped at your entrance, tongue dipping in to feel your tight walls before moving back up and around your swollen clit. He was discovering you, what made you tick, what made you burn with passion and lust.

You held back moans of his name, bringing Joel’s shirt you wore up into your mouth by the collar to bite down onto. Your muffles were concealed by the material for now. 

You ground your hips lightly into his face, finding a rhythm you liked. He lets you. He wants you to feel good. 

Thumps of your heart pounded against your chest, Joel’s tongue still working perfect circles and swipes at your clit. He pulled away just for a moment to wet his fingers, you watch through hooded eyes. His amber ones flick to yours. Can I?

 You nod your head, a silent and desperate yes. 

He pursed his lips, face pierced with concentration as he pushed his middle finger into you, your walls welcoming the intrusion with a flood of arousal to allow him deeper. You took in a shaky gasp as he filled you to the knuckle.

“Fuckk-” you said a little too loud, your eyes widening as you covered your mouth and got a well-deserved glare from Joel. 

“Can’t hold yourself together, can ya, pretty girl?” His voice was as rough as gravel. 

You couldn’t even answer him back, the threads that held together your integrity were slowly plucking loose.  

You whimpered like crazy, the shirt swallowing as much of the noise as it could, but the rhythm of his finger and his mouth returning to your clit was sending electric currents through your entire body. You were short-circuiting with Joel’s tongue and fingers playing with your pussy. 

Joel’s mouth was warm, the taste of you a new hunger for him. You could hear his jeans scuff against the ground. He was trying to hold himself steady. The realization made you throw your head back, losing the shirt as a vice as you gripped his strands tighter between your knuckles. 

“Fuck, Joel--, ohmygod-” you whimpered quietly. The slurping of your cunt was louder than your words. The noise felt so loud in your pounding ear drums, you were worried it would wake the neighbors. The neighbors being your parents and Joel’s daughter.

You were close, even with just one of his fingers inside of you, you were close. You 

weren’t sure if it was because of your pent-up sexual tension, your vibrator dying, or your fingers not doing you justice. Maybe it was the fact that it was Joel Miller, but you were holding onto a very thin rope on the verge of snapping. 

You pulled your shirt up, releasing his toolbelt as your hand fondled your tits. You could feel him smirk against your thighs as you pinched at your hardened round nipples. 

“Such a pretty girl.. Taste so fuckin’ good too.” His words reverberate against your core, the vibrations tickling your clit and making you whine his name. His compliment caused a certain warmth in your chest.

Your head lulled from side to side. He wasn’t letting you know peace once he added a second finger. You had to take a moment to adjust but Joel could feel it, he knew exactly what to do and when. He was so seasoned, experienced, he’d be the first guy to make you cum like this. 

Your thigh against his head clenched tighter around his shoulder, keeping him in close against your core as he continued to work his tongue in figure eights around your clit. The soothing circles were creating a harmonious rhythm, your stomach felt like it was going to fall through a trapdoor. You weren’t going to last much longer. 

Then he tried something new. 

A loud gasp left your lips, your body scraping its way to sit up on your elbows as you watched him nibble and suckle at your clit. Your elbow had nicked his exposed flathead screwdriver in the process, a hiss seething from your mouth. It didn’t matter now. All your mind could focus on was Joel and his hellish tongue. 

The suckling at your clit unlocked something undiscovered, your lips parting in fascination before your head fell back and landed on the tops of your shoulders as you looked to the heavens with blurry vision. 

A lazy smirk was plastered on your face as he held you in place. You weren’t going anywhere.

Heated pants left your mouth, unable to breathe with the new sensation. The sucking was a distinct sensation, one you liked. You could feel his teeth just lightly grazing your sensitive bud. It made your thighs twitch, and your walls flutter around his still pumping fingers. 

Joel’s digits moved gently with their thrust, a gasp of his name flooding the air as he curled them deep, massaging your spongy walls. 

You were breathless. You could barely muster up anything besides his name weakly on your lips. You tried to tell him, but it was already too late. 

“J-Joel I’m-- I’m cominggg, shit,” you moaned out a little too loud. The whole valley around you echoed, or so it seemed. Joel’s protective grip tightened, your hips convulsing as you came over his tongue. He fucking loved it. He held you there and took you for everything you were worth.

You dropped to your back once more, his fingers still working a slow rhythm that he was insistent on not breaking until your walls stopped fluttering around his knuckles. You were still trying to come down to Earth when he licked you clean, your body twitching every time he flicked his tongue against your throbbing clit on purpose. Fucking asshole. 

Your hold on his hair loosens. You can’t help but make a face at the sight of him. Wild curly locks, mouth and chin covered in your slick, slightly flushed cheeks. He looked just as fucked as you did. He looked submissive on his knees, his eyes gleaming as he looked to you. 

You watch with obsession as he mindlessly pops his two fingers past his lips, licking them clean of your slick. Such a compliment. 

He guided your leg off his shoulder and put your underwear back in its place. 

You leaned up on your elbows, still seeing stars. Joel stood up from the ground and brushed any residual dirt and dust off his jeans. He brought his hand up and toyed with his jaw, meaty fingers adding pressure into the masseter muscle as he worked to relieve the tension that had built while going down on you with such dedication. 

You weakly sat up, the slotted ribs of his truck bed making indents in the flesh of your arms and thighs. Brands of your filth. Your big shirt fell back into place, your legs swinging lightly as they hung off the truck bed. You glanced at the back of your arm, seeing the scrape from his tools. You’d be fine. 

Once you turned straight to face Joel once more, you noticed he was fighting back a little smile about something, his hands on his hips and his knee cocked out.

“What?” You ask, trying to scoot further down the tailgate. 

“Nothin’.” He said gruffly, taking you by your hips and lifting you with ease like a ragdoll back onto the ground. His eyes stayed on the floor, your curious gaze following his down to your fluffy slippers. 

“Oh.” You muster up, clicking the toes together. 

“They’re uh… cute.” He tried to compliment, still with a teasing smirk on his face. 

“Shut up. They’re slippers.” You griped, your hand coming up to wipe away the glisten on his chin. He took over, pinching the collar of his shirt between his fingers and bringing it up to wipe away what was left of you. It was oddly attractive. 

He reached past his toolbox and belt, handing over your black sleep shorts after feeling over the material for a moment with a swipe of his thumb. 

You muster up a thanks, looping one foot in and then the other before you adjusted the band around your waist, the orange t-shirt falling back into place at your thighs. 

You couldn’t help but look around, the serenity of the early morning hours would only last so long on the lake. People liked to walk their dogs and jog, you didn’t want anyone reporting gossip. 

You turned back to Joel and assessed him. The Texas sun was already making both of your skin swelter, despite it being just past sunrise. 

You took in a sharp breath to say something, pursing your lips to keep them shut. Joel looked at you expectantly. 

“What?”

You shook your head and shrugged, holding your hands behind your back as you teetered on your feet. 

A stern expression passed over his face. “What?” He pressed harder. 

You tried to smother a laugh. “Your hair, Joel.” 

With an annoyed sigh, Joel amused trying to tousle his curls into place with the assistance of his truck’s driver-side mirror, grumbling a few curse words in response before leaving it be. 

You admire him, how handsome he looks so effortlessly. You suddenly became glaringly aware of how you looked right now. No makeup, baggy clothes, could use a shower. Fuck. 

“I gotta get goin’, already late.” Joel said as he returned  to the tailgate, lifting it with ease and slamming it into place with a few sharp snaps. “I’ll see you. And I’ll message you.” 

A small smile ticked at one half of your mouth, nodding. It was a promise. “Please call it texting, Joel.” 

He furrowed his brows as he looked over your face. “What difference does it make?”

You snickered and shrugged. “How old you sound.” 

Cue the classic Joel Miller eye roll. “Fine. Textin’.”

“How can you be working on a Saturday? That feels illegal.” 

This mustered up a short little chortle from Joel. “It’s not technically working, that’s why.” 

Your head curiously tilted to the side. “What do you mean?”

Joel shrugged, avoiding your eye contact as he looked past his truck and to the lake. 

This was what you had to deal with. Trying to get information out of Joel was an investigative effort, one you didn’t have the energy to dig into at the moment. You finally felt tired after your week of restlessness. 

You waved each other off, your face electric as you turned away from Joel and snuck back inside without a peep. As soon as you lay back in bed, feeling your heart thumping after your meet-up with Joel, you heard the door to your parent’s room crack open, and your father’s obnoxious morning yawn followed accordingly. Couldn’t have cut it any closer.

Finally, you felt sleep caressing the edges of your mind. Not a beat after your head hit the pillow, you felt your phone vibrate beside you. With hazy eyes, you turned it over in your palm and squinted at the brightness. 

joel miller Anything I can do to get in your good graces again?

You instantly smiled, lazy fingers typing a response. 

how about a movie night? 

He took a moment to respond. You could see him thinking it over in your mind’s eye. 

joel miller Fine. 

Your face lit up as you quickly took advantage of him owing you one. 

and I can pick the movie?

You could practically feel Joel’s eye roll from a mile away. 

joel miller Jesus. Fine. Tomorrow night. 

Tomorrow was perfect. Sarah said she would be on a camping trip and your parents would be visiting old school friends in a neighboring town for drinks and dinner. 

tomorrow night it is, mr. miller 

joel miller Whatever you say sweetheart.

---

wanna read part 3? read cherry!

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[chrollogy]

SFW; fluff, atsumu eats your leftovers but according to him, he has a very good reason why. inspired by my prev post but what i experienced wasn’t anything like this :(. divider: cafekitsune.

── “what part of ‘mine. don’t eat.’ do you not understand?” the question flies right into atsumu’s room the second he opened his door, sharp tone greeting him before he could even fully see your standing figure. genuinely confused, the male furrowed his brows, free hand scratching at the shaved part of his nape. and he has the audacity to look confused, you thought, head tilting to the side as the anger rose within you.

for the past few months, you’ve been roommates with atsumu—he was nothing but polite, and respectful, albeit a little rowdy at times but nothing too unmanageable. that was until two weeks ago where you had stored leftovers in the fridge at night, saving it for tomorrow’s lunch. unlucky for you, it disappeared the next morning. that was fine. okay. swallowing the unpleasant feeling that settled in your chest—maybe atsumu thought it was for him, you blame yourself for not labelling it as yours. a rookie mistake.

the second time it happened, you were beyond speechless. wanting to give atsumu the benefit of the doubt, you concluded it as a coincidence—maybe he was tired from practice, there was nothing else appetising in the fridge except your leftovers. so, again, you let it slide.

the third time, however, it was a pattern without a doubt, and you knew better than to let it slide. having to look forward to something—especially a good meal—only for it to be taken away in an instant was something you wouldn’t even wish on upon your worst enemy. though, your worst enemy was standing right before you, hand behind his head, clueless as hell. maybe you would wish it upon your worst enemy. “hm?” atsumu mirrored the tilt of your head, only spurring your annoyance further.

“my leftovers. i know you’ve been eating them, miya. we’re the only ones who live here.” you pinch the bridge of your nose, eyes screwed shut at his lack of common sense. being angry was one thing, but being both angry and hungry was a whole different discussion. “explain. i went out of my way to put a sticky note to let you know that it was mine yet you still ate it.” atsumu couldn’t help the familiar feeling blossoming in his chest—the one that occurs whenever he was in your presence.

you looked so cute all riled up. the way your brows furrowed, carving lines between your forehead or the way the corners of your lips pointed down, forming a small pout. atsumu didn’t even care that he was on the receiving end of your hangry mood. he gave you a sheepish smile, one that would’ve had your cheeks heating if it wasn’t for the situation at hand, “i’m sorry. .” his two-worded apology hung in the air, waiting to be completed.

so you stood there, arms crossed, eyes boring into his own. atsumu looked away, gaze lingering on the door hinge as if it was the most interesting piece of metal in the world. “i have a valid reason but it’s silly.” he let out an empty chuckle, hand rubbing at his nape. valid reason? what kind of reason did he have to justify him eating your leftovers? ones that you bought with your own money.

atsumu took your silence as a signal to keep going. oh god, now he really wanted the ground to swallow him whole—for the carpet beneath his feet to just split apart and let him fall into nothingness. the more atsumu scoured his mind for the right words, the more he felt like an idiot, embarrassment engulfing his every being. mind you, he wanted this to happen and now that it was playing right before his eyes, he couldn’t help but chicken out.

the sentences laced together in his mind were useless anyway when he blurted out ‘i think you’re cute’ which only deepened the creases between your brows. silence. there was about a good 10-second silence, and during the span of that, atsumu really wished he was swallowed whole. but nope, he had to face the consequences of his stupid actions.

it wasn’t because he was being a dick, no, far from that. ever since atsumu saw you walk through the shared apartment, he felt something foreign—he felt his heart skip a beat, and not in the way it would during intense rallies in a match. all atsumu knew was that he wanted to get to know you better, even if it meant getting your attention in silly little ways—although, annoying might be the better word to describe it on your end.

there was nothing but mutual respect with the bond you two shared but it was also not intimate, and atsumu craved intimacy. you’ve both remained civil ever since living with one another, giving and receiving pleasantries throughout the day, small conversations but nothing too deep. it didn’t help that you weren’t the type to make small talk, only engaging in a conversation with atsumu whenever he initiated.

so, he devised a rather smart (idiotic) plan to gain your undivided attention—to simply put it: eating your leftovers so you would notice him. atsumu mentally noted to give himself a pat on the back for mission accomplished, though, that’d have to come later since he had no backup plan for how to deal with this situation. “that’s it . . ?” he felt small under your judgement, not to mention the amusement in your tone.

atsumu would rather be on the receiving end of sakusa’s spikes than ever admit to you that he’s been craving for your attention like a lovesick puppy with its tailed tucked between its legs. alas, here he was facing the consequences, a crimson blush painted on his cheeks while animatedly explaining in complete detail of why he’s been eating your leftovers. you didn’t know whether to be upset, flattered or both.

upset because out of all ideas, atsumu thought resorting to eating your food was the best candidate. flattered because he thinks you’re cute and have been silently pining for you and your attention. both because of how silly this all sounded—the moment you came knocking on atsumu’s door, you expected a concrete explanation for his actions, not a full blown confession.

you laughed, not because of being upset nor flattered but because of how dumb the situation was. atsumu mirrored your laugh despite the gears turning in his head, trying to find a reason why you were laughing at him. “you know, you could’ve just told me about your feelings in the first place and i would have happily accepted them.” that was atsumu’s first thought but it was too easy for him (no it wasn’t, he doesn’t know how to properly talk to people he pines for.).

later in the evening, after returning from a dinner with your friends, atsumu found a singular takeaway container sitting in the fridge with a little note: for you :P <3

a few hours ago, the food would’ve been labelled as ‘mine’ to deter him from eating it but atsumu has a good assumption that he was the one labelled as yours, this time.

[ponderingmoonlight]

How JJK men act when you have insomnia (can't sleep)

Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader; Toge x fem!reader; Megumi x fem!reader (special thanks to @belovedvamp for that jaw-dropping gorgeous Megumi requests, like wow)

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: nightmares, angst to comfort in everyone, I would like to point out that Megumi is my favorite part and that I'm thinking about doing a Part 2, so if you're invested definetely let me know 😭not 100% proofread yet

Gojo Satoru

„Huh, why are you still awake babe? Aren’t you tired?”

Satoru takes in your gorgeous sight, how you lay curled up in your shared bed with your sleepy eyes darted towards him. God, why do you have to be so stunning, why does the selfish urge to keep you awake a little longer become almost unbearable for him when he knows exactly why you’re unable to sleep?

The mattress gives in under your boyfriend’s weight next to you, his hand gently caressing your head. You feel drunk, as if your body doesn’t function properly anymore. No wonder, after all you were awake for more than 30 hours by now, fighting and fighting to finally exorcise a bunch of special grade curses while Satoru was busy somewhere else.

But you’re scared to close your eyes again, to get confronted with the horrible things you’ve saw today. After each and every mission, your brain haunts you with awful nightmares, reminds you of all the death, all the injured, all the things you’ve lost.

No, you just can’t take it. You’d rather stay up a little longer in desperate hopes to be spared than risking to have another bad dream.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about it”, you mumble into your heavy blanket, eyes drifting to the window.

It began to rain, heavy droplets pounding against the glass violently, thunder erupting in the dark sky. Carefully, Satoru lays down beside you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist.

“I know you’re lying”, he mutters against your sensitive neck.

“Is it because of your nightmares?”

You turn around to face him in utter surprise. When did you ever told him about those nightmares? You always kept them to yourself, suffered through them on your own. After all, Satoru is a very busy man who shouldn’t have to worry about something like a bad dream. Yes, it seems pretty ridiculous to whine about your nightmares when the strongest of them all is the one you’re talking to.

“Don’t worry about that, I’m fine”, you lie into his face, gifting him a small smile to convince him.

But your eyes don’t lie. They show nothing but terror and dread, nothing but fatigue and alertness at the same time. Suddenly Satoru’s heart feels heavy. He should have realized it sooner, the way you always go to sleep after him when you were out on a mission. Why did it never cross his mind that all of this might be too much for you? Maybe because you’re so damn strong, maybe because you make it look so damn easy every time, carrying the weight of all those missions so that his students don’t suffer.

“It makes no sense to lie to me. Why didn’t you tell me about it, babe? I’m sure Shoko might be able to help you-“

“There’s nothing anyone could do about this”, you interrupt him immediately.

“Trust me, I tried everything out there. I guess this is just how my brain tries to cope with all those things, the people dying and stuff…”

“But you don’t have to go through this alone. We’re a team, remember? Why don’t you wake me up whenever you feel upset? Why do you go to sleep after I’m already passed out? (y/n), don’t do this to yourself.”

Gently, he cups your cheek with his hand, forcing you to look up at him. Oh, how much you hate that familiar feeling. That feeling of being useless, of being weak. Are you really too frail to even sleep after a mission? Why aren’t you able to handle the things you see like the others, like Kento and Satoru? All that training, all that power just to cry in your sleep over the things that happened hours ago.

Truly pathetic.

“Do you really think you’re alone? Especially in the beginning, Kento was plagued by nightmares each and every night so much that he couldn’t even fall asleep. Suguru and I…it is always rough, remembering the faces of those you weren’t able to save. But don’t let them keep you awake, don’t think you have to simply endure this. I’m here each and every night to hold you, okay? I’m here, you’re not alone (y/n).”

Oh Satoru.

Without thinking twice, you turn around and intertwine your body with his, desperately trying to keep your composure. How do you even deserve a man like him? A man who seems goofy most of the time but hast the softest side, a man who cares more about everyone around him than himself.

Your boyfriend, the strongest with a heart of pure gold.

“I hate when they haunt me in my sleep”, you finally give in, hiding your face against his warm chest.

“I know, babe. Trust me, we all do.”

Ever so gently, he strokes your hair and back, embraces you in his very own warmth. Satoru feels like home, like the perfection you are chasing each and every day. What would you even do without his loving arms as your home? Where would you be without his constant support? All those nights he stood by your side, watched a awful romantic movie so you’d feel good again. The countless times he cooked your favourite meal for you, only to throw it away and order food afterwards. All those times he rushed to your side when you got injured, how he always manages to be right by your side when you wake up. And oh, how tender is touch feels against your skin, how his warmth embraces you with every inch of his body. He feels so good, so comforting…

Satoru watches with a small smile as your lids grow heavy and finally close, your breath leaving your mouth evenly.

“As long as I’m the one holding you, no nightmare in the world will dare to wake you up, babe”, he breathes against your ear, holding you tightly in his arms throughout the whole night.

Inumaki Toge

You stare at the full moon blankly, mind racing. How are you supposed to get out of this alive? Are you even strong enough to lead your very own mission without someone by your side? This will be the first time you’ll be completely on your own. Without Maki, without Panda, without Toge…You trained hard these last months, you know what you’re capable of. But still…

Is it enough?

“Kelp.”

His tender voice rips you out of your poisonous thoughts immediately, glossy eyes shooting up to take in his sight. Why does he have to look so delicate with the moonlight highlighting his features? Why does his mouth have to be so damn captivating?

Why is it so easy to fall hopelessly in love with Toge Inumaki?

“Sorry, I thought y’all were asleep”, you explain visibly uncomfortably.

How embarrassing, getting caught by your crush while silently crying into the night about a damn mission. A silent yawning escapes your lips before you can stop it, tired eyes covered by a curtain of tears. God, you are so tired.

“Salmon roe.”

Before you even comprehend what’s happening, the white-haired boy takes his hand into yours gently, staring at you so intensely that you forget how to breathe for a moment. It’s like he wants to tell you that everything will be alright, that you have nothing to worry about.

“I don’t think I can do this alone, Toge. I don’t think I’m strong enough to do this…”, you finally give in.

“Bonito flakes”, he immediately replies.

Without thinking twice, he takes out a small notepad and begins to write frantically. You know he always carries a writing block with him for time that require more than a few words, more than gestures are able to say.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, you worked hard these last weeks. And you’re great! Just do as good as you always do, I’m counting on you, (y/n)! Please try to get some sleep now :)”

With every word you read your heart beats a little faster, with every word your grin grows a little wider. If he only knew how much his words truly mean to you…

“So you really think I can do it on my own?”, you question.

“Salmon!”

“Thank you, Toge”, you mutter touched.

You don’t know why, but suddenly your eyes start to burn in tears. Toge holds nothing but affection in his gaze, hand still resting on yours while squeezing it ever so slightly. He truly believes in you and your abilities, shows no doubt in your save return. Maybe…maybe you’re actually able to do this. Maybe you are indeed ready for your first solo mission.

Toge stands up again, signalling you with a gentle squeeze to stand up as well. You follow him through the dark hallways of Jujutsu High, right into the dorm you know so well.

“Tuna”, he whispers into the night before pressing you against his warm chest.

You feel as light as a feather, too stunned to speak by the way his arms feel wrapped around your body. He smells intoxicating, so good that you can’t help but sniff in and out. Is this really the first time Toge Inumaki hugged you for more than 10 seconds? It definitely is hard to let him go again.

“I believe in you, (y/n).”

Did he…Did he just speak?

“Toge…”, you breathe out, watching as his smile grows even wider.

With a last wave, he is gone in the darkness of the night, leaving you standing in the middle of your room on your own with your feelings scattered all over the place. Toge Inumaki just hugged you. No, Toge INumaki just spoke. He told you that he believes in you.

“How am I supposed to sleep now?”, you mumble to yourself.

Fushiguro Megumi

Your eyes snap open in an instant, ice cold sweat running down your face. Where are you? Is it over? You…

You breathe out. It was a nightmare. Again.

“Fuck”, you hiss to yourself while rubbing your aching head.

Why do you have to get haunted by these horrible nightmares, when will it finally stop? Even Gojo-sensei seems to be clueless about your condition, about what keeps you up each and every night.

But you know something that will help you to get through this night. Or rather someone.

Your bare feet stick to the wooden floor ever so slightly while you wander through the dark hallways on your way to his doorstep. Is he even awake? Maybe he won’t open the door at all.

Little do you know that Megumi sits in his bed with his eyes wide open, staring at the door knob in sheer excitement for your return into his arms. He knows it doesn’t mean much to you and at the beginning, it didn’t mean anything to him either. You just came into his room from time to time, searching for comfort in his hug to chase your nightmares away. And since you were friends, Megumi had nothing against stroking your head gently and wrapping his arms around you.

But something seems different now. Something about the sensation of you visiting him late at night sends shivers down his spine, your moonlit features let his heart hammer against his ribcage. It’s like he wants to hold you even closer, wants your breath to brush against his face. Why does it dawn to him how delicate your curves look and how soft your hair feels? There is no use in denying it, no sense in fighting against the obvious.

Megumi Fushiguro has fallen hopelessly in love with you.

The knocks against his wooden floor send him to his door straight away, opening it before you’re able to think twice.

“Oh, I didn’t knew you were still awake, Fushiguro”, you mutter into the darkness.

God, how much he hates the fact that you always call him by his last name. What would he give to hear his name out of your mouth once?

“What do you want here, (y/n)?”

His voice sounds harsher than anticipated while it takes all his strength to not swallow you in his arms immediately.

“I had a bad dream again…”

The vulnerable tone of your voice kills him from the inside. Without saying another word, he steps aside, allows you to enter his dorm without hesitation. You position yourself on the left side of his bed like you always do, hiding yourself in his already warm sheets. Without hesitation, he crawls back into his bed, inviting you into his arms with a long breath.

You smell as good as you always do. Why did it take him so long to realize that you smell absolutely intoxicating, that the mixture of your shampoo, body scent and perfume is addictive? Maybe he should tell you about the way he feels, finally confess how you make his heart beat out of his chest. But how would you react?

Would you…reject him? For all these years of knowing each other, you were never more than friends. Good buddies, pals, but not more than that. None of you ever crossed the line of plain cuddling each other to sleep. Not once did your lips brush over his, not once did your hands move further than his chest. Would you even love him back?

“Come on, you have to have a crush (y/n)! Is it Chris Pine, Tom Holland? Are you more into Korean guys?”, Nobara inquired over and over.

You just rolled your eyes with a playful grin, almost making Megumi fall out of his chair next to Yuji.

“I don’t have a crush on anyone. I’m perfectly fine by myself”, you insisted.

“I like tall woman with a big ass”, Yuji interrupted out of nowhere, gaining a punch in his face by Nobara.

That was it, the first time he noticed something strange. The way his heart suddenly grew heavier than metal, sunk into his chest, took his breath away. He was hurt by your words. Megumi Fushiguro was hurt by the stinging fact that you didn’t say his name like he secretly hoped for, that your eyes didn’t even flinch towards him for the split of a second.

“Hey, are you alright? Why did you tense up like that?”, you mutter against his chest while drawing circles onto his t-shirt with your delicate fingertip.

“Oh, it’s nothing for you to worry about”, he lies into this tender night.

He presses you against his own body a little tighter, watches how your eyes grow heavy with every passing minute that you listen to his steady heartbeat. This shouldn’t mean more to him than comforting an old friend, it shouldn’t make his heart flutter and palms sweaty. But the soft snores leaving your mouth sound oh so lovely, the way your eyes move behind closed lids makes his heart skip a beat. You have to be the most precious creature on this earth, so valuable that he never wants to let you go again.

Until he has in the morning. Until you return back into his arms when nightmares keep you up another night.

Thank you so much for reading! Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul@chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly   @froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @aeliusbbg

[eydi-andrius]

Sore Loser (Love and Deepspace Characters x F!Reader)

Synopsis: After a very shitty day, you thought playing Kitty Cards with him will make your day better.

A/N: Girl, I hate this damn game. Lmaoooooo!

🗡️ Xavier 🗡️

Xavier didn't mean anything from it. He was just playing by the rules of the game, using his advance cards to parry and block your attempt to stop him from freezing your turn, four times by now. He was so focused on the game that he did not notice how your face became harder, and your eyes stared coldly at the board, now filled mostly with Xavier’s number cards. His kitties were cheering for him, and you watched helplessly as your kitties cried from defeat.

“That was a good game.” Xavier smiled to himself, as he saw how the game ended beautifully for him. He saved up as many good advance cards and used them at the right moment. He was so proud of himself and he can't wait to see your face. You usually analyze how he won, and take notes of what you did wrong. However, when he looked up, his joyous face turned down, and his heartbeat quickened when he saw how cold and mad you were. Your anger wasn't directed at him, instead, you were staring at the board coldly. But he knew at that time, he fucked up.

“I’m tired of this stupid game.” The chair scraped the floor, as you stood up so fast and grabbed your coat, placed atop the top rail.

“Hey wait!” He tried to stop you from walking out but he accidentally bumped into the board, almost toppling the cups and kitties over. In panic, he tried to support the wobbling table, and sighed with relief when it stopped shaking. He tried to find you afterwards, but he lost sight of you.

It has been two days, and as his partner hunter, it shouldn't be impossible for you to meet, but you must have been so mad because whenever he asks of you, you decline his calls and only reply in messages as promptly and professionally as an HR. He tried looking for you on your table, but most of the time, you were out or doing something else, whenever he came over. He was about to give up apologizing and accept his fate that he pissed you off at a game, so bad, you decided to cut him off, when Jenna ordered all the alpha team to meet at the unicorns headquarters for a debrief.

And he was right, you were there, but you were sitting in between two hunters he knew nothing about. He wasn't listening at all, he can always check on the information later, but he was afraid that if you manage to sneak out again this time, your relationship will fall apart and he doesn't like the sound of it, even when it wasn't going to happen because he will make sure of it.

“Let’s talk.” Before you can even stand up from where you were sitting, Xavier immediately moves over in front of you, calling your attention in front of the other hunters, making you unable to turn him down.

“Sorry. I should have known you were playing to enjoy that day. I didn't mean to make you mad. I will make sure to be more sensitive in the future about your needs. I know I can be slow at times, sometimes emotionless, but I don't want to repeat the same mistake and lose your company over a silly game.” Xavier started right after the door closed, leaving the two of you alone together. He looks tired. There were visible dark bags right under his eyes. He must have been torturing himself after you gave him the cold shoulder.

You feel silly now. You were not mad at Xavier for winning. It was just a shitty day and you were just looking forward to having a good day and resting with Xavier at your side, when it seems like even the Kitty Cards were against you. Xavier keeps on getting good cards, and you keep getting the most useless advance and number cards. You sighed and closed your eyes. You shouldn't have run away from him. Now, you made it worse and made him feel like he should tiptoe around your mood, instead of enjoying each other's company in your free time.

“Please, don't. It wasn't like that. I was just annoyed about my day at that time and losing was the final straw for me. I’m sorry that I made you feel like that for days. But I wasn't sure how to confront you, especially when I was just acting like a sore loser. Have you not been sleeping well? You have a bag under your eyes.” Worried, you cupped his cheek and moved his face closer to yours, inspecting and noticing how his face looks paler, dry, and tired.

Instead of saying anything, he hums at your touch, and he moves forward, resting his head on your lap.

“Let me take a little sleep. I miss you.” He said before dozing off, and you stroked his hair while he slept.

❄️ Zayne ❄️

Zayne is bad at playing the Kitty Cards game. Due to his fatigue, sometimes he mistook some colors as the same, making his turn score nothing. But today was a bit different. Zayne keeps on winning, and he keeps on using advanced cards that will be fatal on your turn. He steals your advance cards, takes away your good number cards, and freezes your turn. Meanwhile, you keep on getting advanced cards that mean nothing when you have no good cards at hand.

“I win again, huh.” It was obvious that Zayne didn't mean anything from that, other than him wondering why he won again. But maybe you're already at your limit and hearing that made you snap.

“Well good for you. I’m going home.” It was all you have told him before you left him dumbfounded on his seat, leaving him alone at the cafe.

Whatever you did back there was just embarrassing. It was just a game but you took it personally. You're not going to wonder if Zayne refuses to talk to you now, other than being your physician, after that embarrassing display of attitude when you lose. You're not even sure how you're going to talk to him today.

It's your physical exam and it's been two days since you always kept him on read or only replies with emoji. You have to toughen up and apologize. Zayne did not deserve being treated that way.

Upon opening the door to his office, you breathed in, swallowing all the courage you needed. You walked towards the chair and sat in front of him. He was busy typing whatever on his computer, but you know, he already glimpsed on your way, because you felt his heavy stare for a second, before it went back to his task at hand. It didn't take long when he finished and stared you down. It was so awkward and it was at this moment, where you wished to be swallowed down by the earth and be gone. You gulped and opened your mouth to apologize when he started talking first.

“You didn't tell me you were injured that day.” You shivered at the icy tone in his voice. Just like his evol, Zayne can also be cold and scary. He didn't even need for you to emphasize on what he just said, because you already knew what he was talking about. A wanderer caught you off guard hours before meeting Zayne and it scratched your arm. The wound is not that deep, and you already put first aid on it so you never thought about it much, until the small wound did not heal as fast, and almost gave you a fever when it deepens. You realize now that it was the guilt of keeping you're injured to Zayne, and also, being a sore loser from the pain.

“It was very small. I don't want to bother you on your day off so….I kept it.” You squeak, when he glared at you, for being nonchalant about it.

“I don't care if it was my day off. It was my duty to take care of you. I hate it when you lie to me about being fine, when you know too well I can help you.” He continued scolding you, as he inspected the scarring wound, and offensively stared at it.

“I’m really sorry.” Was your only answer, to both, hiding your wound from him and to him receiving the burnt of your pain.

“Also, you can always ask me to switch our cards. I don't mind.” Zayne added as he patched you up.

🧜🏻‍♂️ Rafayel 🧜🏻‍♂️

Rafayel is the ultimate king of petty.

You already know that right from the start but nothing prepares you for the way he massacres you from the game Kitty Cards.

During at the last hurrah of your showdown, Rafayel finally revealed his advance cards, he uses freeze to stop you from playing, uses advance cards that will turn your cup scores into one, kicking out your highest score kitties from the colored cups, and replacing it with his, stealing your deny cards, and using it against you. It was so bad, that on the inside, you felt your blood boil on how cruel it was. If he did it the first time, you would be proud of him, but he’s been winning all the rounds, and every time, it ends up with him brutally winning. His wins hit a nerve and you finally snapped.

“Ha! Please don't cry. Losing isn't that bad.” He said proudly, as Rafayel nodded to himself. He loves teasing you and he enjoys your banter together. He knows at this point, teasing each other is a form of bonding.

He was celebrating his win when he noticed how quiet you were. When he opened his eyes, the smug look on his face dropped and he stopped in his tracks. The look on your face was devastating and he never saw that before. Your scrunched up face, eyes filled with upcoming tears. When both of your eyes met, there seemed like a switch in you, that made you burst into tears. Rafayel, who doesn't know how to handle your outburst, tries his best to console you. But he did not expect that you were still mad at him, so when he tried to hug you, you pushed him away and ran.

Since then, you have refused to reply to his texts. You even muted his calls so you won't have to answer it. Whatever you did that day was so embarrassing that you’d rather sever whatever relationship you have with Rafayel instead of relieving how sore loser you were. It was just a game, and you cried like a baby from it. There were times that you're trying to justify your tears by saying maybe Rafayel’s insults were too much that day, and it was the reason why you burst into tears, but there would be nothing so petty as pushing someone away and running due to losing from a board game.

Sighing, you just accepted that Rafayel will probably stop talking to you. It is what it is as you continue to go on with your day, when your phone blares and a notification about Rafayel being in danger popped up in bold letters. You did not hesitate as you rode your bike and flew to Rafayel’s whereabouts.

You burst through his studio door, and your eyes caught his figure slumped on the floor, leaning to his couch.

“What happened? Are you okay? Did you slip on your paint brushes again?” You asked worriedly, as you touched his shoulder, arms and legs, to see if he injured himself again. You were so worried and kept asking many questions that were meant silently, you were about to unleash the hulk at him for not answering, when you stopped on your tracks when you noticed the frown on his forehead and his glare.

“Really? Do I have to injure myself so you can notice me?” He bit down and you whimpered, not from his anger but from guilt.

“Sorry.” You apologized. You look down and twiddle your thumbs, not knowing how to dissipate the awkwardness of the situation and Rafayel’s glare.

It took a moment before you hear Rafayel’s sigh in defeat and open his mouth to talk again.

“You could have just asked me, and I will allow you to cheat by putting my kitties in different cups, or even by replacing my advance cards. All you have to do is say please.” He continued, exasperated.

All you can do is look down in shame and murmur an apology for acting so childish.

“Just….. don’t ignore me again like that, please. It doesn't feel good when the most important person in your life suddenly stops talking to you.” He added, his voice quivered a bit and you wince when you realize how your action affected him. Opening up his old wounds.

“I’m really sorry, Rafayel. I promise to be better next time.” A silence falls between you again. It took a moment before you realize despite how mad he was, he refuses to move his left hand. The air of guilt slowly turned into worry again.

“Did you injure your left hand?” You asked worriedly and slowly touched his left hand when he flinched and gritted his teeth from the pain.

“Probably sprain it when I fell.”

“You fell!?”

“It's fine, Ms. Bodyguard. I bet it will heal tomorrow. Just feed me for now.” He chuckled at your worried face and you watched him move his left hand with no worry, following your reaction from it. You just shake your head at how silly that was, and was so happy he was okay, before you stood up, helped him up, and treated him like a prince just for today.

[joekeeryswife]

plz could you write something about mase looking after you when you’ve had a rough day with the baby!!

stress - m.m

a/n: hello angel! thank you for your request. omg i love it so much, kinda changed it a little if that’s okay! (dad! imagines own my heart!!!!). idk how to feel about this one so lmk what you guys think! anyways, let’s get on with the imagine, enjoy reading 🫶

mason mount taglist: @noturbabe22 @luvvtrent @peterparkerbae

four weeks, it had only been four weeks since you’d had your baby and you were already feeling like you’d failed her.

you knew becoming a mum would be difficult but you didn’t realise just how hard it was going to be. it was like everything you did was wrong.

Mason had gone back to work only a week after Margot was born and that was one of the worst thing to ever happen. you felt like you didn’t have support even though he would get up with her during the night and as soon as he got back from work he would take over looking after her. what was funny was whenever Mason got back from football she was never crying, it was like she could sense he was coming home.

Margot loved Mason. whenever he had her she hardly cried, she’d watch his face with such concentration and coo at him all the time. but when she was with you, she’d scream and cry no matter what you did.

you felt useless.

you felt like the worst mum in the entire world, not understanding what was wrong with her as she cried just hurt your heart. you just wanted to be in the ‘baby bubble’ everyone spoke about.

you wanted to feel like your friends did when they had their kids. they were always smiling, always happy when they were with their babies who hardly cried when they were with them, it was like you were broken.

today was like no other. it started out okay, Margot was actually happy this morning when you woke up, Mason had given her a bath and put her in the cutest outfit but then as soon as he said his goodbyes to the two of you and he drove out of the driveway, all hell broke loose.

she was just sobbing and it hurt you to hear those cries. “oh Margot, what’s the matter my angel. please don’t cry sweetheart. are you hungry? is that what it is?”

you quickly balanced her with one arm as you tried to lift up your pyjama top so you could breastfeed her but every time you tried to get her to latch she would turn her head away and sob louder.

you had realised that Margot would hardly ever latch when you tried to breastfeed her. it was very rare that she would allow you to breast feed her so you had decided to start pumping your milk and give it to her in a bottle instead and most of the time she would drink it from the bottle.

“how about we get you a bottle instead hmm? would that make you feel better?” you knew she wouldn’t reply to you but it was nice to speak to her. you got up from the sofa after fixing your top and warmed up the milk.

her sobs grew louder as you rocked her. waiting for the microwave to ‘ding’ felt like hours. “i know sweet girl, not long now” you poured the milk once it was warm enough into the bottle and went to sit back down on the sofa. you tried a few times before she finally started drinking the milk, her sobs died down but her eyes were still filled with tears and the tear stains on her cheeks broke your heart.

she was hiccuping slightly as she drank her milk but her eyes were fluttering masa img she was trying her best to not fall asleep. “you rest angel, mummy isn’t going anywhere. and i’m sorry i can’t understand you like your dad does, i promise i’m trying my best”

with that, her eyes closed and it was finally silent in the house. you just hoped today would be a lot better than the rest.

-♡-

Mason was back home a little later than expected tonight, he had been asked to stay back to speak to ten Hag which he forgot to tell you about but he knew you had it all okay at home. you always had Margot in a good-ish mood when he would come home and it was always nice to come home to a quiet house after training or a football match. he would hear shouting all day and coming home was just perfect.

you didn’t want Mason to know you were struggling, to you it felt like the worst thing i’m the world. you were meant to be a good mum as soon as you gave birth but you just felt like all you did was struggle. you had no idea what you were doing and you didn’t want Mason to be disappointed in you.

however, tonight Margot would not stop crying. after her bottle this morning she napped for maybe 30 minutes before her sobs started again and that continued for the entire day. you didn’t know what to do and you felt like you had failed as a mother. you had no idea what was wrong with her and you hated that you couldn’t understand what she was crying for. you felt like she hated you.

as Mason entered the house he could hear the wails coming from Margot, he had never ever heard her sound like this before and or worried him. he could hear you, speaking to her softly over her cries, you sounded just as upset as her. “i’m so sorry angel, i don’t understand why you’re crying. i’ve fed you, cuddled you, changed you, i don’t know what else i can do. i’m sorry i’m failing you”

his heart broke. he walked into the living room and saw you holding Margot in your chest with tears streaming down your face. you looked so defeated and he hated it. “hey, what’s going on? are you okay?” he questioned as he slowly walked towards you.

you hadn’t heard the front door close so hearing him made you jump. you didn’t want him ti see you like this so you quickly wiped your eyes and showed him your best convincing smile. “oh yeah i’m fine, she’s just, i don’t know what’s the matter. i think she just might be tired” you lied, of course you weren’t okay.

“do you want me to take her?” he held is arms out so he could take Margo from you so you quickly passed her to him and he gently started rocking her which no i’m surprise stopped her cries. you felt your heart break. was it really that easy?

your eyes filled with tears, jealousy and frustration taking over your body as you saw how easy it was for him to calm her down. “look, go upstairs and have a shower, i’ll take care of Margot and you just have a break okay?we can talk after if you want to” he watched your shoulders drop slightly and your chin quiver as you tried to hold in your tears, something was definitely wrong and he was going to figure out what.

once he heard the bathroom door close he sat down on the sofa with Margot. he watched her huge brown eyes dart across his face. “what’s happened angel? you giving mama a hard time?” she cooed at him, a small smile on her face which looked exactly like yours. “you can’t give mama a hard time honey, mama’s with you all day” she squealed, obviously not understanding him.

“i’m sure you tired, if you’ve been crying like that all day i’m surprised you’re up right now” he decided to grab a bottle and try get her to nap so he could speak to you. he had never seen you like that before.

he warmed up the bottle and went upstairs to her nursery and sat in the rocking chair. he started feeding Margot and immediately her eyes started to close, he honestly wished that he was able to stay off work with you when Margot was first born. he had only gotten a week off work before he had to go back and he felt awful but ten Hag wouldn’t give him anymore time off.

once Margot finished her bottle he turned on the white noise machine and put her down into her crib. he quickly exited her bedroom to leave her to nap and went to your shared bedroom. he wanted to talk to you, you barely speak to each other now and he wanted to spend time with you.

after waiting for a while you finally came out the bathroom in new pyjamas and your hair was wrapped in a towel. your eyes were red, it was obvious you had been crying. “hey” you said, noticing him on the bed. he opened his arms and waited for you to sit on the bed next to him so he could hug you.

you quickly got onto the bed and cuddled into him. “we haven’t cuddled in ages, we haven’t spoke in ages. i want to know what’s bothering you sweetheart. i’ve never seen you look so upset” he kissed your forehead.

“i just, i feel like i’m not a good mum. like everyday all she does as soon as you leave is scream and cry and i’m trying my best to understand what’s wrong with her and i’m struggling. i’m struggling a lot” you felt your eyes well up with new tears. Mason felt his heart break. he was annoyed with himself for not noticing sooner.

“it feels like she hates me. and i just feel stupid because as soon as she’s with you, you calm her down. she even smiles at you. i’m feeling so lonely and i feel like a terrible mum.” your tears started flowing down your cheeks. you were quietly sobbing as Mason pulled you in closer and ran his hand up and down your back.

“i’m so sorry sweetheart, i really am. i’m sorry i haven’t been here to support you, i’m sorry you’ve had to do it all on your own. it’s not fair at all. and i’m sorry you think that you’re a bad mum because you aren’t. you are the most incredible mum” he heard your sniffles, guilt eating him alive.

“if you weren’t a good mum you wouldn’t do half the shit you do now. she doesn’t hate you angel, she loves you. you don’t know what she tells me when i come home” he joked which made you giggle through tears.

“i know it is tough right now, but i promise it’ll get better.” you looked up at him with uncertainty. “it will, stop giving me that look” he gave you a sympathetic smile. he hated that you were feeling this way, he wanted you to enjoy being a mum.

“you stay here for a bit, i need to go do something. don’t come downstairs until i say alright? just watch some tv and i’ll be back” he gave you a few pecks before he left you in the bedroom, confusion filling your body. but nevertheless you grabbed the remote and turned on the tv, trying to finally relax.

-♡-

it had been over an hour since Mason asked you to stay upstairs and all you could hear downstairs was Mason’s footsteps. you had absolutely no idea what he was doing and you were nervous to even go back downstairs.

“y/n sweetheart you can come down now” you heard him shout up to you so you quickly turned off the tv and made your way downstairs. whilst you were upstairs Mason did come to get Margot who had awoken from her nap about thirty minutes into him leaving you upstairs.

you had gone to get her out of her nursery but Mason quickly shooed you away back to the bedroom so he could take care of her. you were grateful he went to help Margot, he knew how stressed you were and he was trying to make you feel better so he took Margot downstairs with him.

you walked down the stairs and into the living room and saw blankets and pillows covering the sofa with your favourite food on the coffee table and your favourite movie ready to play on the tv. Mason was holding a now very aware Margot who actually reached out for you.

“i know it’s not much but i thought maybe we could spend time together for once?” Mason handed Margot over to you and kissed you passionately. “i’d love to” you kissed him one more time before you both made your way to get under the covers on the sofa.

Mason pulled you into his hold and kissed your forehead. “i know this doesn’t make up for what’s been happening these past few weeks but i do want you to know me and Margot appreciate everything you do” you felt a smile form on your face as he spoke, he had a way with words which always made you feel special.

“i have also spoken to ten Hag and told him that i’m gonna take a few weeks time off to look after you both. i don’t want you to feel alone, ever, because i am here for you” you looked up at him, it was the first time he’d seen you smile in ages.

“i know you are, you didn’t need to take a few weeks off. will he not get angry at you?” you kissed his cheek and he shook his head. “i didn’t get to take the time of when she was first born so i i don’t care if he’s mad. i have a family to look after” he lent down to kiss you again.

you didn’t know why you were so anxious to tell Mason how you were feeling, you knew he would help you and you appreciated him. “thank you mase, i love you” he smiled at you “i love you more”.

[pinejayy]

Muzan, Douma and Gyokko having a human girlfriend

I’m simply writing these because I’m simping so hard for these Demon men so these are mostly for my dirty minded head uwu

Kinda went the extra mile for daddy Gyokko mm

SFW and NSFW Headcanons!! 

Muzan Kibutsuji

SFW 

Muzan is a harsh Demon and even towards you. Despite being his lover he’ll still treat you like hot garbage. But as time passes by he will warm up to you. But don’t expect him to be the kindest.

You should be lucky to even be looking at his direction, with him being the Demon King and you just being a weak human girl. And be grateful that he hasn’t killed you yet. Just don’t anger him, it won’t end pretty for you. 

Deep down Muzan cares for you but he doesn’t know how to show it, but if you were to help him with these new emotions he’ll appreciate it. 

BUT OH BOY MUZAN IS A SUGAR DADDY, AND YOU KNOW IT! You want something he already has it for you. You want money, here’s a bag sweetheart go spoil yourself. He’ll shower you with expensive gifts, but lacks in emotional love. 

Always has an eye on you, he’ll protect you. He knows how fragile Humans are and if someone dare lays an eye on you they better hope he’s in a good mood and if not he’ll kill them in cold blood and he doesn’t care if they are an upper moon. He can always replace them. 

NSFW

Muzan loves pinning you against his bed, he loves watching you struggle. He’s definitely into predator and prey play. He’s always top! So don’t bother asking him if you could be on top.

He loves to tie you up, and he loves tracing a long nail against you soft skin, he’ll even apply some pressure to draw blood out. AND HE LOVES BLOOD PLAY!! HE ESPECIALLY GETS EXCITED ON YOUR PERIOD.

Sometimes he’ll be cool enough to where you can give him a blow job while he’s working. Just like imagine you under the desk and you’re going down town on his dick. 

His favorite sex position is missionary, he feels like he has total power against you. He loves the way you make faces when he hits a certain spot. But he just likes it when he’s in charge.

He’s rough, and you’re gonna be screaming his name. Every Demon is going to hear you moan his name out.

Douma

SFW

Douma is a huge selfish asshole, he loves getting under your skin. But this demon ‘Loves’ you. And by love you I mean you’re just a plaything for him. A pet....and a master always needs his pet.

He is a huge sucker whenever you praise him, so you better get on your knees and tell him on how great he is, how handsome he is. Douma is also gonna use you as a foot rest. 

He loves making sure that you know that you’re just a pet for him. Nothing more...But you’re his favorite so you have that going for you. Yes it’s gonna hurt you but his attention makes you go crazy. 

Since you’re his favorite pet he’s gonna make sure you’re always dressed so well. He is Upper Moon 2 so you have to look pretty for him. 

This sick bastard loves playing with your feelings, like he loves reminding you that you mean nothing to him, that you’re useless, you’re nothing but a pet. And that you’re bound to him until you die.

NSFW

Like I said, this bastard sees you as pet and only as a pet. So you better get on your knees and suck him off. And praise him while you’re at it. He’ll just laugh and shove his cock deeper down your throat. 

He loves hearing you beg, like you’re in the mood. He’ll make you beg and simple please won’t do you well. You have to get on your knees and cry to him, Cry on how bad you want him. 

Douma loves the way you taste, the way his tongue moves against your clit and all the sensitive areas. And you better let him have a tasty treat when it’s that time of the month. 

He loves whenever you ride him, the way your chest bounces up. It will drive him crazy!! He also loves marking you, that includes biting, scratchs and bruises.

He’s very selfish so don’t get upset when he thinks about his pleasure first rather than yours. Oof.

Gyokko 

SFW

Oh boy! Gyokko is probably the one who’s gonna treat you better. I mean you are his and his only!! YOU’RE LIKE AN ART PIECE TO HIM! The way you smile and laugh he just loves it! You’re his favorite kind of Art. 

He adores you, he doesn’t know how he landed on such a beautiful girl as your self. And he’s so grateful for you, I mean he knows he isn’t the best looking but with you he feels special.

Please praise him!! I’m begging you!! It will make him feel special!

My sweet boy loves gifting you his pots! And he always gives you the best ones!! The best ones for his best beautiful girlfriend!

He’ll make you carry him if he’s in his pot, but this handsome demon loves late night walks with you.

But if he’s in his final form *daddy*he’ll treat you like a toy. A delicate toy. 

Whenever he comes back to you and he’s badly injured you’ll gladly give him some of your blood!

If anyone looks at you and or even tries to flirt with you he’ll shove their body into a pot. No one is deserving enough to lay eyes on your beauty!!

Despite being Upper Moon 5 he’ll hurt the other Upper Moons if they try to flirt with! And with that being said he doesn’t like Douma! That sneaky bastard is always trying to flirt with you.

NSFW

Our boy is gonna put your pleasure first!! He loves making you moan and squirm around. And the way you moan out his name it drives him crazy!!

Two he has two mouths that means twice the kisses! Twice the dirty talk! And twice the tongue of you know what I mean. Wink wink~

He loves praising your body, he loves kissing every single part of your body. He loves telling you how beautiful you are. He loves dragging his fingers against your soft and delicate skin. He loves the way you smell it, so intoxicated for him.

Imagine two tongues pleasing you orally! He’s a god at it! He’s gonna have you shaking, your knees shaking.

As for him, he loves pleasing you with his final form. He loves wrapping his body against your naked body. He could squeeze you, but he won’t. 

With your permission he would like to cover you in blood (obviously not your blood) but he’ll like to cover you in someone’s blood. Imagine your naked body covered in blood and he just licks it off.

This artist would love to paint you. Like you better pose for him naked and he’ll paint you onto a pot. And of course no one is gonna see the pot. That’s his special pot and that’s only for his eyes.

Gyokko is gonna please you to the end, you’re his special little art piece. He deeply loves you.