#i ran out of things to say at the end there but yeah

[insidekatmind]

HYDRA- BROCK RUMLOW

Wearning: +18,angst, smut.

Request: yes!

It was an ordinary day or at least it seemed that way. The sunlight filtered through the blinds in your room, drawing streaks of light on the floor. You stretched lazily, your body still wrapped in the warmth of the bed. Brock had kissed you goodbye quickly that morning, leaving with an excuse about an emergency at work.

“Don’t be late,” you had said, your voice still heavy with sleep.

“Promise, Y/N,” he replied, a smile he could never quite hide completely.

You never thought too much about the fact that he worked for S.H.I.E.L.D., even though his position was shrouded in secrecy. "Protocol," he would say whenever you asked about his work. And you, trusting him, never pushed too hard for answers. But that evening, everything changed.

You were in the living room, immersed in a book, when an unusual sound from Brock’s phone caught your attention. He had left it on the table before heading out, something he never did. The persistent vibration and the words “Operation Herald” flashing on the screen piqued your curiosity.

“Strange…” you thought.

Biting your lower lip, you hesitated between ignoring it and checking. Curiosity won out. Swiping the screen quickly, you found a cryptic message:

“Mission compromised. Eliminate Y/N if necessary.”

The blood froze in your veins. You must have read it wrong. You reread the message, hoping it was a mistake. But no, it was there, clear as day.

When Brock returned that evening, your heart was pounding. You tried to act normal, but he knew you too well.

“Everything okay?” he asked, tilting his head as he took off his jacket.

“Yeah, sure,” you lied.

But it wasn’t so easy to hide your nervousness. During dinner, he watched you in silence. Every now and then, his eyes seemed to scan you, as if searching for something. After clearing the dishes, you couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Brock,” you began, your voice tense, “what is Hydra?”

He froze. The spoon he was drying stopped mid-air. His eyes pierced through you, cold as ice.

“Why are you asking?” he replied slowly, with a forced calm that sent shivers down your spine.

“I found a message on your phone.” You were direct. There was no way to sugarcoat the truth.

The tension in the room became palpable. Brock set the spoon down and approached you slowly, as if afraid you might run.

“Y/N…” he murmured, his tone low and menacing. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Shouldn’t have done what? Found out you’ve been lying to me this whole time? Found out you’re… you’re one of them?”

His face twisted for a moment, then his demeanor changed. The mask fell, revealing a man you had never seen before.

“And if it’s true?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “If I am Hydra, does it change anything? Am I not the same man you love?”

You stared at him in disbelief. “You have the nerve to ask me that? You’re a traitor, Brock! Everything we have… is it a lie?”

“Not everything,” he countered. “I love you, Y/N. That’s real. But there are bigger things at play. Hydra is the future. And I want you to be part of it.”

You shook your head, stepping back. “I can’t believe what you’re saying. I can’t…”

Brock stepped closer, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “Don’t make this harder, Y/N. Come with me. I’ll protect you. No one will hurt you.”

“Protect me?” you shouted, your voice cracking with emotion. “From the world or from you?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Brock stared at you, the conflict clear in his eyes. Finally, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Then you’ve made your decision,” he said, his voice icy. “What a shame. I would’ve liked to have you by my side.”

You didn’t wait for him to say more. With one last, pained look, you ran out the door, your heart shattered and only one certainty left: the man you loved was your worst enemy.

But you knew this wasn’t the end. Brock Rumlow would find you. And this time, you’d be ready.

---

Five months had passed since that event and you now lived alone in a small studio apartment.You walked into your apartment and placed your bag on the couch and felt like you were being watched.

Sitting in a darkened corner, a tall, built silhouette watched you intently, his eyes never leaving your form.His gaze burned through the shadows, observing your every move. He was like a statue, still and silent, but his presence was suffocating, filling the room with a tension that sent shivers down your spine.

Brock Rumlow had found you, just as you had expected. The question was, what would he do now?

You turn on the light and there's Brock sitting there. "What are you doing here?" You murmur without moving closer to him.

Brock doesn't move, just keeps looking at you intently, his icy gaze fixed on your form."Isn't it obvious?" he says in a low voice, tilting his head slightly, his eyes roaming over your face. "I had to find you."He stands up slowly, and only now it's clear how imposing he is. He's towering over you, his muscular frame like a wall of muscle, his presence suffocating.

He takes a step closer to you, his gaze never leaving your face.“You look good,” he says finally, his voice a low, almost growl. “I missed you.”The confession hangs in the room for a long moment, like a dagger pointed straight at your heart. But you don’t let the emotion show on your face, keeping your expression neutral, guarded.

He takes another step closer, almost closing the distance between you. His eyes roam over your body hungrily, taking in every inch of you.“You’re still wearing the necklace I gave you,” he says, his gaze suddenly fixing on the small charm that hangs around your neck. It’s a delicate silver heart, a silent reminder of happier times.

Instinctively you touch your necklace, averting your gaze and moving away a little.

He notices the gesture, and a smirk twitches on his lips.“Don’t pretend you didn’t miss me.”Brock follows you, closing the distance again in a few strides. He’s now standing so close that you can feel his body heat, his presence overwhelming.

He reaches out, his fingers tracing the curve of your neck.“I know you better than you know yourself, Y/N,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “I know how your body reacts when I touch you. Here…”His fingers trail down to your collarbone, caressing lightly. You shiver involuntarily under his touch.

“And here…”His hand moves to your waist, pulling you closer with an almost effortless strength. Your body responds without consent, your pulse quickening. You try to hold back, but it’s harder than you thought.

"What are you doing here Brock?" You whisper, looking at him.

“I told you,” he says, his voice a guttural whisper, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “I had to find you.”

Brock leans down, his forehead touching yours lightly, his hands still on your waist, holding you firmly. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, the scent of his aftershave so familiar it makes your heart ache.

"Why?" you try trying not to give in and hold him tight.

“Because I couldn’t let you go like that,” he responds, his voice filled with an odd mix of anger, hurt, and something else you can’t quite place.

Brock pulls you closer, his body nearly molding against yours. He’s holding you tight now, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. His hands are on your back, his fingers pressing into your skin almost possessively.

You lean into his chest and sigh, closing your eyes for a second. "How did you find me?" You murmur into his chest.

He doesn’t answer immediately, instead nuzzling his face into your hair. He breathes in the scent of you, committing it to memory.“I have my ways,” he finally says, his voice rumbling in his chest. He pulls back slightly, looking down at you. “You can never hide from me, Y/N. You’re mine. Don’t forget that.”

His words send a chill down your spine, the possessive tone stirring up a mixture of emotions. You pull back a little, looking up at him.

“I’m not yours, Brock. Not anymore,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “You made that choice when you lied to me, when you chose Hydra over me.”

His jaw clenches at your words, his eyes darkening.“You make it sound so simple,” he retorts, his voice taking on a harsher edge. “But it’s not, Y/N. It’s not simple at all.”

He steps back, running a frustrated hand through his hair. He’s clearly struggling, some inner conflict playing out on his face.“I never wanted to lie to you,” he says finally, his voice quieter than before. “I needed to protect you. I still do.”Brock looks at you with such intensity that it’s almost overwhelming. He’s silently pleading for understanding, for forgiveness, but you’re too hurt to give it easily.

You look at him biting your lip. “Did you kill anyone?”

He hesitates, his silence speaking volumes. When he finally answers, his voice is low, rough.“Yes,” he says simply, his gaze unwavering.

You can see the weight of his words hanging in the air, the reality of what he’s done sinking in.“Why?” you whisper, your voice cracking slightly. “How many?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, his eyes going distant as if remembering something. After a moment, he looks at you, his face hard.“Enough,” he says, his voice cold, emotionless.

His silence is maddening, each unanswered question hanging between you like a heavy cloud. This isn’t the man you knew, the man who held you close and whispered words of love and comfort. This is someone else, a stranger wearing the face of the love of your life.

"Would you kill me too if they asked you?" you ask, looking at him.

He flinches at your question, the hurt in your eyes cutting through his cold exterior.“No,” he says, his voice suddenly ragged, the coldness seeping away. “I couldn’t, Y/N. I wouldn’t.There’s a desperation in his voice, a frantic edge that betrays his inner struggle. He takes a step closer to you again, his hands coming up to cradle your face tenderly.

You lean into his touch, closing your eyes.He pulls you closer, his arms encircling you firmly. He buries his face in your hair, his breath coming out in ragged gasps.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters into your hair, his voice low and rough. “I’m sorry for everything, Y/N.” Brock repeats the words like a mantra, holding you tightly, as if afraid you’ll slip from his grasp.

You melt at his touch and his words and decide to forgive him. You hug him tighter and rub his back.

He lets out a deep sigh, his body relaxing as he melts into your embrace. He buries his face deeper into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.“I missed you so much,” he murmurs, his voice muffled. He pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes that you haven’t seen before, the facade of the stoic field agent slipping.

“you too” you whisper.His eyes roam over your face, taking in every detail as if seeing you for the first time. Then, without warning, he claims your lips in a passionate kiss, crushing you against him.

He kisses you desperately, his tongue demanding entry into your mouth. He tastes like you remembered - a mix of cigarettes and coffee, a flavor that was once so familiar that you almost forgot it. His hands roams over your body, as if trying to remember the shape of you, the feel of you.

You kiss back, holding onto Brock as you kiss him more passionately.He moans into your mouth, the sound a low, guttural rumble. He backs you up until you hit a wall, pinning you there with his body. He’s everywhere - his hands, his mouth, his breath, the solid bulk of him pressing into you. The world outside seems to fall away, leaving just the two of you in a moment of raw, desperate passion.

His lips move down your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses. His hands slide under your shirt, caressing your skin as he kisses down to the hollow of your collarbone. He’s everywhere, all around you, his touch sending electric shivers down your spine.

You moaned at his touch and kisses and gave him more space as you closed your eyes in pleasure.He grins against your skin at your noises. He’d always loved the sounds he could get out of you, and hearing them now only fueled his desire. His lips continued their path down your neck, nipping and sucking, leaving a trail of small, dark marks on your skin.

His hands were everywhere, roaming over your stomach, your sides, your back. He was rough, almost greedy, as if making up for lost time. He pushed your shirt out of the way, his mouth blazing a path down your chest, his breath hot against your skin.He pressed you more firmly against the wall, his body trapping you there. You felt vulnerable under his touch, exposed, but also desired in a way that only he could make you feel. He nipped and sucked at the soft skin of your chest, leaving more marks, his body pressing into you with a mixture of possessiveness and need.

Brock immediately takes off your jeans and did the same with his and then picked you up and carried you to your bedroom.He carries you with ease, his muscles rippling under his shirt. He pushes open the bedroom door and deposits you onto the bed before climbing over you, his body trapping you again. He looks down at you, his eyes burning with a mixture of desire and something else, something deeper, darker.

“Brock,” you murmur as you take off his shirt.He helps you undress him, his eyes never leaving yours. The sight of his bare chest sends a shiver down your spine, the taut muscles and tanned skin so familiar yet so new at the same time. He leans back down, his body pressing against yours, the heat of his skin against yours like fire.

He takes off his boxers and pulls down your thong to enter you. While doing this he kissed you passionately.He kisses you hungrily, as if trying to convey with his lips all the things he can’t say out loud. He’s rough, his hand gripping your hip possessively, but there’s also a tenderness in the way his lips caress yours. He pulls you closer, molding your body to his, as if he can’t get enough of you.

You moan through the kisses feeling his strong movements.He responds to your moans, his movements becoming more intense, more desperate. He’s holding nothing back, every thrust driven by a primal need to claim you as his. He’s lost in you.“I missed this,” he grits out, his voice ragged and low. “I missed you, missed being this close to you, missed the way you feel under me.”

You moan at his words and cling to him. “Me too Brock, I missed you so much” you whisper.He growls at your admission, his arms wrapping around you, holding you tight against him. “Say it again,” he demands, his voice a hoarse whisper against your ear. “Tell me you missed me.”

“I missed you so much” you say moaning feeling his thrusts get stronger.Brock groans, the sound deep and primal, as if he’s holding on by a thread. He kisses you, hard, his tongue tangling with yours. “You have no idea how much I need to hear that,” he mutters against your lips. “How long I’ve needed to hear you say it.”

He kisses you again, deeper, more hungrily, as if trying to consume you. His body is moving against yours in a primal rhythm, the raw need between you building with each passing second. “You’re mine,” he growls, his voice rough and possessive. “Say it.”

You moaned at his possessiveness and his thrusts that became more and more animalistic. "I'm yours, all yours Brock".The words seem to unleash something in him. He grips you tighter, his fingers digging into your skin almost possessively. “That’s right,” he mutters, his voice a low growl. “You’re mine, and I’m never letting you go again. Never.”

He starts to move faster, the pace more frantic, more desperate. He kisses you again, as if he can’t get enough of your mouth, of your taste. “Say it again,” he says, his voice ragged and low. “Tell me you’re mine.”

You moan at his thrusts and scratch his back. "Yours, only yours".His body tenses at your words, his muscles rippling under your hands. “Damn right you are,” he mutters, his voice thick with a mix of desire and something darker, something possessive. “You’re mine, and I’m gonna make sure you never forget it.”

He moves faster, more urgently, his hands roaming over your body, as if caressing every inch of you. He kisses, bites, and sucks at your skin, marking you as his, everywhere he can reach. “You’re mine,” he whispers, his voice thick and ragged. “No one else’s.”A sense of almost frenzied desperation seems to take over, fueled by months of separation and the weight of what he’s done. There’s an edge to his movements, a fierce need to claim you, body and soul. “Mine,” he repeats, a primal growl in his voice. “You’re all mine, Y/N.

Always.”You moan and hold onto him. "I'm coming".He moans, the sound coming from deep in his chest. “Come for me,” he mutters, his voice tight and ragged. “Come for me, and say my name. I need to hear you.”

His thrusts became harder and you screamed louder and louder. “Brock” you yelled as you came.He grunts, his body tensing as he responds to your release. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. “Say it again,” he growls, his voice rough. “Say my name again.”

You screamed his name louder and louder as he came inside you.He groaned as he came, his body shuddering against yours. He buried his face in your hair, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. “Y/N,” he muttered, his voice rough and ragged. “I… I…”

He trails off, seemingly lost for words. The raw emotion in his voice is clear, a rare vulnerability showing through the gruff exterior. He stays there for a moment, his body still pressed against yours. He seems suddenly young, like the boy you fell in love with so many years ago.He pulls back slightly, looking down at you. His eyes are dark, still filled with need and desire, but there’s something more there now - a depth, a vulnerability. “I love you,” he says, his voice hoarse. “I’ve always loved you, Y/N. And I always will.”

You smile softly at his words and kiss his cheek. “I love you too and will always love you Brock” you say sweetly.His expression softens, something like relief flickering across his face. He cups your face in his hands, his thumbs rubbing tenderly over your skin. “Damn,” he mutters, his voice a rough whisper. “How did I get so lucky?”

You smile and stroke his hair.He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his eyes roaming over you as if trying to memorize every feature. “I don’t deserve you,” he says quietly. “I never deserved you. But I’m never letting you go again. I need you too damn much.”

He pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you possessively. “You’re mine, Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice suddenly fierce again. “Every part of you, completely mine.”

[duckprintspress]

Indie Press Web Ring: Interest Check

I don’t know how many of the folks reading this were as active in Ye Olden Days Of The Internet as I was, but circa 2000, discoverability for a webpage was a very different process than it is now. I ran a fan site back in the day, and then, the key was getting involved with similar web pages and building connections, especially trying to get listed on relevant link farms and joining web rings related to things my page was about. A web ring is a lot like a link farm, but instead of being “one page with a big ole list of web pages,” it’s instead an interlinking system. Every website in the ring bears a badge and links to the full list, the previous site, and the next site, and the idea is that if someone clicks “next site” enough times, they’ll circle through the entire list of sites in the web ring and end up back where they started. Rings were always very handy for driving traffic (from the web site owner point of view) and for finding a lot of like-minded web sites (from the user point of view).

See where I’m going with this?

With big corporations now dominating the internet and often drowning out softer voices or throttling traffic to smaller pages, with our SEO often buried by the clamor of useless ads unrelated to our work, I’m looking back to how I used to find people to request WinAmp skins from me and thinking it’s time to go back to The Old Ways.

All of which is to say: I’d like to make a web ring for indie publishers. Especially for indie publishers on the smaller end of the spectrum and those who work in speculative fiction, LGBTQIA+ creators and works, or both. As in: places like Duck Prints Press.

But a web ring can’t possibly be composed of only one web page, and that’s where this post comes in. Do you own an indie press or run the website for one? Would you be interested in having the site for your press be included in a web ring of indie presses? Then fill out my web ring interest check! I figure if I can get about a dozen folks interested, I’ll put something together.

I hope to get to know y’all!

Not an indie press? please signal boost to help spread the word!

Absolutely zero pressure ping to a few indie presses I know have Tumblr accounts. @inclusivefuture (I know you're closing down but... yeah. <3 ) @spacefruitpress @archiveoftheodd @thewhumpyprintingpress @echolitmag

@oficmag @midnightmeadowpublishing

[catgirlcalling]

Potential dialogue prompt:

"What did I do? Was i too much for you?"

"Oh god no Evan, it's me. I'm the one who's not enough, you're perfect."

We have a winner folks, you got me! Thank you so much for the prompt, because I just wrote my first little fanficlet since I was in the LOTR fandom back in 2004 😅 Here you go:

"What did I do? Was I too much for you?"

"Oh god no Evan, it's me. I'm the one who's not enough, you're perfect."

I’m not, is on the tip of Bucks’ tongue, and he knows Tommy can see it on his face when he presses on before the protest forms.

“The way you just accepted yourself, you agreed to a date with a man with no hesitation when you’d only realised it was an option a minute before,” a sad smile crosses Tommy’s face that Buck feels himself mirroring. “The way you didn’t question it until we ran into Eddie, and even then you were more worried you’d hurt me and lied to him than you were about coming out. You came out at your sisters’ wedding without a care in the world,”

Tommy pauses and looks up at the high ceiling of the loft. Buck watches his fingers clench and unclench in his lap as he tries to find the words, soot from the four alarm fire staining his nails still. Both the 118 and the 217 had been called to the warehouse fire and by luck, or serendipity or another damn curse they’d run into each other on site.

After an awkward minutes silence staring at each other between the firetrucks, something in Buck had finally snapped. He needed answers, but mostly he wanted…needed to talk to Tommy. But not here.

“Uhm, h-hi,” he stammers, then steels himself, tries to think what his therapist would tell him to do. “There’s a lot I want to say, a-and I think we need to talk, but we’re working. Call me, when we’re done?”

He swallows hard, and moves to walk past Tommy when he gets no answer after a beat. Before he makes it past the end of the truck, he hears Tommy’s voice, low and sad. “Yeah, ok.”

Which was how they ended up here, seated at the kitchen counter in Bucks loft, the deja vu from the last time they sat here not lost on either of them.

Tommy’s eyes finally fall and return to Buck’s, with a gentle sigh, “You said you admired me, and the way you talked about me…I don’t deserve any of that praise. I’m not perfect, Evan. I’ve done and said some awful things just to save my own skin, I was ashamed of who I am for so long, and I’m even a little jealous of you for how easily you accepted yourself and how you stood up for others. The way you see me, it’s amazing, it is…but it’s not me. And I won’t be able to take it the day you see me for the mess I really am. You deserve better than me, Evan. You’re perfect, and I’m so far from it. I didn’t do it just to protect my own heart, but yours too.”

Buck feels the tears sting his eyes as he stares Tommy down, weighing up his words. Then with a sniffle, and to Tommy’s surprise- a chuckle, he gives him a watery grin.

“The day you kissed me, what was I teasing you for?” Buck asked, making Tommy duck his head and give his own sniffly chuckle.

“You have the worst fake mouth static, and you’re a terrible liar- not as bad as Chim but you’re up there. Your taste in coffee is just weird, that amount of sugar is insane. You and my best friend made fun of me for believing in curses. I know you’re not perfect, Tommy. But I was an absolute brat the entire time I was cursed, whining and insecure and needy and too much and….” He pauses and takes a breath, leaning over and reaching for Tommy’s hand, hoping he doesn’t pull away.

“And you saw all of that, and looked after me anyway. You cared even when I was being my worst. Even when you dumped me, even right now I care about you. I know you’re not perfect Tommy…but I-I think you are perfect for me. We can work this out together. Please?”

Buck’s fingers brush against his across the kitchen bench, and they tangle together. Tommy doesn’t pull away.

X

[cosmowgyral]

"Love during Cleaning Time"

▪︎ Gilbert von Obsidian

This is a fan translation so please don't expect it to be 100% accurate. Creative liberties have been taken. All content belongs to Cybird. Reblogs are appreciated. Hope you enjoy!

~chapter 4

Gilbert: What is it, little rabbit?

I grabbed Gilbert’s hand that was resting on my cheek.

Emma: Even so, I want to thank you.

Gilbert: …..

Gilbert: You never listen, do you?

Emma: Thank you for accepting it.

Gilbert: I’ll forgive you for your evil deeds.

Emma: …It may be an outrageous thing for me to say, but…

Emma: I guess the most important thing is how I perceive the incident now, isn’t it?

Letting go of his cold hand, I picked up the report that Gilbert was holding.

The entire incident may be frightening to some.

(Even I wouldn’t have been able to accept it so easily in the past.)

Emma: If Michael hadn’t been there, I would have been attacked by bandits.

Emma: It would have been one thing if they just stole the books, but in the worst case scenario, I might have died.

Emma: No matter the circumstances, I was saved by you.

Emma: Whether it was malice or benevolence, that’s for me to decide.

Gilbert: ……

Emma: Moreover, I’ve come to love you now, Gil.

Emma: Maybe it’s difficult to see it as malicious like before.

(Gilbert warns me like this from time to time to help me maintain my sanity.)

(…..I think he’s quite fair.)

Gilbert: Heehee, such a poor thing.

Gilbert: But, I’m glad you don’t hate me for that.

(……….)

Gilbert gently brushed my hand away and stood up.

Gilbert: We should stop chatting for now.

Gilbert: Emma, you can throw that away.

Emma: Even though it was kept so securely?

Gilbert: Yeah, I don’t need it anymore.

Gilbert: The poor little rabbit is now directly under the supervision of the great villain.

(I see.)

(………..)

(Even though I have become Gilbert’s fiancée, I haven’t been able to fully understand what’s inside his heart.)

(But….I think I know what he’s thinking at this very moment.)

Emma: Gil

I put the report on the shelf and ran towards Gilbert and hugged him.

Gilbert: What is it?

Emma: I’m telling you, this doesn’t mean I’ll forgive everything.

Emma: Sometimes I don’t understand your evil deeds, and at those times I tend to speak up.

Gilbert: Is that so?

Emma: Have you forgotten? I’m watching over you to make sure you don’t cause harm to Rhodolite.

Emma: I’m not the only one being watched, Gil.

(I will determine what is good and what is evil without being misled by Gilbert.)

(That’s….I think that’s what Gilbert expects the most from me.)

Emma: That’s why, don’t worry.

Emma: Even if I love you, I’m not blind.

His blood-coloured eye trembled slightly, and then softened gently.

Gilbert: ….I am at my wit’s end.

Gilbert: You really know everything.

A cold hand strokes my cheek again, and then a shadow falls and covers my lips.

Gilbert: I was finally ready to start cleaning again.

Emma: ..Mmm…Gil..

The great villain didn’t stop pecking at my lips and ran his hands seductively up my waist and back.

Gilbert: I don’t care anymore.

Emma: ..mmm…the cleaning?

Gilbert: You want to do it properly?

Emma: No…

(If you touch me like this, I don’t care either.)

Emma: Maybe…we can do it tomorrow?

The breaths escaping my lips were hot, and my body was already crying out for the cleaning to end.

Gilbert: Ahaha, you’re wicked too, huh?

Emma: You were the one who started first….

Gilbert: Yeah, but…

Gilbert: It’s your fault for responding to it.

(skips to bedroom)

I catch my breath as I bounced back on the jet-black sheets.

Gilbert pinned me down and took off  all my clothes, then continued to caress my skin with frustratingly gentle hands.

There was clear malice in the fingertips that didn’t touch the places I wanted them to touch, but instead just skimmed around it.

(…I’m honestly embarrassed to say it…)

Emma: Now that I think about it…

Emma: Is Michael still in Rhodolite?

Gilbert: Yeah, he’s there.

Emma: Why…ah!

His fingers brushed my nipples, and the throbbing in the depths of my stomach grew even stronger.

Gilbert: Oh my, who said you were the only one Michael was keeping an eye on?

Gilbert: Actually, there is one more person.

(One more person….)

(….Could it be…)

Gilbert: Heehee. You did that on purpose, didn’t you, little rabbit?

Emma: Eh….

Gilbert: To dare to think about another man when I’m right in front of you.

Emma: The only thing I did on purpose was to bring up the topic of Michael.

(I thought if he got jealous, he would touch me more.)

Gilbert: Really? But it doesn’t matter.

Gilbert: I wonder how you can smile so sweetly while thinking of another man.

( I…was smiling.)

(But that’s…..)

Emma: Nghh! Ah, aahh---

Suddenly, the fingers that had been gentle began to strongly stimulate a sensitive spot.

Emma: Wa…wait…..aahh….

My body seemed to be more sensitive than usual, and honey soon began to trickle down between my legs.

Gilbert: That’s terrible. I’m hurt.

I was engulfed in pleasure beyond my imagination----

Just as I was about to lose consciousness, those wicked hands finally let go.

Gilbert: So, what were you smiling about?

Gilbert: Depending on your answer………..you understand, right?

As his fingers flicked my nipple, a moan escaped my lips.

Emma: That’s….n-not…true.

I forced myself to calm my breathing and caught sight of Gilbert’s face through my blurred vision.

Emma: Gil, you…

Emma: I just thought you were a worrywart.

(He can be extremely sweet once he trusts someone.)

(But sometimes, that sweetness can turn into malice.)

Gilbert: It can’t be helped. Because this world…

Gilbert: Contains a lot of stuff that needs cleaning.

[Chapter 3] [Masterlist]

[izumi-fanclub]

A3! Translation: Chikage SSR Card “Moonlight Illuminated Face” [ True Self in the Light ]

Grown man reaching his 30s acting like a highschooler like we in Riverdale

Part 1

Business Partner

“—That’s why, I would like to reschedule today’s meeting…”

Chikage

Noted. …No, it’s alright, don’t worry about it. I’ll see you by New Year or so. Now, if you’ll excuse me.

(...There’s no more meetings left, guess I’ll just go home for the day.)

Izumi

Chikage-san?

Chikage

Director-san, it’s not everyday we meet up in this kind of place.

Izumi

I’m on my way back, I was watching a show at this theater nearby.

I thought there’d be a chance we’d meet since it’s near your company, I didn’t think it’d actually happen…

Are you still working?

Chikage

No, I’m already on my way home.

Izumi

Then, let’s go together—

[sfx: ‘Moonlight Sonata’]

Izumi

…Was that a piano?

Chikage

Yeah… a street piano, look over there.

Izumi

Woah, it’s wonderful, it’s like something out of a movie.

Chikage

Maybe there’s an event or something. I see it every now and then.

Izumi

…

Chikage

What’s up?

Izumi

No, I feel like I’ve heard this song somewhere before. …What was it again?

Chikage That’s—

Itaru

Ah, it really was senpai and director-san.

Izumi

Itaru-san! Good work today. I didn’t think I’d meet you here too.

Chikage

I met director-san by chance on her way home from the theater, and Chigasaki…

Itaru

I took a walk to the convenience store not too far from here as a change of pace.

Chikage

Lies. It’s another game collab thing, isn’t it?

Itaru

Touché, it’s convenience store lottery.

Chikage

Same difference.

Izumi

But you don’t seem to have much stuff, it looks like you’re just carrying one bag from the store…

Itaru

I had them pack it in a box and send it to the dorm.

Chikage

Just how much did you pull? Don’t go adding clutter at the end of the year.

Itaru

Uh-huh, well since you two are here I’ll go home with you. I’ll drive the car around in a bit.

Chikage

…He ran away.

Izumi

Ahaha…

Chikage

We’re home.

Guy

Welcome back, it’s rare for the three of you to be together.

Itaru

We met by chance near the office—

Azami

L-love talk!? No way in hell am I gonna talk about that!

Misumi

Woah~! Azami’s eyes are triangles—!

Azami

What kind of eyes even are those!? And stop taking pictures, Homare-san!

Izumi

Sounds pretty lively.

Guy

A doll artist Arisugawa knows is coming.

Izumi

The one whose exhibition we helped out before—that doll artist…?

Guy

Yes, the upcoming exhibition is being planned out but they seem to have ran out of ideas after the fourth one.

So Arisugawa invited them to the dorm to see if he could give them a hint or two.

Izumi

I see, so that’s what you meant.

Guy

Seems like Izumida and Ikaruga are the topic of interest right now, they’re being taken reference pictures of in the lounge. Itaru

Senpai avoided an event. Too bad he didn’t capture the flag.

Chikage

Don’t bother putting one up again.

Guy

Looks like they’re just about to leave, why not say hello? Izumi

We definitely should.

…By the way, Guy-san, is it okay for you to not open the bar up? Isn’t it about time it’s opened?

Guy

Actually, I was looking for Mikage, but I couldn't find him.

All that’s left to look at is the rooftop…

Chikage

…Geez, I’ll go take a look.

Guy

Sorry, I know you just came home. If you find him, tell him I’m already on my way.

Doll Artist

Thank you so much for today! I think I can think of a great piece now thanks to you.

For my exhibitions, I’d love to ask for your help in PR again!

Izumi

I’ll let Misumi-kun and Azami-kun know.

Homare

But two people certainly isn’t enough, correct?

Doll Artist

Yes, I would be grateful if there were one more person…

Homare

Perhaps we should ask Hisoka-kun for help once again.

Izumi

Speaking of, Chikage-san was looking for him on the rooftop just now…

Chikage

——.

Hisoka

——.

Homare

Oh my, it appears he has secured him safely.

Doll Artist

Um, the guy in the suit is…

Izumi

Spring Troupe’s Chikage Utsuki.

Doll Artist

…

Izumi

(B-by any chance, do they…)

Part 2

Izumi

That’s it for today’s practice, thank you for your hard work!

Spring Troupe

Good job today.

Izumi

——Ah, Chikage-san. May I have a minute?

Chikage

What is it?

Izumi

Do you remember the usual doll artist that came by the other day for ideas?

Chikage

I do, but…

Izumi

Well… Misumi-kun and Azami-kun were asked to be guides for the next exhibition… As well as an offer to you too, Chikage-san.

Chikage

Me?

Izumi Yup.

Chikage

… Can I ask why? I’m pretty sure we didn’t even meet at all that day.

Izumi

Actually, they were already on their way home when they saw you on the rooftop and got inspired by it.

Itaru

Flag collector lol.

Chikage

I don’t remember it being that way.

Thanks I appreciate it… but considering my age, it’s hard for me to agree to it.

Tsuzuru

With a Gymnasium* school world view, I think Chikage-san would be perfect for the role of a student.

Masumi

Not that different from a Japanese high school setting.

Sakuya

A uniform would look good on you too!

Citron

Guy and I wore it too, so it is A-Okay.

Chikage

… To think my escape route would be cut off completely like this.

Well, since Spring Troupe got me assured then… What the hell, sure.

[ Option 1: Thank you so much! ]

Izumi Thank you so much! Chikage I hope I don’t come in and ruin the worldbuilding. Izumi No way! I think the doll artist would be pretty happy! Chikage Really? I’m not too confident, but… I accepted the role so I’ll do my best.

[ Option 2: Chikage-san as a student sounds fun ]

Izumi I think it’d be fun to have Chikage-san as a student! Chikage Aren’t I a little too old to be a student? Izumi More like, it feels like your calm demeanor adds a level of depth to your role. Chikage Calm, huh… sure let’s just say that.

Izumi

Then I’ll be sending you the character sheet.

Itaru

Now that that’s decided, let’s start role prep right away.

Citron

I shall help too!

Masumi

Why are the two who got nothing to do with it the ones excited?

Chikage

Not excited, but teasing’s more like it.

Tsuzuru

I knew it’d be a bit small.

Masumi

It’s doable.

Itaru No way am I gonna wear this outside.

Chikage

I’m grateful that you’re helping me out with the role study but why am I being forced to wear Azami’s uniform?

Citron

You are playing a highschool student, it is only natural to put a uniform on!

Chikage

From a Gymnasium* worldview, I think a blazer would be better suited than a gakuran uniform.

Before that, isn’t it weird you’re all wearing blazers but me?

Citron

There is a proper setting for that!

Chikage

Setting?

Itaru “A transfer student that wears glasses and pretends to be an honor student but is actually a former delinquent and underground boss of the local scene.” kinda setup.

Chikage

Sigh… you’re too rotted by manga.

Sakuya

But you’re a transfer student with a hidden side to him, that’s so cool!

Tsuzuru

I’m not gonna doubt the two people with the Gymnasium experience.

Masumi

Whatever, just hurry it up.

Itaru

Then let’s go on with that setup.

Chikage

…Yeah yeah, I’ll play a delinquent, right?

Izumi

“G-good morning everyone! Please take your seats!”

Chikage

…There’s really no mistaking director-san’s flavor of acting.

Itaru

She’s like a nervous rookie teacher, it’s not so bad.

Masumi

Sigh… cutie…

Izumi

“Today I’d like to introduce a new student! Utsuki-kun, why don’t you introduce yourself?”

Chikage

“... Sure.”

Izumi

“Everyone, feel free to ask Utsuki-kun any questions you might have!”

Chikage

“Utsuki Chikage. Blood type A. Single.”

Itaru

Oh he’s single all right.

Citron

“When fighting your enemies do you finish off with a kick? Or are you the punching type?”

Tsuzuru

That’s background info, you shouldn’t ask that!

“I have a question! What’s your family like?” Chikage

“I got a younger brother.”

Sakuya

“What’s your favorite food?” Chikage

“...Sweets.”

Masumi

“What about your least favorite?”

Chikage

“...Spicy food.” Tsuzuru

Could he be…

“Umm… What are your hobbies?”

Chikage

“... Bikes and sweets?” Izumi

Bikes and sweets…

Itaru

Are you actually playing Juza right now…?

Chikage

The only Japanese delinquents I know are those in Autumn troupe, and since Yuki calls Juza a “classic delinquent”, I took inspiration from him.

Tsuzuru

So that’s why…

Izumi

If the exhibition character really is a delinquent, maybe his student role will be related to Itaru-san and Tasuku-san’s?

Citron

…Then I have an idea!

Chikage

… Why’d we move to the courtyard?

Citron

You cannot pull any punches here!

Sakuya

Ehh? What do you mean?

Itaru

I got a bad feeling.

Citron

Commence the fighting etude!

Itaru

He’s not letting up.

Citron

Fighting is a delinquent’s signature move!

Chikage

Let’s just get this over with. I don’t really wanna be seen looking like this outside.

Itaru

I feel the same way too, but——Hey, Masumi, stop pushing me so hard.

Masumi

What a pain. Hurry it up.

[sfx: phone buzzing]

Izumi ?

Oh, I got the character sheet from the doll artist!

Part 3

Izumi

Apparently they interviewed Homare-san about Chikage-san and used the info as reference.

Itaru

Homare as the source… this ought to be good.

Tsuzuru

What’s it say?

Izumi

First off it says that the theme will be “Gymnasium at Night”

Citron

The vibe is completely different than last time, how interesting!

Itaru

Definitely a shift in mood.

Izumi

Chikage-san’s setting is… on the surface he’s an honor student who acts as the head of the discipline committee——.

But he’s in cahoots with the student body president… and acts as a shadow ruler who controls delinquents behind the scenes.

Sakuya

Woah, that setting’s cool too!

Itaru

Not too far off. A discipline committee president is a pretty OP character.

Masumi

Really Chikage-like.

Citron

Then the OG Chikage can do it!

Chikage

Homare-san, how the hell did he even talk about me…

Izumi

But it seems like even as a student you don’t have to keep up the delinquent role.

Tsuzuru

Yeah, seems like the bad boy act is trashed.

Chikage

True, rather I’ll be the one doing the sanctioning as a disciplinary officer.

Itaru

Not like it changes much.

Matsukawa

Chigasaki-kun, there’s a delivery for you. This one’s pretty heavy so I’ll just leave it here~.

Itaru

… Oh yeah, from that new game I reserved, it’s the prizes I won from the convenience store raffle.

Chikage

I see, so more clutter for the room. It’s no good to play all night in such a state.

Citron

He is already doing his duty as a disciplinary officer!

Itaru

For real.

Masumi

…Hey, it says here your hobby’s the piano, what now?

Izumi

Ah, it does.

Tsuzuru

Speaking of, I know you can play the violin, how about the piano?

Chikage

It’s not that I’ve never practiced it, though… I’m not confident. I mean, I can at least practice pretending to play it.

Customer A

Going to the gymnasium at night makes me feel nervous.

Customer B I’m getting mystery vibes from it!

Misumi

“Shh! You wouldn’t want the teacher to find out, do you~?”

Customer A

Oh, sorry.

Misumi

“Ahaha, it’s fine.”

“Hey, I can show you a special place, do you wanna come with me?”

Azami

“...Senpai, you dropped your pamphlet.” Customer C

Ahh, thank you…!

Customer D Um, is it okay to ask for a recommendation? I’d like to know what you think…

Azami

“...I don’t mind, but don’t get upset if you find it boring.”

Customer D

Of course!

Azami

“Then… this way please, follow me.”

Chikage

“You there, please button up that shirt of yours.”

Customer E

U-understood.

Chikage

“Hey, it’s dangerous to hurry around, watch your steps carefully and walk slowly, got it?”

Customer F Yessir…!

Chikage

“Good.”

Izumi

(Everyone’s adapting to the worldview well, I wasn’t really worried about Misumi-kun and Azami-kun, and…)

(Chikage-san as a disciplinary officer, his mature and mysterious allure matches the role well.)

(That delinquent student image might come in handy in the future…)

Customer A

That was so fun!

Customer B

I was completely immersed in the world building.

Misumi

“Bye-bye~! Let’s hang out again next time♪”

Azami

“... Here, I grew these flowers myself. Please accept these as souvenirs, take care on your way home.”

Izumi

(Looks like the last of the customers left… And Chikage-san is nowhere to be found…)

Izumi

(Chikage-san, where did you go? I’ve just about searched every room we used…)

[sfx: ‘Moonlight Sonata’]

Izumi

… Sounds like a piano?

(It’s… the same song we heard from the street piano the other day.)

(A piano would be… in the music room.)

Chikage

——.

Izumi

(What a nice song…)

Chikage

“——Oh, teacher, good evening. Looks like I’ve been found out.”

Izumi

(Could this be an etude…?)

(Seems like my role’s a teacher again.)

“...It’s a really beautiful song.”

Chikage

“Aren’t you mad? For someone like me, a disciplinary officer, to be in the music room at night?”

Izumi

“You gave such a wonderful show so I’ll let you off the hook.”

Chikage

“...Thank you very much.”

Izumi

“By the way, what’s the name of the song?”

Chikage

“Beethoven’s 14th Piano Sonata——Moonlight.”

Izumi

(Oh right, so that was the title. It’s relieving to have some clarity on its name.)

(On top of that, despite saying he’s not confident with the piano, he played it pretty well…)

You’re really capable of anything.

Chikage

“You mean with the piano?” “It’s nothing special, this song in particular is difficult for me and I’m not even that adept at it.”

Izumi

(Not adept at it? I don’t think so. I mean, it’s not like he’s… aiming to be a professional piano player, right…)

How can you play the piano then, Chikage-san?

Chikage

“Basic education, really. It’s not something I started because I wanted to. Maybe I did it to be recognized by adults when I was young?”

Izumi

I see…?

Chikage

…Director-san, when did you stop acting as a teacher?

Izumi

Ah! You’re right, it was acting…

Then that means all that talk earlier about the piano was…?

Chikage

Wouldn’t you like to know? I’ll leave it up to Director-san’s imagination.

Izumi

Ugh…

Chikage

…At the very least, it’s true that it’s difficult and I’m not very good at it.

Izumi

Did you practice for your role?

Chikage

Just to be on the safe side. I used this song in practice in the past, so I figured I could do this much.

Well, not much has improved. It’s a relief no one requested a piano performance.

Still, I thought of practicing and it just so happens that there’s a piano here, so I played a bit.

The song’s not exactly my forte.

Izumi

I see. …Then, how about something other than that?

Chikage

Who knows?

Izumi

… Feels like I’m being misled once again.

Chikage

It’s never easy trying to dissect the ‘shadow ruler.’

Story Clear!

———T/Ns:———

Gymnasium in this sense means German for secondary education institution, which is equivalent to highschool in Japan.

[ohdorothea]

This tournament is being run by and for queer fans, homophobes will be blocked on sight <3 More info here! Lyrics for the songs under the cut!

Put in the tags your interpretations or propaganda for a specific song! Tags will be used to decide what songs may be saved if there are extra slots in the next round!

ME! lyrics

I promise that you'll never find another like me

I know that I'm a handful baby, uh

I know I never think before I jump

And you're the kind of guy the ladies want

(And there's a lot of cool chicks out there)

I know that I went psycho on the phone

I never leave well enough alone

And trouble's gonna follow where I go

(And there's a lot of cool chicks out there)

But one of these things is not like the others

Like a rainbow with all of the colors

Baby doll, when it comes to a lover

I promise that you'll never find another like me-e-e-eh

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

I'm the only one of me

Baby, that's the fun of me-e-eh

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

You're the only one of you

Baby, that's the fun of you

And I promise that nobody's gonna love you like me-e-e-eh

I know I tend to make it about me

I know you never get just what you see

But I will never bore you, baby

(And there's a lot of lame guys out there)

And when we had that fight out in the rain

You ran after me and called my name

I never wanna see you walk away

(And there's a lot of lame guys out there)

'Cause one of these things is not like the others

Living in winter, I am your summer

Baby doll, when it comes to a lover

I promise that you'll never find another like me-e-e-eh

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

I'm the only one of me

Let me keep you company-e-e-eh

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

You're the only one of you

Baby, that's the fun of you

And I promise that nobody's gonna love you like me-e-e-eh

"Hey, kids.

Spelling is fun!"

Girl, there ain't no "I" in "team"

But you know there is a "me"

Strike the band up 1, 2, 3

I promise that you'll never find another like me

Girl, there ain't no "I" in "team"

But you know there is a "me"

And you can't spell "awesome" without "me"

I promise that you'll never find another like me-e-e-eh

Yeah, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

(And I want you, baby)

I'm the only one of me

(I'm the only one of me)

Baby, that's the fun of me-e-e-eh

(Baby, that's the fun of me)

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

You're the only one of you

Baby, that's the fun of you

And I promise that nobody's gonna love you like me-e-e-eh

Girl, there ain't no "I" in "team"

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

But you know there is a "me"

I'm the only one of me

Baby, that's the fun of me-e-e-eh

Strike the band up 1, 2, 3

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

You can't spell "awesome" without "me"

You're the only one of you

Baby, that's the fun of you

And I promise that nobody's gonna love you like me-e-e-eh

Cornelia Street lyrics

We were in the backseat

Drunk on something stronger than the drinks in the bar

"I rent a place on Cornelia Street"

I say casually in the car

We were a fresh page on the desk

Filling in the blanks as we go

As if the street lights pointed in an arrow head

Leading us home

And I hope I never lose you, hope it never ends

I'd never walk Cornelia Street again

That's the kinda heartbreak time could never mend

I'd never walk Cornelia Street again

And baby, I get mystified by how this city screams your name

And baby, I'm so terrified of if you ever walk away

I'd never walk Cornelia Street again

I'd never walk Cornelia Street again

Windows flung right open, autumn air

Jacket 'round my shoulders is yours

We bless the rains on Cornelia Street

Memorize the creaks in the floor

Back when we were card sharks, playing games

I thought you were leading me on

I packed my bags, left Cornelia Street

Before you even knew I was gone

But then you called, showed your hand

I turned around before I hit the tunnel

Sat on the roof, you and I

I hope I never lose you, hope it never ends

I'd never walk Cornelia Street again

That's the kinda heartbreak time could never mend

I'd never walk Cornelia Street again

And baby, I get mystified by how this city screams your name

And baby, I'm so terrified of if you ever walk away

I'd never walk Cornelia Street again

I'd never walk Cornelia Street again

You hold my hand on the street

Walk me back to that apartment

Years ago, we were just inside

Barefoot in the kitchen

Sacred new beginnings

That became my religion, listen

I hope I never lose you

I'd never walk Cornelia Street again

Oh, never again

And baby, I get mystified by how this city screams your name

And baby, I'm so terrified of if you ever walk away

I'd never walk Cornelia Street again

I'd never walk Cornelia Street again

I don't wanna lose you (Hope it never ends)

I'd never walk Cornelia Street again

I don't wanna lose you (Yeah)

"I rent a place on Cornelia Street"

I say casually in the car

[cikebabbler]

as someone who is absolutely disgusted by the "he's bullying her because he likes her" trope, the only reason why I'm fine with rinezha is they are not that trope. nezha bullied rin because he just hated her and thought she was beneath him. he then started to begrudgingly respect her as his rival when she wiped the floor with his ass during the tournament. then he saw her as his ally when they fought together during the invasion of sinegard. as probably one of the only familiar faces in khurdalain, nezha's respect for rin started to turn into friendship. that friendship turned into affection and a budding love when they started working together in arlong. then whatever twisted thing it turned into after he betrayed her. rinezha isn't your generic enemies to lovers, bully-bullied love story. they are more than just a trope.

[lemongogo]

more

[arolesbianism]

I caved and made them real. Obverse me losing more and more motivation to draw as I made each of these back to back lol

[satorugojoswiife]

Dunno I but I actually feel kinda sad when I see people talking about Gojo like he's some kind of bad person etc etc😩 maybe I take it personally but how can I not when I love him so much😢 do you have such feelings?

No, I get you 😭 it's kind of frustrating to see how often he gets mischaracterized.

[tommygotwrittenoff]

i need eddie to get another guy friend in season 8, and buck loses his shit about it (again), so he breaks up with t because he's convinced that the weird feeling he gets when he sees them together is because he is Really attracted to the new guy.

[chastiefoul]

love and deepspace men when you (playfully) reject their kiss ft. zayne, xavier, rafayel

fluff, fluff, FLUFF

zayne

his kiss landed on the outer corner of your lips instead as you turned away at the very last second as he leaned in

he just stared at you for a solid five seconds.

“was this because i left you on read this afternoon?” his voice was soft, uncertainty danced across his feature. you just shrugged, turning away from him to hide the smile you’ve been trying really hard to suppress.

he grabbed a hold of your waist first, keeping you in place. he saw the shameless smile on your face, couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle of his own. “should’ve known.”

you laughed, “but you did left me on read, how dare you?” his thumb moved up and down on your side as he made no change on his expression, like doing a gesture he didn’t even realize doing it. “alright then, i apologize for not replying within twenty minutes, since i did give you a call as soon as i was available.”

you put your hands on either side of his cheeks, he leaned into the touch. of course, it didn’t bothered you one bit when he didn’t reply right away since you knew very well how demanding his job was.

you planted a sweet kiss on his lips, you could feel his little smile as you pulled away. “good work today, zayne.”

“hm, then surely you would indulge me more of that for a moment longer?”

xavier

he’s quiet for a moment; he did kiss you, but he didn’t know why you’d turn your head on the last second like that as he kissed you on the cheek instead.

he casted his gaze downwards, looking like a rejected kitten in a pouring rain searching for its owner.

your heart squeezed at the adorable act, lifting his chin with your palm. he tilted his head questioningly, the words was obvious on his face. did i do something wrong today? were you mad?

xavier stared at you as he recalled today’s events, but he reached his wits end pretty fast since he still had no idea why you’d reject his kiss.

you then giggled at his clueless expression, and xavier immediately understood that you’re being playful. he let out a little sigh of relief, embracing you. his neck deep at the crook of your neck, his soft hair tickling you in the best way possible.

“you’re too playful at times,” he mumbled, he looked like he had all the peace in the world. “sorry, will you forgive me?” you ran your fingers through the back of his head. “i’ll forgive  you if you promise not to reject my kiss ever again,” he said.

you laughed, “okay then, if you insist.”

rafayel

oh. he looked so offended beyond belief. you’d think someone had insulted his painting; a product from his passion and effort. but to think it’s just a face he made because you didn’t want him to kiss you.

“i see what this is,” he started, the dramatic side of him just wouldn’t let this slide. you challenged, “yeah? what is it?”

“you tell me. this is just the beginning isn’t it. first you reject my kiss, next thing i know you’d be packing your bags, telling me you’ve fallen out of love.” he crossed his arms in front of his chest, his pout was the most exaggerated as it’s ever been.

you had to hold your laugh so hard, you covered your mouth with your fist. “it was just a kiss rafayel, i wasn’t feeling it.” you replied, trying your best to sound serious.

“wasn’t feeling it?” he gasped, like you just insulted his whole entire bloodline. he put up a palm in front of your face, like refraining you to say more controversial things. he took a deep breath to calm himself, “it’s fine, it’s not like i was eager to kiss you either.” he mumbled like he was talking to himself, although it’s obvious he’s being a little loud on purpose. also, lies. he practically bounced on air when he approached you.

finally a laugh escaped you, rafayel looked at you and he just fumed. “just so you know i expect you to make up for all the emotional distress i just went through.” you laughed a little more as you grabbed a hold of his face. “i would kiss you many times to make it up but i think someone just said he wasn’t really that eager to kiss me?” you raised an eyebrow.

his eyes lit up for a moment at the mention of a kiss, and next second he looked around frantically to make an excuse. “it’s okay i understand, fighting that many wanderers who make a lot of strange screeching noises? it’d disturb your hearing a little. i said i was eager to kiss you.” he smiled, nodding to himself. you laughed once more at his ridiculousness.

“sure, let’s go with that excuse.” you kissed him and when you pulled away he held your head, giving you multiple kisses before he let you go with a grin.

[ccwpidsblog]

crashing out — onyakopon

⭐️: nsfw 18+ in which you learn why your fiancé retired from his old ways

cupids arrows: if you’re new here pls ignore my old post 🙏🏾

Onyakopon was the chillest man you’d ever met.

You remember the first day you met your fiancé like it was yesterday. Your puppy had slipped her leash and bolted after the two of you got caught in the rain. Mud was everywhere—on her paws, on the soaked sidewalk—and you watched in horror as she ran straight for the tall, dark-skinned man with deep waves and glistening golden grills, his baggy jeans and fresh Dunks standing no chance against the chaos she brought.

The muddy paws left stains all over his jeans, and you were mortified. You snatched her up quickly, firing off apology after apology, even offering to clean his shoes and pants. You were so embarrassed you swear you felt your soul leave your body.

But he just shrugged it off, his low brown eyes soft, paired with a small smile that eased your panic.

“You good,” he said simply, his voice calm and mellow, while you were seconds from collapsing in shame.

That day never left your mind, especially after you somehow ended up in a relationship with the man. Ony was so... nonchalant.

You yapped his ear off from morning until sundown, never running out of things to say, and he never once complained. When you accidentally knocked over his grinder, spilling his entire stash of weed, he didn’t get mad—he just kissed you on the forehead to quiet your babbling apologies. When you bleached his Chrome Hearts hoodie, almost crying over it, he shrugged and said, “It’s just a hoodie. I’ll get a new one.” And he did.

He was a sweetheart through and through. He spoiled you, listened to you, and made you feel like you could do no wrong. Even when he proposed—after three years together—it was the most emotion and the most words you’d ever heard him say all at once.

Most of your love lived in unspoken gestures. A look, a kiss on the temple, his hand resting on your knee when you ranted about your day. You always seemed to read his mind before he had to say anything. And you were okay with it—Ony’s silence spoke volumes.

So when his friends sat around telling wild stories—about your Ony chasing some guy down three blocks for stepping on his shoe—you just blinked, completely dumbfounded.

“That was not my Onya,” you said, shaking your head.

It was one of those late summer days where the air felt heavy with heat and conversation. You and Ony were at one of Sasha’s backyard barbecues—loud music, too much smoke in the air, and way too many faces you didn’t know. You didn’t mind, though. Ony always brought you along, hand warm in yours, whispering low in your ear, “You good, ma. I got you.”

But today, Ony had disappeared somewhere in the crowd. Probably off somewhere smoking a blunt to cool. You didn’t mind. Coco was leashed at your side, her tail wagging as she sniffed around, and you were content grabbing a soda from the cooler, letting the afternoon sun warm your shoulders.

Until you noticed him.

Tall, built like Ony but rougher around the edges. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, and something about him set you on edge.

“Cute dog,” he said, nodding at Coco, who barked happily.

“Thanks,” you replied, polite but wary. “She’s a menace, but she’s ours.”

The man chuckled, eyes lingering on you. Too long. “Yours and Ony’s, huh? Never thought I’d see the day Ony got himself all... domesticated.”

You blinked, thrown off by his words. “Yeah. We’re engaged.”

For emphasis, you lifted your hand and showed off the engagement ring sitting proudly on your finger. Ony had picked it out himself, saying something about it being “the only rock that could keep up with you.”

The man’s grin faltered for a second before turning sharp again, something ugly flickering behind his eyes. “Man... Ony really cleaned up. Bet you don’t know half of what he used to be on.”

You shifted your weight, suddenly uncomfortable. “Do you know Ony?”

Before he could answer, you felt it. The shift in the air.

You turned to see Ony stepping up, shoulders squared, jaw tight. His calm, lazy demeanor was gone, replaced with something cold and dangerous.

“Yo,” Ony’s voice was low, sharp like a blade. “What the hell you doin’ here, Ricky?”

The man, Ricky, smirked, completely unfazed. “Relax, bro. Just catching up with your girl. Didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to say hi.”

Ony ignored him and stopped in front of you, his hand gently brushing your elbow, like he needed to feel you there, steady and safe. “You okay?” he murmured, voice softer now.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, searching his face. “Who is—”

“You don’t talk to her,” Ony cut you off, his voice sharper again as he looked back at Ricky. “Ever.”

Ricky barked out a laugh, shaking his head like the whole thing was a joke. “Damn, Ony. You really changed, huh? Wife. Dog. Family barbecues. You think this erases all that sh*t we did? Think it makes you better than me?”

You looked between them, confusion swirling in your chest.

Ricky’s smirk widened. “You ain’t gonna tell her? About Kev?”

The name hit Ony like a physical blow. His whole body went rigid.

“Who’s Kev?” you asked, your voice trembling.

Ricky grinned, ignoring you. “The one who didn’t make it ‘cause we were out there actin’ reckless. But you remember that, huh?”

It happened so fast you gasped. Ony’s fist collided with Ricky’s jaw, sending him stumbling back.

“Ony!” you cried as Coco barked wildly.

The crowd turned, the music seeming to dim as Ony’s voice rang out. “Keep my name out your mouth!”

Ricky spat blood and grinned like he’d won. “Same old Ony.”

Ony let Eren drag him back, but his face was still tight, his body vibrating with rage. He didn’t stop to explain. He just scooped Coco into your arms and pulled you out of the backyard, his hand gripping your waist.

“What the fuck was that, Onyakopon?” you hissed as you reached the car.

“Get in the fuckin’ car,” he snapped.

The tone stunned you into silence. It was the first time in three years Ony had ever raised his voice at you. Before you could argue, he lifted you off your feet, set you in the passenger seat, buckled you in, and slammed the door. 

The ride home was silent, the tension so thick it choked the air. Ony’s jaw was set, teeth gritted as his knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. You sat stiff in the passenger seat, arms crossed over your chest as you stared out the window. Even the low hum of the engine felt deafening.

When you got home, the silence followed. Ony unlocked the door, opened it for you like he always did, and set your purse down, but his movements were robotic, like he was on autopilot. You didn’t move—just stood there staring at him.

Finally, you snapped.

“You don’t get to act like nothing happened, Ony!” Your voice trembled with anger, eyes blazing as you threw your hands up. “What the hell was that back there?”

Ony didn’t answer. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it onto the couch, walking straight to the kitchen like he hadn’t heard you.

“Don’t walk away from me!” you shouted, following him. “Don’t you dare—”

“I said it don’t matter!” he barked, whirling around. His voice was sharp and raw, cutting through the air like a blade.

You flinched but stood your ground, refusing to let him shut you out. “How can you say that? That man knew you, Ony. He knew things about you I don’t! And the way you hit him? Who was that?! Because it sure as hell wasn’t the man I know!”

Ony ran a hand down his face, pacing back and forth. “You don’t need to know that part of me.”

“Why?” you shot back, stepping closer, fists clenched at your sides. “Because you’re ashamed? Because you don’t want me to see who you used to be?”

He stopped dead in his tracks, his chest heaving as he looked at you, eyes dark and stormy. “It ain’t like that.”

“Then what is it, Ony?” you pushed, voice trembling. “You can’t stand here and tell me you love me—ask me to marry you—and then keep this huge part of yourself locked away like it doesn’t exist.”

“You don’t get it!” he snapped, voice booming. “I was reckless, alright? I was a dumb kid, running around, doing shit I ain’t proud of. You really wanna hear how bad it got? You really wanna know the kind of man I used to be?” His voice cracked, his fists shaking at his sides. “I ain’t that man anymore. I can’t be.”

You stared at him, your chest tight with a mix of anger and heartbreak. “I want all of you, Ony,” you whispered fiercely. “Not just the version you think I deserve. I don’t care how ugly it gets. I’m not some fragile thing you need to protect from the truth.”

He froze, shoulders slumping as he stared at you, something breaking behind his eyes. “I’m tryin’, ma,” he said hoarsely, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m tryin’ so damn hard to leave that shit behind. You don’t know what it’s like, carryin’ that with me every day. Losin’ Kev... I don’t ever want to feel that again. I don’t want you to look at me like I’m some monster.”

Your face softened, tears spilling as you stepped closer. “I’m not gonna look at you like that,” you said, your voice shaky but sure. “But I need you to trust me. I need you to stop pushing me away.”

Ony’s gaze flickered to yours, the fight finally draining out of him. He let out a long, unsteady breath and sank down onto one of the kitchen chairs, resting his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his face.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice rough. “I’m sorry I scared you back there. I just... when I saw Ricky talking to you, all I could think about was keepin’ you away from that part of my life. Away from him.”

You took a deep breath, the anger still simmering but softened by his words. “I’m not going anywhere, Ony. But you gotta stop keeping me out.”

He looked up at you then, eyes raw and vulnerable. “You deserve better than the mess I used to be.”

You stepped in front of him, taking his face in your hands and forcing him to look at you. “You’re not that man anymore,” you said softly. “I see you, Ony. I see who you are now. And I’m here because I love you—all of you.”

His expression cracked, something deep in him finally breaking free. He let out a shuddering breath, his hands sliding up to rest on your waist. “Damn, ma,” he whispered, his voice thick. “I don’t deserve you.”

You shook your head, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “Stop saying that.”

Ony’s hands tightened on your waist, his eyes holding yours. “Let me make it up to you,” he said softly, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine.

You blinked at him, breath hitching. “Ony...”

His gaze darkened, the tension between you shifting—charged and electric. Slowly, he stood up, his towering frame forcing you to tilt your chin up to keep looking at him. He leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss so soft it made your knees weak.

“Please,” he murmured against your lips, his voice husky and full of promise. “Let me make it up to you, baby. I got you. Always.”

His hands slid up your sides, slow and deliberate, his touch both gentle and possessive. You melted into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as he deepened the kiss—soft and tender at first, then hungrier, like he couldn’t get close enough to you.

“Ony,” you breathed, your voice trembling as he kissed down your jaw, his lips trailing warmth along your skin.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against your neck, his words punctuated by soft kisses. “For everything. I swear I’m gonna be better. You just gotta let me show you.”

You swallowed hard, your hands gripping his shoulders. “Show me, then.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes searching yours. “I will,” he said quietly, his voice rough with emotion. “Starting right now.”

And that’s how you found yourself lying back on the bed, your body a tangled mess of need and warmth as your fiancé, lost himself in your ocean. His hands gripped your thighs with a possessive force, pulling them up and against your chest as his tongue worked in ways only he knew how to, bringing you to places you’d only ever reached with him. Every motion was deliberate, skilled—each flick, each touch of his fingers pushing you further, deeper into pleasure. His strength held you in place, leaving you no space to escape the sensations he stirred in you. His mouth, hot and insistent, tasted you, marked you, as if he couldn’t get enough, as if you were the only thing that mattered in that moment.

The pleasure became too much. Your body jerked, squirming away from the relentless skill of Ony’s tongue, but he was quicker, stronger. His grip tightened on your thighs, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. His large palm landed on the side of your thigh with a sharp smack—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make you freeze and gasp.

“Where you think you goin’, mama?” His voice was low, husky, as he leaned up, his lips and chin glistening with your essence. His golden grills caught the light, making him look both dangerous and divine. “Why you runnin’ from me? I’m just tryna apologize.”

Your whine came out incoherent, the words caught in your throat as his dark, smoldering eyes stayed fixed on you. He towered over you now, his body an imposing figure as he crawled over you, caging you beneath him. His breath was hot against your cheek, and you stared up at him, dazed, your vision swimming with glassy tears of overwhelming bliss.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his lips pulling into that half-smile, wet and sinful. His smooth, dark skin gleamed, catching the dim light in a way that made him almost unreal, too beautiful to belong to one person alone—but he was yours. Completely yours. “So fuckin’ pretty, baby,” he praised, brushing a thumb over your cheek to catch a stray tear.

Your body trembled as he shifted, lining himself up with slow precision. Then he pushed into you, your shared groans filling the room as he sank in deep. Your fingers clutched at his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as he stretched you perfectly.

“My pretty fuckin’ wife,” he growled against your lips, his voice thick with possession and reverence.

You didn’t have the strength to reply—just a soft moan as your legs locked around his waist, anchoring him to you, letting him take you to where only he could.

The slow, deliberate roll of Ony’s hips sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, leaving you trembling beneath him. He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your temple as he whispered, “You feel so good, baby. Perfect—just for me.”

You could only moan in response, your hands sliding down his back, nails raking gently across his skin. Every movement he made was precise, deliberate, and meant to unravel you. His pace quickened, his control slipping as he pushed deeper, his grunts mixing with your cries.

“Ony,” you gasped, your voice breaking. Your legs trembled as you wrapped them tighter around his waist, desperate to feel all of him.

“I got you, mama,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “Ain’t lettin’ go. You hear me?” His words were both grounding and intoxicating, pulling you further into the bliss he created with every stroke.

The heat built between you, your breaths turning shallow and ragged. Ony’s forehead rested against yours, his dark, hooded eyes never leaving your face. “Look at me,” he commanded softly, his voice deep and low.

Your glazed eyes fluttered open to meet his, and the intensity in his gaze made your chest tighten. “I love you,” he said suddenly, his voice raw, almost breaking.

The words hit you like a tidal wave, a sob catching in your throat. “I love you too,” you whimpered, your voice trembling as your hands cupped his face.

His lips met yours in a searing kiss, his pace growing erratic, matching the desperate beat of your heart. “You’re mine,” he growled against your lips, his movements growing sharper, deeper. “All mine.”

Your body tensed, pleasure coiling tight in your core until it finally snapped, sending shockwaves through you. Your back arched as you cried out his name, your nails digging into his shoulders.

Ony wasn’t far behind, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep, a guttural groan escaping his throat. His body shuddered against yours, his head falling to the crook of your neck as he whispered your name like a prayer.

For a while, neither of you moved, the only sounds in the room your mingled breaths and the faint rustle of the sheets. Ony’s weight was solid and grounding on top of you, his hands still gripping your thighs as though he was afraid to let go.

Finally, he shifted, pressing a gentle kiss to your collarbone before rolling to the side, pulling you with him. He tucked you into his chest, his large hand splaying across your back.

“You good, mama?” he asked softly, his lips brushing against your forehead.

“More than good,” you murmured, your voice still shaky. You tilted your head up to look at him, your heart swelling at the tenderness in his gaze. “I love you, Ony.”

“I love you more,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. He kissed you again, slow and sweet, before resting his forehead against yours.

As your breathing evened out and sleep began to tug at your senses, Ony whispered, “Ain’t nothin’ in this world I wouldn’t do for you, baby. You know that, right?”

“I know,” you replied softly, nuzzling into his chest. “And I’d do the same for you.”

The last thing you felt before drifting off was Ony’s fingers tracing lazy circles on your back, his lips pressing one last lingering kiss to your hair.

[rin-may-1103]

The Eyes of Death.

This story is mostly inspired by Jaybirbie's prompt | Master post | Next?

"Hey, sweetheart?" Danny called, quickly jotting down the last sentence for his paper. He'd have to remember to go back and reread it and make sure he didn't trail off into another tangent. He swears he wasn't this bad at managing his ADHD back in Amity...

"Yes, Danny?" Damian asked, turning back from the door to face him as he scrolled further down the story he was reading. The familiar font of Gotham City's gazette blurred as a picture of Mr. Freeze and Penguin finally loaded. So that's what was going on. Danny should have known; the bats already dealt with the other usual rouges, and these two were next on the list.

"Can you walk with me? I just know Nancy and her boyfriend are out there, waiting. I really don't want to deal with them again... We could spend more time at my place? Tucker sent me another movie, and I'm unsure if I should watch it alone after last time." Danny pleaded, quickly shoving all of his papers into his bag. He'd deal with straightening them out later, it wasn't like his professors weren't used to his wrinkled essays at this point.

However, he should probably redo the blueprints for Workshop. Mr. Anthlow was a hardass, but nothing could compare to his anger when a student handed in wrinkled blueprints; he claimed he wasn't going to have another 'Tanner' incident on his watch, whatever the heck that meant.

He was not looking forward to whatever Nancy wanted to talk to him about, she looked excited. Which could only mean bad things for him; considering the last time she was excited, he ended up spending time with Bane of all people. And there was no way her boyfriend was just going to let Danny get away again.

Damian grimaces, finally looking up and away from his phone. "I'm sorry beloved..." he held up the device just in time to show an incoming text from his Father, "I promised Father I'd be home a while ago. And with what's happening down on-"

"It's ok, I'll just head out the back door," Danny cut in, seeing the start of guilt on his boyfriend's face. He knew how much Danny hated having to deal with those two, and the fact Damian hasn't been able to even introduce himself to them hasn't helped. With a smile, Danny scooped up his textbooks and made his way to stand in front of Damian, "They can't bother me if they don't see me!"

Unsurprisingly, Danny could feel the guilt grow and start to float around Damian as the boy glanced at his phone, the message tone sounding out again in warning.

Danny only met Damian's father once; it was just a simple shake of hands and sharing names before the man ran off, but it did leave an impression. The man felt tired and paranoid; like, to the point Danny kind of wanted to drag Jazz over and lock the two of them in a room, paranoid. (Danny wants to say he's never seen someone that paranoid, but he'd be lying. He looks in the mirror after all.)

The point is; Danny's only met the man once, but that was enough for him to know that the man would tear down the world if he thought for even a second that one of his kids was in danger. This meant, that if Damian didn't go and reassure his father that he was alive and safe within the next sixty or so seconds, then there was a possibility that there wouldn't be another date for at least another week.

And considering this "study date" was supposed to make up for the last one Damian had missed because of his Father? Yeah, Danny wasn't going to be happy if Damian got grounded or dragged into another 'surprise' family road trip because his father was convinced his children would be dead before the 'yearly' planned get-together in November.

They had a trip to the zoo planned for tomorrow, and Delilah was supposed to be allowed out with her kids. This would be Delilah's first public outing since her kids' birth. There's no way Danny was going to allow Damian to miss that. (he swears to the ancients, if there was a rouge attack he was going to kill someone, Dark Dan's future be damned.)

Lifting his heels off the ground so he could stand on his tiptoes, Danny snagged Damian's arm and pulled him down so he could kiss his cheek. "I'll get home safe, just focus on keeping your dad from going insane. We've got a date at the zoo tomorrow and we're not missing it even if your father becomes the next city rogue."

Damian wrapped his arms around Danny, trapping him in a hug as he sighed in fond frustration. "I promise I won't miss it, ok? I'll be there."

Danny rolled his eyes and pushed Damian back, dropping back to stand on the ground, "You better, 'cause hell hath no fury like a gorilla denied the chance to meet her human best friend's boyfriend."

Damian snorted, before looking away and pretending to cough. Danny moved his textbooks to rest more securely in one of his arms, so he could point at his boyfriend. "I'm not kidding, if I show up tomorrow and tell her all about my life and you're not there, she will break out and track you down. I won't stop her either, you'd deserve whatever she does to you."

"Alright, alright. I get it, and I already promised I'd be there didn't I?" Damian chuckled, raising his hands up in surrender. Which would have been cute if it wasn't for the fact that his phone went off again, this time in an insistent buzzing. His eldest brother's ringtone; which meant Damian was going to be busy for a while.

Cursing, Damian turned and answered, "I'm in the middle of something, this better be important Grayson," glancing back at Danny, he mouthed for him to wait a moment as his brother started talking.

Smiling, Danny shook his head, snatched Damian's jacket, and started making his way out the door. There was no way Damian would finish this phone call any time soon. Danny's learned not to wait after the last four times this happened. Damian turned back with betrayed eyes, but the urgent voice of his brother buzzing even louder held him back. Waving goodbye with a smile, Danny shut the door and started making his way down the hall.

He'd have to ask Damian what happened tomorrow, Grayson didn't usually call him, especially when he knew Damian was spending time with Danny. He said it had something to do with how it was sacrilege to interrupt time spent with a significant other. Danny had wanted to ask him more about it but hadn't gotten the chance when The Riddler crashed their spontaneous meeting.

Speaking of The Riddler, Danny's social science paper wasn't looking too hot right now. He'd have to block out a time for him to work on that at some point this week. He wasn't doing anything on Friday, well, besides his early morning classes. That should work...

"Hey, Danny!" someone called, pulling him out of his musing. Glancing up, Danny internally groaned when he noticed Nancy waving at him in sheer delight. Giving her a half-hearted wave, Danny sped up and continued making his way to the back of the library. If he was quick enough maybe he could-

To his dismay, Nancy's boyfriend stepped out from behind one of the shelves and latched onto his arm. Tightly.

Just great, this is exactly what he wanted to avoid. Curse his inability to pay attention when he got lost in thought. Damn ADHD. Blasted non-existent spatial awareness. This was what he got for relying on his ghost sense, he just knows it.

"She said hi, kind of rude of you to just keep walking, Kid." Wyatt huffed, roughly dragging Danny back and towards his girlfriend. Nancy smiled brightly as Wyatt let him go, allowing Nancy to weave her arm with Danny's and practically drag him toward the front of the building.

"There's this big party going on tonight, some Jr invited us. He said it was going to be a night to remember! You should totally come with us, Danny! My friend Shela said she was bringing her nerdy freshmen too! I just know you'd fit right in with them!" Nancy squealed excitedly, shaking Danny as they finally made it to the front doors.

One of the desk attendants rolled their eyes at them as Danny glanced over, hoping that Barbara might intervene. No such luck, she was nowhere in sight, probably off somewhere shelving books. So much for that plan.

"uh, thanks, but I already-" Danny tried, stopping when Nancy scoffed and yanked him out the door and into the frosty night. "Damn, it's cold!" Wyatt cursed, taking his jacket off and quickly handing it over to Nancy. She let go of Danny and pulled it on, then stared at Danny for a moment, "Put your coat on Danny, no way in hell am I letting my kid catch a cold!"

Rolling his eyes, Danny wrapped Damian's coat over his shoulders. He was too lazy to actually put it on, not when that meant handing his textbooks over. The last time he did that, Nancy got bored and started doodling all over them. (how she had managed to do that in the little time it took to put a hoodie on, Danny wasn't sure.)

"I just want to go home, Nancy. I'm not really a party person." Danny sighed, allowing Nancy to drag him down the dark streets. His apartment was in this general direction anyway. Nancy turned to her boyfriend with a huff, "Wyatt! make him come with us!"

"Let the nerd do what he wants, it's not like it affects us if he kicks the bucket all alone," Wyatt grumbled, rolling his eyes.

Ouch, but true. Please listen to your grumpy boyfriend, please listen to your grumpy boyfriend, please listen-

"But Shela said she was bringing Carly!" Nancy turned back to Danny, a pout clear on her face, "You two would be so cute together! she's nerdy just like you! And she's totally into all those murder mystery shows you watch!"

Damn it. Not this crap again.

"That's nice, Nancy, but I'm not interested. I already told you guys, I have a boyfriend," Danny sighed, trying to gently extract his arm from hers; for a human, Nancy sure had one heck of a grip.

"Yeah, right," Wyatt snorted, patting Danny's back, completely ignoring the fact that Danny was literally wearing someone else's jacket. "We'll believe you when you introduce us, until then. You're a virgin loser."

And there we go, people; the reason Danny wanted to crawl into the sewer and die whenever he saw these two. They were nice, don't get him wrong, but they were also stubborn idiots.

"Being a virgin has nothing to do with my relationship status, Wyatt. I'm ace. you've known this since the first time we talked." Danny grumbled, allowing Nancy to drag him down another street. He wasn't sure exactly where they were going now, but he was too tired to care at this point.

If these self-claimed 'Parents' of his wanted to drag him to this stupid party, then fine. Whatever. It's not like Danny had any other plans tonight anyway.

"Asexuality isn't a thing man," Wyatt huffed, speeding up so he could guide them in the right direction now that they were heading into a rougher patch of buildings. Danny could see the man was shivering, though trying to act tough in front of Nancy. Smirking, Danny sent a cold breeze his way. The man scowled up at the sky, cursing quietly.

"Yeah!" Nancy agreed, smiling brightly down at Danny without a care in the world. Like they didn't have this conversation every other week. "You just haven't met the right person yet, Danny! And I know how awkward it is to admit that you're staying celibate until marriage, but you don't have to hide it behind being ace."

Taking a deep breath, Danny closed his eyes and focused on not shouting out of frustration. The celibate comment was new, the acephobia, not so much. "Ok, first of all; Asexuality is a thing, which many people ARE. Literally, 1% of the world is ace. That's over 70 million people. Second of all, I'm not celibate, and I'm not sure if you even know what that means, considering you know I was raised Atheist."

"What does being an Atheist have to do with celibacy?" Nancy asked, tilting her head to look at him. Danny groaned, smacking his forehead against his textbooks. He was NOT going to explain this to them tonight.

"You know what, Nancy? It doesn't matter." Danny huffed, trying again to gently pry her hands off. He wanted to go home. He wanted to cuddle with his boyfriend. He wanted to go back to Amity. Maybe go to the realms and play with Cujo. He did NOT want to deal with these idiots.

Wyatt stopped walking and turned to face them, rolling his eyes as Nancy pouted at Danny. "Come on babe, let the loser go. He obviously doesn't appreciate your efforts."

"but who else is going to convince him to live a little? He's just going to go back to his apartment and sulk by himself!" Nancy cried, tightening her grip again.

"Who cares what the kid does, Nancy? let the dude die a virgin loser. Now let's go, we're already late as is."

"But I really want him to-," Nancy tried, cutting herself off, as both she and Danny spotted a cloaked person appear out of the shadows behind Wyatt.

Wyatt lifted his brow before slowly turning to see what the two of them were staring at. The cloaked figure suddenly whacked him over the head with a metal pole before he could fully turn around. Wyatt's body dropped to the ground with a heavy thump, making Nancy scream, "Wyatt!"

Shit, Danny stepped back, trying to pull Nancy with him as the cloak dude tossed the metal pole to the side with a loud clank. Which was confusing, why would he through away his weapon?

"Shut her up!" the cloak dude cried, bending down to grab Wyatt's arms. He better not be telling Danny to do that, because that would just be stupid and- Suddenly, a dozen more cloaked people flooded out of the darkness and surrounded them. That answered Danny's questions at least.

Danny tensed up as a couple of the people tried to grab onto him. Quickly pulling Nancy back, successfully this time, Danny glanced around to try and find an exit. He couldn't do anything crazy right now, not unless he wanted to give away his secret, but some self-defense should be fine.

Nancy suddenly let go of his arm and smacked one of the cloaked people in the face, "Don't you fucking dare touch me! Wyatt! Kid, get out of here!"

Danny turned to her in alarm, eyes wide in horror as she quickly disappeared into the cloaked crowd. Another cloaked person managed to latch onto Danny's shoulder, reminding him to focus on his situation. Quickly stepping back, he slammed into the man grabbing him, knocking his grip loose. Ducking under another attempt, Danny swung out his leg and tripped the dude into two others.

Twisting to try and make his way over to where he figured Nancy was, Danny dropped his textbooks and punched someone in the face. Damian's jacket was yanked off his shoulders, making him turn with a growl. Punching another person in the face, Danny lunged at the group.

"Hurry! before the bats find us!" the supposed leader cried, making even more cloaked people surround Danny. There was no way a normal civilian would be able to fight their way out of this, so Danny would have to allow himself to be caught soon. Only after biting and scratching the fuck out of them though. Just because he had to let them catch him, doesn't mean he has to make it easy.

~30 min later

Danny stared at the leader as the man droned on and on about needing the right sacrifice for the ritual to work. Nancy and Wyatt grumbled behind him, agreements from the other kidnapped victims filling Danny's ears like bees.

"The sacrifice shall be the one who treads the veil between life and death, the one who's beloved by the spirits as their own! He shall be pale as a corpse, his body kissed by death many times throughout his life. His hair as black as the sky on a moonless night, cradled by the moon since birth." Mr. totally-read-one-fake-ritual-book-when-he-was-a-teen-and-now-has-to-make-it-everyone's-problem droned on dramatically, reverently dragging his finger down the old dusty tome's page,

"so Mr. Wayne?" Nancy huffed, pressing her back into Danny's side. Wyatt chuckled, shoving his foot into Danny's knee, "No, it's totally Mr. Drake he's talking about. Have you seen that dude's eyebags? they make him look like a ghost."

One of the strangers leaned over, rolling their eyes, "No, it's got to be Mr. Dent. The dude's literally half living half not."

"No, Two-Face is half insane, half burnt chicken. Ain't nothing about him going to please ghosts. He was a fucking lawyer, for Christ shake." another guy added.

"the dude said 'he' which crossed out half of y'all," Danny added, glancing at the group around him. The women blinked and then rolled their eyes; only in Gotham would they get kidnapped and not actually be needed.

"Assholes," Nancy huffed, she glanced over her shoulder and down at him, her face set into a frown, "You good, kid? you're like freezing cold."

"I'm fine," Danny huffed, focusing back on the leader. He could just feel the old magic rolling off the book; this was something dangerous, especially in this dipshit's hands. Ancients, he was going to have to do everything he could to keep the man from actually doing the ritual or mess it up if the bats didn't get here in time.

One of the cloaked people suddenly dragged a camera out from a side room, grumbling about networks and livestreams being shit. Huh, well that would definitely help provide their location to the bats. They must be really inexperienced cultists then...

"The sacrifice shall fall into our hands by fate's design. The sacrifice is here and waiting for what his whole life was meant for. Now-"

"Elder!" one of the other cloaked figures cried, waving their phone in the air in excitement. Dread quickly filled Danny's stomach.

"All the bats and birds are busy dealing with those scoundrels they call rouges! If we hurry, we can complete the ritual before they can interfere!"

"Perfect!" Mr. 'Elder', cheered, slamming the tome closed and handing it off to one of the others. "So?" Mr. Elder started, turning to face them with a sharp grin, "Who's it going to be?"

Danny glanced at the group behind him, all of them having gone silent as the cloaked group started pulling out their ritual things, one of which was a very blood-stained knife.

Mr. Elder started circling them, humming and hawing as he studied each one of them. He stopped next to Wyatt, studying him intently.

Quickly weighing his options, Danny straightened up and glared at the man, "I'll be your sacrifice."

Immediately Nancy leaned away from him with a gasp, Wyatt's foot dropping to the floor with a thud. "Danny, no!" Nancy hissed, turning her body so she could face him. Danny didn't glance at her, just continued glaring at the cultist. The cult leader laughed, "Well then. So it shall be! You heard the sacrifice, tie him to the chair!"

With everyone watching, all Danny could do was tense as four of the followers walked over and pulled him up. "No!" Nancy shouted, leaning over and grabbing onto him. Wyatt reached out to Nancy, wanting to pull her back. The men tensed up, ready to interfere. Quickly pulling back, Danny frowned at Nancy and Wyatt, "I'll be ok, just don't do anything stupid!"

They harshly pulled him up and away again, before Nancy could reply. And because he was already pissed off, he made it as difficult for them as possible as they dragged him to the wooden chair. The camera person focused the lens on them, recording it as they shoved him down to sit and wrapped a bloody rope around his limbs.

So much for thinking they were inexperienced... They've done this before, he knows now. How many times? He wasn't sure, but if he had any say in it after tonight, they'd never do it again.

Once he was securely tied to the chair and gagged, because Danny couldn't help himself but insult them, the cultist started preparing the ritual. Why they hadn't done so beforehand, Danny wasn't sure; that is until one of them sliced a deep gash into his right arm and collected his blood into a bowl.

With a grimace, Danny watched as they mixed his blood with black paint and started drawing a circle around him. The camera dude stepped closer and practically shoved the camera into his face. leaning back, Danny glanced between the camera and the people drawing with his blood.

Suddenly, his arm tingled with ectoplasm, making him panic for a second. he can't heal the wound! not with all the people around him and being recorded! Shit, what had Vlad done last time?? Uh, right! core smothering. He could just smother his core to stop his body from healing. Man, acting like a civilian was a pain in the ass.

Glaring up at the camera now that he wasn't as panicked, Danny watched as the dude stepped back, pulled out a paper, and started reading out loud. "GOTHAM! tonight you shall join us as we summon the most powerful being in the world!"

Did he seriously need the paper just to remember that?

The leader stepped forward when the circle was complete, "Now!" His voice echoed around the silent warehouse, startling the other kidnapped victims. The cameraman turned and focused on him, stepping out of the circle altogether. Danny watched the kidnapped people out of the corner of his eye, wanting to make sure they weren't hurt during this whole fiasco.

"Let us begin!" the leader cheered, suddenly gripping Danny's shoulders tightly. "Join me as we summon our lord and savior! The great tyrant of the dead! The embodiment of war and bloodshed! The one named PARIAH DARK! THE HORRIFIC GHOST KING!!!!"

Immediately, Danny was both completely terrified and amused. He had been worried that they were going to try and summon some great evil demon, not the fucking old tyrant. He could fight Pariah any day of the week.

No, what terrified him was the fact that because Danny won the right to the crown by defeating Pariah the first time, he had no idea what this summoning was going to do. Was it going to work like they wanted and summon Pariah? cool, great even. He can deal with that, might have to reveal his ghost powers if the fight got dirty, but nothing too bad.

or was it going to summon him because he was the king, and if so? how? Would that even work considering he's the sacrifice? would he just disappear and reappear? This could lead to a lot of questions Danny was NOT ready to answer. Gaslighting everyone here into believing he could fight Pariah as a 'meta' human would be easy, convincing everyone that he's not the ghost king or a ghost AFTER getting summoned; not so easy.

The leader released Danny from his grip as he walked over and snatched the tome from one of his followers. Snapping the book open, the man started chanting without warning, pointing at random people to notify them when it was their turn to start.

It was like watching a school play; all the student's doing as they were taught as their teacher directed from the side. Cultist A slammed the bowl of leftover blood on the ground, splattering the black remnants all over Danny and the circle. Which was gross, Danny was going to have to burn this shirt, because there was no way he was going to get this stain out. Cultist B tossed salt at Danny a few minutes later, smacking him in the face with the small white crystals. Shaking his head, Danny glared at him. Cultist B threw the salt again.

The leader's smile grew as he continued chanting.

Seven other cultists joined in the chanting, waving their hands up and down as their voices echoed around them. Danny glanced nervously around the warehouse, hoping he'd spot one of the bats. This was being broadcast, they should be on their way at the very least.

After another minute of looking, Danny glanced back at the other kidnapped victims. Nancy was balling her eyes out, burying herself into her boyfriend's chest. Wyatt was staring at him with wide eyes, clearly unsure about what to do. Probably feeling guilty because they both knew the leader was going to choose him. A few others were looking away, clearly fearing for his life. The rest watched on, trying to show him through their actions that they were there with him till the end. (whether he 'died' or not)

It was weird, but Danny had to give it to them; Gothmites were badass. He doubted anyone in Amity besides his friends would have been brave enough to watch what was happening. Even if they didn't know if he would live or not.

His core crackled, making him choke a little as he finally felt the pull of the summoning. Well, that's just great. Shaking his head, Danny tried to clear his throat. The summoning was making him feel weird and he did not appreciate it.

The chanting got louder as one of the people walked up to him, holding the knife in a white-knuckled grasp. Danny eyed it wearily, glancing between it and the rafters above. Where the hell were the bats when he needed them???

The cultist kneeled before him and raised the blade, slamming it down into his chest right as the leader stopped chanting; Danny gasped, more out of surprise than pain as he stared at the knife. The dude gave him no warning that he was going to stab him. Usually, cultists slit people's throats, right? What the fuck was up with stabbing him???

His blood slowly bubbled up and around the knife, slowly staining his shirt red. Yeah, there was no way in the realms he was going to be able to save this shirt now. Man, he had liked this one too.

He could hear Nancy's sobs turn to wails as the cultist yanked out the knife and handed it to the leader, who Danny just now noticed had joined them in the circle. His blood started gushing down his chest with every beat of his heart, again he held back his core. (what does he do now??? faint? scream? how do normal people react to getting stabbed?????)

"Take this lowly sacrifice as a sign of our eternal loyalty, and grace us with your presence! Your humble servants plead that your godly ears hear our prayers! Join us in this mortal realm and bequeath us your power and name to rectify the sins of our brethren!"

Ok, first of all Danny was no where near lowly you piece of fuck-

Danny's core pulsed, sending out nauseating pain up and down his spine. Gasping, Danny leaned as far forward as he could, trying in vain to grasp at his chest without using his powers. His core crackled, striking a blinding flash through his brain. The echoes of his death crawled up his left arm, waking the old dead nerves into firing signals at his brain.

Danny couldn't help himself, he screamed as the pain grew worse and worse. His thoughts turned hazy, his body cold as his core pulsed again. His heart stuttered and then froze, his core flooding his body with freezing ecto not a moment later. Absently, he could feel the wash of ectoplasm crawl over his body, changing his body minutely. He didn't transform, but he definitely looked more ghostly than human.

All the pain disappeared a moment later, allowing Danny to slump forward, his head hanging low and blocking his face from view. His chest did not rise in ragged breaths, nor did his fingers twitch with life. His mind was still sluggish and clouded with something, making it nearly impossible to think. Squeezing his eyes shut, Danny tried to focus.

"Your Highness?" someone asked, their voice too loud as it rang in Danny's ears. His core pulsed, another flood of ectoplasm flooding his body. His eyes slid open again, allowing him to see the green glow lighting up his chest and lap as he stared down at them.

Slowly, Danny lifted his head, his bright green gaze locking with the man in front of him.

Next

[thesummerpetrichor]

𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓫𝓮 𝓶𝔂 𝓭𝓪𝓭𝓭𝔂

Father in law!Javier Peña x afab!fem!reader

Summary: Your soon to be husband leaves you at the alter, but you should have guessed since the practice seemed to run in the family. It’s hard to be upset however, when his father comes to repent for not only his own but his son’s wrong doings. Aka fiancé’s dad Javi fucking you in your wedding dress after his son ditches you at the altar.

Warnings: 18+ only minors DNI you will be blocked. Minimal editing, unspecified but thicc and legal age gap, infidelity, daddy kink, heavy breeding kink, insane dirty talk, toxic father son relationship, reader is delulu, praise kink, petnames, sex in front of a mirror, veil pulling??, a few spanks, creampie, Javi fucks you into the mattress, unprotected P in V [don’t do it!!]. Let me know if I missed anything 🫶.

Word count: 2.6k

A/N: Literally just porn without plot, lotsa fucking, I want father in law Javi. Minimally edited lmao I just banged this out Can’t wait for you to read it!! Hope you enjoy, nasties! Mwah!

Masterlist

You rich and I'm wishin', um

You could be my mister, yum

Delicious to the maximum

Chew you up like bubble gum

You love me, he wants me

I think I want you too

Best day of your life- yeah, what a fucking joke. But what were you expecting? Ditching people at the altar seemed to run in the family. Okay, maybe that was a bit of a harsh assessment of the Peñas, especially Peña senior, who, despite all you had heard of him from your ex fiance, had always shown you kindness. 

The thing is, it becomes really fucking hard to be charitable to a family when their son humiliates you infront of the entirety of Texas. Leaves you high and dry on the steps of the biggest church in town in your great grandmother’s silk dress. It becomes even harder when you learn his mother had been in on it all along, sparing you not even a little apology, or a comforting embrace after her son's little getaway plan had been revealed. 

Instead of extending you a supporting hand, she ran away to make sure her baby boy was okay, and that this entire ordeal hadn’t taken a toll on his emotional and psychological well being. 

How thoughtful. 

Of course, you were the pathetic one– unable to look anyone in the eye, sobbing on your fathers shoulder till you couldn’t breathe any longer. So distraught and unwell even getting out of your wedding attire seemed impossible. It only made you feel even more pathetic. At some point you ended up curling up in your hotel bed, still in the “happiest day of your life” outfit, and pleading for some time alone from your friends and family to wallow in your own suffering. 

You would eat your feelings in the from of the apology chocolates the hotel had complimented for you, but you couldn’t manage to even do that without feeling like a total fucking looser. 

After all that had transpired, and after years of hearing nothing but sour things about your soon to be father in law, safe to say you were surprised to see him at your hotel room door at midnight as the ambassador the family seemingly sent to smooth things over. 

For it being only your second time meeting the man, this was far from the most opportune scenario. In fact, him showing up all sorrowful and apologetic for his shitty excuse of a son, in his navy blue suit and loose tie, made your already pathetic day all the more difficult to get through. 

Your whole relationship you had blamed every fault of your boyfriend on his absent, detached father. You’d heard plenty about the lack of childhood visits, quality time, and playing soccer that had plagued your partner’s life, and had found it quite easy and comforting to pile on every relationship problem you ever came across as the consequence of Javier Peña’s lack of responsibility and good parenting. 

What you didn’t expect, was to find that Javi Peña was a whole lot more normal and level headed than you anticipated. He was just a guy trying to make a good living and provide for his family. Sure, he was a little bit reserved, but he was only ever warm and sweet and even quite chatty with you. To be frank, you should have seen your boyfriend’s shitty behavior as a consequence of his insufferable mother from a mile away. God knew you weren’t expecting Peña Sr. to be the better of your two soon to be in laws. 

That being said, you would have never expected to be on your hands and knees, on what was supposed to be your marital bed, being pounded from behind by your ex soon to be father in-law. 

Because that's where you are now, eyes rolling to the back of your head thanks to the most intense pleasure you've ever felt. The drag of Javis cock against your walls has been building a steady heat in your belly, the stretch of him so perfect and delicious it has you pushing your hips back to meet his every thrust. 

Any other day a man like him wouldn’t have needed much to woo you– with his cut jaw, handsome features and those chocolate brown eyes you wished his son had inherited. Safe to say on a day like this one it took even less, just a few rubs on your back, a hand smoothing over your head and trailing down your waist, a few “pretty girls” and “poor things” and some fucking sympathy from someone from your boyfriends sorry family. 

Fucking pathetic. 

But Javier knows his son is pathetic, knows he is a good for nothing moron who doesn't even know what he was losing out on when he walked out on you.

“He’s a fuckin fool- look at this tight little pussy, squeezin’ me so fuckin good. Bet he didn’t fuck ya like this, huh baby? Didn’t make ya cum over and over, make ya scream… stupid fuckin boy..” Javier’s grip on your hips tightens on hearing your moan, and he curses under his breath when your pussy flutters around his cock. 

Your legs are threatening to give out under you, your knees tender from how long you've been leaning on them. Javier’s hand moves to grip the fabric of your veil, using it to pull your head back and make you face the mirror that's been teasing you all evening. “Look- Look at ya- fuckin cryin’ on my cock. ‘S the only reason ya’ shoulda’ be cryin’ in this pretty dress..” With drooping eyes you're faced with your own reflection– stains from your mascara running down your face now less thanks to the sorry of the afternoon and more thanks to the way Javi’s cock has been nudging your sweetspot. 

You watch your tits spill out of your beautiful silk dress, the fabric now disheveled and a far cry from the sophisticated, simplistic garment it once was. You can barely recognise it, but then again you can barely recognise your own reflection. “Look at that pretty little body- fuckin made for me.” 

“Yours-” you cut yourself off with a gasp, Javi’s hands squeeze your hips and your cheeks set ablaze at the way he looks at you when you catch it in the mirror. The whole sight is so debauched and depraved– you on your hands and knees for a man who could easily be mistaken for your father. But somehow it's even dirtier- the possibility of your ex finding out sends you into overdrive. 

The silk of your dress brushes against your hot skin, flipped lewdly up to reveal your bare ass, bunched at the waist, the straps drooping and threatening to fall. Javi pulls the zip down even further, watching as it hangs off your body, draped like fabric from a 15th century painting. 

Javi’s voice calls your attention back to the present moment, lewd words showing you he doesn't hold back the way his son does. “Gonna fill this tight little cunt up..” The stretch is so delicious between your legs, you feel the steady throb continue to tighten the coil inside you and you can’t help but moan. “Yeah, you want that? Want daddy to put a baby in you?” the thought makes you shiver, that name makes you shiver, has your cunt clenching around his cock. What an image- you, belly round with your father in laws child, well, your ex father in law. Unlike his son you were sure he would be the perfect husband, would bend you over ever surface in your picket fence house and fuck you just like he’s doing now. 

Deep, and hard and fast, just like you need it. Just like you've always needed it.. 

“Please daddy, want your babies, wanna be yours…” Your voice is so broken and wrecked you're afraid he can’t understand what you're even saying. To be honest you can’t be bothered much, it feels so good, his thick, hard cock feels so good pounding between your thighs there's little else you can keep your mind on. 

“Yeah? you like that sweetheart? we can play house..” you nod your head and his hand tightens its grip around your veil, exaggerating your movements, bending you to his will. “Wanna play house with daddy? can be my pretty little wife” you fist the sheets, pushing back against him with his every thrust. You do want that, you’ve always wanted that. And what better person to do it with. Sure, his wife always complained about how he was never around, but that's looking a lot more like a her problem– especially with the way Javi’s tip continues to kiss your sweet spot. 

“Yes daddy, please..”  

Javier lets go of your veil, and pushes his palm between your shoulder blades, forcing you down into the mattress till your cheek is pressed against the warm, fluffy duvet. One hand keeps you there, the other lands a quick spank to your ass and kneads at the flesh with a newfound desperation. “Won't be able to even say his goddamn name after I'm done with ya. Stupid boy doesnt know how to treat a pretty thing like you– so sweet, so gorgeous, so fucking smart. Too fucking good for him.” 

With your lips parted and breathing heavy you drool onto the covers, letting Javi pound you into the mattress and overshadow every other thought that dared cross your head earlier in the day. If his plan is to make you forget about anything that isn't him, it sure is working. You don't think you’d even want to sound out his incompetent son’s name after he’s done with you. 

As if he can read your mind his voice calls from behind you. “Want ya to be drippin with me.” the wet schick of his cock fucking into your tight, wet, hole reminds you of just how needy you are for him, and the prospect of having him dripping out of you– down your thighs, between your legs, leaving you all messy for him to come back and do it all over again, drives you absolutely insane. 

“He’s fuckin useless, just like his ma. But look at you, so fucking tight ‘round me, making all those pretty sounds, she fuckin’ wishes she was you.” His words have your cunt squeezing around his cock, and a lewd, pornographic moan slipping past your lips. “My girl’s gonna be the perfect lil’ mamma, aren’t ya, so fuckin’ pretty.” You would certainly like that- in fact you’re almost surprised with how appealing it sounds to you. 

“Gonna be perfect for you daddy, only for you.” your dress rides up even further, the front slipping further down. 

“Thats my fucking girl.” That growl of his sends shivers down your spine– possessive, and confident and dripping like honey from his lips. It was almost like it could send you over the edge by itself. The lewd creaking of the bedframe fills the room, the sound of skin on skin driving you wild. The way he handles you– firm and deft but gentle and passionate, it's nothing like his son. 

He’s nothing like his son. 

“Yeah, bet it feels good don’t it, bein’ fucked by a real man? Feel daddy so deep in ya? Nothin ever been that deep before, huh..” You shake your head ‘no’ and he coos at how pathetic you must sound, barely able to make a coherent sound, forget string together a whole sentence. 

“Make me go fuckin’ crazy, babygirl.” 

What he says is fucking filthy, there’s no denying, no justifying it. It makes you squirm, makes you even wetter, makes you want him even more. 

“Think you wanna go back to him? With daddy’s cum drippin between those pretty thighs, show him how a real man treats his girl?” 

“Gonna make ya beg him to stay, gonna talk some sense into him, just so daddy can have ya all to himself, ain't that right? You gonna sneak into daddy’s room in the middle of the night? All wet an’ achy? Beggin’ daddy to fuck ya how ya need?” 

“Wanna run away with me baby, live in a perfect little house, let daddy give ya his babies, fuck ya full’ve my cum every single night?” 

His hands roam your body, smoothing over your hips, reaching forward to squeeze at your breasts, pinching and kneading the flesh. He bends down to trail light kisses along your spine and the feeling is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Your head twists side to side against the sheets as you squirm, each sensation like it's heightened to the maximum, the heaviness and the throb between your thighs at an all time high. 

You know you're close, you can’t hold it off much longer. Your cunt squeezes and your toes curl. You also know Javi won't last, you can feel him pulse against your swollen walls, can feel the way he desperately thrusts into you, pushes you further down against the mattress, grips your skin with that renewed fervor, with the desperation of doing anything to hold on to the incredible sensation. 

“Come for me, babygirl, come for daddy, show daddy how much ya needed this, show daddy how bad ya need his cock.” 

Your legs part even further under you, if that's even physically possible, your entire upper body being smashed into the mattress. You call out Javi’s name, followed by a string of desperate, strained, whiny daddy daddy daddy’s. 

With a strangled moan that's partially muffled by the covers you come undone, your head spins and your heart pounds in your chest, you feel yourself gush and clamp down around his cock. You feel Javi’s hips stutter behind you and his cock throb against your wet walls. The feeling only prologues and intensifies your orgasm, your body going slack and eyes rolling back into your head. 

“Please daddy, need your cum, please, give it to me..” 

Javi’s groans catch your attention as you come down from your high, still reeling from the aftershocks when you feel his cock twitch inside you and paint your walls with his hot spend. Your words are strained and slurred, but they clearly get the job done. You shiver and press your ass back against him to meet his stuttery, sloppy thrusts, and bite your lip when you feel him tighten his grip on your hip, feel him land a final spank to your ass for good measure as he slows down. 

You keep your ass in the air, face still pressed against the mattress as Javi pulls out. You hear him mutter a few strained curses under his breath as he does, and catch him looking between your legs to see his spend obscenely leak out of your used hole. He reaches his fingers to rub against your messy folds and you whine, feel him gather up your juices and push them back inside your cunt in a way that has you almost cumming right there again. 

Your dress is still pooled at your waist and he unzips it entirely, sneaking his hands under your thighs and flipping you over and yanking you towards him. 

“You really want daddy’s babies?” Your head falls back against the bed when you feel his hand cup your cunt, rub your messy, swollen folds with the calloused tips of his fingers. You barely manage to nod. 

“Then I ain’t done with ya yet pretty girl.” You tilt your chin to catch his gaze, now in nothing but your stupid little wedding veil. You’re not sure about the best day of your life, but this sure as hell contends for one of the best nights. 

You can be my daddy tonight-night-night

I'm neon phosphorescent

Open like a Christmas present, oh

You can be my daddy tonight-night-night

If you're seeking heaven

Then you wanna come and get it alright

Be my daddy tonight

What's up what's up

What's up what's up

Be my daddy be my daddy

Be my daddy be my, be my daddy tonight

AHHHHH feel like I’m going to hell for this one. Thanks so much for reading!! Please please please let me know what you think. I’d love to know your thoughts!!! Thank you to everyone who engages with my work, you keep me writing!! 💗🐝

[classyrbf]

DO I LOOK LIKE HIM! — MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

SYNOPSIS...all his life it was just him and his mother, his father nowhere to be seen or found, vanished, a ghost. No one ever spoke a word of him, he didn’t even know his name. But deep down he begs for answers as his mother always said that he looked just like ‘him’

INFO...megumi fushiguro x mom!reader, toji x fem!reader, angst angst angst, megs is 17, absent father, family trauma, young love, arguing, talks of pregnancy, talks of killing/assassination, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

based on: like him by tyler the creator

“Alright move closer into the photo—yep! Perfect!” Your mom held the camera up to her eye, slightly bending down. “Alright, three…two…one!” She snapped the photo, smiling as she looked at you and Toji.

It was Megumi’s first birthday, friends and family surrounding to celebrate. Endless gifts and food, music playing over the speakers. Small children ran around the yard, infectious laughter filling the air. The sun shined brightly, not a cloud in the sky. You were happy. Toji held Megumi tight in arm, looking down at the baby with a full head of jet black hair.

You and Toji had met in high school, falling for each other in an instant. You were captivated by his silent and mysterious presence and Toji was capture by your smile and the way your eyes shined in the light. But neither of you expected to end up with a baby boy just two years later after graduation. Not a single moment was regretted. You wouldn’t trade this for the world.

“Happy birthday, little man,” he scoffed, holding Megumi above his head. He babbled, giggling as he chewed on his chubby fingers, smiling at his father with love in his eyes.

“I can’t wait to frame this one. You guys look so cute.” Your mom pouted, walking back into the house to put the camera away.

A soft smile spread across your face, holding onto Toji’s arm. “Did you ever think you’d become a dad?” You suddenly asked, watching as your baby played with the fabric of his shirt.

Toji turned towards you, a confused look on his face. “No, but…I’m happy I did. You know I’d do anything for you two.” Toji pulled you in by your waist. “Did you ever think you’d become a mom?”

You shook your head, reaching a hand out to move hair out Megumi’s face. “It’s just weird. We were so young, you know? We still are. But, it feels right.” You rested your heard on his shoulder, letting out a small sigh. A small laugh erupted from your chest, “I carry him for nine months and he came out looking exactly like you.”

“What can I say? I got strong genes, baby.” He nudges you slightly, teasing.

“Oh, hush. I did all the work.” You roll your eyes at him.

“I’m only messing with you.” He plants a kiss on your forehead. “Go on, give mama a kiss, little man.” He holds Megumi towards you. As if on cue, he leans his head down and places his slobbery mouth on your forehead. “There you go! Good job!” He chuckles, smiling at his son. “I can’t wait until you’re older so I can teach you about all sorts of things.” Megumi grabs ahold of Toji’s finger in his small palm, squeezing it. “Gonna teach you all types of sports, how to fight so you can protect mommy. I bet you’ll be a good baseball player.” Megumi squeals at Toji. “Baseball? Yeah? Alright, baseball it is.” He kisses his cheek.

You stand there, admiring your two favorite boys. It’s like you see the future when you look at them. A happy life, a cozy home. Maybe even a sibling for Megumi. A ring on your finger, happily married. Thinking of the days when Megumi starts going to school and brings back all his little projects so you can put them in a box and keep them for the future. You already had so much planned at such a young age, but you were determined to fight for it. For him. For your son.

Megumi sits on the edge of his bed, deep in thought. The ceiling fan provides a low hum as it spins. He stares at the wilted paper in his hand, a handwritten note to him—one he’s never seen until now. His chest feels tight, tears welling in his eyes as he reads who it’s from over and over again.

—Your Dad

It feels like he can’t breathe, anger swirling through him. He thinks of all those times you dismissed his questions and conversations about his father—whoever his father was. And now, he was holding a note from him that was written fifteen years ago. A note of how sorry he is and nothing else. A man of few words. No explanation, nothing.

Growing up, Megumi learned from a young age that he looked just like ‘him’. His grandmother and grandfather always slipping up, staring at him like a ghost had just walked in the room. It only got worse as he grew older, starting growing into his features. You even began to stare at him, a look of sadness in your eyes. He never would say anything, always keeping his mouth shut like he didn’t notice. Not once, did you ever speak of his father. Hell, he didn’t even know his name or what he looked like, but from what he’s been told, he probably looks like an older version of him.

All those days, watching fathers bond with their sons, his friends dads coming to sports games, school events, he always felt like deep down something was missing. He felt different. Every Father’s Day, being tasked to make something special in school for their fathers, but how is a nine year old supposed to say he doesn’t have one? How is a thirteen year old supposed to participate in the father-son day at school when he doesn’t have one? How is a seventeen year old supposed to feel when he sees everyone posting their dads on social media, a heartfelt message written with each one, yet he doesn’t even have a photograph to remember him by?

Tears fall on the paper and the hurt that he held back is now manifesting. Why was so hard for you to say anything about him? Was he dead? Is that why it was so hard? Yet, there was no excuse. Whatever it was, he needed to know why he left. Why he was so sorry. It wasn’t until he heard the front door open, your calming voice calling out to him.

“Megs, I’m home!” You shut the door, placing your bag on the countertop.

The door to his bedroom swung open, fresh tears still on his cheeks, the wrinkled note gripped in his hand. He stomped towards you. “What is this?” His nostrils flared.

A crease between your brows formed, noticing the distressed look on his face before your eyes landed on what he was holding. You felt your heart drop, your mouth falling open to say something, anything, but nothing came out. “Meg—”

“What is this? Huh?! I found it in the back of your drawer! A note from my dad!” He slammed the paper down. “Who is he?! Why did he leave?!” He was screaming, his anger pouring out through his words. “You never talk about him! No one does!” He throws his hands up. “You kept…you fucking kept this from me! Fifteen years!” Hot tears spill from his eyes.

Your eyes widen, your lip quivering as you hold back tears. “I’m sorry.” Your voice breaks. “I’ve been wanting to tell you—”

“When? When, mom?! I don’t even know his fucking name! I don’t know what he looks like! There’s not a single picture in this house of him? Is he even alive?!” The look in his eyes makes you want to break down. You knew this day would come sooner or later, but you never expected it to turn out this way. The note. Of course it was the note. Almost like it was fate.

You inhaled deeply, licking your lips as tears fall. “I’m sorry, baby. I just…”

“Why can’t you tell me?” He speaks softly, voice wavering. “I see it in your face. Everyday when you look at me…you can see him. Who is my dad?” He clenches his jaw, letting out a shaky breath. “Why did he leave us? Why did he leave me?” He questions before fully breaking down into tears, sobbing.

“No,no,” you whisper, taking him in your arms. His tears soak through the fabric of your shirt, clinging onto you like his life depends on it. “It’s not your fault, baby? You hear me? It’s not his, not yours. It’s complicated.” As you stand there with him in your arms, flashbacks of that night Toji left flood your brain.

“Then where is he? Is he dead?” Megumi asks, raising his head to look at you. The question makes you freeze up, biting on your bottom lip so hard you’re sure to draw blood. “Is he dead, mom?” He stands up straight, wiping his tears.

“I…I don’t know,” you sniffle, shrugging your shoulders. You shake your head as you look at your son, feeling so ashamed and embarrassed. So hurt and disgusted. “He loved you so much, Megumi. I promise you.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? If he loved me, he wouldn’t have left!” He shouted in anger. “Who is he?! Just tell me!” He pleads through his cries.

“His name was Toji. Toji Fushiguro.” You stare at him. “Me and your father met young, back in high school. We had you two years after we graduated. We were so scared. Well, I was scared, but your father was ready. He was so excited,” you chuckle, remembering when you first told him you were pregnant. “He loved you, Megumi. And that’s the exact reason why he left,” you explain.

He shakes his head at you. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Your father did everything he could to provide for me and you. You were his everything. His little man. But, he got caught up with the wrong people trying to find ways to make quick money. He was young and desperate, we both were.” Your eyes flutter shut, letting out a sigh. “What your father did for money…you wouldn’t think he was a good man. He made enemies—”

“Mom, what are you saying?! I’m not a kid anymore! Just tell me—”

“He killed people, Megumi! Is that what you wanna hear! He fucking killed people just so he could put food on the table! Fuck!” You hurriedly stand to your feet, looking away from him.

“What…?” He nearly said in a whisper.

“I don’t want you to think he wasn’t a good man, Megs. I don’t want you think he hated you or me. He didn’t. But what he was doing put him and us in danger. He realized that and he left. He couldn’t put us in danger, especially you. That night he left he wrote you this.” You grabbed the note off the counter. “I begged him to stay, baby. I did. I tried. I tried everything.” Megumi sat on the edge of the couch, staring blankly ahead of his as he took all this information in. “He never stopped loving you, Megs. He never wanted to leave.”

He slowly turned to look at you, his chest heaving up and down. His eyes were red and glossy from crying. “Where’d he go?”

“I don’t know, baby. He never told me.” You shook your head. He sobbed softly, holding his head in his hands. You walked over, sitting beside him and pulled him into your arms. “Don’t hate him,” you whispered. “He’d be so proud of the man you became. Such a sweet, strong, and smart boy.”

“When did he leave?” Megumi asked.

“A week after your second birthday,” you spoke, biting at the skin on your lip. “He told me you were the best thing to ever happen to him.” You wipe away his tears as they continue to fall. “He’s not a bad guy, he’s just done bad things.”

Now knowing what happened to his father, Megumi felt like his whole world came crashing down. What his father did, who he was. How he came to be. And as much resentment as he holds, he can’t bring himself to hate him. In a way, he understands, but at the same time he doesn’t. He wonders how different things would be if he was here. What life would be Ike. “I’m sorry, mom,” he cried.

“Don’t be, baby. I’m sorry for keeping from you for so long. I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want you to think he was a bad man. I was scared.” You continue to hold him in your arms, consoling him.

“What does he look like?” He asks.

You smile, looking down at him. “You guys are damn near twins.”

Megumi chuckles a little, “I figured.”

“Wait there a moment.” He watches as slip into your bedroom, a few second passing by before you walk out with something in your hands. “Here.”

Megumi looks down, seeing the array of photos you hold on your hands and hesitates on taking them from you. You sit beside him as he grabs them and looks at the first one. “Is that him and you?” He asks, never taking his eyes off the photo.

“Back in high school.” It was one of the first few photos you and Toji ever took together. A picture at the homecoming dance, a plain look on his face while you had a wide smile on your face. “Your father barely ever smiled. But when you came around, he couldn’t stop.”

Megumi was struck. He really did look like him. From the hair, to the eyes, to the nose. Everything. He looked at the next photo. You were pregnant, Toji holding your belly while kissing your cheek. “You guys looked really happy,” he says.

“Of course we were. Me and your dad loved each other very much. I still love him.” Megumi looks over at you as you say those last words. You still hold so much hope and love in your heart and that tells him maybe he should let this resentment for his father go. Maybe it was time to move on.

“Was this my birthday?” He questions, looking at the family photo your mother took of you three that day. He could see a faint smile on his father’s face, looking at the way Toji held him so close in his arms.

“Your very first birthday. So many good memories. Despite the fact you threw up on your dad’s shirt,” you laughed.

“Really?!” Megumi smiles. You nod, still giggling. “Yikes, he must’ve been pissed.”

“At first he was mad, but then saw you started crying after and felt horrible. I remember his exact words, ‘Stop crying, little man. You can throw up on this shirt a thousand times if you want to.’ He could never stay mad at you.” You brush his cheek, watching his smile get wider and wider.

He finally gets to the last picture. One you took of Toji asleep with Megumi on his chest. “I took that picture after it took him three hours to get you to sleep. You didn’t want to sleep in your crib, kept crying and crying and finally your father just fell asleep with you on his chest.” You watch as he runs his thumb over the picture, observing it more than he did the other ones. “You can keep it if you want.”

“Really?” He glanced at you, a desperate look in his eye.

“Of course.” You kissed his cheek. “I have more we can look at later.”

Megumi nods. There’s a moment of silence as he sits and goes through the pictures again, almost like he’s reliving memories he had no recollection of. “So, you really don’t know if he’s alive or not?”

You shake your head. “Like I said, what your father did caused him to get caught up with the wrong people, making enemies out of anyone. He was never scared of them, of course. But he knew if they ever found out about you or me, it wouldn’t end well.,” you explained. “I wish I knew.”

“Is it weird that I miss him?” He turned towards you, confused. “How can I miss someone I don’t even remember?” His eyes became teary.

“Oh, Megs.” You wiped his tears. “It’s not weird at all, sweetheart. I’m sure he misses you too. A whole lot.” You give him a sad smile.

He sniffles, looking down at the pictures. It was like he finally felt this weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. After years of this gut wrenching feeling, he finally knows the truth. His father did love you. Love him. He no longer felt casted aside. And that feeling gave him hope that maybe he’s still out there, still alive.