#idk what tags and such are allowed on tumble

[thepixelmachine]

Looks like Johnny lost the sparring match, huh? Or maybe he’s winning?

(cropped, but should I release the full piece?)

[ohdeerfully]

Requests? I got you 😌

Reader who made a deal with Alastor, be his informant, and he'll provide aid when needed. And reader was damn good at holding up their end of the deal, while Alastor hasn't really needed to uphold his since aid hasn't been asked for.

So what might happen when his dear little informant hasn't came back from gathering info on the Vee's?

EATING IT UP idk i love this kind of stuff thank you so much. im making this a two-parter! it was getting kinda long and i wanted to get something posted (:

Your Half of the Deal (i)

Alastor x Reader part i part ii part iiiTW: kidnapping, cursing, alastor is manipulative (per usual), alastor is in denial if you want to be tagged in the next part, let me know! join my discord! ═══ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ═══

Deals with Alastor were, for a lack of better words, a big deal. Not something to mess around with. His twisted nature allowed him to create so many loopholes for himself, forcing one to do more than what they bargained him for. It was unfair, but that’s what happens when you make a deal with the Radio Demon.

You weren’t as lucky as the other demons at the hotel, not receiving the typical advice Vaggie debriefed any newcomer. Alastor got to you first. He got you soon after you fell into Hell, before you even knew exactly what was going on or the whole ‘soul’ thing. 

“My,” A light voice cooed from the shadows, causing you to jerk your head up. Your ass still stung from the tumble you took after falling down into god knows where. You were curled up in a dark, moldy corner, a brief respite from all the freaks that you kept running into. Your fingers–no, claws?--still aches after defending yourself from a pair of spiked thugs.

“What a poor sight. How dreadful!” He continued. You could barely make out the form of the speaker. You just knew he was tall. With blazing red eyes. His voice had a radio-like filter over it, with a general low frequency humming around himself during the silence.

He had seen you, a new fallen demon, fight yourself away from those two earlier, a wild look in your eye. How it pleased him, seeing that look somebody gets when they are desperate for their life. But you, in particular, piqued his interest. To be able to acclimate to a new body, in a new place, and fight for your life at the drop of your hat.

You seemed capable, and he liked that. He knew you were naive, fresh meat always was. And he liked that.

You had yet to speak, only looking up at him from your fetal position. But he could tell you were tense and ready to spring, if need be. He played a grin on his face and leaned down closer to you.

“Oh, how rude of me! I’m Alastor,” He held his hand out to you from his bent over position. You shook his hand cautiously. “I saw that scuffle earlier, and dear if I may say, you fight like a wild tigress.” 

You quirked your brow at this comment. “Thanks,” You replied plainly. “(Y/N).” You didn’t want to talk right now. But, you were at least glad to see a face that didn’t immediately go through your throat. 

Alastor, of course, didn’t go after those of the ‘fairer means,’ as he would put it. At least, not in a violent way. He was all for the typical manipulation.

“Even still, a fair lady such as yourself needs someone to protect her! And,” He stood up straight again, a dangerous glint in your eye. “For a price, I could be at your beck and call.”

“A price..?” You responded weakly. You had to admit, seeing this tall, confident man in front of you did seem to put you at ease. He seemed kind. And it wouldn’t hurt to have some help, if there were more creatures wanting to attack you.

“Your soul!” He said, all too cheerfully. Your mouth dried up at this. With everything that has happened to you so far, you had a hunch that the term ‘soul’ actually carried meaning in this place. But, how much..? Was it worth the protection he promised?

“More like a mutual contract, really! Mutual benefactors!” Alastor lied, seeing that hesitance in your expression. “I get your soul, you do what I ask, and I protect you! Simple enough.” 

The expression he held, with that tall grin of his, didn’t do much to calm your nerves. As chipper as he seemed, there was something to it. Something more, but you couldn’t quite tell.

“Deal?”

His glowing eyes seemed to darken as he squinted them in anticipation, his smile somehow growing wider. The static in the air seemed to crackle with more energy, almost violently, as you considered his hand that he had held out. There was an ominous aura that made your skin crawl.

Ah, what the hell. Flashes of those thugs from earlier was enough to put you on your feet. You could only imagine the other shit that lived in this place, and had a feeling they were the bottom of the barrel. You had only just managed to get away from them.

You made eye contact for a couple of seconds, the prickling sensation on your skin becoming harsher and more aggravating the closer you stepped to him. You grabbed his hand.

You were thinking about your unlucky situation–which you often did in your free time–as you gave yourself a onceover in the mirror, black eyes examining your tight outfit. A little spy getup–a little stereotypical, something you would definitely see in the movies. But, hey, it never failed you.

Thinking back, you could tell now that his words and smile were filled with deceit and manipulation. You often got pissed at yourself for how naive you were. You hadn’t even called on him once since then, and you’ve been stuck as his little pet for nearly four months now. He runs you around like a doll in a big playhouse, sending you this way and that to get intellect from his various enemies.

“I’m much too popular to be roaming in those areas!” He had claimed when you questioned why he, the Radio Demon, couldn’t just do it himself. “Demons flee at the sight of me. The Vee’s would see me from a mile away.” You had a suspicion that he just didn’t want to be seen in public making such a petty fuss over his television rival.

There was no point in dwelling on it, but you couldn’t help the occasional feeling of regret that twinged your chest when you thought too long. You were stuck as his, whether you liked it or not. 

Slicking back your hair, you finalized your sleek outfit. Another day of being thrown into precarious situations by that red asshole. It was becoming a weekly thing, with Alastor requesting more and more information, especially from those Vee’s he hated so much. In fact, now that you thought about it, they were the only demons you snuck by. How obsessed they were with each other.

It was no easy task, getting through the security of that place. In fact, it was nearly impossible, seemingly getting harder every time. You had a cautious feeling that they knew what you were up to, and kept falling short of catching or stopping you. There were cameras pointed in every direction, every angle, in the highest quality imaginable. Every trip left your heart racing with adrenaline.

“On your way now, are you?” Alastor asked coyly. He waited for you at the entrance to the hotel, a glint in his eyes. Oh, how he loved playing with you like this. Watching you bend and break for him. He loved it. And you hated him for it.

“Yeah. Maybe I’ll get killed this time,” You said snidely, referencing the increasing danger of each trip. “Wouldn’t that be a treat for me.” You said this in a whisper, but Alastor still heard.

He bent at the waist to be eye level with you, that sinister grin of his lowering slightly. It seemed he had wanted to say something, his teeth parting for a moment before closing again. His grin perked back up and he straightened himself into a stand. He simply reached out and patted your head.

“Now, don’t go out with that kind of mindset! Why, you know our deal!” His lips curled in reference to the rather one-sided promise you made each other. To be honest, considering you never had to call for Alastor’s aid, you weren’t even comforted by the notion. Who’s to say he even shows up? How will he even know if you need help?

Alastor stepped towards you, his hands flapping as he shooed you out of the door. “The night is only so long! Go along!”

So, now you’re here. Tucked behind a corner near the Vee’s residence. There were cameras everywhere, obviously, and you swore you saw more than last time. What point does Alastor even have, making you come here so often? What more could he want? You knew him and Vox were rivals, but it wasn’t like Alastor didn’t know how to take care of the TV-head.

You had a sick feeling that Alastor just enjoyed making you do bullshit for him like this, and didn’t care much for the actual information. The thought drew a sneer on your face. If you weren’t literally soul bound to this guy, you would probably just let yourself get caught and likely killed on the spot. But, of course, your deal made that dream impossible. 

With a couple hops on your toes, you began your brisk walk towards the back of the manor. You were hyper aware of all the cameras, and hoped that your dark outfit helped blend with the shadows. 

However, the second you lifted a window and stepped foot into the building, lights flashed and an alarm rang. Fuck.

The television demon himself got to you surprisingly fast. As if he had been waiting. Which, honestly, wouldn’t have surprised you. You briefly wondered why it took them so long to have an alarm system in the first place, and began frantically looking for a way out. The window behind you had shut and locked. The hallway was incredibly narrow and Vox stood in the way.

Fuck it, you made a mad dash for the Overlord, hoping to catch him off guard. You raised a clawed hand and swiped at his television head. A pointless attack, you realize, as the screen nearly flickered for a moment; his wide, pixelated grin staring into you. Before you could move again, his arm tightly gripped at your throat. You felt an electrifying sensation, stinging through every nerve, and blacked out.

“Heyy, Al?” Charlie’s voice rang through the doorway of Alastor’s radio tower. “Have you seen (Y/N)..? She was supposed to help with some decorations.” She had opened the door without warning.

He paced back and forth in thought, gripping the top of his cane with one hand and tapping the end of it in his other. He didn’t respond to Charlie, but the question did ring in his head over and over. You hadn’t come back from the night before. You always came back before the day broke.

He didn’t know the feeling that stirred in his chest as he watched the minutes pass by. The hours pass by. All without a sight of you. He never thought to keep watch as you worked, refraining from sending his shadow to spy on the spy, as he always saw you as capable enough. 

Besides, he thought to himself. What a waste of my time that would be. Fretting over a single demon.

“Alastor,” Charlie said again. He craned his neck to her, stopping his train of thought. His grin had a strain to it and his nose wrinkled in aggravation. Why was she in his space? He hated intrusions.

“What?” He said bluntly.

“(Y/N)?” She spoke your name again, hoping to prompt some conversation out of the Radio demon with the implied question.

Alastor composed himself, acting unphased by the… worry? That he felt. “Why would I know where she is? I take care of this hotel, but not so much the residents.” It was a true enough statement, as he preferred just watching the demons Charlie try desperately to rehabilitate and fail miserably every day. 

“Now, if you don’t mind,” He interrupted Charlie before she could say anything, her mouth hanging open and words dying on her tongue. He briskly turned on his feet and walked towards her, standing at the doorway. “I would prefer you knock next time.” He shut the door on her.

He couldn’t handle the heavy feeling that threatened his lungs as he thought about what was happening at the Vee’s residence. 

Did he really care to go out, risk a scene, risk the intel, just to get you? To make sure you were okay?

Yeah. He had to. He hated that feeling in his chest, especially as it just grew heavier and more overwhelming. He just chalked it up to the deal he had made with you putting a pressure on his own soul to hurry up and deal with it. But he couldn’t help the tightness that consumed him when he thought about what you were doing in that place. Or what they were doing to you. He brushed the emotion aside, trying his best to ignore it.

He argued with himself that yeah, he was only going because of that deal he had made. No, no way did he have a soft spot for you. No way in Hell. He was just doing this to hold up his deal. Yeah.

With a heavy sigh and a twitch at the corners of his lips, he brushed his talon-like fingers through the fringe of his hair, pushing it back before letting it fall into place again. He tried to maintain a leisurely composure, but a wild glint in his eye was proof enough that he was stressed out.

Best to get this over with. He had a deal to uphold. He opted for the faster route, melting into his shadow.

part ii part iii

[lovebugdrabbles]

Wriothesley Headcanons n$4w vers

notes: i need readers to please go into this believing bro is 35 years of age MINIMUM. or u won't get my VISION. also, my tags are messy bc it's my first time posting my writing on tumblr so just pretend ik how to tag my writing.

warnings: n$4w obvs, 1k words, untitled sentences for the aesthetic, semi-lit, i do use apostrophes, shortened words/abbreviations, i want him in a muzzle so that's mentioned, inappropriate use of handcuffs, i mention he gets rough, i write him as a sweetie pie lowkey tho, tbh it’s a little vanilla, i made a joke abt being ford tough and i feel that warrants a warning, biting, pet name ‘doll’ used, (brief mention) ass slapping , (brief mention) hair pulling, i call him a teddy bear a couple times, (mentioned) slight manhandling, i get a little too into imaging him subby, oops, i also get a bit caught up in soft dom wriothesley,

now playing |◁ II ▷| ‘doin time’ by sublime

methinks he's defff vers/switch but will fully let a partner take over or will take control himself. i don't believe he's picky in this department for a moment. i think he might prefer dom however his dom side has limits.

i bet he's sooo vocal. letting every little grunt and moan out. word vomits too. whatever he’s thinking, his partner will hear it.

big softie. idc. he is a SWEET MAN. 'love should be warm' headass.

so many pet names for his partner. doll, baby, baby-doll, babe, sweetheart, hon/honey. but doll or sweetheart r his faves.

using his title in bed makes him melt.

like i don't think he's malicious in bed. like truly. he seems teddy-bearish to me but i could be looking thru rose colored glasses i must say.

he's def a bit rough tho but i think it'd be in a playful way. there is times he’d get too into the moment and grab on a bit too tight to a thigh or the hair he's running a hand thru or snap his hips a little too hard but he doesn't mean to and will apologize immediately and try to make it up to a partner or even stop mid-session to make sure the other party is alright.

not opposed to using the cuffs if a partner asks. on him or his partner. but he needs enthusiastic consent before or he won't do it.

i do think he’s actually rlly good abt asking for consent to do things tho. but he does it in a way that it feels like part of sex and not just asking for permission ‘you like that?’, ‘you wanna keep going, doll?’ ‘wanna keep taking me?’ but he will make said doll use their words or he won’t keep going. mans is a whore for hearing a partner beg or ask him to do something and he's not above it either.

he seems like the type to wanna hold hands while going at it. like if his hands can reach his partners they are intertwined or at least touching. a pinkie wrapped around the other at the very least. he feels closer and just… better with it

y'all know the shirt that says 'warning this bitch bites' he needs it. will leave marks that last for days and absolutely loves if a partner does it too. but he does feel a bit guilty after especially if it's a hard bite so will pepper kisses on them after.

seeing his bite marks on a partner drives him crazy tho. like, makes him stop in his tracks and wakes up smth in him like a sleeper agent.

kisses thru-out the ordeal soz u can pry this from my cold dead hands. he feels a little guilty if he isn't kissing a hand, a clavicle or any piece of skin he can delicately place a smooch on occasionally when he's not biting ofc.

additionally: my brain has been occasionally FOGGED w thoughts of him in a muzzle. i'm drooling rn actually. i think he'd have a love-hate relationship with it since he wouldn't be able to kiss or bite a partner but he absolutely bends at a partner’s will when they tug on the bars and that's the best part for him

honestly i don't think he'd be comfortable going much harder than what i've mentioned. maybe he'd allow a few slaps on the ass but idk just seems out of character imo. being rough and tumble is for work and the ring and i think he'd keep it that way.

i did say he's a switch/vers so it's time to talk abt both sides of the coin :))))

when he's in a particularly subby mood; he's pathetic. a complete mess of a man.

its so satisfying to see a guy so high in power just groveling to someone.

i bet he looks at a partner w the biggest puppy dog eyes, mumling the softest and breathiest pleases, his hair all tousled and falling over his face. he thinks he's willing to do anything a partner orders him to do atp.

especially interested in peppering kisses on a partner when he's in this mood. nuzzling and sighing as he wraps his arms around his partner and smooches.

this is the time he is very much not opposed to the handcuffs on him.

i think he'd asked to be praised or called a good boy on these nights. i don't make the rules.

this is when he gets vocal. whimpering included too.

but the facade almost immediately drops when aftercare starts.

on the topic of a dom wriothesley; honestly i dont see him getting into the rough dom role but staying more of a soft dom and being very comfortable there.

that is where the word vomit happens, talking a partner through it all when he's in this mood, telling them how good they feel, they're being so good, or to quiet down despite being a bit noisy himself but that's what his biting is for.

moaning into every bite. teeth marks and hickeys covering a partner the next morning leading to that system overload i touched on earlier.

willing to try more positions when he's in this mood fs but he truly believes you cant go wrong w the classics. *cough cough* missionary

this is when he gets real into it and loses himself in the moment like i mentioned earlier. hips bucking and hands reaching to hold onto a partner like they'll escape.

he gets a little bit rougher but its still not in a mean way more in a 'oh yeah? watch this.' type way. pulling a partner closer of man handling them to hold their hips in a better position.

occasionally those pet names get a very adamant 'my' in front of them.

i think this is when his most comfortable area of aftercare comes in but not before one last thing.

he'd like to stay holding a partner for a bit afterwards, letting everyone regain their bearings before hopping into aftercare mode if he was the one in control.

aftercare on top tho. tea, running a bath, helping a partner bathe if they so want, helping a partner get dressed if they're super sore, massages, just all out pampering, especially if he gets a little rough.

he equally enjoys reciving aftercare but is hesitant bc he says he's fine or he's built tough. BUILT FORD TOUGH. sorry idk where that came from and he is but the guy needs to let a partner take care of him sometimes.

the 'love is supposed to be warm' line weighs heavy on me if u cant tell. he's just a teddy bear :(( ugh i'll sob.

la fin !

end notes: tysm for reading the ravings of a madman !! i've had so many random ass thoughts abt him since playing the story quests lmfao and i wanted to get out of my fluffy/horror writing comfort zone so i wrote basically what i think he's like in bed jsjsjs. i may be posting some stuff on boothill from honkai star rail but it'll probably be more rambling just about robotics and prosthesis for now if i post. if i don't post that i'm wrapping up a wriolette fic soon and that will be up here or on my ao3 under the same user !! till next timeee

[whxtedreams]

Uncertain, Unknown

a joel miller x reader oneshot

Summary: You were ready for the end, but a stranger wasn't.

Word Count: 2.6k

Tags: near-death experience, drowning, acceptance of death, (no actual deaths) joel saves you, idk what this is- just felt like writing this. no description of reader.

Main masterlist

You have held a deep-set fear of large bodies of water, their vast depths an abyss of the unknown that suffocates your very being as it reaches out to embrace you in its cold, unforgiving embrace. Its watery tendrils seem to caress the edges of your consciousness, seeking to pull you in and feed on your fears, trapping you within its endless expanse.

As you plunge deeper into the lake, an unexpected tranquility washes over you. The cold and forbidding waters no longer seem menacing; instead, they wrap around you like a warm embrace, flooding you with a sense of familiarity and comfort. In this moment, the lake transforms from a source of fear into a soothing reminder of what home used to be – a safe haven filled with love and affection. You sink effortlessly, held gently in the arms of the water, feeling a deep sense of security and contentment.

As you fall into the depths of the water, time seems to elongate, stretching out into eternity. Yet, deep down, you know that it has only been a mere minute since you hit the surface. You succumb to the pull of gravity, allowing yourself to sink deeper into the aquatic embrace. There is no struggle, no fight for survival. Instead, you surrender fully to the abyss, each second passing like an hour, as your body slowly surrenders to the warm, welcoming grasp of the water.

You had been running with all your might, your legs and chest on fire with exhaustion and fear pumping through your veins. In a moment of panicked desperation, you turned your head to check if your pursuers were behind you. Alas, a concealed log laid in ambush, and your foot caught upon it, sending you crashing to the ground. Panic flooded your being as your body rolled and tumbled uncontrollably, the harsh earth tearing at your skin ruthlessly. Then, as abruptly as it had begun, the torment ended in a splash as you plunged into the cold, dark depths below.

You are going to die, and you don’t fight it.

You’re so tired.

The lake seems to come alive, its depths reaching out and grasping at your body, tearing at your skin and constricting your chest with an implacable grip. The lake's sinister intentions become palpable as it seeks to consume you, to claim your essence for itself. Weary and exhausted to the core, you surrender to the lake's malevolent embrace, allowing yourself to be consumed by its fearsome hunger.

As your body instinctively craves air, the lake relentlessly smothers it, its relentless grasp stifling your every breath. Your lungs burn with desperation, and each attempt to inhale only draws in more suffocating water. The lake's relentless hands envelop your face, leaving you with no escape as it ruthlessly suppresses your very breath, depriving your body of the oxygen it so desperately needs.

As you sink deeper into the lake's abyss, a surprising sense of gratitude washes over you. Despite the circumstances leading up to this, you are thankful that this is how your life will end – not torn apart by the infected or cut down by the malevolent force that shadows the earth. As the water envelopes you completely, you find solace in the thought that this peaceful end is preferable to the horrors that awaited you on the surface.

Your mind drifts back to the events of the morning - a time when everything seemed so normal, so mundane. How innocently unsuspecting you were about the cruel fate that awaited you. Now, as you reflect, you can't help but feel a profound melancholy - you realize that that is the last time you will wake up in this world to witness the beauty of a sunrise.

The memory of the infected still pierces your mind like a sharp sword. The guttural growls, the chilling shrieks, and the rustling of leaves as they closed in on you - it all replays like an awful nightmare. Despite your abilities, you knew that taking on four infected at once was a certain death sentence. So, with sheer terror coursing through your veins, you did the only thing you could - you ran. And running is something you knew how to do brilliantly. But even the most masterful escape was not enough to save you from your impending fate.

Above the murky depths of the lake, a series of thunderous booms reverberate through the water, causing a surge of pressure that pressed against your body. You feel a mixture of hope and trepidation wash over you as you ponder whether drowning would claim you before the unknown entity reaches you. Suddenly, something hard and solid wraps around your wrist, its grip unrelenting. The shock of the contrast between the soothing water and the harshness of this newfound grasp causes you to gasp in surprise. As the solid form forcefully pulls you upwards, encircling your middle, you struggle fiercely, attempting to free yourself from its tenacious hold.

As the mysterious entity pulls relentlessly, you feel the shift in the water's demeanor - the soothing embrace transforming into a bitter, furious grip, angry at the prospect of losing its new victim. The water screams loudly in your ears, the intense pressure leaving you with a throbbing headache. The temperature plunges to near freezing, and the realization of the water's true nature sends waves of panic coursing through your body, making it increasingly difficult to stay calm and collected.

As your head breaks the surface of the water, you desperately gasp for air, yet you find yourself hacking and choking on the water still trapped within your lungs. The shock of exposure to the outside air mixed with the remnants of ingested water leaves you struggling to catch your breath, your body convulsing in protest.

The strong arms that had pulled you from the depths adjust themselves around you, seeking to hold onto the lingering vestiges of your life as they guide you back to the safety of the shoreline. As your back makes contact with the muddy ground, urgent hands swiftly push away the strands of hair from your face, gently turning you onto your side. With each subsequent cough, more and more murky lake water spills from your mouth, mixing with the damp earth that cradles your weary body.

"There you go, you're alright," The reassuring voice washes over you like a calm tide, its soothing tone wrapping around your nerves like a protective blanket. The hand rubs your back firmly, providing a solid and comforting presence as you struggle to expel the water from your lungs.

Your clothes cling to your skin, their cold and soggy embrace causing you to shiver violently. Yet as the hand gently rubs your back, you become acutely aware of the stark contrast between its warmth and the bone-chilling cold of the lake water. The sudden realization hits you - the water was never truly warm; it was merely a cruel trick, a twisted ploy to lure you into its sinister grasp.

As you struggle to turn onto your back, your head heavy and fatigue setting in, you muster the strength to look up at your savior. He sits beside you, panting heavily, his own chest rising and falling with each labored breath. Despite the frigid waters that cling to his clothes and the wet strands of hair that fall onto his face, his gaze remains focused solely on you, unwavering and intense. The hand that once firmly rubbed your back now lays beside you.

As your breathing steadily slows and your consciousness begins to fade, your thoughts turn to the one who has saved you. In that moment, he appears like an angel to you with an aura of divine intervention surrounding him. Whether he is a fallen angel or a heavenly being sent to rescue you, you care not, for the overwhelming sense of gratitude and relief washes over you, lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

You awaken to the unfamiliar feeling of harsh concrete beneath you, replacing the cold and damp mud that cradled you when you drifted off to sleep. The windows are eerily boarded up, allowing only a limited amount of light to trickle in and leaving you completely disoriented as you try to determine whether the sunlight outside indicates a sunrise or a sunset. Confusion mixes with a lingering sense of disorientation as you struggle to piece together how much time has passed while you were unconscious.

You muster the strength to push aside a hefty jacket that rests on your body, sitting up slowly and tentatively. It's not your jacket, that much is certain. The realization hits you like a wave - it must belong to the one who rescued you. As you recall the events leading up to this moment, you remember that he wasn't wearing a jacket when he pulled you out of the water. In this cold and unfamiliar environment, the jacket offers some comfort and warmth, a small lifeline to cling onto.

The dim flicker of light filtering through the boarded-up windows provides enough illumination to make out the contents of the small storage room you find yourself in. The shelves, once perhaps stocked with supplies, are now bare and covered in a thick layer of dust that speaks to years of disuse. Broken pieces of wood and metal lay scattered about on the ground, undisturbed and forgotten by time. The thick, stale air hangs in the room like a heavy pall, an ominous stillness that weighs heavily on your senses.

The quiet of the room is disrupted by a sharp huff followed by the heavy and purposeful thud of approaching footsteps. They come to a standstill just outside the closed door, and for a brief moment, there is dead silence. Suddenly, three gentle yet firm raps echo through the room, jolting you from your contemplations.

His voice breaks the silence, his words carrying a mix of both hope and concern. “You awake in there?” he calls out, his tone low and steady. After a brief pause, the door slowly creaks open, its hinges protesting the movement. His eyes sweep the room until they finally land on you, sitting in the exact spot where he left you. Relief washes over his features, his shoulders relaxing as a faint smile quirks up the corners of his mouth.

As the door swings open fully, the bright afternoon sunlight floods the room, illuminating every corner and casting harsh shadows upon the walls. Caught off guard by the sudden brightness, you instinctively raise your hands to shield your eyes, squinting as you attempt to adjust to the dazzling light.

He leans against the arch of the door nonchalantly, his arm braced against the frame in a lazy yet protective manner. He casts a watchful gaze onto you, studying you carefully as you attempt to catch a glimpse of your surroundings beyond him. His tall stature and strong build serve as an imposing yet comforting presence, casting a shadow over your seated form that shields you from the intense light streaming in from outside.

His voice breaks the silence once more, a mixture of relief and concern tinting his words. “That was some mighty cold water you found yourself in,” he says, the lingering worry evident in his tone. “Thought we were both gonna freeze” he adds, his sigh reverberating through the room. He pushes off from the arch, rising to his full height and placing himself before you, his shoulders broad and firm.

He crouches down before you, his eyes searching your face intently. As your silence lingers, he asks, “You got a name? Or am I going to have to make one up if you won't talk?” The question hangs in the air, filled with curiosity and a hint of a challenge. His gaze remains steady, patiently awaiting your response, wondering if you will finally break your silence.

You hesitate for a moment, the syllables of your name feeling unfamiliar as they roll off your tongue, having gone unspoken for so long. Finally, in a soft, tentative voice, you respond. The words are barely spoken, yet they hang in the air, carrying with them a hint of vulnerability as you offer this small piece of yourself to this stranger who has saved you.

He nods in acknowledgment, a small gesture of introduction. “Joel.” The name rolls off his tongue with a certain ease, his voice carrying both strength and warmth in equal measure. As he straightens up, his knees crack audible protest, yet he gives no sign of discomfort, perhaps used to the sensation of pain. He stands before you, a tall and steadfast presence, solid and reliable like a pillar amidst the chaos of uncertainty.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” He begins as he leans over you to retrieve his jacket. “Looks like you’ve got two options. Either stay here or I can smuggle you into Boston QZ. But I gotta move, wasted a lot of time dragging you out of that lake.”

He stands with his arms crossed over his chest, the muscles rippling under his shirtsleeves. It's a relaxed yet assertive pose, one that exudes a sense of authority and control. As he waits for your response, his eyes never leave your face, watching you intently, silently urging you to speak with a slight lift of an eyebrow.

You grapple with the decision, torn between the logical course of action and an inexplicable pull deep within you. Something within you whispers fiercely, urging you to say yes, to join this stranger named Joel. Despite the risks and uncertainties that lie ahead, the force of this invisible pull is simply too strong to resist. A flicker of something wild and untamed dances in your eyes as the answer slips past your lips.

As Joel reaches down and takes your hand firmly in his, an almost gentle strength radiates through his grip. He lifts you easily onto your feet, the warmth and solidity of his touch providing a stark contrast to the cold memories of the lake. The lake had wrapped around you like a warm embrace, flooding you with a sense of familiarity and comfort. But in this moment, the lake cannot compare to how safe Joel makes you feel in his presence. 

Following closely behind him, you reflect on the events that have transpired since your encounter with Joel - how this stranger has not only rescued you from freezing waters but also taking you to the safety of a QZ. A sense of gratitude mixes with uncertainty in your thoughts, unsure of what the future holds, but trusting in Joel nonetheless.

Your thoughts turn to the false sense of safety the lake had offered you as you sank to your death, how easily it had lured you into its depths. Now, as you follow Joel out of the abandoned gas station and into the uncertain unknown, you make a silent vow to yourself. Regardless of what lies ahead, you will follow Joel for now. With each step, you cling to the hope that he will lead you toward sanctuary, and away from the shadows that seem to lurk everywhere around you.

Your mind is filled with thoughts of caution and doubt, wondering if Joel is simply leading you into a false sense of hope and security. Trust is not given lightly in this new world, and yet, you find yourself following him nonetheless, desperate for a lifeline in this sea of uncertainty. As you try to quell the unease in your heart, you silently hope that Joel's intentions are sincere, and that he will provide the protection and guidance that you so desperately need.

notes

i’m back from the dead. haven’t sat down and written anything for a while, stardew valley took over my life for a little bit there and then my wifi broke.

don’t really know what this is, but i felt like writing it. just a moment, nothing too long or short. no smut or fluff really, just an interaction and the start of a new life.

[hypnoneghoul]

Crying in the Rain

WC: 1,3K

Relationship: Raindrop (but its not exactly relationship focused)

Tags: Angst with a happy ending, idk what else, character study?

After his elemental change, Dewdrop felt like he lost all control. He was robbed of himself, of his life and shoved into body and role someone else designed.

Notes: Written for @jazz-bazz's ask that my dumbass deleted by accident. Not as angsty as I wanted it to be and weirdly written so if you think I was high when writing this no I was not... this time. I also shoved a lot of guitar stuff in there because I am myself and this was a gear talk ask sooo...

Read under the cut or on AO3.

The guitar, the Fantomen, was… pretty. It was beautiful, even, Dewdrop has always thought so, when Ifrit played it. 

They made some changes for him, already, though. The pretty knobs with “H” engraved on them were changed to boring, plain silver ones, Dew didn’t know why. No one changed Aether’s knobs.

There was no space for questions, any questions, regarding all this change.

So much has changed. Has been changed.

Rest of the changes that had been inflicted on the instrument was more technical than visual. They probably just wanted Dewdrop’s playing to sound the best way possible, he doubted anyone cared about his comfort. He knew they didn’t, actually.

The strings were too thin, his fingers were shredded already. There were also too many of them, he was tumbling over the fretboard all days long not hitting the right strings, the right frets.

Ifrit was sweet, understanding and patient… not something fire ghouls were accused of being often. But even the sweetest, most understanding, those with the most patience can and will eventually run out of it.

“Droplet, it’s not that fucking hard,” he growled, slamming his hand down onto the strings of a guitar nestled in his lap. His raised voice and awful feedback the instrument let out made Dewdrop flinch.

“‘m sorry,” he whispered as he curled in on himself. As much as the big piece of lacquered wood in his own lap would allow, that is. His now dull and weirdly warm toned hair hid his face and the tears that were dangerously close to rolling down his burning cheeks.

“No, Dew, I’m sorry,” Ifrit sighed, putting a hand on the smaller ghoul’s back. Not so long ago he’d purr at the inhuman warmth but now he didn’t feel a difference. Just some additional weight. “I just, uhm… didn’t sleep well. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have lashed out.”

“It’s fine, I know I suck,” Dewdrop mumbled, barely loud enough for the other to hear.

“Dew-”

“No, don’t,” he didn’t snap, he spoke softly quietly. He was no fire ghoul. “It’s fine.”

Ifrit sighed, ran his hands down his face and even opened his mouth to speak again. Dewdrop was no longer there, a hard case for his Fantomen left empty on the floor.

They made Dewdrop’s guitar even heavier.

A few simple modifications didn’t make much difference for him, he couldn’t lie and say they didn’t make it sound better.

But they made it heavier.

It originally weighted more than his bass already and they made it heavier.

Dew wanted to cry. He did cry. He was so out of control, he sucked at guitar and he sucked at being a ghoul and he hoped he sucked enough to get banished back to the Pit. Because there was no way he’d be able to do this.

To replace Ifrit, to play lead guitar, to be a fire ghoul.

To teach Rain bass.

He stumbled under the weight of the Fantomen again, his vision was clouded with tears, his shoulders were cramped and bruised.

Why was the strap so thin? It didn’t make sense.

But, again, why would anyone care about his comfort? He was just a tool and right now he was a faulty one.

At least he was alone in the practice room. 

No one heard the butchered solos and his sobs. No one saw the blood and his shaking form.

Dewdrop couldn’t touch the bass, even if it wasn’t his. It wasn’t even the same model.

Why was Rain given a choice where he had none?

But it wasn’t the new water ghoul’s fault, he didn’t even know of Dew’s life just before he was summoned. Dewdrop couldn’t be angry at him.

“Are you okay?” he asked him, seemingly out of nowhere. The fire ghoul snapped back to reality, realising Rain had asked a question and was waiting for an answer when Dew was busy staring into the distance at nothing in particular.

Are you okay? Rain has asked. How was he supposed to answer?

“Yeah, sorry, didn’t sleep well,” Dew grumbled. “What was that?”

Rain looked at him like he absolutely did not believe him. Dew wasn’t surprised, “I asked if there’s a slide the second time or just the sixth fret.”

“Just the sixth fret once more, but you can do as many slides as you want, no one will probably notice,” Dewdrop shrugged. Rain nodded and turned back to his bass.

Dew started zoning out again as the water ghoul was going over and over again on the same part of the song. His eyes were fixed on Rain’s strap. A solid piece of leather and he wondered…

“You should get a different strap,” Rain called out from the other side of the practice stage. What?

“What?” Dewdrop turned around and sized the water ghoul. Not in a hostile way, he was just… how did he know?

It was their first actual practice as a band, the rest already filtered out, only the two of them left. How did he know?

“This strap isn’t good for you,” Rain said matter-of-factly, like it was common knowledge. It couldn’t be, it couldn’t have been, he hid it so well, he wasn’t a pussy it was just a stupid strap. “Hurts your shoulder and back.”

“Oh, I- they… they gave me this one with the guitar I don’t-”

“You should take your control back, Dewdrop.”

How did he know?

He changed the strap.

Dewdrop basically broke into one of the storage rooms by the part of the Abbey dedicated to the Ghost project and stole all his old straps he could find. The wide, padded ones with grucifix pins he added himself. They were his.

Nobody but Rain seemed to notice the change on the next rehearsal. Maybe Aether or Mountain would, but they’d probably not realise the… the importance of such a small change.

Rain noticed, and warmth bloomed in Dewdrop’s chest when he smiled and nodded at him.

His shoulders weren’t bruised anymore and his back wasn’t strained.

But there was another thing that was pissing him off and… and Rain had told him to get back control, so…

Dewdrop stole a drilling machine.

He was pissed with the placement of his strap, he didn’t have that much accessibility to the highest frets which were important for lead, for playing solos.

So he stole a drilling machine.

He drilled the hole.

He moved the strap to the side, above the neck instead of where it had been nestled in the back, where the neck met the body. He shoved three toothpicks into the hole the screw left and put a few drops of white nail polish over it to make it as unnoticeable as possible.

Only Rain noticed the change, and warmth bloomed in Dewdrop’s chest when he smiled and nodded at him, again.

Dewdrop regained all control there was to regain when he first kissed Rain.

It was like something snapped inside of him, like a rope that was slowly being cut and burned until only one thread remained, and Rain was the one to snap it. He was who started cutting and burning it in the first place, after all.

One day, years later, Dewdrop crawled out of bed, Rain’s arms and went to the newly anointed Papa’s office. He asked him for a new guitar, a Stratocaster. A few different models, actually, each one with different modifications, customisations.

Because it was going to be his and his only, and no one was going to take away his control again. He let them rob him of years of his life on Earth and he was never going to give up control again. 

He accepted the past. 

Dewdrop was a fire ghoul now, but it was his life, he wasn’t going to waste any more of it and he was his own ghoul.

Well… maybe Rain’s too.

When he took Terzo’s grucifixes off of his straps it was his choice.

In the future, when he’d put stickers on the backs of the guitars, he wouldn’t hesitate.

Not again.

[secretswiftymarvelfan]

I wanna ask about reblogginggg😭😭🙏

Do you guys (author/writer) prefer reblog or likes? And what kind of reblog? Is the with comment or just reblogs fine? Cause sometimes i really like your story, but idk what i have to say🥹🥹😭🙏!! THANK YOUU

BTW I LOVE YOUR STORY SO MUCH 💓💓💓💓

Hi thank you so much for reaching out I am more than happy to explain reblogging to you and anyone else who doesn’t quite get why us creators go on about it!

Okay at its basic level reblogs are so so much better than likes. Likes do barely anything, there isn’t an algorithm like tiktok or twitter where a highly liked post gets pushed out to others. Honestly the most it does is bookmark that post in your likes, which if you have set to private isn’t going to spread that work any further.

Reblogs however do get posts pushed out further because it allows other blogs who don’t follow the OG creator to see the post, and since fandoms work and survive on engagement this is why creators push for reblogs.

Now to explain what kind of reblogs are better than others essentially I see it as a scale.

At the bottom is likes: they do nothing to benefit the creators

Next is an empty reblog (no tags or comments) these are good because they spread the content further but they don’t help inspire a creator to keep creating

Next is a tagged reblog: these are better because people follow tags on tumble aka #andybarberfanfiction therefore more people can discover it but again doesn’t help inspire the creators

At the top is a comment reblog; these are amazing because they spread the work, tell others why its good and why they should read it and the comments inspire the creators to keep going! They make us do a little happy dance!

Now dropping into a creators ask box is what I consider an add on: you can do it and it boosts what ever option you went for. For example a like and an anon ask is better than just a like. They do however have limited reach because only those who follow the creator will see it when it gets answered so it might help their followers find a fic they missed etc but it doesn’t spread the content further than the creators followers if you get what i mean.

Of course I understand that some people might be hesitant for various reasons but there work arounds:

“I don’t know what to put” just a simple I loved this will do (just don’t ask for an update because that has an adverse effect)

“I like to keep my blog aesthetic and it doesn’t fit that” - create a side blog that’s specifically for reblogging content

“I don’t wanna seem annoying by blowing up their notifications with reblogs” - we love that! There is nothing that makes me happier than when i see multiple comments left on a series etc.

I could honestly go on and on and on about reblogs and engagement and what readers could do to help but I’ve tried to keep it as precise as possible and if other creators have other points that want to chime in on then they’re more than welcome to

I really hopes this help 🩵🩵

[teacup-captor]

Special deal today only:

U r allowed (And encouraged.) to chase me off tumble if I'm on here for too long for as long as I have this message pinned. I'm procrastinating practicing for an exam I have on tuesday bc I know so little and that makes me scared.

PROCRASTINATING THIS DOES NOT MAKE ME MAGICALLY KNOW MORE DESPITE WHAT MY BRAIN WILL HAVE ME THINKING

Also new rule bc I did this twice and it's funny: 🤜🏻📚 tag means I'm returning to my studies it might be useful just so u don't have to chase me away when I'm already going idk I just wanna use my silly joke more

[getlostsquidward]

I am foaming at the mouth, holy FUCK. This was so, so good.

You watch with slight awe and ever growing arousal as Claire confidently carves the last would-be assassin up, their screams growing weaker and weaker as they bleed out, twitching and moving less and less.

As she works, a slow, feral smile creeps across her face, and when she raises her head in the middle of it all to meet your eyes you groan at the sight of bloodlust gleaming at you, causing Claire to breathlessly giggle.

"I feel like a schoolgirl again." She confesses. "This is exhilarating."

You offer her a upwards twist of your lips, finding it difficult to focus on much else then the burning heat building up between your thighs.

"You're so pretty like this." You say, stepping closer to her.

Claire's eyes rake their way up and down your body, as they so often do, and it's not just bloodlust in her eyes anymore when she brings them back up to your face.

"Let me finish this first. Be a good girl for me, get on your knees and wait." She orders.

You drop immediately, want starting to cloud your senses.

Dangerous, your mind whispers.

You bite your lip, watching for a few more moments as Claire neatly slices through flesh.

"I need to do a sweep."

She pauses. "Two minutes." She allows.

You nod, though Claire can't see it, and flit out of the room, keeping to the darker parts of the building where you're able as you ensure there's no one still waiting.

Once satisfied there's no more people in the building, you return to Claire's office, settling back into the spot you had just left, kneeling.

"All clear?" Claire wants to know, standing back to admire her handiwork.

"I wouldn't be here like this if it were."

She turns then, and you can feel the way your mouth waters at the sight of her.

She's covered with blood, red staining her hands and clothes, a few drops speckling her face as well. There's a shmear of it across her cheek, as if she used the back of hand to rub it and just made more of a mess.

She's beautiful.

A slow smirk starts to take over Claire's expression as she realizes you're utterly enthralled by her, and she purposefully swings her hips as she walks over.

The words just tumble out, unbidden, unthinkingly, but no less true for it.

"I love you."

And then her eyes darken, want sparking deep within them, and it's an intoxicating cocktail of different desires as she pulls you up by your hair to kiss you, hard and hungry.

"Oh, darling," she whispers. "I love you too."

Oh.

Certainty floods through you at her confession, and your lust feels doubled.

"Let me make you feel good, mommy." You say, and Claire groans at the title, pushing you back down to your knees.

She's wearing a dress today, a shorter one, and it makes it easy to push it up.

"...were you not wearing underwear at all today?" You ask when you're met with her dripping wet center, her thighs glistening with arousal that had dripped down.

"What do you think, baby?" Claire's eyes are half lidded as she gazes down at you.

"Fuck." You breath out.

"I've been thinking about you all day." She confesses as you gently stroke a fingertip through her folds. "I wanted to so badly fuck this little attitude of yours out of you."

She moans when you push two fingers into her, meeting little resistance.

"I had soaked through my underwear before it was even midmorning."

Your breath catches in your throat at the thought of Claire being so worked up, being so wet, that she had to discard the idea of wearing panties entirely.

"Fuck, doll." Claire throws her head back when your tongue meets her clit. "You feel so fucking good." ~S.H.💜

(I may or may not now be planning on writing this. Dark!Claire makes brain go brrrrrrrrrrr)

YESSS!!!! tag me pleaseee

idk what to add except. dark!claire is so fucking hot...........

okay wait i have a question. anyone who's been reading this whole dark au feel free to answer.

do you think claire would think about marking reader up? not the typical hickeys and bruises but like...actual scars. she'd carve her initials name on their body to stake her claim on reader. they're all hers, and no amount of legal documents (contract, marriage certificate) could show their loyalty than claire's name on their freshly cut skin as proof of loyalty and devotion??

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Billy Batson's Weirdly Specific, Oddly Consuming, Family Dynamic - Is This Normal? Alfred Just Shrugs Watching The Manor Burn Ablaze Inside The Living Room

by NagitosWaifu

It started off with the worst of impressions, then overall good feelings, THEN a downhill tumbling into what Billy Batson means to the world at whole.

Still something is terribly wrong with this family, left unspoken, untouched, and unseen; Billy wonders if somebody will ever bring up the expanding, pitless hole growing inside these brothers of his. Billy starts to realize, slowly but surely, as to why a random rich man randomly adopted him. Whether a good man or a selfish one, Billy admits his life has improved. Of course, like a water's flow through the river, inevitably Bruce is Bruce and mistakes are being made.

Unknown to him, Everybody dealing with going back 5 years into the past with no real rhyme or rhythm to who remembers what. With some resets a few are having it better than others, while everybody else is having a hard time. Also for some reason, this world's weather is going insane, especially in Fawcett City. Sadly, it's unknown why the Wizard hasn't chosen his Champion once again.

"Does such a thing like Purity exist beyond a limited means knowns a Finitive?" Billy thinks 'No, it doesn't'

Words: 7441, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: DCU, Teen Titans (Animated Series), Young Justice (Comics), Impulse (Comics)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage

Categories: Gen, Multi

Characters: Billy Batson, Bruce Wayne, Batfamily Members, Michael Carter (DCU), Kon-El | Conner Kent, Bart Allen

Relationships: Billy Batson & Justice League, Billy Batson & Bruce Wayne, Bruce Wayne & Everyone, Batfamily Members & Billy Batson, Bart Allen & Tim Drake & Kon-El | Conner Kent, Dick Grayson/Koriand'r, Michael Carter & Bruce Wayne, Bart Allen/Preston Lindsay, Bart Allen & Carol Bucklen & Preston Lindsay

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe of an Alternate Universe, Time Travel, Pre-Captain Marvel, This is a mishmash of DCAU and ComicVerse, IDK Comicverse Teen Titans nor Justice League apart JLI, Dick Grayson is Damian Wayne's Parent, Dick Grayson is Not Okay, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Good Sibling Jason Todd, Jason Todd Has Issues, Tim Drake is Robin, Tim Drake is Red Robin, Tim Drake is Not Okay, Bad Parents Jack and Janet Drake, Dick Grayson is a Gift, Dick Grayson Has Issues, Rape Aftermath, Touch-Starved, Abuse, Neglect, Dimension Travel, Mental Anguish, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Emotional Manipulation, Gaslighting, Billy Batson Has Abandonment Issues, Honestly everybody in the Batfam does, But none ditch more immediately than Conner, Alfred Pennyworth is So Done, Worried Alfred Pennyworth, jonathan kent brings complications for the Supers, Kon-El | Conner Kent is Superboy, Past Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Bart Allen is Impulse, Bart Allen is a Mess, Minor Michael Carter/Ted Kord, Michael Carter Has Mix Feelings, Ted Kord is the refrigerator wife, The Longlasting Blue Beetle Tradition, Ambiguous Age, Past Barbara Gordon/Ted Kord, Past Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson, Smallville (TV) References, Past Clark Kent/Lex Luthor, Internalized Homophobia, Self-Esteem Issues, Bruce Wayne & Ted Kord Are Frenemies, Especially since Michael Carter are their shared custody, But Kord will fight off the Monopoly that is Wayne Enterprise, Also Bruce Might Of Copied Off Ted's Work, But as long he doesn't sell it, Ted begrudgingly allows it, Michael Carter and Clark Kent Do Not See Eye To Eye

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/43236240

[candiandmacarooncomic]

Wanted to try out the shirt cut meme, who better to model it than my favorite squishy yeti, Macaroon!

[sugarybitterness]

teenage dream - natasha romanoff x reader

request; hi!!! idk if you are taking song requests, but could I request some nat x reader based on teenage dream by katy perry??

word count; 1,386

warnings; black widow spoilers!! mentions of past abuse, trauma and experimentation

a/n; tooth rotting fluff bcs i am forever and always soft for natasha romanoff!! hope y’all enjoy this~ feedback is always appreciated <3

i know you get me, so i let my walls come down // you brought me to life

growing up as a hydra experiment meant you had a pretty nonexistent childhood. the team believed that it was your shared lack of childhood that allowed you and natasha to be so close. the team weren’t all wrong, the fact that both of you had a similar past definitely helped you have a deep mutual understanding of each other. but it was also the thrill of it all, because when you were together, you both felt so free, so alive. you felt things for and with natasha that you never even knew the name of.

natasha has seen you at your worst, literally. beaten and close to death in a hydra cell was not the kind of first impression you’d wish to have with anyone. you’ve seen her at her worst too, when she’s so overcome with emotions that her automatic response was to shut down. but you never pushed, you just made sure you were there, ready to give her whatever she needed or wanted. turns out a lot of times she just wanted to be held, your arms were her safe space. both of you had your walls built high but when it was just the two of you, the walls came tumbling down and you knew that no one else would see you like natasha did.

now every february you’ll be my valentine // no regrets, just love

you used to hate february, because it was the month you got adopted by hydra agents with the promise of a family but instead you were made into an experiment. ironically, you were saved on the 14th of february, something you didn’t learn until you were dragged out by natasha to go shopping for a gift for yourself. she explained that she wanted to commemorate the one year mark of you being rescued and joining SHIELD, who were you to say no? as if you could ever say no to natasha to begin with.

you ended up getting your ears pierced and went home with a pair of emerald green gem earrings which reminded you of natasha’s eyes. you never took them off, not until she gave you another pair of earrings a year later, just that it was no longer just the anniversary of you meeting, it was also a valentine’s day gift. it became a trend, for her to get you earrings every year on the 14th of february. except for the one year she pulled out a ring whilst on one knee to propose. of course you said yes, no regrets, no hesitation because it was natasha and when you were with natasha all you could feel was love.

you and i, will be young forever // you make me feel like i’m living a teenage dream

it was safe to say that your inner child came out when with natasha. with the others, you were always hesitant to act out that way in fear of being judged. but for some reason unknown to you, it was never like that with natasha. while the red room took away most of the redhead’s childhood, natasha clung to several memories from her time in ohio or when she was sent undercover for certain missions as child. she knew that unlike her, you were kept in a cell, the most normal thing you experienced was the classes you had with other kids, kids who eventually didn’t survive hydra’s experiments.

so natasha made it a point to do things with you, bringing you to amusement parks, arcades and all the fun things you had missed out on. not only does she enjoy seeing your childlike wonder, being able to bask in such moments of normalcy feels like a dream most days.

let’s run away and don’t ever look back

loud laughter echoed through the halls as you ran away from wanda who was hot on your tail. you had stumbled onto her cuddling into vision, fast asleep whilst the android was watching a sitcom. you had snapped a picture but accidentally left the flash on, so now wanda was chasing you down to get you to delete said picture.

you made a sharp turn and collided straight into natasha who was quick to steady you. when you heard your best friend’s shouts way too close for your liking, you hurried behind natasha, using her as a human shield. wanda rounded the corner and she gulped visibly when she natasha standing there, an amused smile on her face.

“natttt, y/n took an unflattering picture of me!” wanda whined as she glared at you. you rolled your eyes in response.

“it was a cute picture!” you defended yourself, arms snaking around your fiancée’s waist, knowing wanda wouldn’t dare cross the redhead. natasha just shook her head as she prepared to play peacemaker between the two of you, this happened more times than she could count but she also knew you and wanda would go back to normal within a couple hours or so. the two of you always acted like siblings, teasing each other and getting the other riled up.

my heart stops when you look at me

it was finally the day. after months of planning and praying that no alien invasion would disrupt your wedding, you were finally getting married to natasha. it was a simple ceremony, just the two of you and the avengers family as well as natasha’s family. when natasha received the strange red color vials from yelena, she was quick to track down her younger sister. much to the team’s annoyance, natasha insisted that she wanted to do it alone only allowing you to tag along because god knows what you would’ve done if natasha snuck out behind your back. you and yelena became fast friends, and after the red room was properly destroyed she was recruited into the avengers.

now, as clint walked you out of the back door of tony’s lake house to where the ceremony was being held in his backyard, you could’ve sworn your heart stopped in that very moment. natasha was dressed in a beautiful white dress, it was simple and fit her body beautifully. natasha took one look at you and willed herself not to cry, you looked absolutely breathtaking and she couldn’t believe that you were hers.

i finally found you, my missing puzzle piece // i’m complete

the ceremony went smoothly, and now it was time for the vows. natasha gave hers first, and her grip on your hands was tight as she spoke. when she was done, you were quick to pull her hands up to your lips to plant a soft kiss on her knuckles. taking a deep breath, you started on your own vows.

“natasha romanoff, i vow to be with you through all the good and the bad. to be with you at our happiest times and also at our lowest. you saved me all those years ago, at a point in time where i thought that being in a cell was going to be all my future had to offer. you saw something in me that not even i could see, you believed in me when i didn’t even believe myself. everyday, you continue to save me, love me and for that i am so eternally thankful. i finally found the one person that makes life worth living, you’re the one that makes everything make sense, you are my missing puzzle piece. you complete me in a way i never thought plausible. so thank you for never giving up on me and i vow to be with you through it all, to always be with you whenever you need me. to make you your coffee just the way you like it or tea if it’s late and you want to relax. i will always treasure you and love you, thank you for being my everything, for forever and always.”

when the pastor finally pronounced you two as married, you met in a sweet kiss, tears slipping down both your cheeks.

in a lifetime where it felt like love and a life such as this was simply a dream, the two of you found each other and made dreams become a reality.

[minor-solemnity]

yay you're taking requests!! i would lovee if you could doing a tom and reader pair. something fluffy, maybe when he wants to make sure he didn't hurt her during sexy time😳 idk something along the lines of aftercare. love you bb

Ahh thank you and yesss aftercare, fluff, comfort - all my favourite things! I hope you enjoy this because I had a lot of fun writing it haha <3

Tag List: @naps-and-lemons @jinxqsu @riddles-wifey @cakesarecute @mainlynonsense

Companion Fic: Truth Will Out

Tender, We Lay Bound

“Darling, you were perfect,” He murmurs. He tilts your head upwards and you take in his expression, concerned and fond and proud. Of you - Tom’s proud of you, and that realisation does wonders in settling your nerves. “Come here, let me look after you.”

You flop back against the soft pillows and immediately begin to burrow under the covers, feeling sated and glowing in the aftermath of your orgasm. What you want right now is a hug and to fall asleep in Tom’s arms. Tom it seems has other ideas though and you poke your head out from under the duvet, still feeling hazy and dizzy and slightly giddy. You watch with mild curiosity and confusion as he roots around in his bedside table drawer for a few seconds before he finds what he’s looking for. He passes you a small vial, not dissimilar from the one that he’d given you earlier, except the vial you're holding now is full of something that looks like mercury.

It’s at this point that your euphoric daze begins to lift and the gravity of what you’ve just done begins to set in, burying itself deep in your stomach and churning uncomfortably. You down the potion and the last effects of the Veritaserum lifts - your tongue feels like your own again and you know that if Tom were to ask you anything right now, it would only be his scarily accurate ability to weed out untruths that would stop you from lying. Well, that and the fact that you don’t like lying to him anyway.

The vial drops from your hands and you stare blankly at the canopy of his bed, willing the array of emotions that tumble around inside of you to still and calm. It’s no use though, now that you’ve started thinking about it and the implications of what you’ve done - what you’ve said - you can’t stop. You reach for Tom because of course, you do, and when you find him, you don’t let go.

“I… Was that okay?” You ask, and of course, what you’re really asking is if you were okay, if he’s pleased with you. You feel him shift and then his arms are wrapping around your torso, rubbing gentle, reassuring strokes down your sides as he pulls you close. Despite the slow rising anxiety inside you, you smile when he presses his lips against your forehead, the heat and weight of his body, and the calm, confident strokes of his hands are reassuring in a way that is impossible to fully describe.

“Darling, you were perfect,” He murmurs. He tilts your head upwards and you take in his expression, concerned and fond and proud. Of you - Tom’s proud of you, and that realisation settles your nerves as nothing else can. “Come here, let me look after you.” You press yourself close to him, throwing a leg over his hip and nestling against his side, your fingers splayed across his chest as he brushes your hair, damp with sweat, away from your eyes.

You stay like that, slotted together in quiet, peaceful silence for a few minutes, as your breathing deepens and a drowsy contentedness begins to take root and grow inside of you, overshadowing the worry you had been feeling earlier. Eventually, he shifts and you cling to his side, entirely unwilling to let him leave, but all he does is reach over and take a glass of water from his bedside table which he presses into your hands. “Drink this, you’ll feel better, I promise.” He watches you intently as you take a couple of gulps and pass it back to him, and you’re struck by how caring he’s being. It’s not a side of Tom that many people get to see; he’s an enigma to most other people. Polite, charming, a little distant, and very intimidating when he wants to be, but with you, he’s softer. Especially in moments like this when all his energy is focused on your wellbeing and happiness.

“Did I push you too far?” He asks at last, and you almost don’t want to answer. Because you’re honestly not sure - you’ve never been very good at talking about your feelings, something that you know annoys Tom, who wants to know every part of you as intimately as he can. You’re certain that’s why he wanted to use the Veritaserum - to allow you to tell him your wants and desires without the culpability of free will to get in the way.

You mull over your words carefully before answering, “It was… a lot?” And then, because he stiffens slightly, you continue, “I… You know I’m not good at telling you what I want. It’s embarrassing and I get scared that you’ll—” Realise that you’re not the person he wants. Find someone better. Leave. “—judge me, I guess.” He makes a low noise of protest in the back of his throat and a soft chuckle escapes you at the sound. “I enjoyed it though? I guess I’m surprised at how much I enjoyed it.” Without the Veritaserum in your system to force you to be honest, this admission feels far more important than any of the things you’d told him earlier. Honesty for the sake of honesty is not something you’re all that familiar with and you can tell by the way that Tom smiles, soft and indulgent and maybe a little smug that his plan worked the way he wanted it to, that he’s appreciative of you’re telling him the truth.

He passes you the water again and you drink obediently. Now that you’re more aware of your surroundings, you notice the way he watches you, taking in your every move and action no matter how minor, his eyes flickering across your face as though he’s trying to catalogue and dissect every micro-expression. His attentiveness and care fans the warm flame of love and happiness that burn bright inside of you whenever you’re near him. His expression grows serious for a moment and he reaches out to run his thumb across your cheek, curving your jaw before he twines a lock of your hair around his fingers. “I would never have suggested it if I didn’t think you’d enjoy it.” He says. “You have so many delicious thoughts hidden from me. I want to know all of them - all of you - and I’d never judge you for your desires.” Sincerity laces his voice, and though you know that he is an excellent liar, capable of hoodwinking almost anyone, you also know that he won’t lie to you about this. “Everything you told me tonight, can really only endear me to you more.”

A faint flush creeps up your neck and along your cheeks at his words and you bury your face in his chest, feeling more than hearing his laughter. “How?” Because you’d been fairly explicit in describing all the ways you wanted Tom to ruin you for anyone else, and whilst he certainly doesn’t seem put off by your secrets, you can’t really imagine why.

“Because I want the same things,” He says this simple and without shame, which is entirely unsurprising because you're not sure that Tom has ever once felt shame for things he wants, he begins to pet the top of your head and the light pressure of his palm against your scalp grounds and reassures you. “When I say I want to know all of you, I mean that there is no part of you that could possibly repulse me, of that I’m quite certain.” He pauses, and then adds in a more serious tone, “That you trust me to take you over the brink and bring you back again is… Important to me.” You hum in response and the two of you fall into a slow and easy quiet for a few minutes before he reaches over and finds a book. “Would you like me to read to you?” At your mumbled yes please, he huffs a quiet breath of laughter. Him reading to you has become a routine of sorts, on the days when you’re too tired from school, or, in this case, sex, he’ll recite passages from whatever book he’s reading at the time until everything but his voice is drowned out.

You can’t exactly remember when it was that you realised that you love him, or when you realised that he loves you, but in moments like this, when the world fades and all there that is left is the two of you, you feel that spring of love and safety begin to overflow. It’s just as overwhelming as everything else that has happened tonight and you lay there, in Tom’s bed, in Tom’s arms, drifting through the afterglow of your pleasure, your worries and anxieties abated as his voice, soft and smooth, soothes you to sleep.

Companion Piece: Truth Will Out

[writing-good-vibes]

brad dourif characters x reader headcanons: birthdays (fluff and smut)

requested by anon !! what do our beloveds do for your birthday (spoiler, they (pretty much) all spoil you) warning for smut. more notes in tags

charles lee ray

avoids his own birthday but goes all out for yours

buys (or steals, don't ask) you a lot of presents

i mean a lot !!

new tv (stolen)

a lot of lingerie (classy)

you have a very late night the night before (takes you to a very rough bar)

lazy morning

expect a very happy birthday fuck to start the day

doesn't make you breakfast because he hates cooking

but does go out for coffee and your takeout breakfast of choice to bring home for you

has a cake professionally made/decorated

(because you made one for his birthday)

the message on top is something v horny like "your pussy tastier than this"

or it's like one word like "whore <3"

either way it is both hilarious and embarrassing that some poor bakery worker had to frost those words

takes you out for dinner (very fancy restaurant)

or to the movies

another happy birthday fuck when you get home

("how old are you again? guess that's how many rounds we've gotta get through tonight")

billy bibbit

billy doesn't much like his own birthday (his mom was too overbearing for him to ever properly enjoy himself)

but he is great at organising yours

lazy morning

as many kisses as years you are old

makes you breakfast in bed because he is a sweetheart

he makes you a present !!

he's actually really good at drawing and he fills a notebook with little drawings and pictures

(drawings of you and of things you love and one at the end of himself that he's embarrassed about but you love it)

then immediately thinks it isn't good enough and that he should of just bought you something

but you kiss him and reassure him that it's beautiful

the best present you've ever been given

you stay in that night to cook dinner together

he's definitely made you a cake !!

is it very aesthetic and the frosting is your favourite colour/flavour

sitting outside to watch the sunset !!

sheriff brackett

does everything in his power to make the day extra special for you

(has told his deputy not to bother him unless something really important happens)

buys you a sentimental/thoughtful gift

like some fancy thing related to your favourite hobby (e.g. expensive art supplies if you're an artist, etc.)

breakfast in bed !!

in your underwear, sun coming in through the windows

definitely the kind of guy to get ballons and banners to decorate the house with

(which is embarrassing but also wholesome)

takes you out to dinner at a very tasteful restaurant

you are birthday girl and he won't let you forget it

he's set the bar pretty high sex wise so has to pull out all the stops to make it extra special

clear your diary for the next 3 to 5 hours

("daddy's allowed to treat the birthday girl")

jack dante

forgets your birthday every time

its not that he doesnt care

but he has a lot going on

and keeping track of time whilst he's down in that basement is easier said than done

when you remind him that it is your birthday he gets more excited than you

sends you out to get cake and jelly and ice cream

which you begrudgingly go and get because you really think he might cry if you dont

sex is abundant but when is it not with jack

as it is your birthday he might be kind enough to give you a reach around whilst he rails you

when he actually gets you a present

(usually like a week late)

its either something actually brilliant (like the latest futurist technology (idk what they had in fake-future-2003))

or its something real fucking sleazy like a weirdo dildo ("so you don't get lonely when i'm not around")

doc cochran

would rather die than celebrate his own birthday

but he wants you to be happy on yours

(and every day)

gets you the best present

(where from? he has his ways)

definitely like some first edition copy of a niche book you like (poe, shakespeare, homer, that kind of thing)

makes sure he has no scheduled visits that day and wants to spend as much time with you as possible

(will personally beat Al's ass if he sends for him for no reason)

you spend the day talking about this and that

and he reads to you from the books he got you because goddamn does he have a beautiful voice

gets jewel to bake you a cake !!

gives you some special loving on your special day

this man knows how to take his time

usually he is busy and feels like he doesn't pay enough attention to you

so he makes up for it ten fold on your birthday

grima wormtongue

for a long while your relationship is pretty casual so he doesnt even know when your birthday is

once he actually figures out when your birthday is he wants to do something special

even if he isn't the most... emotionally open person

grima has sticky fingers so he tends to be able to get a hold of things that others cant

gets you something exotic, something you might not of ever even seen before

(think, pineapples or some other middle earth equivalent delicacy)

you appreciate him going out of his way for you

makes an excuse for you to leave meduseld with him

you go up to the fields and look out at the horizon

tommy ludlow

you both bunk off work to spend the day together

he is excellent at buying present(s)

knows exactly what to get you because he's a good listener

definitely gets you a record or new clothes

neither of you have much money so all your plans are always simple

but tommy is the perfect person to just hang out with, he's so mellow when he's with you

has no plans for the day except letting you do whatever you want

you drive around the city

end up going by the natural history museum

(because both of you are actually secretly soft and love holding hands and wandering around the exhibits)

or the met (because you both know your fair share about art, working around fashion shoots all day)

that night you go to some shady dive bar

(and drink too much, if that is your thing)

tumbling in through your front door, you two were never going to make it to the bedroom

"happy birthday" he smirks against you as you both lay, tired, on the living room floor

leo nova

spends so much money on you

mostly because he likes to show off his money

("when can i treat my girl to all that she deserves if not on her birthday?")

but partly because gift giving is his love language, or at least the only way he feels comfortable showing that he cares

a new dress that costs more than the rent on your old apartment, shoes that cost twice as much

takes you to the fanciest restaurant possible

and then fucks you in the dirtiest way possible when you get home

and he can go all night long

*wink wink*

tucker cleveland

hasnt celebrated his own birthday in years so has kind of forgot that birthdays are a thing

remembers yours like 3 days before and kicks himself for leaving it so late to get you a present

(you help him out by giving hint to what you want in the run up to your birthday)

keeps the whole thing very lowkey

which you don't mind, you're not into big celebrations anyway

he does get you a gift in time, thanks to your hints

he's probably at work during the day

but after he gets home and you have dinner together, he hands over his present

although you sort of already knew what it'd be, its definitely the thought that counts with tucker

"and the best is yet to come, don't you worry" he says smiling

of course, the real present is him pounding you over the table

(because who has the time to go up to bed)

[shoutogepi]

Needy

Todoroki Shouto

word count : 5.4k

[ ✘ (nsfw!) ]  

themes : sub!shouto, dom!reader (femdom), choking, kinda sex pollen??, toys, ass play, pegging 💀

bio : Shouto gets hit with a quirk on the job, and you’ve never believed in God more than right now.  

author’s note : listen folks i know i’ve sinned before but if writing this didn’t get me a one way ticket to satan’s subterranean sauna... idk what will 🤪 PSPSPSPSPS— if you’re hesitant to read femdom/pegging fics… you should give it a try… u never know 👀👀

tagging: @gallickingun​ in hopes to convince her pegging is hot, and @shoutodoki​ who constantly freaks out over sub!shou with me <3

alos available on AO3 here

  ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🅃he front door slams, a loud echo ringing through the hallway and stirring you from a mindless daydream. Your phone lies limply in your hand, screen brightly displaying the next level of your phone game, but it remains untouched. With a shake of your head, you’re on your feet and wandering over to the commotion of your boyfriend at the door.

When you actually see him, you suppress a chuckle, eyes raking over his figure huddled on the tiled floor. His back is to you, and he’s hunched over, thick fingers impatiently ripping off his hero boots.

“Babe?” You greet hesitantly, a brow raised and arms crossed over your chest in confusion. “I know today is my day off, aren’t you supposed to be on patrol?”

A visible shiver zips down Shouto’s spine, and though you can’t see it from your point of view, his face twists in distress. His teeth sink into his bottom lip, and he holds back a groan, your voice sounding damn ethereal to his ears. “Yeah,” he answers gruffly, finally freeing his second foot from the confines of his snug choice of footwear. He roughly places the discarded boots on the shoe rack before he stands. “Got sent home for the day.”

His short response only furthers your concern, and when he turns, you let out a gasp as you take in his massive erection.

There’s a brief moment of silence before you’re laughing, and Shouto is glaring at you, red tinging his cheeks and the tops of his ears.  “What— Did one of your fangirls slip a Viagra in your water or something?” You snicker, approaching his brooding form.

Shouto closes his eyes and looks the other way, a sigh leaving his chest. You can see the way the breath leaves his body thanks to his tight hero suit, the muscles on his torso jostling the material and reminding you of just how ripped he really is. Meanwhile Shouto is trying his best to remain upright and collected, even though every inch of his body is screaming at him to fall into your arms.

“Jeez, baby, you want me to get a flag for that pole?”

You’re sent an icy scowl before he closes his two-toned eyes again. “Got hit with a quirk,” he growls through clenched teeth.

It’s then that you notice how stiff his entire body is, how his breath is labored and choppy. You’re jumping at him immediately, the need to touch him and make sure every part of him is alright taking over every cell in your body. “Shouto! Oh my god, Shou, are you okay?”

Your touch on him is too much, and his knees nearly buckle, his hands coming to grip your biceps. His lips are parted and his pupils are huge, a sinfully lewd expression on his face. “Fine,” he tries to say, but it comes out as a moan. Your thighs clench together, eyes widening as heat pools in the pit of your stomach. “Just really… hard,” he pants, his hold on your arms tightening.

You let out a reluctant breath of relief. He’s not hurt. Just… incapacitated. With lust. Tingles shoot through your body from your core at the thought of him so needy. “You’re sure you’re alright?” You ask again, and when he nods, a meek smile shapes your mouth. “Let’s get you to the bed, then.”

Shouto makes a strangled noise at the thought of you in bed with him, but he allows you to sling his arm over your shoulder anyways. You lead him into your shared bedroom after a few stumbles… and maybe a handful of bumps against the wall, too.

When you finally allow his weight to fall from your body, he collapses on the edge of the mattress, stifling a new moan as his ass hits the duvet. He reclines backwards, his hands covering his face and concealing his pink cheeks. “Y/N… fuck. You smell so good,” he gasps, reaching for you and catching your stare from between his slender fingers.

You let him pull you to him, knees pushing into the plush comforter on either side of his hips.

“I need you— shit, I need you,” Shouto whines, shoving his nose into your neck and wrapping his long arms around your back. He inhales your perfume, hard cock twitching between his legs. “Please, angel— touch me.”

And how could you refuse? Your hands move on their own accord, one sliding up to unzip his shirt and the other landing on the bulge straining through his pants. His hips buck at your touch, a long whimper escaping him as your fingers rub either side of his long length through his clothes. “You need me?” You ask quietly, the switch inside flipping instantly.

His chest heaves with each inhale, fingers pressing against the back of your neck to guide your lips to his. His kiss is timid, soft even— nothing like his usual affections. You can’t help the smirk that slides onto your mouth, excitement fluttering like butterflies in your stomach. You know what he wants. But you’re gonna pretend you have no clue.

“Yes,” Shouto croons against your mouth, tongue tracing the line between your lips lightly. “N-Need you so bad, please.”

You kiss the corners of his mouth teasingly, watching how he attempts to follow your lips with his own. “And what is it you need from me, Shou?”

His heterochromatic eyes are half lidded as he gazes up at you, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows harshly. A puff of frosty breath wafts over your face, cooling the heat that wanders there in accordance with his lustful stare. “Your cock,” he clarifies without hesitation.

He’s always been like that. An obedient sub; not one to beat around the bush.

His lips flicker into a smile as you chuckle, fingers stroking his smooth cheek. “Wow, you’re quite blunt, aren’t you?” You jest, pinching his flushed skin between your forefinger and thumb.

“And quite painfully hard.” His hips thrust up against yours, and his erection pokes into your stomach. He’s breathless, with barely enough energy to shrug off his top. But somehow he manages, wriggling out of the material and exposing his flexing torso to your starving eyes.

Before you know it, the pair of you are naked save for your panties, and you’re pressing your body against his on top of the sheets. Shouto’s head tosses back when your fingers touch his thigh, wandering up the length of corded muscle and tracing the base of his cock. His length twitches, reaching out and brushing against your palm as if his body is begging you to move your attention there. But you ignore it; you want to hear him beg.

You don’t have to wait long.

Shouto’s hips wiggle against the duvet, his hands sliding down and squeezing at your sides weakly. His jaw drops when your fingernail traces along the underside of his cock, the meaty thing slapping against your hand again. “Please,” he cries, muscles straining to keep himself from bucking into your grasp. His hair falls back onto the sheets, revealing a sheen of sweat collecting on his forehead.

Leaning down slowly, you take the pale flesh on his neck between your teeth and nibble, warm tongue lathering over the fresh marks. Your hand wraps around his cock and he whimpers in your ear. There’s a generous amount of pre leaking from his tip, and you glide your fist over it a few times before sliding back down onto his aching shaft.

Shouto’s lip is between his teeth, bright eyes slitted but unable to look away from where you’re gripping. Slowly, you jerk your hand up and down, and he nearly wheezes as your body slinks backwards, settling between his legs. “Y/N, oh— please Y/N, fuck,” he begs, craning his neck to look at you.

You hum and nod, lips pressing to his bright pink tip with a sultry smile. It’s not long before your lips part and his cock pushes into your mouth, tongue washing against his inflamed tip. He squirms on the sheets beneath you, fingers deftly curling into the fabric as he tries his hardest not to move. Opening your throat, you take him in further, coating his skin with your spit and closing your lips around his girth to form some suction.

His hips jerk upwards slightly before he catches himself, a choked whine tumbling from his ajar mouth. “S-Sorry,” he pants, the muscles that line his torso contracting, forming deep grooves that beckon your tongue to trace them.

You keep your mouth where it is, sliding along his hot length as it trembles between your lips. Tongue tickling along the underside of his cock, you spread his legs with one hand, pushing a thick thigh up to reveal his puckered hole. His toes curl in apprehension as your mouth pops off his length, and you’re sure to make a show of shoving two fingers down your throat, eyes demanding his own stay glued to you.

Licking his lips and audibly gulping, Shouto writhes underneath you, desperate to be touched again. “P-Please, angel. I’ll do whatever you want, just— please don’t tease me,” he pleads, almost shaking as your fingertip traces over his ass.

With a small smirk, you drop to your elbows, pressing your sealed lips on the very tip of his cock. In one smooth motion, you take his length into your mouth, your finger prodding into him and spreading his tight walls. His cock jumps violently in your throat as he cries out in pleasure, a hand slapping over his mouth and shoving a knuckle between his teeth. The noises that escape him are absolutely sinful, your finger and throat sliding deeper, deeper— until neither can go any further.

Shouto groans as you curl the digit, the pad rubbing against his gummy insides. You gag on his cock when his hips jolt again, saliva pooling against your tongue and dripping down his length. An elongated expletive slithers out of him, his fingers pushing his two-toned locks away from his face. “Feels so... good,” he whispers, voice heavy and carrying the weight of his lust.

He whimpers as a second digit pushes inside, your lips trailing behind your mouth as you frantically stuff him into your throat. It’s rare to see this side of your boyfriend, and though you want to savor every second of it, you also take pity on his desperate, quivering body. Whatever quirk was the cause of this, it seemed to be very potent— and you aren’t sure if he really meant that he’s so horny that it actually hurts, but you aren’t taking any chances.

Your fingers curl into his ass, wet with the slick spit from the back of your throat and gliding into his tight walls with surprising ease. “Please,” he sighs, legs parting even wider. You sit up, wiping your chin with the back of your free hand before you remove your fingers from him. He whines at the loss, hole twitching as if begging you to fill it again. “R-Ready for you,” Shouto pants, his hands looping behind his thighs to spread himself, giving you a better view of his most intimate parts. “Ready for your cock, please.”

You scramble off the edge of the mattress to grab the box underneath the bed— hands flailing in a blind search as you crouch, hard nipples dragging against the carpet. A look of glee crosses your face when your fingertips graze the sharp corner of the container, snagging the shoebox and dragging it out into the sunlight that streams through the half-closed blinds. Excitedly you open the lid, your heartbeat racing as your eyes land on the harness and thick, plastic cock. Clambering back onto the comforter, you shove your legs through the loops of the contraption, pulling the buckles to lay flat against your flesh.

Shouto’s wriggling into the middle of the bed, long fingers closing around his swollen cock as he watches you, hungry eyes dipping to watch your strap bob with each movement. The spit from your blowjob trickles down to coat his ass with a fresh layer of slick, but you still take a second to squirt a bit of lube onto the plastic cock, fist dispersing and warming it at the same time.

“You ready, baby?” You taunt, crawling over to sit in between his legs. You can feel your cunt drooling at the sight of him so submissive for you; laid-out and breathless, cheeks kissed with pink, and sweat beginning to form on his pale skin.

He nods vehemently, hand reluctantly leaving his cock in favor of spreading his ass for you again. His entire body shivers as you press the heavy head against his hole, the lube making it easy to circle his twitching entrance.

“Then tell me what you want.”

You lick your lips as his fingertips dig into the swell of his ass, a pained expression gracing his handsome face at your teasing. When he speaks, his voice is low and breathy, heavy with desire and dripping with sin. “Need you, angel… I— I need your cock... inside of me. Please, just—” he stutters, eyes locking with yours before he continues, tongue tracing over the bottom of his front teeth,

“Fuck me.”

Hearing him ask for something so naughty sends fresh, crushing waves of desire directly to your pussy, and it leaks onto your panties beneath the straps of your harness. Gently, you guide the head of your cock to press against his hole, watching as he stretches to welcome the thickness of your plastic cock, the tip disappearing inside of him. His jaw drops as he lets out a moan that bounces off the bedroom walls, loud and shameless. With docile thrusts, your strap slides deeper and deeper inside of him, the constrictive walls of his ass swallowing every centimeter of plastic eagerly. He can’t stop moaning, cock red and oozing onto his snow-like skin.

Once you begin to really thrust is when Shouto starts to get vocal. It’s not that he’s not vocal when he’s pounding his cock into your sopping cunt, holding down your limbs and commanding you to call him Daddy— but this, oh— this is something different. His breath is ragged, eyes rolling back under stupidly long lashes, legs shaking, toes curled as they dangle in the air. Your hands slide up the backs of his thighs, gripping the underside of his knees for leverage as your hips begin to pick up the pace.

Cock sliding deeper into him, he shouts abruptly, hands gripping your hips as he lifts his legs. His fingers wind tight on your hips, pulling you forward and shoving your strap further into him, the hilt slapping against him. “Fuck!” He sobs, head tossing back onto the pillows, exposing his throat for your eyes to take in the quick bob of his adam’s apple. Clicking your tongue at his impatience, you draw your hips back, only to surge forward again, ramming into him as deep as you can. “Fu— there! Fuck, right there,” he gasps, eyes opening wide to gaze up at you, glassy and imploring.

Your arm slips around his leg, hugging it flush against your chest, his calf bending around your shoulder while your pace begins to increase. Careful to swing your hips in the same arch as before, you’re rewarded as another whining groan is ripped out of him. “You’re such a good boy for me,” you purr, nails digging into the muscle of his thigh, watching the bead of pre at the tip of his cock become too heavy, rivulets dribbling down his shaft. Your other hand leaves his leg to wander up the straining muscles on his torso, fingertips especially curious as they examine the cute, pink nipples standing upright at the curve of his pecs. But you’re impatient too, and though his spine arches at your attention on the sensitive buds, your hand moves up further by its own volition, fingers itching to lace around his neck. You can feel him swallow against your palm, a choked whine vibrating through his throat.

“Just... for you, a-angel,” Shouto croaks, finally overwhelmed with so much pleasure that tears drip down the sides of his face, brow furrowed in bliss as his watery orbs shine up at you like glittering gems. He’s so sexy like this— falling apart underneath you, completely submissive, completely yours.

You fuck him like this for awhile— pace just fast enough so that he can’t complain, but nothing near your limit. You want to sear this image into your brain— him crying, whimpering, lost in the throes of the pleasure you’re providing. A dirty, nasty little secret to keep, only yours and his, forever. Pro hero Shouto, strong and masculine, a symbol of hope and justice— reduced to a subby, desperate slut who begs for your plastic cock to stuff his little hole.

Shouto’s symphony of moans pulls you out of your reverie, your eyes widening as you take in his red, flushed cheeks littered with tears. “Please,” he huffs, lungs barely filled with enough oxygen to force the word out. Your hold on his neck loosens, and he shakily sucks a breath of air in before continuing. “Please touch my cock— so close, feels so good, gonna— nngghh—” He’s resorted to groveling, meaning he’s really starting to get desperate now.

“You wanna cum?” You ask, biting your lip as his cock twitches against his toned stomach at just the premise of finishing. The tops of your thighs slap against the backs of his, increasing your tempo.

Shouto’s eyelids nearly flutter shut as his pupils cross in bliss, the intensity of your assault on his prostate proving almost enough to make him burst. “Pleasepleaseplease, fuck please, need you to— fUCK!”

Your cock rails him into the mattress, your lip bit in determination and his body trembling underneath your touch. Your hand finally wraps around his engorged length, immediately slick with the copious amount of pre that had leaked out of him as you begin to sloppily jerk him off. It’s hard to multitask; your attention bouncing like pinball between his pulsing cock, his hole clamping around your strap, and the downright pornographic expression twisting his features.

Without any warning, Shouto’s mouth parts in a noiseless scream, and thick, sticky ribbons of white spurt out of his cock. His entire body is quivering, knuckles white on the crest of your hips, his legs tightening around you and pulling you closer to him. His dick still throbbing in your moving hand, liquid evidence of his euphoria continues to gush out of his aching tip with so much force that a line of white lands on his flushed cheek.

Thrusts slowing to an easy stop, you smile at the wrecked man beneath you. He’s still trying to get his bearings, chest heaving as he attempts to even his breath. Setting down his leg beside your knee, you remove your hand from his hot, still-erect length, moving to slurp his cum off your fingers. “Aww, Shou. I barely got to play with your cock,” you whine, jutting your bottom lip out.

He blearily opens his eyes, gray and blue irises examining the bead of white smeared across your puffed-out pout. Letting out a labored laugh that really seems like more of a wheeze, his fingers finally loosen and slip from your waist, petting over your skin as a silent apology for holding on so hard. “S-Shit, m’sorry baby… I didn’t think I’d go that quick. This quirk is— god, it makes me feel so… needy,” he explains breathlessly, taking extra time between his syllables as if his brain is still hazed with lust.

Dipping down to trace your tongue over the cooled release on his cheek, you hum. “That’s okay,” you whisper, teeth grazing over his earlobe as you pull away. “Were you really so turned on it hurt?”

“It’s not like I was dying,” he tries to play it off as if you weren’t there to see him stumbling through the front door twenty minutes ago. He reaches up to cup your cheek with his large palm, the low heat from his quirk welcome against your skin. Leaning into him, you smirk, hips shuffling backwards. He winces as you pull your strap from him, sitting back on your heels to undo the harness once you’re all the way out.

Slipping your legs out of the strappy contraption, you bite your lip as cool air washes over your soaked panties. “Do you think… you could go for another round?” You propose meekly, hopeful eyes taking their time to meet his.

A white brow quirks upright at your inquiry, and he props his head up as his arms cross behind his head. “I honestly dunno if I can handle it, angel,” he says gently, letting a quiet groan loose as your tongue laves over the streaks of white on his torso.

“But look what you’ve done to me,” you whimper, sitting up to spread your legs over his hips, fingers snatching your panties to the side. Your slick forms syrupy spindles that connect your cunt to the soiled material, and your thighs glisten all the same, your arousal sticky and plentiful. “Don’t you think you should take responsibility for this mess?”

Shouto moans at the sight of you so ready for him, and it’s now that he remembers just how turned on you get from dominating him. He can’t exactly say he doesn’t feel the same— for he feels the blood rush to his cock again— and he examines the way your entire core shines with your honeyed essence, calling to him like a beacon of light in the midst of a dark and suffocating storm. “Fucking hell, Y/N, you’re soaked,” he sighs, reaching out to trace your slit with a fingertip. He groans loudly when he pulls away, watching as the slick forms a long strand before it finally snaps, the slimy substance gathering on his digit.

His hips jerk upwards when your cunt glides along his length, the heat emanating from your core a welcome feeling on his aching cock. It’s easy to slide yourself back and forth, slickening the prominent ridge on the underside of his cock. “Just for you,” you smirk as you use his words against him, grinding your core harder onto him. He moans at your playfulness, hands slipping across your skin as if he can’t decide where to put them. You move on top of him just long enough for him to get accustomed to it before you scoot backwards, hand reaching for that box again.

“Baby, w—” You cut him off as you place the tip of the new toy to his lips, grin broadening as his eyes widen and he takes in what it is against his mouth.

“Open up,” you instruct, a hand finding purchase on his jaw and your thumb rubbing the side of his mouth.

It takes a moment for him to decide to succumb to your instruction, and he slowly opens his mouth as you push the tip of the plug between his lips. It’s a rather long toy, the base of it cinched in order to keep it inserted at just the right depth. The length of it curls abruptly at the end, angling to press against the sweet, sweet spot inside of him.

Pressing the toy further into his mouth, you can feel his moan vibrate on the silicone, and you purr as he begins to gag on the curve of it. After a few moments you draw the toy back, satisfied by the way his saliva stretches in follow.

Shouto shuffles, lifting his ass off the duvet slightly as you slip between his legs again. Taking your time, you trace the tip of the toy down the inside of his thighs, taking note of how his muscles twitch in apprehension. After what seems like forever to him, you finally push the toy inside. This time it slides in easily, his ass having been stretched out already from your earlier ministrations. But that doesn’t stop him from whimpering as it slips into place, the base of the toy laying flat between his cheeks as you maneuver him to sit upright against the headboard.

Once he’s situated, you move your attention to his cock, which lays upright against the curve of his abs, forgotten and half-hard. Shouto only watches you slink toward him, an ominous grin on your lips. He groans when you swing one leg— then the other— over the junction of his hips, your palms landing flat on his hard chest for support.

Again, your lips meet. His kiss is gentle and weary, and you reciprocate with a softness he does not expect. It surprises him, in a good kind of way, and it also distracts him as you begin to grind onto his cock. Just as you had only minutes ago, your hips wave back and forth, dragging your saturated slit along his weeping length. It’s not long before he’s standing tall and thick between your legs, and you waste no time lining yourself up above him. Cunt swallowing him eagerly, the viscid muscles flutter as they spread to accommodate his tender length. Even without preparing yourself with your fingers, your ample arousal ensures that he slides into you without a single hitch, your ass meeting the tops of his thighs with satisfaction.

Shouto stifles a groan, solid biceps rubbing your skin as his arms wrap around your waist. He holds you tight against his chest, head bent over your shoulder as he breathes in your intoxicating scent. Pleasure courses through his veins, his cock sheathed inside of you, your skin on his, your smell invading his senses. Not to mention the plug in his ass, which at the flick of your fingers on the remote, begins to vibrate.

“Fuccckkk!”

The moan slips out of him before he can think to repress it, wanton and erotic. The vibrations send tingles through his entire lower half, causing his arms to tense and smoosh you even harder into his chest. While he’s trying to get accustomed to the intense euphoria rushing through his limbs, you’re eager to lift your hips and slam back down onto him. Shouto’s fingers clench on your waist as you begin to bounce on his cock, impatient to stimulate yourself after ignoring your own needs for so long.

His cock feels heavenly inside of you, stretching and filling you deliciously with every thrust. The constant string of moans in your ear doesn’t hurt either— any restraint he had previously harbored abandoned as his lips capture yours again. Tongue inviting your own to dance, you fulfill his wish as the kiss deepens— hot, wet muscles tangling together in his mouth.

The pace you find is perfect; each time your hips meet creating an explosion of pleasure. His length drives into you completely, balls doused with the slick that floods out of you. With every thrust, the plug brushes against that sensitive spot inside of him, and he mewls against your lips at the mind-numbing sensation. Stimulated and entirely overwhelmed, his hands knead at the flesh of your hips, head flying back to smack against the headboard, though he doesn’t seem to care.

“Ahha—haahhh, fucckkk,” Shouto mumbles, voice breaking as his mouth hangs ajar, tears forming at the corner of his lashes. You clench on his cock at his fragmented whines, morphing your thrusts into more of a roll, letting the tip of him grind into that spongy spot hidden far inside of you. “Y’feel so fucking good, oh god.” His chest is heaving, barely able to keep his eyes open to watch you above him.

You lean down and kiss his lips again, a smirk curling the corners of your mouth as you grind against him. Your slick clit grazes against his firm pelvis, and you begin to whimper just the same as him. “You took my cock so well, baby,” you pant, the coil in your stomach already beginning to compress at the memory.

He looks so good beneath you, tripping on his words as he tries to just breathe, but even doing just that is difficult with the sheer euphoria shooting through him. And you can’t help yourself; he’s so handsome, so submissive, and so completely yours. It makes your mind hazy with lust, entire being drenched in sinful desire as you watch him begin to unravel before your very eyes.

Your fingers find his throat again, caressing the sides of his windpipe and squeezing gently. “Y/N—” Shouto gasps, half an expletive choking out of him before he bites his lip, nails digging into your skin, “gonna… I’m gonna— I can’t—”

Switching back to your tempo from before, your hips crash onto his as you start to slam yourself onto his cock. He rasps, hands darting to cup your ass and lift you up, only so you can drop down onto him even harder. “Not yet,” you command, panting as you feel yourself getting closer, closer— so, so close!

Shouto looks physically pained to hold himself back, tears spilling over his cheeks to gather at the point of his chin, dripping to run down the valley of his abs. But he does, nonetheless, and somehow he manages to fend off his orgasm as your measured pace deteriorates. Sweat trickles down both your chests, and a large, shaky hand reaches for your breast and tugs at your nipple in desperation.

Finally the pressure snaps in your stomach, your vision turning white, and bright, little stars bursting at the edges of your peripheral. His name slithers out of your gaping mouth as your orgasm hits you like a train, and you have to remind yourself not to choke him too hard as your grip instantly tightens on his throat. Your cunt goes snug around his length, wringing the life out of his poor body as his eyes roll back into his skull.

Every muscle in his body tenses as he comes undone, the most obscene and lustful moan bellowing out of him. His load spills into your pussy, torrid ropes splashing against your twitching walls. His arms are around you again, pressing you flush against him tighter than ever as his mouth finds the skin on your neck, teeth sinking into your flesh with a long growl.

You stay in each other’s arms for a while, coming down from your blissful highs with dustings of slow, lasting kisses and touches across cheeks and collar bones. Flicking off the toy still buzzing in Shouto’s ass, you let out a shaky sigh as you lean back, his cock slipping out of you. His release begins to trickle down your ass, and you laugh as you hobble over to the en-suite, your hand cupping between your trembling, fawn-like legs.

Turning the knob on the shower, you hover over the toilet as you wait for the water to warm, the sound of the pressurized spray soothing to your sticky body and aching limbs. You jump when a forearm circles around your waist, a hand cupping your breast as your spine straightens against a broad chest.

“Shower, huh?” Shouto says, his warm breath tickling the shell of your ear. His calloused fingers travel along your front, strategically circling your areola and ignoring your pebbled nipple. “Good choice, bath sex is too messy.”

You snort at his remark, turning to raise a brow at him. But your eyes quickly fall south, widening comedically before your shocked gaze meets. “You cannot be serious, Shou.”

“I feel a lot better after two rounds,” he shrugs, opening the shower curtain and gesturing for you to get in first. “Not feeling as light-headed and weak anymore. Got enough energy to make you feel like that instead, angel.” 

You end up tapping out halfway through the sixth round, and in desperate need of another shower.

  ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

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ngl writing this turned me the FUCK on so i hope it did the same for you! anyways can’t believe i finally wrote a pegging fic. send some holy water to my inbox or something omfg. 

➥ masterlist

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[queen-hospitality]

~ Fic preview ~

This is a brief, non-explicit extract from what will very definitely be an explicit, 18+ smut scene. Please use discretion.

• • • • • • • • • • • •

"Kiss her, John." Roger's voice was gentle, but quite assured.

Your hands remained on John's torso whilst you allowed your eyes to meet with Roger, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. There it was. The same excitement you'd been experiencing over the last few days was written across Roger's face too.

You now knew your hunch was at least half correct, and that was enough to spur you on as you turned back again – nervous, but hopeful.

John had been holding onto his composure for dear life. He didn't want to get ahead of himself and spook you or lose the moment. But when you both turned to face each other again in complete synchronisation, John felt such a spark that it threatened to send him tumbling into a burst of the giggles. Instead he held his breath and tried placing his focus elsewhere.

You were on tenterhooks as John's smiling eyes left yours and swept down to watch himself take one of your hands in both of his. He then looked to Roger again, and back to you.

"Well," he said. "Only if you want me to."

Hiya 👋 you have been reading a preview of my reader x john x roger fic

and I have been: absolutely plagued by the thought of writing this for the last few days.

I thought I'd better get on and put something out there.

If you're 18+ and think you'd be interested in reading more then let me know and I can tag you when it's written!

In the meantime I could always ~reveal~ some more details about the context and direction if that's of interest?? Idk. Also if you want to shoot me any feedback I'd love that.

I haven't shared this kind of thing publicly before and this is a v new sideblog so literally no one asked for this lmao – that also means that if you're looking for examples of previous work or evidence of whether this'll be any good... you will not find any :) :) :)

Something something, turning up 15 months late with a threesome...

My non-queen blog / main account I follow from is @thisisntwaterstones

[iotona]

Love

Hey again, I wrote something! And don’t ask why I keep coming up with ideas that include pets bc idk either. It’s Arthur x reader, 1500+ words, and fluff/romance? You won’t cry that’s all I know, I think? Thanks for giving it a look!

Love; a word that Arthur had almost forgotten. A one syllable sound that warmed the hearts of many and for others, indescribable pain. Long were the nights Arthur spent at the pub, downing as much alcohol as his body would allow, and entertaining any pretty skirt that so much as flashed him a darling smile. If he wasn’t out on the streets, then he would recluse to his room at the mansion living off of only bitter coffee and the sting in his back that reminded him of all the guilt and shame he carried over the years.

Recently, Arthur tossed in bed for entirely different reasons, obsessing over the tingling in his belly every time he thought of you. When you walked through the door, love came with. It certainly didn’t make itself prevalent right away, oh no. He didn’t feel it when he had the privilege of meeting you, and he surely didn’t see it when he tried to scare you off. But a slow burning feeling that first took his heart by surprise when you had flashed him a smile. It was a small grin like any other pretty lady he took to bed, why would this be any different? Maybe it was the context of his joke, maybe it was the dim lighting of the mansion at night, or the smell of the food you made just for him after his days of writing in solitude. Arthur couldn’t put his finger on why his chest suddenly felt lukewarm and his stomach tingled, nor did he really try, but soon found himself finding love everywhere he went. 

Affection oozed out of every cup of coffee you brought him, seeped into the smell of his clothes that you left folded on his bed, and blinded him with every outburst of laughter you blessed him after each cheeky jest. Time spent in his room became less with each day, the dark demons of his past quickly suppressing under the weight of his newfound feelings. Chasing this high, Arthur spent endless nights awake in bed rethinking every interaction between you two. He often planned his days to conveniently intercept yours and you gladly obliged to have his company. And when you agreed to be his little assistant in your free time, ohh did his heart do a million flips. 

Arthur’s interest in you soon became adoration. Reverence ruled his thoughts when he watched you work. Your intelligence to solve puzzles, your empathy to communicate and relate, your drive, persistence, your intuition to know what was fishy and what was not impressed him. With all his playfulness, some days Arthur wasn’t sure he’d get through a case without your point of view, but he’d never tell you that. In fact, the one instance you made a small comment about the look of frustration on his brow, he fixed himself with a handsome smile and teased about something or another to deter your focus.

Eventually, your own fondness began to show. Small blushes at Arthur’s praises and nicknames. The way you leaned into even the smallest of touches. How you went out of your way to ensure Arthur had hot coffee and a fresh snack while he wrote. Lending an ear to his stories and giving ample feedback. 

Arthur was positive this couldn’t last forever, nothing good and pure ever does. So when the darkness latched onto his legs and held him there, he was sure you wouldn’t come calling, even as it enveloped him once again. He no longer made an effort to leave his room, to eat, to drink, to socialize, or to find you, the precious woman from the future. He was confident that was it, you’d return to through the door soon and he would continue the torturous life he was meant to endure. 

Little did the sad man sitting on his overly worn writing chair realize how stubborn you actually were. He had underestimated you, entirely, until the day you came knocking his door down. It was sudden, he didn’t have an ounce of mental energy to understand the earful you were giving him over his astonishment. Something about how cold his coffee must be, and how he couldn’t possibly feel any better in a room so dark. You threw open his curtains and glared at him with a look that had him ashamed and shaking in his Oxford’s simultaneously. And very much like a lost puppy, Arthur agreed to accompany you to the town for bread, something so simple yet so domestic. You swore his wide bewildered eyes never left you that day and ever since then you constantly use that ammunition to your own device.

Then you did something so beyond his comprehension that even now, as he sits in the parlor of the mansion playing a game of chess with Theo, his mind keeps wandering to the night before instead of the bet that lay before him. Like many times before you had accompanied Arthur and Theo to the pub. The night was full of laughs and jokes, drinks to go around, as was per usual. You thought your heart would explode when Arthur suggested a dance and without waiting for your response, tugging on your hand. The music was upbeat, jovial and one too many spins mixed with liquor had you melting into his form when he pulled you close for a slow careen back and forth. You thought, in your inebriated state, how your legs would have probably given out if it wasn’t for Arthur’s hold on your waist and the other holding your hand close to his heart. Buzzing with not only drink but by how captivated you were with the man standing in front of you, you giggled and babbled about how his nose tickled you from brushing so close to your ear. You were so tipsy that when Arthur looked at you with a faint blush and the intent to apologize that you rose to your tip toes and pulled on the lapels of his jacket into a sweet kiss. A kiss that didn’t last long, but enough to deepen the red on his cheeks when you finally pulled away. The rest of the night muddled together, and you hadn’t seen each other since retiring to bed for the night. 

Arthur wasn’t afraid of what lay before him now, but his anxiety was evident by the way he bounced his leg up and down during the match, eyebrows furrowed in thought, and eyes boring into the table. Theo thought maybe it was due to the way he was severely losing this game, but when did Arthur ever lose? That itself was incredibly strange, but Theo being the man to not pry did not ask. And thus they continued moving the pieces until Arthur’s inevitable loss. 

Again the tiny statues were placed on small white and black squares, to their start. A pawn here, a knight there, Arthur’s gaze was caught by the flash of a bright green skirt out the nearby window. Abruptly standing up, he was completely enamored by the sight before him. Fresh, white, sparkling snow lazily fluttered through the air, remnants of this morning’s storm, adorning every surface outside. The serene and peaceful scene contrasted the way you were running through the mansion’s lower cut bushes and abruptly crouching behind one. If it wasn’t for the spirited look in your face as you peaked around the corner he would’ve thought you were in danger. But who exactly were you running from? Arthur received his answer when two furry four legged dogs came barreling around one side of the building and stopping to smell the air. 

Vic was the first to get a scent, and most importantly following your footsteps in the snow. You realized your failure in not being able to cover your tracks and slowly crouched behind another layer of bushes in hopes to throw off the pooch. The crunch of your boots over the fresh snow alerted the bi-colored dog, his small legs immediately running in the direction of the noise, tongue out and ears flapping in joy of the game, just like a certain owner. In an attempt to flee you stood to try and run back, only to find a yellow haired lab blocking your path, foiling your plans. Accepting defeat as both animals ran towards you in glee, you dropped to your knees to deliver many pets and kisses. Little did you know the amount of force King accumulated running towards you, he tried to stop but slipping across the fresh snow until his body collided with yours. If you had learned anything from Isaac’s Laws of Physics it was that a large dog using you as a cement block was not going to end well. You both tumbled into the white fluff, each dog wasting no time in pressing their little wet noses onto your face and neck. The sniffling and small licks had you elated, tickling your sensitive skin, and filling the air with your loud shrieks and giggles. 

“Oi, are you going to take your turn?” A particularly annoyed voice sounded from behind Arthur, to which he could only hum in response, give a smooth smile, and hustle out the door to you. 

Arthur knew then that any trace of doubt slowly dissolved. He was utterly, completely, and wholly infatuated with you. Every fiber, every bone, every time his heart beat, it was all vibrating with yearning for you. He finally knew and understood the meaning of love. All from you.

If you made it this far, thank you! Feedback is always welcome. :)

tagging: @kisara-16 (thank you for proof reading <3), @nad-zeta