#in case you were worried for his ribs

[sisaloofafump]

Feel like we need some new Tattoo/Piercing Shop x Flower Shop content for superbat. Bring back the classic tropes one at a time

Uncropped nsfw here

[evieelyzabethh]

"taste"

☆"you're wonderin' why half his clothes went missin', my body's where they're at"☆ Wearing Arcane characters clothes {fem reader}

cast ✧ Vi, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Mel

cw☞ slightly pervy jayce, a bit of fluff, Viktor calls reader a whore, a bit suggestive for all of them

an: this is the case for all my titles, but I feel I should clarify; the songs are not meant to accompany the headcanons, I just get lazy when naming things so I cherry pick song lyrics then use the title lol.

♞Vi♞

♞Vi never thought she would have to worry about her clothes going missing. They're all tattered and torn, holey from all the times she's been cut or stabbed, blood stained from all her injuries throughout the years, and absolutely falling apart at the seams. Hell, her own shirts are so ruined she usually just walks around in chest binding bandages. Granted, stealing Vi's clothes started from an accident of convenience.

You didn't think anything of it as you slipped on the old thing, the writing so faded you could no longer make out the outlines of the letters and the color so sun-bleached it just looked a dull beige. There were holes along the shoulder blade, rib cage, and chest, the hems had long since unraveled, and the neckline had been cut. It Vi wasn't so averse to throwing things out, it's home would've been the garbage can ages ago. But still, it was comfy and clean and something of hers, so you pulled it over your head and carried on into the laundry room where you sat on top of your washing unit, vibrating along with the clunky machine beneath you. You decided to read as you wait, eventually become so engrossed with your book, you miss the sounds of Vi trudging her heavy feet across the floor as she returns from her most recent bout of getting her ass kicked. She hums her way around the space, painfully shrugging her jacket over her aching shoulders, enroute to the laundry room where she finds you, ankles crossed with some old mystery book in your hands. She gawks at you for a moment, not quite knowing what to say at the sight of you in her clothing. It looked good on you. Well, everything looked good on you, but this looked right. "Did you get all dressed up for me, pretty? You jump a bit at the sudden intrusion of her slightly gravelly voice, but eventually relax into her warm, musky presence. She knows how you feel about her smearing her bloody lips across your freshly showered skin, so she bites her lip to swallow her urges. "Depends, did you get yourself all battered just so I could patch you up?" She snickers, wiping the remnants of dried blood from her top lip. "Will my honest earn me a pre-shower kiss?" Of course, you nod your head. You have a very hard time denying her, not even bothered by the feeling of her gauze bound hands grip on your thighs and your skin beneath her shirt. She whimpers, leaning heavily onto the washer, her fingers likely leaving marks from how desperately she grabs at you for stability and her own sanity. She doesn't realize until the adrenaline wears off how much tonight did a toll on her, pulling away from the kiss to rest her head on your shoulder. "You need help to the shower?" "Yeah", she murmurs, hardly louder than a whisper, holding onto your waist as you hop down and sling your arm over her shoulder. "No more pit fighting for a while?", you question lightly, to which she responds by pulling a hefty bag of coins from her pants pocket. "Not for a few months."

★Ekko★

★Ekko has a commune, he is absolutely no stranger to sharing, especially when it comes to clothes. As many times as you have snuck a few of his jackets over the years, he has taken his fair share of your tops, liking the way they constrict and show the definition of his biceps and show off his sculpted lower abdomen. You swap rings, hair ties, and all sorts of accessories, it's another way that you two are visually all over each other. I also wouldn't be surprised if he was the type to buy things knowing they would eventually end up in your closet.

★This being said, you would have better luck getting a reaction out of him showing up wearing nothing rather than in his clothes, at least clothes that aren't important to him. He's so desensitized to the idea of sharing; a regular hoodie wouldn't get him going. Wearing something of his though, his jacket, his mask, replicating how he does his face paint, that would certainly get him. It's the explicit connection to him that gets him, it's you proudly wearing an echo of Ekko.

It was cold and wet and dreary. The sky was grey, and murky puddles formed in the innumerable cracks and crevasses in the dirty floor of the Undercity that the ground began to look like a muddy sea of water. It was the perfect day to be inside, maybe make some warm soup, put on a vinyl and pretend the crackley sound bites are early lightning bolts, and bundle up beside Ekko and call it a day before the sun went down. This was not the case as Ekko was out covering the gardens so they wouldn't be flooded by impure water and preparing for any potential storm surge, leaving you home alone, wrapped in his favorite jacket. You doubted it would be a big deal, it's not like he's ever been upset about borrowing his clothes without asking before, but his reaction when he returns home scares you for a moment. His eyes are closed as he walks through the door, carelessly toeing off his shoes, lifting up his already soaked shirt to wipe the running face paint before it gets into his eyes. From your place on the couch, you look out the window for the first time in hours to see it pouring down, the droplets pelting on your windows and the wind sending the occasional pebble flying at the glass. "I'm telling Scar to do this shit next time, it's too damn w- oh." He freezes, midway through yanking off his raincoat, eye's slightly irritated as they stare at you. oh? "Is that my jacket?" You falter a bit. "Yeah...is that ok?" You had no plans of going out in it, wearing only some old cotton shorts whose elastic waistband snapped years ago and a thin tank top. You didn't even have a bra on. He collects himself though, smirking as he looks you up and down, how good the color compliments your complexion, drinking in the slivers of skin, the sight of your nipples through your top. Of course it's ok, in what fucking world would it not be? "Yea, baby, it's fine." His mumbles, his voice lower and his eyes a bit wide. "You look good in it, too. C'mere, do a spin for me."

❂Jayce❂

❂This man is 6'7 and built like a brick shithouse, his clothes absolutely swallow you and he thinks it's adorable. He gets a fit of cuteness aggression, he just wants to squeeze and hug and kiss you until you pop. It speaks to that part of him that is quite aware of his sheer size, his biceps are the size of your head, you have to look up just to make eye contact with him, his clothes practically fall right off you. He's just so...big.

He awakes slightly startled and feeling empty, immediately feeling your lack of warmth in his arms and slightly panicking. It's too early in the morning to be rational and his frequent nightmares are doing him no favors. He hates waking up alone and cold, he feels like he's waking up in that cave again. His senses calm his rapidly beating heart, the comforting smell of coffee and something syrupy sweet, the sound of something sizzling on the stove. He throws the comforter off him, cringing at the feel of the cold floor on his feet before he throws on some socks and sweatpants to wander around half-asleep in. His brain short circuits when he sees you, his large shirt practically hanging off your shoulders, flowing around your bruised and kiss-bitten thighs. You moved lithely around the kitchen, going back from chopping strawberries for the waffles, stirring the eggs, flipping the bacon, and he's man enough to admit he's blushing a bit. You made breakfast for him! That's so cute. He slides behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, bending down to plant kisses on your neck. "My shirt looks really good on you, gorgeous." You giggle, turning around to face the big man behind you who picks you up by your hips to set you on the countertop, settling in between your thighs. "You think?" He hums. "Maybe a few sizes too big, but it's endearing. You look like a little fairy, like I could carry you around in my pocket all day." And his eyes are big and out of focus, that charming gap-toothed smile on display as his hands rub over your smooth skin, pushing his shirt higher and higher. Too big is certainly a familiar sentiment, how desperately you were crying that out just last night is still looping in his brain as he says it. "Maybe I'm normal sized, and you're just a giant. Have you ever thought of it that way?" He chuckles. More times than you can imagine.

☽Viktor☾

☽Hard immediately, next question. His work outfits look completely normal on him, but the buttons pop at your chest and the vests accentuate them in a way that's pornographic. Even his ties only serve to enhance the fantasy, even though they are the exact garments he wears to his lab every day. There is nothing innately sexual about it at all, but that's the fun of it. The fact thar you chose to wear that black lacy bra that you knew would show through the top, the way you wear his reading glasses low on your nose, the red bottom heels that you wear, which in any other context could be seen as perfectly appropriate work attire. It's the performance of it that he appreciates.

He knows exactly what game you are trying to play with him, no matter how hard you try and play coy. There is no way that you accidently shrunk your blouse in the wash, hell, he knows that's not your blouse because the buttons are on the wrong side for it to be female attire. He knows that's his tie, he is one thousand percent sure that if he was to yank you by it and check the underside, he would see his initials embroidered. He knows you left it loose on purpose, you have requested for the entire relationship to pick out and tie his ties for him, he knows you can make it tighter. Everything is utterly loose, for lack of a better word. The top button is undone, the tie isn't completely tucked under the collar, the slit of your skirt is not where it should be. It's a play at looking professional that you and him both know is just a test to see how long it takes for him to crack and rush you both home. At first, he's willing to play ball because you always crack first, but today, however, you decided to be serious about your productivity. He tries to focus, he really does, but after a while the clicking of your heels becomes too hypnotic, the fake attempts at adjusting your tie begin to pile onto the sexual frustration, and you lean over one too many times, giving him a good whiff of your perfume and oh you went with a red bra to match his red tie. He waits for Jayce to leave the room, slamming the book he was 'reading' shut as he lets out a very aggravated breath. "I want my shirt back." Cut and dry, his hand flipping the tie you're wearing to confirm that is indeed his. You smirk, and he would feel the need to wipe it off your face had it not been for the fact that he swallowed his pride hours ago after his hard on became too much to ignore. "You want it back now? Right here." And you're already slipping off the other buttons and he contemplates whether it's worth it to barricade the door with the table to buy you more time or be rational and tell you to stop. "Had I known you planned on being a whore today, I wouldn't have invited you over." You pout as he pulls the knot of his tie, grabbing your hands to bind your hands. "But don't I look pretty, Vik?" He rolls his eyes. "You look magnificent, love."

☼Mel☼

☼Like Ekko, she isn't a stranger to sharing clothes with you. Even if it's not hers, she has an exact replica tailored just for you. This being said, she loves playing dress up with you with her clothes. Anytime she needs to clear out her closet or has an article of clothing she doesn't know how to feel about or just gets bored, she'll call you to wherever she is and request you be her doll for a little bit.

Though you had been in Mel's closet for what had to have been hours at this point, you couldn't really complain. Never had you felt more pampered in your life, tens of gowns, trousers, and blouses gracing your skin as you twirled on the platform in Mel's closet as she analyzed the garment from every angle. Now you stood in something white and flowy, the sleeves long, the bodice double lined for winter weather, the hemline off the shoulders and trimmed with fur, the bottom thick and heavy. "What do you think lovey? Do you think it's too on the nose, you know I've never been the biggest fan of fur." Her hand feels across your chest, dusting off where some of the fluff had fallen and rubbing the soft material in her hands. "I don't see you in fur, it's too much of your mother's thing, but I do think it's nice. The lining is really nice on the skin, sorta has a fleece feel to it." She nods, moving her hands along your waist to connect with the silver zipper. She clucks her tongue. "Would I be silly to not wear it because the zipper isn't gold. I know it's a miniscule detail, but I really don't do silver." You chuckle as you look around her closet, a room larger than the bedroom you grew up in filled with racks of clothes that had some sort of golden sheen, be it from the color of the fabric, some sort of metallic accent, or a reflection from the general vibe of the room. "My love, you have so many clothes in here I doubt you would wear it regardless." She smiles. "Are you getting tired of this." You hesitate, which is plenty answer enough for her. You had been standing for hours at this point, and your back was starting to ache from how straight your back had been. "Do you have it in you for just one more. I promise, it'll be quick." She already has it out of the box, a very small party dress that you had never seen her wear before. "I bought it months ago but have been going back and forth between whether or not it would look better on me or you." Of course, you oblige, and she giggles as she zips you out of the dress, carefully sliding it off until the fabric pools around your nearly naked body. Her tunnel vision is briefly abandoned as her movements slow, lingering over the curves of her body, her fingernail tracing tiny hearts on the skin of your chest. "I know I say this every time, but you truly do look beautiful out of everything. Undressing you may be my favorite part of this." You playfully roll your eyes. "Stop being a flirt and just zip me into the dress, I want lunch."

[hoe4hotchner]

False Security | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader CW: Angst, physical abuse, kidnapping, captivity, hospital, light use of Y/N, hotch is in love with you, r is only wearing underwear, chains, morphine. WC: 2.6k

           The bullpen was eerily quiet for a late evening. Papers were scattered across desks, half-empty coffee cups forgotten in the rush of trying to piece together the puzzle of the case they were working on.

           The tension in the conference room was palpable - each agent hunched over their work, mentally and emotionally drained from the brutal reality of the case. Every passing hour without a breakthrough weighed heavily on the team.

           Garcia had moved from her tech cave to stay near the rest of the team. Something about this case, the brutality of it, had shaken her, she wasn't her usual cheerful self. Her fingers tapped anxiously against her keyboard, eyes darting between monitors, scanning data, hoping for a clue - anything that would help them find the unsub before another victim was claimed.

           Hotch stood near the whiteboard, staring at the photos pinned up - the faces of victims staring back at him, haunting him. There was a pattern here; they all knew it. They could feel it. But none of them had been able to put the final piece together yet. Everyone was running on fumes.

           "Garcia," Hotch’s voice broke the silence, low but with the familiar edge of urgency. "Pull up the financials again. There’s something we’re missing."

           Garcia nodded, already typing, her colorful nails clicking rapidly against the keys. But even she seemed distracted, her brow furrowed in worry. She wasn’t just focused on the case anymore - she was thinking about you. About how you had been recently, about the relationship you had confided in her about a few weeks ago. A relationship that seemed to be bringing you joy, a brightness that Garcia had been happy to see. But now… something about this case was stirring up an unsettling feeling in her chest.

           Reid was standing across from her, his eyes darting across the case files, muttering half-thoughts under his breath. Morgan was pacing, unable to sit still, his frustration growing with each dead end.

           Then, it happened.

           Garcia’s fingers stopped, hovering above the keyboard. The silence in the room grew thicker as everyone waited for her to speak. She was staring at her screen, but the bright color had drained from her face. Slowly, almost as if she didn’t believe it herself, she turned in her chair, wide eyes meeting Hotch’s.

           "Sir," her voice was trembling. "You need to see this."

           Hotch’s stomach dropped at her tone, something was off. He crossed the room in quick strides, looking over her shoulder at the screen. The room held its collective breath, all eyes now on them. Garcia was scrolling through the financials, linking transactions, showing a pattern of behavior that had gone unnoticed until now. At first, it seemed like nothing out of the ordinary. Just a name, a routine list of purchases. But then it hit him. A familiar name.

           Hotch froze. His heart slammed against his ribs, dread flooding his veins.

           “No,” he breathed, disbelief clouding his thoughts.

           Garcia turned, biting her lip. Her fingers trembled as she pointed to the screen. “It’s him, Sir,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “It’s… it’s (Y/N)'s boyfriend.”

           The words hung in the air, heavy, suffocating. Everyone stared, the weight of Garcia’s revelation hitting them like a freight train. Morgan stopped pacing, Reid’s muttering ceased, and Rossi’s eyes darkened as he stood from his desk.

           "Are you sure?" Hotch’s voice was low, but the tension in his tone was unmistakable.

           Garcia nodded, tears brimming in her eyes. “I cross-referenced his name with the locations. He fits every single one of the victim’s timelines, and… the patterns match. It’s him, Hotch.”

           For a moment, no one moved. It was as if the very air in the room had thickened, weighing them all down. Hotch felt as though the ground had been pulled out from under him. His chest tightened painfully, his mind racing with fear and anger. How could they have missed this? How could he have missed this?

           Morgan was the first to break the silence, his voice sharp and filled with disbelief. “Wait, (Y/N)’s dating this guy?” His eyes darted between Garcia and Hotch, trying to piece it together. “How long has this been going on?”

           “A couple of months,” Garcia whispered, guilt washing over her at the mere fact that she knew about your relationship. “She… she didn’t want anyone to know. But… I thought he was just a regular guy.”

           Rossi was already moving toward his phone. "Has anyone contacted her?"

           Hotch’s blood ran cold. He reached for his phone, his fingers fiddling slightly as he dialed your number. It rang once. Twice. Three times. Straight to voicemail.

           Panic settled in his chest like a stone.

           “Garcia, try to ping her phone,” he ordered his voice tight, betraying the rising anxiety within him.

           “I’m on it,” she replied, her fingers moving across the keyboard in a blur. The seconds dragged on like hours as she tried to locate your phone. When she finally spoke again, her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. “It’s off.”

           Morgan swore under his breath, his fists clenched. “We have to find her. Now.”

           Hotch felt a surge of terror, unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. His thoughts were racing— Where were you? Were you okay? Did you even know what kind of danger you were in? The idea that the person you had trusted, had been intimate with, was the same monster they were hunting - it made his skin crawl. And now, they couldn’t reach you.

           Garcia's voice broke through the haze. “I’ve got his phone,” she said, her voice shaking with urgency. “It’s pinging at a location near the docks - an old warehouse district.”

           Hotch didn’t waste another second. He was out the door before anyone could speak, his mind focused on one thing - finding you. His heart pounded in his chest, each step toward the SUV filled with the weight of everything that had been left unsaid between you two. He couldn’t lose you. Not like this.

          The warehouse loomed ahead, its shadowy silhouette stark against the faint glow of the city. Inside, the darkness was suffocating, every echo, every creak of the metal beams overhead seeming to mock the haste coursing through Hotch's veins. He moved quickly, his heart pounding in his chest as he led the team deeper into the labyrinth of hallways and empty rooms, desperate to find you before it was too late.

           The dread that had been building since Garcia's revelation gnawed at him with every step. The idea that you, his agent, the person he trusted and admired, had been caught in the web of this monster - he couldn’t wrap his mind around it. It felt personal in a way that made his throat tighten, made his focus even sharper. This wasn’t just a case anymore; it was about you, about saving you from someone who had fooled them into a false security.

           A soft, muffled whimper reached his ears, freezing him in place. It was faint but unmistakable. His breath hitched as he sprinted toward the sound, every part of him terrified of what he might find. He shoved open a rusted metal door, and the sight that greeted him ripped the air from his lungs.

           There you were, barely recognizable, hanging limply by your wrists, your arms shackled high above your head. The light flickered, casting shadows over your bruised and battered body. You were gagged, your face pale and streaked with tears, your eyes barely open, glazed with pain and fear. Your skin was marred with fresh bruises, and all you were left wearing was your underwear - vulnerable, exposed, and utterly broken.

           Hotch’s world tilted. He had faced horrors in his career, and seen things that haunted his dreams, but nothing compared to the sight of you, the person he had come to care for, reduced to this.

           For a split second, all he could do was stand there, frozen by the crushing wave of guilt and anger crashing over him. How could he have let this happen? How had he not seen it, not realized who the unsub was?

           “Morgan!” Hotch's voice was sharp. “Find him. Now.” He couldn't be far away Hotch thought to himself.

           Without waiting for a reply, Hotch crossed the room to you, his hands trembling as he reached up to unchain your wrists. You collapsed into his arms, your body weak and trembling from the strain. He held you close, his jacket already off and wrapping around your shivering form. His chest tightened painfully as he felt just how cold you were, how fragile you felt in his arms.

           “I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. “You’re safe now.”

           You stirred, barely able to focus, but the sound of his voice - his voice - cut through the haze of terror that had clouded your mind. Your eyes fluttered open, a tear slipping down your cheek as you realized it was him. You tried to speak, but the gag choked you, the duct tape biting into your skin.

           Hotch's fingers were delicate as he reached up to remove the tape. Every inch he peeled back felt agonizingly slow, each movement careful, as if he were terrified of causing you more pain. His eyes never left yours, the guilt and worry etched deep into his features.

           When the gag finally came loose, you gasped, drawing in shaky breaths as your mouth was freed. Your voice came out in a weak rasp, “Aaron…”

           “Shh,” he murmured, brushing the hair from your face with a tenderness that made your chest ache. “It’s okay. I’m here now.”

           But you could see it in his eyes. The guilt. The anger. It radiated off him, a storm barely contained beneath the surface. He blamed himself, you knew that much. And though you wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, that he couldn’t have known, your voice was too weak, your body too drained.

           Hotch wrapped his arms tighter around you, his face buried in your hair as he whispered, “I’m so sorry. I should’ve been there sooner.”

           His words broke something inside you, a sob tearing from your throat despite your exhaustion. You wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, that you didn’t blame him, but all you could do was cling to him, your body shaking against his.

           You had been so close to losing everything - to never seeing him again. And now, in the safety of his arms, the adrenaline began to fade, leaving behind the raw emotion and terror that you had been holding back.

           “I’ve got you,” he whispered again, his voice barely a rasp. He held you tighter as if he could shield you from the world, from the pain, from everything you had just endured.

           He didn’t care about protocol, didn’t care that he was supposed to be in control, to remain objective. All he cared about was you, about getting you out of there and keeping you safe.

           When the paramedics arrived, Hotch didn’t let go. He carried you to the ambulance himself, refusing to leave your side for even a moment. The other agents worked around him, searching for your captor, but Hotch didn’t care about anything else right now. He stayed by your side as you were lifted into the ambulance, sitting beside you, his hand holding yours as if it was the only thing anchoring him to reality.

           The soft, sterile lighting of the hospital room contrasted with the cold, harsh reality of what had just happened. The beeping machines were rhythmic and steady, peaceful, a constant reminder that you were alive, even though the events leading up to this moment had been anything but peaceful.

           Hotch sat beside your bed, his hand wrapped protectively around yours, his thumb brushing back and forth along your knuckles in a soothing motion. He hadn’t left your side since they’d arrived at the hospital. The team had stayed behind to deal with the crime scene and the unsub, but Hotch had only one priority: you. His suit jacket now hung loosely on the back of his chair, as your bruised body had been hidden away by the hospital gown.

           You shifted slightly in the bed, your eyes fluttering open but still hazy from the morphine coursing through your veins. The medication had dulled the pain but also left you in a dreamy, disoriented state. Everything felt far away, like you were underwater, and the world around you was muffled. But there was one constant, something anchoring you to reality - Hotch.

           “Hotch…” your voice was barely above a whisper, the name slipping from your lips without much strength behind it. You tried to sit up, but your body protested, still sore and weak. Hotch’s grip on your hand tightened gently, his other hand pressing softly against your shoulder to keep you from moving too much.

           “Shh, don’t try to move. The doctor said you need to rest,” he said, his voice low and calm, but underneath it was a storm of emotions - relief, fear, anger. He tried to keep it together for you, but seeing you like this - bruised, shaken, and vulnerable - it broke something inside him.

           You blinked up at him, trying to focus. His face came into view, a mixture of exhaustion and concern etched into his features. “You... you came for me,” you mumbled, your words slightly slurred from the medication, but the gratitude in your tone was unmistakable.

           Hotch’s heart clenched at the sound of your voice, so small and fragile. He brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “Of course I did,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll always come for you.”

           You smiled faintly, the corners of your lips tugging upwards despite the pain and exhaustion. There was something about his presence that made everything feel just a little bit better, a little safer.

           Your eyes flickered around the room before landing back on him, and with a sleepy giggle, you whispered, “You look so serious, Hotch.”

           A soft chuckle escaped him, the sound rare but welcome, especially given the circumstances. “Someone has to be,” he teased, though his voice was still gentle. He brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face, his touch feather-light. “You’ve been through a lot.”

           You hummed, your eyelids growing heavy again, but you fought to stay awake, to stay in this moment with him. “Feel so... floaty,” you mumbled, your words trailing off slightly. The medication was pulling you back under again.

           Hotch smiled softly, watching as you struggled to keep your eyes open. “That’s the morphine. It’s okay to rest, you’re safe now.”

           For a moment, you simply stared up at him, your eyes glazed but full of warmth. “You’re always so... good to me,” you slurred, your voice thick with drowsiness. “Don’t know what I’d do without you…”

           His heart ached at your words. He couldn’t imagine what you had gone through, only what he already knew the unsub usually would have done, but the thought of you feeling alone or scared crushed him. “You don’t have to worry about that,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not going anywhere.”

           You gave him a sleepy nod, your head lolling slightly to the side. “I know,” you mumbled, your voice fading as sleep finally began to pull you under.

           Hotch leaned forward, brushing a gentle kiss against your forehead. He didn’t care that the hospital staff had insisted he take a break or go home and get some rest. He wasn’t leaving your side, not tonight. Not until he was absolutely sure you were okay.

           As your breathing evened out and your body relaxed into the bed, he sat back, watching you with a mix of compassion and sadness. Seeing you like this, so vulnerable and hurt, made him feel more helpless than he ever had before.

[y2kuromi]

⭑ : 呪術廻戦 ❛ 𝗟𝗜𝗘𝗕𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗨𝗠𝗘 : satoru gojo x fem! reader

࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 synopsis: yuuji sees a completely different side of gojo-sensei !

contents: tooth rotting fluff w a dash of angst! established relationship (married), second person & told from yuuji’s pov. extremely whipped satoru! petnames, suggestive dialogue

summer isn’t over yet! collection, can be read as a stand-alone

yuuji was initially ecstatic about the prospect of living with gojo-sensei. he’d imagined lazing around, gorging on sweets and watching cartoons on tv — maybe a few training sessions squeezed in with gojo-sensei — ideally it would’ve been just the two of them.

his fantasies came crashing down when realised gojo-sensei’s “house” was actually a “home”. the walls in the foyer were riddled with picture frames. he felt like he was intruding on gojo-sensei’s personal life, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the pictures on the walls.

there was a woman beside gojo-sensei in most of the pictures. she had (e/c) eyes and (h/c) hair. a friend? or a girlfriend? — nah. according to fushiguro, gojo-sensei got zero play. though she had to mean something to him. it was evident in the way he looked at her.

his cerulean eyes entirely averted the camera lens, instead devoted to committing every inch of her to memory

“that’s my wife” gojo said softly,“she’s gorgeous isn’t she?” he laughed wryly as he stared lovingly at the smiling woman in the photo. yuuji nodded slowly, studying his teacher closely.

“is she okay with me hiding out here?” he asked tentatively, shoving his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

“ahhh about that” gojo says sheepishly, “i haven’t had the time to mention it to her so you’ll have to wait here while i talk to her” he ran a hand through his hair, snowy white tendrils curling around his fingers.

classic gojo-sensei.

“oh” yuuji chuckled, the situation was amusing to him. he couldn’t wait to tell fushiguro — the sour reminder that he couldn’t had his laughter dying in his throat.

gojo-sensei shrugged off his shoes and patted yuuji’s shoulder, “don’t worry she’ll say yes , i’ve got her wrapped around my finger”

yuuji waited patiently in the foyer, amber eyes flickering over the expensive decor and woodsy frames of gojo-sensei’s family. he could faintly make out traces of your conversation

"oh? you're home early for once" you smiled, leaning into your husband as he placed a kiss on your forehead. "what's the special occasion 'toru?"

"do i need a reason to want to see my beautiful wife?”

“nope” you hummed, “‘m just surprised to see you” not that you were complaining. satoru was a busy man and you cherished the rare moments you spent alone together

“how was your day sweets?” he asked, taking your hand in his, his thumb stroked over knuckles, soft, loving.

“same old” you shrugged, “we’ve got some big case coming up next week, so i was pretty busy today. had a tonne of paperwork and meetings too"

"my busy bee" he smiles, "i missed you s'much, i hate going on these stupid business trips"

"you'd like them more if i came with you" you said teasingly, poking his rib with your free hand "i ran into kento the other day, you sure i shouldn't come back to jujutsu sorcery too?"

"nuh uh" he shook his head firmly, "stay at your law firm pretty, 'm gonna need someone to defend me when i kill all the higher ups"

"what have they done now?" you sigh exasperatedly, turning the knob on the gas cooker and reducing the heat. the faint clicking sound echoes in the kitchen as the orange-blue flames simmered quietly.

"what haven't they done" he grumbled, leaning against the counter. he gently tugged at his blindfold, lithe fingers unveiling the cerulean eyes that you loved so much. his snowy hair fell softly around his face, a curtain that failed to hide the anger he felt coursing through his veins.

"poor baby" you cooed, hands trailing up to his face and cupping his cheeks, your fingers smoothed over the frown etched on his face, pushing his lips together in a duck-lipped pout, "wanna tell me about it?"

"y'know yuuji? the new first year that's sukuna's vessel?"

you nod, allowing your hands to fall from his face and rest on the counter. his greedy hands make their way to your waist, rubbing circles on the soft flesh peeking out beneath your untucked dress shirt.

"well they sent the first years on a mission to rescue people from the detention center, after sending me on that stupid mission overseas mind you, and the kid had to fight a special grade curse"

"is he okay?" you ask, hands ghosting over satoru's bigger, veiny ones. he sighs, a look of mild irritation fleeting over his face at the memory. in retrospect, none of that mattered now. he was home.

"yeah he's fine" he shrugs, "sukuna ripped his heart out and he died, but he revived him eventually"

"your definition of fine is questionable satoru" you snicker, and he feels his heart melting at the sound of your laughter. "why'd they send them on that mission anyways?"

"they just want yuuji dead, he was supposed to be executed remember? and they're really scared of sukuna which is crazy 'cause he's kinda weak"

"someone needs to humble you" you say, amusement dripping from your words like honey, "pride comes before fall 'toru"

"you humble me all the time sweets" he grins, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead.

"i'm just doing the universe a favour" you tease, "what do you want for dinner? rice? noodles? or we could order food from that thai joint you like if you want”

"i'll eat anything you cook sweets,” he murmurs, “though i have something else i wouldn’t mind eating”

“satoru” you gasped, “you just got home and you’re already trying to get between my legs” you smack his shoulder playfully

“i’ve missed her too” he shrugs, “i’ve missed all of you”

you shook your head, “can’t believe i married such a feen” a languid smile tugs at the corners of your lips. you could try all you wanted to resist his charms, but he’d always win in the end

"so...about yuuji" satoru starts, testing the waters, "the higher ups really want him gone, i can't keep him at jujutsu tech right now"

"i can see why you wouldn't" you hum, leaning on the tips of your toes to reach for the salt. satoru had a habit of placing the things you needed in places you couldn't reach just so he could have the honour of retrieving them for you

“need help with that sweets?” he asks eagerly, pushing himself off the counter and sifting through the wooden shelves. he easily brings the jar of salt down and hands it to you

"you have to stop doing this, it’s such an inconvenience" you sighed, but you were grateful nonetheless.“you’re insufferable i swear”

“‘m still yours” he says suavely. satoru’s smile is unwavering though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

you can tell the thing with yuuji is weighing heavily on his mind. he’s more restless than usual. his lithe fingers run up and down the counter as he stares into space

“‘toru?” you prompt, nudging him with your elbow, “i can hear you thinking”

“i don’t know where to keep him” he exhales, “i would ask shoko, or kento but then i’d risk getting them in trouble with the higher ups”

“what about the secret room we found in our third year?” you asked, “you could keep him there, unless they found out about it”

“i would keep him there.. but i just...don't want him to feel alone," he says softly. you didn’t think it was possible to fall even deeper in love with satoru, but he never failed to surprise you. “he's just a kid, so i— i want to look out for him.”

he knows it’s a big ask. you can hear the gears turning in his head as he figures out how to possibly convince you to let sukuna’s vessel stay in your home.

"can he stay?" he pleads, "can yuuji stay with us please? it’s only until the kyoto goodwill event" he's clasping his hands together, imploring you with his infinitely blue eyes. you raise an eyebrow. knowing satoru, yuuji was probably waiting around in the foyer

"he's already here isn't he?" you ask, shaking your head fondly as a guilty look flickers across his face. classic satoru. although you would've loved for him to give you a heads up, you didn't mind a bit. it would be nice to have some company when satoru went on his missions

 “i didn’t really have time to plan all the details before bringing him with me” he says, sheepishly rubbing a hand behind his neck, his fingers brushed against the soft strands of his undercut, "are you mad? don't be mad baby"

"no" you laugh, "i'm not mad 'toru, he can stay"

it’s the little things like this that make you realise just how much power you have over him. within seconds your husband is whirling you around, hands gripping your waist tightly and pressing chaste kisses on your face as he sets you down

"yuuji she said you can stay" a wide grin blooms across his face as he bounds into the foyer excitedly. the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, reduced to the faint resemblance of a child getting their first sleepover approved

you set the jar of salt down on the marbled counter. trailing after your husband. true to your suspicions, yuuji itadori had been standing awkwardly, twiddling his thumbs together in his hoodie pockets and silently taking in the intricacies of your home.

he couldn’t help but feel out of place.

there were pairs of everything — shoes neatly arranged on the coat rack. umbrellas tucked in a corner in the foyer. coats hung up next to each other on the wall.

the pale blue wallpaper hung row after row of framed photographs. their wooden mahogany panels reflected the warm lights. yuuji’s light brown eyes flickered on the pictures in all their glory and glossy sheen.

the ones that caught his eye captured a young fushiguro’s trademark scowl, the irritated quirk of his brow and the curled spikes of his hair that defied gravity.

he was standing beside a girl who looked just like him, except she was slightly taller with long bone-straight brown hair. yuuji’s eyes lingered on her smile as your beanstalk of a husband shook him excitedly

he wondered what fushiguro would say if he knew he’d seen pictures of him as a little kid. ( he’d probably summon his shikigami on him )

“really?” he beamed, eyes momentarily drawn away from the plethora of frames. you feel your heart melt into a sickly sweet puddle of happiness and warmth, as you watch satoru drape his arm over yuuji’s shoulder

“yes really” you laugh, “it’s nice to finally meet you yuuji, you’re a friend of megumi’s right?”

yuuji nods frantically, his mop of pink curls bouncing enthusiastically . his mannerisms were nervous and eager. he wanted to fit in. he wanted you to like him. you could tell — he reminded you oddly of your husband ( they were practically the same person in different fonts )

“speaking of megumi, he doesn’t know yuuji’s alive so please don’t let it slip when he calls you” satoru murmurs, taking slow steps towards you.

he knows he’s asking for too much now. you practically raised megumi and it would be nearly impossible for you to keep something like this from him. satoru can see the cogs spinning in your head, the subtle anger in your heart and for the first time in years he’s afraid.

“we’ll talk about this later” you say through gritted teeth. he pleads silently with his eyes and you swallow your protests, you exhale loudly before turning towards yuuji again “c’mon yuuji, i’ve just started on dinner”

yuuji kicks off his shoes and nudges them neatly beneath the shoe rack before padding after you. satoru isn’t far behind

“it smells really good mrs. gojo” yuuji says politely, as he takes a seat by the kitchen island, legs dangling as he drums on the smooth marbled counter.

“thank you yuuji” you beamed, “do you prefer rice or noodles?”

“ahh i’m not really picky” he says, “i like all kinds of food really, but i suppose rice? if it isn’t too much of a hassle, i really don’t want to be a bother-”

“slow down yuuji” you said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder, “i’m really glad to have you here, it gets kinda lonely when ‘toru’s away on business trips so make yourself at home okay?”

no wonder gojo-sensei was always happy, his wife was an angel. yuuji thought as he nodded fervently

“i can make the rice baby” satoru offers, his hands make their way around your waist, he doesn’t miss the way you stiffen under his touch. you’re mad at him, and he knows you have every right to be

“thank you” you said, putting as much feeling into the words as you could muster, “come with me yuuji, i’ll show you around”

yuuji was positive he was intruding now, standing in the middle of megumi’s room while you stripped navy blue pinstripe sheets off his bed and replaced them with canary dressings.

“are you sure i can sleep here?” he asks, “ i don’t mind taking the couch..”

you seemed horrified at the idea of yuuji sleeping alone on the couch. he still hadn’t come to terms with the fact that you actually wanted him here. he was so used to being unwanted

growing up with his grandpa was something he wouldn’t trade for the world, yet he’d always craved the warmth of a mother. a mother’s love was the purest, and there was nothing more blameless than the softness in your (e/c) eyes when you looked at him

“i mind yuuji” you frowned” and i want you to stay in gumi’s room, his clothes should fit you since you’re around the same height”

“thank you again for letting me crash here” yuuji didn’t think he could say it enough. he didn’t deserve such kindness, not when the king of curses lived rent free in his head

“don’t mention it yuuji” you said, “i meant what i said downstairs, i could really use the company”

you ruffled his hair softly before resuming your ministrations of making the bed. you tucked crisp sheets beneath the mattress and fluffed up pillows with ease.

“you’re a really good mom, why don’t you and gojo-sensei have any kids of your own?” yuuji only realises the question is slightly insensitive after the words hang in the air and an unreadable look fleets across your face, “i’m so sorry that was really rude of me-”

“you’re good yuuji” you laugh, you sit down on the freshly laid duvet and pat the space beside you. yuuji hesitates but he sits down eventually

“it just never happened y’know? we adopted tsu and gumi a few years back, plus toru’s always seen his students as his kids, he cares about you guys a lot”

“even me?” it doesn’t seem plausible to him. all he’s seemed to do is cause problems for gojo-sensei ever since he ate that gross finger

“especially you yuuji” you smiled, ruffling his hair, “you remind me of him funny enough, even though i used to hate him back in our school days”

“really?” he gawked, he was practically falling over megumi’s bed with anticipation.

“really” you affirmed , “he was a real piece of work back then, i bet he’s the reason yaga has so many grey hairs”

“how’d you fall in love with him then?” yuuji enquires, brown eyes sparkling with immense curiosity “and how’d you meet?”

“are you guys gossiping about me?” satoru gasps, peeking around the doorway, “how mean of you yuuji, i thought we were friends”

“ahhh we weren’t gossiping per-say, mrs. gojo was about to tell me how you met”

“can i tell him?” satoru’s eyes sparkle, “the way i remember it i walked into the common room and cherry blossoms started falling, classical piano was playing softly in the background and-”

“that didn’t happen” you said, “he’s finally going senile” you tried and failed to push satoru out the doorway but he stood his ground.

he stood almost toe to toe with you, a pleased grin blooming on his face as he towered over you. yuuji’s eye’s flickered between you and your husband, cheeks dusted a rosy pink as he stifled giggles

“it did happen!” satoru insisted, “i’m sure shoko has a recording of it somewhere, now as i was saying.. she took one look at me and fell head over heels in love”

“you’re deluded” you muttered, “i didn’t love you until our second year, get your facts right”

“so you did fall head over heels in love with me” he grinned, “so early too? i knew you couldn’t resist my charms — owww!”

satoru feigns as you finally manage to shove him out the door after hitting his shoulder. by now, yuuji is a spluttering mess on the soft tatami mats lining megumi’s floor

“i’ll tell you what really happened one of these days” you said over your shoulder, “you can shower and settle in, take as long as you need, we’ll wait for you to come downstairs before we start eating”

your smile falls the moment the door clicks shut behind you. satoru feels his heart shattering. he’s so sure he’s going to die because his wife is mad at him. the universe might as well combust into nothing but ashes

“baby-” satoru starts, catching your wrist in his palm. he grips the bone loosely, careful not to hurt you “‘m sorry, you know that, but megumi can’t know”

you trudge down the stairs in silence, opting only to speak when you’re seated beside satoru in the living room. your cat natsu watches you wearily from her cat post, slanted eyes shooting satoru a well meaning glare.

“you can’t ask me to keep this from him” you said, shaking your head, eyes looking everywhere but your husband’s piercing blue gaze. “you’re taking things too far now”

“i know” his voice is a mere whisper, the words barely speak themself into existence, “i’m being selfish again, but you’ve gotta understand (y/n)”

“i can’t” you splutter, you feel tears treading your waterline “put yourself in his shoes, c’mon satoru we’ve seen him at his worst, why would we do something that could hurt him?”

“i’m not doing this to hurt megumi, i’m doing this to protect yuuji”

“just think about it please” you frowned, “if instead of executing suguru they kept him alive and let us think he was dead, you’d never forgive them”

he doesn’t miss the way your voice catches over the three syllables. he doesn’t miss the way your fingers tremble against his forearm. he hates this — arguing with you, he could think of infinite things he’d rather do than this.

“that’s different” his voice is wavering now, “suguru made his choice, yuuji didn’t ask for any of this” he winces as the words fall from his lips. to think he’d stooped to speaking ill of the dead. he doesn’t believe that, not really.

“you still wouldn’t forgive them” you prompted, “and i don’t want ‘gumi to go through any more, tsumiki being in a coma is hard enough as it is”

“i know baby, i know” satoru says softly, he cups your trembling face in his hands and places the sweetest of kisses on the tears that threaten to stream down your cheeks, “trust me on this okay? he’ll be fine i promise”

“okay” you nod, letting your husband, your one and only, wipe away the tears spilling over your lashes.

satoru could really kill the higher ups for putting him in this position. one where he nearly sacrificed his wife’s happiness for something as insignificant as jujutsu sorcery. with his lips still pressed to the corners of yours, he makes a silent vow with himself

it would be you before everything. it was you before everything

“you’re so beautiful” he whispers, his thumb grazing your bottom lip “you. are. everything. to. me” he punctuates each word with a kiss. his lips committing every inch of you to memory

they ghost over your cheek, your quivering lip, your shoulder, your wrist, and finally the silver wedding band encasing your ring finger. and they linger on the cool silver for what seems to be eternity before satoru speaks up again

“dance with me?” he prompts, although he’s not really asking. he’s already whisking you onto your feet and starting up the record player. the vinyl spins on its axis, as constant as his infinite love for you.

“what?” you sniffed slightly, “like we did in our first year?”

“like we did in our first year”

satoru’s hands were on your hip, drawing you closer, he felt your chest brush against his for a second as he leaned into you. you swayed gently side to side, keeping in time with the intricate melodies streaming from the gramophone

his six eyes tell him his student is watching, listening. curious doe eyes peeking from the stairwell. he doesn’t mind. satoru had never been one to hide his affection. you were his. and he was infinitely yours.

“can i tell you a secret?” satoru murmurs, as he twirls you back into his arms. he wishes he could stay like this forever. with you. he’d selfishly sacrifice the universe to keep having moments like this. he would kill for you. he’s positive he would. he’d do it without hesitation.

“i thought we didn’t have any of those” you quipped. satoru feels his heart melting. watching the sadness in your eyes fade into utter bliss was like watching the sun come out after a rainy day. maybe even better.

“it’s a good one i promise” he grins, you raise a brow sceptically but you’re listening “i was the one who fell head over heels in love with you. way back in our first year…and i didn’t even know what love was, i was so confused”

“when did you know?” you asked, “you always say you knew the moment you saw me, but you were an asshole then”

“it was the first time we snuck out together” he admits, “when we went to that night market. you were right, i was jealous of suguru but could you blame me? i wanted you all to myself”

“you’ve always been so greedy” you giggled. satoru doesn’t need the six eyes to see that you love him regardless. it’s evident in the tenderness of your tone and the way your (e/c) sparkle when you look at him

“cut me some slack baby” he groans “i’m trying to be romantic”

“you don’t need to try, i heard through the grapevine i can’t resist your charms” you hummed

satoru cracks a smile at the inside joke, a slow symphony of contentment.he kisses you again and it’s sweet and full of blind adoration. loving you is his religion. the only thing he’s wholly committed to. your hands looped around his neck, carefully avoiding the ever-so-sensitive scar that ran beneath his chin

your hands founds repose in the soft strands of his hair, carefully threading through the ivory curls. satoru could feel himself melting into you, he clung to you as if he was scared to let go and his calloused hands clutched at the warmth that radiated from your skin. he was so impossibly close you could feel his eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks.

yuuji peered at the scene with stars in his eyes. he knew he should look away. that this moment was sacred, strictly for the two of you. but he’d never seen gojo like this before — completely vulnerable, completely himself in the confines of your embrace.

here he wasn’t the strongest, the richest, the one-man clan, the one whose mere existence shifted the balance of the world. here, he wasn't satoru gojo, he wasn't gojo-sensei, he was just 'toru.

© Y2KUROMI 2024. please do not plagiarise, repost, or translate any of my works on here or any other websites.

[mochie85]

Have Mercy

One Shot Masterlist | Complete Masterlist

Summary: You're a powered being with healing abilities and you try to bring Loki back from the brink of death. Pairing: Loki x Female Reader Word Count: 1832 Warnings: Fluff, heavy kissing, slapping, mentions of death (close call), injury, a very flirty Loki,

You didn’t know how much time had passed since you all started the ambush. Tall sequoias canopied above blocking the setting sun. The air was thick with smoke and heavy from the fighting. You heard multiple teammates calling for healing, but none was louder than Thor. His troubled voice blasted through the comms, “Medic! We need a healer quickly!” His deep command tore you away from the battle you were in and you fought your way over to him. “Priestess, please! Come quick!”

Through fire and volley, you found Thor kneeling on the ground with Loki in his arms. Lifeless. Steve was circling them, trying to shield the brothers from a barrage of attacks.

You knelt on the ground. Your knees hit soft mud as your eyes scanned Loki’s body. His sharp face was paler than usual. Blue-ish tint had started to stain his lips. And your naïve-self hoped it was just because of the cold seeping from the wet ground. “Thor, I’ll take it from here. Go help Steve. I can’t worry about my life when I have to worry about his!”

Thor nodded to you. But before he laid Loki down, he whispered in his ear, “I know you are stronger than this, brother. But I swear on Yggdrasil if you are pretending, I will not hesitate to cleave Stormbreaker into you.” Thor sniffed and placed him down to the ground.

You nodded your head and patted Thor’s shoulder. “He’ll be fine,” you feigned, as you tried to get a better look at what had happened. You didn’t have the heart to tell Thor that you could feel how thin and fragile Loki’s life string was. A hair, compared to the cord that we all have. Worse, the thick rope that the Asgardian’s life used to be. You didn’t even know if you were skilled enough to weave it stronger.

There was a large gaping hole that tore Loki’s chest plate. His skin had burned and was raw from the impact. You couldn’t see any entry wounds. Nor blood. But the bruising and dent on his chest was not a good sign. A stray missile, perhaps? Maybe jumping in the way to save his brother. They vex each other constantly. But deep down they care for each other like most siblings do.

You straddled his body, holding your two hands out, placing them over his wound. A soft resonance emitted from your palm down to his skin. You kept your hands on him as the pulse of your powers worked their way through his body. You can see tiny mends of his scrapes and scratches. The raw skin around the wound had returned to their usual pallor.  He’s reacting at least. There’s still some life in him- whatever little is left.

You persisted. With every pulse, you can see his wounds healing. Ribs cracking back into place. The blue on his lips retreated ever so slowly. But his lifeline was stubborn. If you could hold out just long enough, his own regenerative powers might kick in.

Grasping at straws, your mind quickly raced with ideas to help speed the process along. You remembered that sometimes, shock was a good way of knocking someone back into the land of the living. “Ugh, don’t get mad at me, okay? I’m only trying to save your life,” you vowed out loud in case he was able to hear you. You quickly pulled your palm back and slapped Loki hard across his cheek.

Small capillaries burst where your hand met his face. Aside from the new hue, Loki had remained the same. Still and quiet. His line fading from your grasp. You panicked at your failed attempt.

You didn’t know what to do anymore. You didn’t know how to tell Thor that you couldn’t save his only brother. Ideas and thoughts ran past your mind all muddled and incoherent. Ways and spells. Teachings and theories you’ve learned on healing and regeneration.

You cupped Loki’s cheek, healing the bruise you had left. Your brows knit together, puzzled as to what to do next. Hopeless in feeling and thought. You didn’t want to look up. You didn’t want to see Thor’s face and have to tell him an awful truth. They had just reunited this past year. It wasn’t fair. And it would be all your fault because you couldn’t save him. You couldn’t save Loki. Your heart turned solemn as angry tears threatened to drop from your eyes.

By now the fighting had stopped. You didn’t realize how quiet the world had gotten around you. How still the air was from flying projectiles or weapons. The team gathered loosely. Giving you space to try and save Loki’s life, but the look on their faces betrayed the faith they were trying to offer you.

Your thumb brushed Loki’s cheek, wiping away the mud that speckled his face. He would’ve been appalled if he knew where Thor had left him on the ground. You smirked at the thought as your thumb rested on his chin and traced his lips.

His cold lips opened slightly at your touch, and you were struck with an idea.  You grabbed both sides of his leather collars and brought him to sit up towards you. His slack weight was heavier than you anticipated, and it took your remaining strength to sit him upright. You closed your eyes as your lips crashed into his, honing your powers into that desperate kiss.

You had never done this before. You had never needed to do this before. But you were hoping that your breath of life could pass onto him and carry him through till his own powers could take over. You sucked hard on his upper lip, not wanting to break any contact. Your fingers entwined themselves in his hair, desperate to keep him close to you. “Please. Please. Please,” you whispered into his mouth. Tears fell from your eyes and landed on his cheek. Your arms wrapped around his neck, unwilling to let go. Unwilling to accept the truth.

Still, you continued.

You felt a low rumble from his chest. A hopeful sign that it’s working. You just needed to hold on a little bit longer! You opened your lips for a breath of your own. And when you closed your mouth around his, your power pulsated in between you.

You felt his temperature return first. The warmth in his lips, the heat in his breath. You could feel his lifeline winding itself tighter and stronger.

His mouth returned your kiss. Sluggish and tentative. But they held on to your lips, tightly. His hands embraced your hips so delicately you didn’t even know they were there. You naturally leaned into the kiss more. Your power still pulsing through you. One last intake of breath and you passed it along towards Loki.

His grip tightened around you and he pulled you closer onto his lap. His arms snaked around you, holding your head close to his, unwilling to let you go.  You could hear small groans and heavy panting. But you honestly didn’t know whether it came from you or from Loki.

His tongue touched your lips, asking for entry. Catching your breath you opened your mouth once again and Loki gainfully ran his tongue inside against the roof of your mouth.

You didn’t realize that your powers had finished. With nothing left to heal, your powers subsided. But you were so lost in the kiss that you had forgotten where you were and what you were doing. Slowly, you pulled away. But Loki’s kiss followed you unwilling to release you. You bit his bottom lip as a warning, holding his face in between your hands.

“Darling, what an indecent way to ask me out,” Loki grinned from ear to ear. His voice was rough and garbled. He kept his face close to yours, running his nose against your cheek. “I accept!”

The world came crashing back around you. The time. The place. The situation. The shock froze you in place just staring into Loki’s blue-green eyes. “I always thought you harbored affections for me. But now I am certain,” he taunted.

You slapped him.

You couldn’t think of anything else to do. You felt betrayed somehow. Tricked. Even though you knew that he was genuinely in peril. The fact that he was joking about it even now, irked you.

Loki’s eyes narrowed. His brow furrowed as he slowly turned his head to face you again. His chin jutted out, trying to contain the smirk that was coming forth. “Is that how you like it?”

You tried to push yourself off of him. You’ve had enough of his antics. You were utterly embarrassed at being caught in this situation. Especially with the team around, surely watching.

He caught your wrists as you pushed on his chest, stopping you. “Do it again,” he commanded. His grin was out in full force now. Dazzling you to the last inch of your nerve.

“Ugh, the thanks I get for saving your life!” pushing him down as you stood yourself up. “Next time I’ll just leave you limp in the mud.” You sneered, walking away with your head held high and your face heated and red. From humiliation or from desire, you didn’t know.

“Well, that’s very hard to do when you’re kissing me like that, my angel,” Loki yelled after you. He couldn’t stop smiling as he watched you angry and flustered. All because of him. Oh, I’m in trouble.

“What do I gotta do to get a kiss like that?” Bucky asked teasingly as you stomped passed him.

“Die!” you growled back at him. The words felt mean as they left your mouth. And you regretted saying them instantly. He was only trying to lighten the situation. But you couldn’t help the shame you had inside you.

“Oh, c’mon doll. I was only teasing.” Bucky raised his arms in defeat and followed you back to the quinjet, laughing.

“Loki!” Thor scolded as he held his hand to his brother, helping him up. “I hope that you were not deceiving us just to try and gain favor with the priestess. I know you’ve been seeking her affections.”

“Brother! I am genuinely hurt! Did you not see me lying there at the last inch of my life?” Loki contended, pointing to the ground where he once laid.

Thor rolled his eyes but smirked, clapping Loki on the shoulder. He was glad to have his brother back once again. “She’s very talented that one. And I do not want to see her get hurt, Lo-. Loki are you listening to me.”

Loki was at a loss for words, watching you. “She gave me my life back, brother. I have felt her lips against mine and I’ll be damned if I don’t feel them again soon.” Loki smiled as he swatted away Thor’s hand on him. His eyes solely on you, plotting how to get you to kiss him again.

A/N: I know it's been awhile. I do plan on finishing my series' soon. Thanks for staying with me. Life has been hard and you guys get me through it.

🏷️ @peaches1958 @salempoe @thomase1 @kkdvkyya @a-witch-with-words @mischief2sarawr @sarawr-reads @vbecker10 @peachymallow @irishhappiness @cakesandtom @simplyholl @here4thefanfics @holdmytesseract @immersed-in-mischief @joyful-enchantress @lokisninerealms @kikster606 @glitterylokislut @loz-3 @slytherclaw1227 @chantsdemarins @the-lady-amphitrite @eleniblue @km-ffluv @lokidokieokie @n3rdybirdee @melsunshine @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokischambermaid @cjand10 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @chrisevansmaindish @capswife @dangertoozmanykids101 @shadycloudcollection @annoyingsweetsstranger @alyeskathewave @xxjust-a-kidxx @tallseaweed @liliacdreamer @stevihj +more in the comments

[crushpunky]

drew’s live gets interrupted by actress!reader

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

this takes place before drew and actress!reader were dating and is based off of this ask :)

Y/n had just gotten in the shower when Drew got a text from Madelyn asking him to join her live. Quickly running a hand through his hair, Drew opened up Instagram. He had been stewing on the couch when Madelyn texted him, twiddling his thumb as he waited for y/n to finish up in the bathroom. He hadn’t even realized how much he enjoyed her presence, even just the two of them sitting silently in the living room, until she had left.

“There he is!” Chase said as Drew joined the live, him and Madelyn staring back at him with wide grins on their faces. 

“Hello, hello. Can you hear me?” Drew waved, watching as the comments flew across the screen.

“Yep. You’re good, Starkey.” Madelyn said.

“Where are you?” Chase looked at the screen closely, his brows furrowed.

“I am on the couch in the apartment.” Drew said with a groan, stretching and sinking further into the couch.

“Where’s y/n?” Madelyn asked with a playful quirk of her brow. A grin immediately spread across Drew’s lips at the mention of y/n’s name. He ran a hand along his face, hoping nobody could see his blushed cheeks due to Madelyn’s not-so-subtle teasing.

“She left me, unfortunately.” Drew frowned dramatically.

“Finally got some sense knocked into her, huh?” Chase quipped.

“Nah, nah. She’s taking a shower.” Drew giggled.

“I’m surprised you were able to figure out how to get on here without her.” Madelyn said, causing Drew to roll his eyes.

“I am a capable adult, thank you very much.” Drew said pointedly. His attention was once again caught by the string of comments that flew across the screen, the majority asking about why Madelyn had asked about y/n. When the two of them moved in together, they agreed it would be a good idea to avoid telling people about it, for fear it would blow up into something it wasn’t and fuel online rumors. Drew swallowed harshly, turning his attention back to Chase and Madelyn. 

“‘Do you guys live together’? I live with Austin and Madelyn lives by herself.” Chase read, Madelyn nodding along.

“We’re all neighbors and roommates. It’s like college again.” Drew said with a chuckle. Though he wouldn’t say, he definitely liked y/n more than any of his college roommates… or more than many people in general. In fact, so much he thought he was dreaming when she asked if he wanted to be roommates with her.

“Can you tell y/n to hurry up? I miss her.” Madelyn said with a pout. Drew shook his head bashfully as he glanced towards the bathroom door at the end of the hallway. The door was still firmly closed, the soft hum of the shower evident even over the music y/n was singing along to.

“She’ll be back soon… I miss her too, guys, don’t worry.” Drew laughed, chewing at his thumbnail. 

“She’s your roommate it’s not like—” Chase started, but was cut off when Madelyn elbowed him sharply in the ribs. Drew’s eyes widened at the reveal, trying his best to remain calm despite the immediate increase in comments that flew across the screen.

“Chase!” Madelyn whispered harshly before dropping her head in her hands. Chase cringed, looking back at Drew hesitantly.

“I didn’t—” Chase scrambled.

“I– It’s fine.” Drew swallowed harshly. “Uh, yeah. Y/n and I live together… we’re just, y’know, roommates… just friends.”

Drew cringed. Why was he being so weird? They were just friends after all, despite what the fluttering in his stomach everytime she stepped into the room might entail.

“Let’s move on to some more questions—” Madelyn started.

“Drew!” Y/n suddenly shouted from the shower. Drew’s head immediately whipped up, his mind immediately drifting to the worst case scenario.

“Shit— yeah, coming!” Drew said quickly, scrambling to his feet.

“Wait, Drew—” Chase started, him and Madelyn both staring at Drew with wide eyes.

“I gotta go!” Drew said, fumbling with his phone as he ran down the hall. He finally ended the live, stopping at the bathroom door.

“What’s wrong? Are you ok?” Drew shouted through the door, pressing his ear against the wood as he awaited a response.

“Nothing, nothing. I’m fine.” Y/n shouted over the thrum of the running water.

“Ok… what’s up?” Drew furrowed his brows.

“Could you— I forgot a towel and I didn’t want to get water everywhere— could you… get me one?” Y/n said with a sigh, running a hand over her face.

“Oh, yeah. Of course.” Drew blinked harshly, opening the closet that sat between their bedrooms. He dug through the cabinets above the washer and dryer, looking for one of y/n’s light purple towels. Finally finding one, he came back to the bathroom door.

“Ok… um, I’ve got one.” Drew looked down at the towel in his hand as he heard the water shut off.

“You can… just come in.” Y/n said, poking her head out from behind the shower curtain. Slowly, Drew reached for the doorknob, turning it hesitantly. The door opened, steam billowing out as Drew kept his eyes low. He took a small step into the bathroom, the sweet, intoxicating scent of y/n’s shampoo filling his nose as he held out the towel towards the shower. Y/n reached for the towel, trying to keep the curtain in front of her body as she leaned out the shower.

“Could you… a little to the right please.” Y/n giggled, Drew’s cheeks flushing as he kept his eyes low. He moved his hand, y/n’s fingers finally able to grab the towel from him. She took it gratefully, quickly wrapping it around her body.

“Thanks.” Y/n said quietly, her eyes scanning over Drew as he continued to stand in the bathroom, his eyes avoiding her. His brain was completely frazzled, overwhelmed by the heat of the room, the scent of y/n, the sound of her giggle, and the fact that she was naked behind the curtain. Everything was compounding itself and rendering him utterly useless, a state he found himself rendered more and more as this crush he had on y/n only deepened now that they lived together.

“Do you— do you need anything else?” Drew scrambled, turning his back completely away from her. Y/n smiled softly, her cheeks warming up at Drew’s adorably awkward demeanor.

“Uh, no. Thanks, Drew.” Y/n said. Drew nodded his head, blinking rapidly in an effort to control the pounding in his chest at the sound of his name off y/n’s lips.

“Yes, of course…” Drew said lowly, scratching his jaw. “That’s what friends are for.”

Drew stepped out of the bathroom, quickly closing the door behind him. He groaned, immediately running a hand over his flushed face at his embarrassingly, obvious frazzled and most definitely strange behavior. As he leaned against the bathroom door, he struggled to fathom how he was going to keep this up. Keep up this act that he only saw y/n as a friend. That he wasn’t absolutely head over heels for her.

Simultaneously, y/n found herself frowning at Drew’s words. She knew it was wrong of her to, but she always wished he didn’t see her as a friend. That he liked her the way she liked him. That he was just as in love with her as she was with him.

With a sigh, y/n checked her phone to a slew of notifications… all talking about a relationship with Drew that wasn’t nearly as romantic as they (or she) had hoped.

tagged: @cadhlabear

[cllightning81]

The Broken Rib [OP81 + LN4]

Summary : Oscar broke his rib but he won't tell you or Lando how, too ashamed by how he did it, however you and Lando are there to look after him and love him.

Pairing/s: Oscar Piastri x Reader x Lando Norris

Warning/s: Poly Relationship

Word Count: 2.1K

Masterlist Lando Norris Masterlist Oscar Piastri Masterlist Tag List

A/N: This is my first poly fic. I tried to make it so that all three of them were in the relationship not that just the reader was dating both drivers while they aren't dating. I hope you like it.

A/N 2: My tags aren't working at the moment but I'll fix them soon

Oscar had stupidly broken a rib. How? He wouldn’t share with you or Lando, but you knew that he was in pain. You were pretty sure he’d just done something stupid and was too ashamed to share how he did it with you both. 

Standing in the fan zone of the Hungarian Grand Prix, you could tell Oscar was in pain. As Lando took a drink from his can before handing it to you before starting to compete with a small child trying to get the best score. Lando pushed the small child out the way, jokingly trying to gain a head start as Oscar signed some things. 

You could see the pain he was in as he crouched down to the height of the child but you knew that he was enjoying himself too much to stop and think about how much pain it was causing him. 

Oscar soon stood up, turning to the camera with a chuckle 

“Highly matched so far” Oscar hummed, looking at the scores 

“Lando’s got a height advantage here, which you don’t often say about Lando Norris” He laughed as you shook your head 

“But you do in this case” He finished, and you smiled, knowing it would cause some extra friendly rivalry between the two of them. You smiled as Oscar walked over to you, pressing a kiss against your head 

“Are you okay?” You asked, softly tilting your head up to look at him 

“Yeah I’m doing okay” You nodded as he was called up to compete against a child. Lando smiled, taking his can from you as you walked over to him 

“He okay?” He whispered, causing you to shrug a little 

“Says he is, but I can see he’s in pain” You sighed, and he nodded, handing the can back before helping Oscar to try and win. It was just them being funny to the outside world, but to you, you knew it was because Lando didn’t want Oscar hurting himself even more. 

Although your relationship was hidden to the outside world for the most part, they knew of it in some aspects but not about how deep the relationship actually went. Many just assumed the three of you were being overly friendly with Lando and Oscar fighting for your love and hand. 

Both boys went through their time taking pictures individually with the young fans before a group photo. Lando stood on his toes, and Oscar decided to copy him. You laughed a little knowing about the fact Oscar loves to bully Lando lovingly about his height. 

“No Oscar” Lando muttered, and Oscar dropped back to his normal height. You left them there wandering back to the hospitality walking into Lando’s downstairs drivers room, knowing for a fact that he’d had a nap earlier and left his bed up. 

So that’s where you sat waiting for them to finish up. Both boys walked in with smiles on their faces. Lando moved you onto his lap so he and Oscar could sit down. 

“Hey there” Lando smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips as Oscar kicked his legs up 

“Hey there to you both” You smiled as Oscar rested his head on Lando’s shoulder. 

“You okay, love?” Lando asked him as you turned your head to look at him 

“Yeah, just in a little pain” Oscar mumbled, and you frowned, turning fully on Lando’s lap to face Oscar

“Have you taken any painkillers today? You’re not in the car today you’re allowed to take some the doctor prescribed” You worried, pushing a stand of hair out his face 

“She’s right, love. The FIA allowed you to” Lando whispered, pressing a kiss to Oscar’s hair

“They’re in my drivers room” Oscar mumbled, closing his eyes as you pressed a kiss to his lips 

“I’ll go get them for you darling” You smiled softly, getting up and wandering to his driver's room to retrieve them and his water bottle. Handing them to him after a few steps between the room, you sat back down in Lando’s lap, not wanting to hurt Oscar even more. 

Oscar turned to look at you, and you smiled at him, holding his hand with one of your own and Lando’s with your other. Lando’s other hand wrapped around your waist to hold you in place. You couldn’t help but smile a little, although it wasn’t the perfect conditions to be in because Oscar was in pain. It was a moment where it was just the three of you. 

Alone and in the quiet of the drivers room before, they were called away for more media duties, leaving you alone again unless you decided to join them however, that was a little bit more boring.

There was a knock at the door, and Lando groaned, dropping his head onto your shoulder as Jon popped his head into the room

“Mate media’s looking for you both. You better go see what they want” Jon shrugged, turning on his heel and walking back out of the room. Both of your boys groaning Oscar getting up to comply, but Lando holding his hand to keep him in place on the couch/bed thing 

“Lan we’ve got to go” Oscar mumbled, and you nodded in agreement 

“You do, baby. You know I’d love for you both to stay here and cuddle with me however I told Alex and Kika that I’d meet them once you two got stolen from me” You smiled pushing strands of hair out both of their faces. Oscar standing up again as you got up from Lando’s lap, holding a hand out to him. 

Lando gave you his hand, and you pulled him up onto his feet, not putting up much fight knowing how much time you liked spending with the other girls in the paddock. Lando leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips before turning you around to face Oscar. You stood up on your toes, pressing a kiss to Oscar’s lips, not wanting him to bend down and hurt himself. 

As the boys walked out of the drivers room, you could see their hands subtly touch, and you couldn’t help but smile. While Oscar wasn’t one for PDA, Lando made sure that there were subtle touches so Oscar knew that he was still loved as much as you were. 

You didn’t travel far from Mclaren’s hospitality with Kika and Alex, although you were kinda close to the media pen where all of your boys were there working. You had suggested the tables next to the media pen because you wanted to keep an eye on Oscar. 

You could see Oscar’s hair every so often and the way that when he laughed at one of Lando’s jokes, he had to grab his side in pain. Alex and Kika joking about how much you were keeping an eye on the boys however, what you both missed was Lando also keeping an eye on him. 

Back in the hotel room, you were sitting on the stool at the vanity doing your makeup because Lando and Oscar wanted to go on a date night. Lying on the bed, Oscar had his head on Lando’s chest as Lando’s hand played with Oscar’s hair. 

They had told you to start getting ready earlier than them because apparently you take longer to get ready than them, and now they were just enjoying cuddling. You turned around on the stool 

“Are you sure you want to go out?” You asked as both boys nodded however, their bodies and faces said differently 

“You know that I don’t mind staying in the hotel room with room service, cuddling up to my favourite men in the world maybe with a movie on” You hummed crawling on the bed next to them. 

“You know we like taking you out though” Lando sighed as Oscar nodded on Lando’s chest 

“I know you both do, but you look so comfortable there, and Oscar really needs to be resting” You smiled softly, resting a hand on each of their legs, caressing both of them. Oscar looked up at Lando, having a silent conversation between them. 

“Okay fine. Go get yourself ready for a cuddle night” Lando smiled as Oscar reached towards the bedside table for the menu. You smiled, getting back up and removing the make-up from your face. You looked into the suitcases on the floor that were overspilling from all three of you. 

The three of you were messy. Cisca, Nicole, and your mum all telling each of you off for how messy you were almost constantly. The time when Lando’s family was visiting and all of your clothes are all over the place after a trip. To you three, it was an organised chaos, but to his family, it was just chaos.

Oscar when he was staying with the prince in Bahrain before the three of you had told Mclaren about the relationship and before you could travel to a Grand Prix with your work his clothes all over the floor of the palace while he leaned against some tapestry. 

Your parents had just never shut up about how messy you were. From the age of five, they complained about your mess, and now, at your grown-up age, they were still doing it. 

You climbed onto the bed behind Oscar, looking at the menu over his shoulder after pulling one of Lando’s hoodies over your head so it covered your body. You smiled, knowing that tonight was going to end up good. 

Lando and Oscar both looked at each other before shaking their heads, and Oscar got up as Lando pulled you into the middle of the bed. Your head resting on Lando’s head before Oscar lays his head on your chest. Your hand instantly comes up to play with your hair. Oscar showed you the menu, letting both you and Lando read what you wanted. 

Lando called in the room service as you let Oscar pick the movie out for the night. 

The race was the worst thing you had to watch. Both of your boys deserved the win, but unfortunately, that wasn’t possible only one of them could win. You knew they weren’t going to hate each other behind closed doors for a long time. 

You didn’t want to pick a boyfriend at this point, so you just sat in the main hospitality area waiting for them. Both of them gave each other the cold shoulder as they kissed your head and passed you. 

You sighed, looking over at the strategy team. It was their fault this was happening. While everyone was so happy for Oscar’s first win and a one two for the team, it didn’t feel right. You walked into Oscar’s driving room. 

“I’m not mad” He whispered, and you smiled, glancing at the media team before shutting the door. 

“I know you’re not darling, but remember we’re all in this together. All three of us. I’m gonna go into Lando’s room while the media team have their way with you” You pressed a kiss to his lips before walking out and into Lando’s driver’s room. 

The sight broke you. Lando with his head in his hands, his body shaking a little. You sat next to him, wrapping your arms around him, just holding him for the moment. You knew that he was hard on himself, and this was just how he was dealing. 

“I’m sorry. I was being a dick. I know that” You shook your head 

“Maybe you were, but you wanted the win. I know it’s hard, but you’ve got to remember it’s not just the two of you here. I’m here. It also wasn’t his choice, you know that. So what I need from you is you need to go kiss and make up with him. Literally. Because I don’t want any of us fighting” Lando nodded, getting up and wiping his eyes. You watched him walk out, knowing that they would kiss and make up. 

By the time the three of you were back at your own home, everything was back to normal between the two of them, which you couldn’t have been more, happy about. You knew that they would be okay eventually, and you just being there helped them out. 

Laying on the bed with the two of them, both of them holding one of your hands as well as each other's hands. It was the perfect night. Playing monopoly, eating takeaways, and the flight with other drivers. 

Coming Soon

Tag List

@thewannabewriter @lozzamez3 @barcelonaloverf1life @hiireadstuff @mxdi0 @f1kenzzz @evie-119 @ahgase99 @velcosainz @talksoprettyjjx @kat-s2 @scarletwidow3000 @thegrapejuiceblues1982 @jasons-little-princess @tellybearyyyy @zabwlky1999 @callsignwidow @chocolatepoetryfun @lwstuff @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @destinyg237 @GlitzyDitsy @molten-m112 @yllomhej @xxx-betty @chunkpiboli

[fandoms-x-reader]

Small but Hungry

Requested By: @ricaaathelittlelamb

Word Count: 1,858

Height can be deceiving. That was a hard lesson the seven demon brothers were learning.

You were a small human and because of that, they believed you didn’t require as much food. They wanted to be sure though, so they turned to Satan who promptly pulled out his book on humans. Their theory was confirmed when the book had a passage stating humans shouldn’t eat as much food as demons. So, they were all in agreement that they shouldn’t overfeed you.

Since you came to the Devildom, they had been feeding you small portions. You never complained about being hungry and you never asked for more food, so they never knew that they were doing something wrong.

Then, you all took a trip to the human world. It was more like a business trip than a vacation, so you were only up there for a day. And, the day was nearly over when Lucifer offered to pay for everyone’s dinner.

The group decided to eat at a steakhouse and your stomach was immediately growling as soon as you began reading the menu. How long had it been since you had human world food? It was a rare occasion in the Devildom.

One by one, the demon brothers ordered the dishes they wanted, starting with Lucifer and ending with Belphie. Finally, it was your turn. You placed the menu down before confidently telling the waiter, “Could I have the full rack of ribs please?” 

There was a moment of silence as you handed the waiter your menu. When you returned your attention back to the others, you were met with all seven staring at you, their eyes slightly wider than normal.

“What?” you asked innocently. They all quickly brushed it off. They didn’t want you to think they were judging you in any way, because they weren’t. They loved you in every way, and they would never think negatively of you. They were just a bit confused by how much food you ordered.

Lucifer couldn’t help but wonder if you were maybe trying to impress them with the amount of food you could eat. That was the only reason he could imagine you would order such a large amount of food.

Mammon was in sheer confusion. A human as small as you couldn’t possibly eat that much food. So, why did you decide to order that of all things? Mammon began to question himself. Clearly, he had to be missing something.

Levi couldn’t help but feel on edge. Were you planning something? Were you stocking up on food in case of an emergency? Levi wouldn’t judge you. He had rations in his room for the same reason. But…ribs? Weren’t there better things to store for later?

Satan’s mind immediately went to his books. He wished they were there with him so he could read about this. Was there something special about ribs that allowed humans to eat more than they normally would?

Asmo was a bit worried about you. Were you stressed or upset? Is that why you wanted to eat such a large portion of food? He didn’t want you to be bloated from overeating. He would watch you carefully while you ate to make sure this wasn’t the case.

Beel knew best what it was like to be hungry. But, even if you were starving, a full rack seemed like a lot of food for such a small human. He wasn’t worried about it though. Whatever you didn’t eat he would finish for you.

Belphie believed you were messing with them. It had to be a joke and any second you were going to change your mind and ask for a smaller plate. If it was a prank, he had to admit that you got them all pretty good.

When the food came, all seven of them were surprised at how big the platter was. Now they doubted your abilities even more.

“That’s a lot of food,” Beel stated, staring at the food. You smiled at him in response and Mammon questioned, “Are ya’ really going to eat all of that?” “Of course,” you replied, completely unaffected by the size of the platter.

The brothers felt like they were transported to another realm. Their minds were racing at a hundred miles per hour. They were too stunned to eat their own food. Instead, they watched you eat yours with curiosity.

You finished the ribs quickly and when you were done you licked the remainder of the sauce off of your fingers. A loud belch escaped from your lips and your hand moved up to cover your mouth.

“Excuse me,” you said gently, noticing the way all of the brothers were staring at you. You didn’t pay any attention to it though as you politely excused yourself from the table to go freshen up in the bathroom.

If you were trying to impress him and his brothers, you succeeded with flying colors. You ate those ribs with such ease, he couldn’t believe it.

Lucifer immediately began questioning his decision to feed you small portions in the Devildom. If he had known you could eat this much, he never would have limited you on the amount of food you could have.

He thinks about punishing Satan for giving him false information about the amount of food humans can eat. But, then he realizes it isn’t Satan’s fault but the author of the book.

He debates going after the author but decides an easier way to mend the situation they were currently in is by making sure you never felt like you couldn’t eat the same amount of food in the Devildom.

From now on, he’ll ensure you get as much food as you want before his brothers get their plates, especially Beel.

Whaaa?

You ate all of those ribs without even trying! You didn’t even break a sweat or look like you were slowing down at any point.

How could such a small creature eat so much food?!

But, wait…did that mean this whole time you weren’t getting enough food? He and his brothers must have looked like such jerks for only feeding you small portions.

Why didn’t you ever ask for more food? Were you just trying to be nice?

Regardless of your reasons, Mammon was your first man and your protector in every sense of the word. Which meant it was up to him to help take care of you.

He promises there will never be another night in the Devildom where you go hungry. He’ll make sure of it. 

It was quite the sight to watch for Levi. He had seen some of his favorite characters in anime eating in the same manner you just displayed. But, he never thought he would 

experience the sight in person.

He thought the anime exaggerated how much one person could eat. He believed they might be trying to represent or make fun of his little brother’s never-ending appetite.

But, now he felt like his whole world had been shaken. This whole time it was real?! Humans could actually eat that much?!

Levi is now curious to find out what else was real in anime. He’ll be attached to you for the next week or so as he watches you closely to see if you mimic any of the other actions he’s seen his beloved characters do.

He’ll also offer you food whenever the two of you are hanging out. He tells you it’s to keep your strength up, but in reality, he feels a bit guilty that they hadn’t been feeding you properly for a while now.

Satan felt the most guilty about the situation. After all, his brothers had turned to him for advice on how to feed you. 

Had he read his book wrong? No, he was positive that’s what the book said. So, then the book was wrong. For the first time in his life, a book had given him false information.

Satan was now questioning the integrity of some of the other books he had read on humans. He decided he would conduct his own experiments to find out the truth about you.

He would never chance your well-being on the words of a book again. Instead, if he’s curious, he’ll approach you directly and ask you whatever question is on his mind.

He’ll also make sure that you always have enough food. He’ll even secretly take note of which foods you prefer over others.

And, when that food is on the menu for dinner, he’ll make sure you get an extra serving or two just to make you happy.

You didn’t look stressed or upset in any way when you were eating the ribs. In fact - you looked completely satisfied.

Asmo was so relieved that you weren’t suffering in any way. But, at the same time, he was also concerned about their past actions.

He looked through his memories of you at the House of Lamentation, specifically at meal times, and he can’t remember you ever looking so satisfied.

He started freaking out at the possibility of you going to bed hungry every night you were in the Devildom and he immediately began planning out a way to make it up to you.

Not eating enough was just as unhealthy as overeating and Asmo wanted you at your very best.

He’ll work with you to make you more comfortable with telling the brothers when you’re still hungry so that this never happens again.

Beel was ecstatic when he saw that you were able to finish the entire rack of ribs. It was just one more thing that made you special to him.

He began to question what else you could eat a lot of. Was it only certain things or was it everything? Did you eat the same amount of food when it came to items from the Devildom?

Wait…

Now that he was thinking about it - had they been starving you?! Hunger is Beel’s ultimate weakness so the idea of you being hungry every day because of them made him a mix of angry and sad.

Beel would make sure to pile your plate with food at meal times and he’ll always offer you snacks during the day.

He would make sure to save enough for himself, but he wanted to make sure you were taken care of too.

You did it? You actually finished the entire plate?

Belphie is completely shocked. He didn’t believe for one second that it would be possible.

And what’s more, is that you ate them so quickly as if the amount had no effect on you. 

It was impressive, to say the least, and now he was glaring at all of his older brothers.

They had been feeding you the same amount of food since before he escaped the attic. So when Belphie got out, he thought it was normal.

Did none of them do their research on humans?! It clearly wasn’t enough food for you!

Belphie would no longer trust his brothers to take proper care of you. He would do everything himself from now on.

It was the only way he could guarantee your health.

[ohsc]

₊˚⊹♡ in another life | sam winchester x reader

a/n - first time doing a full fic with a pretty layout!!! i got the idea for this fic yesterday and got most of it out tonight i just loved the idea, i kinda hate the ending but i never write endings well so :/ if you like the fic pls pls reblog / tell me what you thought, it helps!! <3

cws - fem!reader, 2.5k words, mentions of nightmares, mentions of memory loss, blood, injury, destiel included, hurt/comfort, angst

other fics can be found on my masterlist

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Blood. So much blood. She could feel as it trickled down her arms, warm against her cold skin.

The rope rubbed into her wrists painfully.

A gag in her mouth that made her panic.

She twisted, tried her hardest to get out, but it wouldn’t budge.

Thump-thump, thump-thump, her heart raced in her chest, panic crawled out from inside her ribs, up into her esophagus, out of her mouth until she screamed—

Her eyes snapped open and she jumped, hands splayed out beneath her to quickly shove herself to sit up, thump-thump, thump-thump-

“Hey, hey, you’re okay.” Sam’s voice broke through the panic and her eyes quickly snapped to him, shirtless and sleepy in the bed beside her.

In the bed.

She’d been dreaming.

Her breath shuddered as she inhaled and shifted a little, pressed her back against the headboard behind her as she forced herself to recognise her surroundings; Sam — who grounded her the most out of anything, the same four walls of their bedroom, the same clothes hung over the desk chair, his boots by the door, her books on the dresser. She’d had nightmares for so long — it was only natural given their way of life. She’d developed a way to deal with them over the years.

“Hey,” Sam’s hand was warm as he touched her shoulder, and she looked back up at him, his hair tousled from sleep, eyes ever so soft. Sometimes she didn't think she deserved him. “Are you okay?”

One of her hands moved up and took his, laced their fingers until all of their knuckles were kissing, and only then was it easier for her to breathe. “Yeah,” she sighed, smiled slightly. “M’okay, sorry.”

“No, hey,” Sam frowned a little and shifted closer, his free hand lifted to cup her cheek. “Don’t apologise. Sure you’re okay?”

She nodded, leaned into his palm. His skin was so warm that it felt heavenly. “S’nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

He still looked worried, that little crease between his eyebrows hadn’t left his features, but Sam nodded anyways. He leaned forwards and closed the distance, and the soft press of his lips against hers cured any leftover anxieties from her nightmare.

The kiss transitioned from a soft press to a loving neediness, Sam had one of her lips between his own, his hands splayed on her waist, and like muscle memory she climbed into his lap so she could be closer. His hands were gentle, his breath warm as it fanned out over her face, and when she pulled back to look at him it—

It was nine o’clock.

Her eyes had caught the digital alarm clock beside the bed and her eyes widened a little, a surge of panic within her as her hands slipped from his cheeks to rest on his chest. “Shit, Sammy it’s nine.”

“Yeah?”

She frowned at him. “We should’ve been up ages ago, aren’t we working a case today?”

Sam frowned at her, took a breath, before he murmured softly, “Are you sure you’re okay, sweetheart?”

“What?” She just blinked, confused.

“You said we’re going on a case.”

“Yeah?”

Sam’s frown only deepened. “Baby, we haven’t been on a case in months.”

She just stared at him for a moment. Her eyes flickered over his expression, caught no sign that he was trying to mess with her. It was almost like he was serious.

But he couldn’t have been. Just last night they’d been talking about working a case in Indiana, that’s where they were supposed to be heading. They’d been working back-to-back cases for weeks, now. She was exhausted from them.

“What are you talking about?” She shook her head. “Just last night we… we’re going to Indiana today, Sam.”

Sam sat up completely and rubbed his palm over her back. “That dream really messed you up, huh?”

She scowled. “I’m being serious.”

Immediately he softened, apologetic to the core as he stroked her back again. “I know- I know, I’m sorry, sweetheart, it’s just… we really haven’t been on a case in weeks. The only thing we have planned today is going to catch that movie with Dean and Cas, remember?”

They had never gone to see a movie together, not in a proper cinema. Movie nights were slotted in at the bunker whenever they had time. “No, we have a case.”

He looked so concerned she almost felt bad. But she was so confused, they definitely hadn’t so much as stopped hunting for two days, let alone for months. What was he talking about?

“Okay…” Sam nodded slowly, though he clearly didn’t believe her. “Okay. Why don’t we go get you something to drink, okay?” It was clear he still thought it was the nightmare messing with her, and though she knew it wasn’t, she just nodded and let Sam guide the two of them out of bed. There was no point sitting there and arguing about it, he clearly didn’t believe her and she knew he wasn’t right.

She pulled on some pyjama pants whilst Sam tugged on a shirt, and with his hand against her lower back — she could practically feel the worry that vibrated beneath his skin — they walked through the bunker to the kitchen.

Her head was almost spinning. It was just so… strange. If Dean was the one telling her all this she would’ve known he was just messing with her, but Sam? The whole time they’d dated he’d never done something like this, and to be honest, he really wasn’t that good of an actor, anyways.

She didn’t know what was going on, but she knew that she was right.

They walked into the kitchen together, but half a step through the doorway she froze — Dean and Cas were sat at the table together, making out.

“Oh my god!” Her hand covered her mouth as she stood there in shock — because never in a million years had she thought that either of them would confess to each other — and her sounded surprise jolted the two of them out of it, their heads turned to look at her and Sam.

“Really, guys? We all have to eat there.” Sam grumbled as he walked to get a glass to fill with water.

Cas looked apologetic whilst Dean just smirked. “So?”

She was still just stood in the doorway, eyes wide, when Dean finally looked at her.

“What? Were you enjoying the show?”

“I- what? How long has this been a thing?” She blurted out, and Dean just stared at her.

“Huh?”

Sam stepped away from the counter when she’d asked her question, and that frown was back on his face again. “Sweetheart, they’ve been dating for a month,” his words were laced with worry, worry for her. “Are you feeling okay? Why don’t you sit down-”

“What are you talking about?” Her eyes flickered between the three men, and it felt like she was being gaslight. If it wasn’t for the genuine concern in Sam’s eyes, she would’ve thought that was what was happening. “They’ve not been together for a month.”

“A month and four days.” Cas told her.

“No you haven’t!” She was shouting now, because she just- she didn’t understand. It was scaring her.

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

“Baby, please sit down.” Sam murmured, tried to guide her to sit, as the other two men stood from the table.

“What’s going on?” Dean asked, his concern matched Sam’s, and she was so close to just ripping her hair out in frustration.

“This,” she gestured between them all. “Whatever this is, you’re all lying, okay? We worked a hunt yesterday, and you two,” she pointed to Dean and Cas who were holding hands, “are not dating!”

Thump-thump, thump-thump, the drumming was in her ears, she felt too worked up.

Castiel let go of Dean’s hand and stepped forwards. “Y/N, have you had a fall recently? Could you have possibly hit your head?”

Immediately she felt angry. “I’m not crazy-”

“I’m not calling you crazy,” Cas immediately assured her, and as she glanced between the three men she hated the way they were all looking at her, like she was some kind of sick dog. “It just seems like you’re presenting symptoms of memory loss, which could be the result of a head injury.”

She blinked, took a few shaky breaths. “I’m fine-”

“Baby, you fell getting out of the shower yesterday,” Sam sounded so pained it made her heart throb. He was so serious, the look in his eyes, she’d seen it hundreds of times before, at the occasion of one of her hundreds of injuries. “I got you painkillers and everything.”

Thump-thump, thump-thump, she felt like her heart was about to burst out of her ribs. Was she really…?

“May I?” Her eyes snapped back to Cas as he stepped forwards, lifted a hand, and she hesitated before she nodded. If anybody was going to squeeze the truth out of the situation, it would be Cas.

He stopped in front of her and lifted up his hands, and with the upmost gentleness he pressed the tips of his fingers against her temples. She watched as his eyes flashed blue, and it felt like her head had been dipped in ice water as his grace wormed through her head. He was so concentrated, lips set in a hard line, eyebrows scrunched downwards. She’d watched him do this so many times to others, but it hadn’t happened all that often to herself.

When Cas pulled back and his eyes were back to their usual shade of blue, he frowned. “It’s memory loss.” He murmured, and it felt like everything had started tipping.

Thump-thump, thump-thump, blood rushed in her ears as she took a shuddering breath, and Sam’s hand caught her elbow before she toppled backwards into the wall.

“Okay okay, easy, sweetheart,” Sam gripped her elbow a little tighter, and guided her over to the bench, sat her down with ease. “It’s okay, it’ll be okay-”

“Memory loss,” the words that came out of her mouth were mortified, she sounded almost scared. “I can’t-”

“Take a moment, take a breather.” Dean chimed in, and when she looked up all three of them were stood over her. If not for the situation it would’ve been a bit funny.

Sam had said they hadn’t been hunting in months, so she’d lost, what, at least three months?

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

“Cas, can you do anything?” Sam had turned to the angel, and she hated how panicked he sounded.

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

Castiel took a breath. “It’s not like a physical injury, it’s mental, it’s in her head, I’m not sure I can-”

Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump—

Her vision had blacked out a little by the time she tipped forwards and fell off of the bench, folded like wet paper, like she physically couldn’t hold herself up. Through the fuzz in her head, she heard them call her name, felt hands on her arms, on her face. She’d blacked out a few times before, the feeling wasn’t foreign.

When her eyes finally opened again, it was dark.

“Y/N? Hey- hey- Sam she’s awake!” She was just able to make out Dean’s face in the dark.

When most of the fuzz in her head had subsided, the first thing she noticed was that she wasn’t on the floor, she was upright. The second thing she noticed was that her wrists really hurt.

Thump-thump, thump-thump, her heart was racing in her chest, in her ears, she could feel it in her wrists, a horrible throbbing that almost left her disoriented.

Her head tipped back a little unsteady, eyes up, and she quickly realised that her arms were yanked up above her head, rope dug painfully in her wrists which kept them there, her feet weren’t even on the floor.

Her head lulled forwards again, it felt so heavy, she was barely able to keep her eyes open. She tried to speak, but the third thing she realised was that something was in her mouth — a gag.

“Fuck- here, hang on,” Dean reached up and around her head, untied the fabric until he pulled it out of her mouth. “There you go.”

She inhaled shakily, eyelids fluttered. “What…”

“Sweetheart?” Hands cupped her face, and she didn’t need to look to know that this time it was Sam. “Oh god- Dean cut her down, I’ve got her.”

The hands moved to her waist, and after a moment the strain on her arms was snapped and she all but fell into waiting arms. Her body felt so weighed down and sore, she couldn’t protest as she was shifted and guided to rest on the floor.

“Y/N?” Warm hands were back on her cheeks. “Hey, can you look at me? C’mon baby, please-”

With far too much effort her eyelids fluttered again, and Sam was hovered over her, face scrunched in worry.

“Hey, there she is, we’ve got you,” his fingers stroked her cheek. “Are you with me?”

She forced herself to blink a few more times before she finally glanced around the room, and realised that they weren’t in the bunker — in fact, she had no idea where they were. The room was practically falling apart, old and dusty and broken. There was barely any light in the room, but she saw Dean stood over them worriedly, before her eyes flickered back to Sam.

“What… I don’t-” She felt so disoriented, it was scaring her.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” he stroked her cheek again before he leaned in, and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Scared the life out of me.” He breathed into her skin.

When he pulled back, she looked down at herself, and the sheer amount of blood that had trickled down her arms made her feel nauseous. What the fuck?

Sam met her eyes, must’ve recognised the confusion, and his worried frown deepened into something more pitiful. “Djinn,” he told her softly. “Must’ve gotten to you when we split up. I’m so sorry, baby, I won’t let that happen again, okay?” Sam brushed his thumb along her cheekbone. “It’s dead. We killed it. You’re okay.”

Djinn. Of course. She’d always wondered what it would be like.

Only when Sam was certain that she was alright to move, both he and Dean helped her up and out of the building. None of them said much as they got to the car, Sam helped her into the backseat as Dean packed up the trunk, and then they were on the road.

Her arms were covered with dried blood, her wrists sore and bloodied, her mind reeling. That was her paradise?

They’d been in silence for a little while when Dean finally asked, “So what did you see?”

Her eyes flickered between the brothers. They were both bloodied and bruised, as was she. The car smelled like leather and gunpowder. Sam was messing with a switchblade in his lap. There a gun on the seat beside her. Nothing about it was peaceful.

She swallowed thickly, eyes shifted to look out of the window, and murmured softly, “We got out.”

[dark-and-kawaii]

༺ 𝒯𝒾𝑒𝒻𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝒫𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓉𝓎 𝒞𝑜𝒸𝓀𝓈 ༻

I can't stop thinking about the tieflings and their pretty fire pokers so here we are. Please enjoy xoxo

Zevlor - Dammon - Rolan - NSFW - Cock Talk

Zevlor

His cock is by far the most fascinating.

Zevlor's cock is so pretty and girthy, definitely the biggest of the three. So if you have a size kink this is the route to take because you'll be amazed at the sheer size of it.

Don't worry though, he won't ever force it all in at once. Zevlor would never hurt you, EVER! He'll take his time with you, warming you up and slowly pushing himself into you until you're ready to take all of him.

I know you've seen his face, well im happy to tell you that his cock comes with ridges just like on his face. Oh gosh, and its so veiny. The texture of his cock is enough to make you have an orgasm, you'll be trembling under him as soon as it enters you.

Like you can also feel him in your guts and he's not even trying.

He's cut with a beautiful smooth mushroom head. It does take some getting used to when it enters you. But licking it is something you've become obsessed with because of how it feels in your mouth, so that helps lube him up before.

Fuck, this mans cock always makes you feel worshiped and adored.

Did i mention Zevlor's cock comes with a nice curve to it, yup, that's right. This gentleman was absolutely blessed by the cock gods and he'll be able to hit all your favorite spots. Please expect to cum multiple times while with this man.

Fear not, because while you're a panting mess with his cum dribbling out of you, Zevlor will go find something to clean you off with and even bring you a glass of something to drink. Bath? If he can, he'll provide you with one.

Dammon

Dammon, sweet sweet Dammon. This man has a very pretty cock, you're obsessed with it okay.

Dammon isn't as large as Zevlor but he still has a good length to him along with just the right amount of girth.

Just because he isn't the biggest doesn't mean he can't fill you, because believe me, he can.

Always oozing pre cum which gives his head a nice sheen to it. Oh god you love the way his precum makes his head glisten, you can't help but want to fall to your knees and lick it clean.

His cock is uncut, not too veiny but has a nice contrast from the head to the shaft for your pleasure.

When the two of you first experienced sex his cock was the right amount of sweet and painful.

Let's be honest this man knows how to use his cock okay.

The way Dammon works his cock into you makes you feel so loved and like you're the only one for him, but that's not always the case. Dammon has two moods when it comes to his cock, sweetest tiefling in the world, and also the meanest tiefling in the world.

He can work your body as if you were a goddess or he can use and abuse you as if you were some sort of sleeve made for his cock.

This is why he's perfect, because even after he's made you a mess and treated you like some fuck doll he's right there at your side kissing your forehead with his arms wrapped around you. He'll always have something ready to clean you up with and he's not the kind of guy to just up and leave after hot ass sex.

Rolan

Rooolan!! Our precious sassy Rolan. I love imagining his cock. Its so fun.

Its so pretty, like sooooo pretty and it hits all the right spots.

Rolan has a very sensitive cock as well, like all you have to do is touch it and his breath will catch in his throat.

Lick it/ Suck it and he becomes a squirming mess because he's so damn sensitive.

Teasing him is an absolute delight :D.

Not veiny at all but has a nice curve to it. Rolan also has more length than girth.

Be prepared because this mans cock will hit your cervix.

It might hurt at first which he has mixed feeling about. He hates that you wince in pain but at the same time hes so proud that he can do that to you.

Sometimes it might even bruise you so like i said, be prepared.

Eventually you'll warm up to it though and it'll become the best thing you've ever experienced.

Oh yeah, remember i said his dick is sensitve, well yeah in the start of your sexual relationship he doens't last long.

Like your walls clenching his cock has him a trembling mess and he's trying his best not to orgasm right then and there. He wants to last a long time for you but sometimes its just hard.

I feel like i need to add this but Rolan is 100% clean shaven. Like he hates hair down there on himself. He doesn't mind it if it grows out a little, but it makes him feel very unclean. He's a pretty tiefling and he wants to keep it that way.

[steddieonbigboy]

They're not mine

written for @steddiemicrofic may prompt 'top' wc: 510 | rated: T | cw: none | read on ao3

🩲🩲🩲

Eddie finds a pair of women’s lace panties when folding the laundry and comes to the totally obvious conclusion that they're Steve's and that he's embarrassed about liking to wear them. He, of course, tries them on and goes to find Steve.

“Y’know,” he says in the doorway of their bedroom, “you don't need to hide this from me. I think you'd look gorgeous in these.”

Steve immediately bursts out laughing.

“Well damn dude, I was just trying to make you feel better about it. You don’t need to laugh at me.”

“No, no you look great! It's just that they're not mine.”

“What the hell do you mean they're not yours?”

“They’re Robin's!”

Eddie immediately scrambles to pull them off, “Robin's?! Why the fuck is she leaving underwear here?!”

“She bought them for a date with Vickie but she psyched herself out about wearing them, so she borrowed some of my boxers and left them here.”

Eddie waves the panties about with his dick swinging free, “And you just washed them?! Left them for anyone to find?! For me, your very gay and supportive boyfriend to find?! What was I meant to think?!”

“I mean, not that,” Steve laughs, “You know most people's thoughts would have been cheating, not that I liked to wear women's underwear.”

“You'd never cheat on me, so of course that didn't occur to me! And obviously I assumed they were yours because it's not normal for friends to leave panties at other friends’ houses!”

“First of all, there is nothing normal about mine and Robin's friendship. Second of all, please stop waving her panties around. And third of all, as much as I normally love seeing you naked, all this talk of Robin and her underwear is making my dick literally shrivel up and retreat, so please go put some clothes on.”

Eddie huffs and flings the panties at Steve’s face before going back down to the laundry room to get dressed again. He stomps back up to Steve and flops down face-first on top of the bed, “You try to do something nice for your boyfriend and all you get is laughed at.”

“Baby,” Steve pokes at his ribs, “It was a very nice gesture. If they had been mine then I would have felt very supported and loved. However, in this case, you kinda got it all mixed up.”

“How is that my fault?!” Eddie rolls onto his side to glare at Steve.

“You could have just come upstairs and said ‘Hey, Steve. Why are there panties in the laundry?’ and I would have said ‘Oh, they’re Robin’s, don’t worry about it.’ And then you would never have worn her underwear and I’d never have had to see you wearing her underwear.”

“Ugh, as if I’d do something as logical as that,” Eddie looks around, “What did you do with them anyway?”

“Threw them out. She won't want them back when I tell her you wore them.”

“Don’t tell her. Steve, I’m begging you.”

“Sorry baby, it’s Robin. I tell her everything.”

[sentoooo]

ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢ 'ʀᴏᴅᴇᴏ'

✭ pairing(s): boothill x afab reader

✩ inspo: need him

★ summary: you can't help but notice how hot your boyfriend is at the rodeo...

✧ a/n: mmghhfhh robocock

🗒 cw: SMUT, gn! afab reader (no use of breasts), porn with plot, dry humping, cunnilingus, manhandling, overstimulation, edging, facesitting, not proofread

✎ wc: 3.8k

MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY

Dates with Boothill were few and far between, and when you two are able to have one, it’s not necessarily the most glamorous. Case in point, you were at a dingy rodeo, standing near the railings as you watched some poor soul get tossed around like a ragdoll on the bull, clutching on for dear life for only 2 seconds. As spectators cheered and hollered around you, the wranglers did their best to calm the beast down and usher it out of the ring, the announcers chatting about the performance in a language you don’t understand. Due to the rodeo’s clearly small budget, no gear had been provided for the riders, you can’t help but cringe at the thought of the possible back pain of the rider, but that fades quickly as you finally start paying attention. You could care less about the other riders, and most likely, after the next, you’d probably leave.

The next rider being Boothill. You don’t have to worry about Boothill and his gear; he’s a big boy, and he can deal. If anything were to happen, he’d just have to ask his mechanics to buff it out. It’s the last ride, and the crowd is antsy. Chatting reaches a peak around you, as the smell of alcohol becomes more prominent. Your eyes fall to the stall below you, where Boothill’s stationed, hand on the railing, chatting away with the handlers. His attention is broken for just a second, looking up at you with a cocky grin, and a tip of his hat. His eyes linger, met with a soft smile from you.

The eye contact is fleeting, however, and the announcers pull him back to focus on what’s next. They rile the crowd up, talking so fast it makes your head spin, as if you were at an auction. The only word you catch is ‘Boothill’, of course, and when you look back down at him, he’s raring to go. The minute that gate opens, he lets go of the bar, his right hand up.

The bull bucks, left, then right, right again, and into a full circle. It’s miraculous how his hat has stayed atop his head with how violently the bull is throwing him around. His chin is tucked to his chest, knees pressed against the bull, spurs digging into the bull’s ribs. Beneath the rim of his hat, you can see that cocky grin, in fact, you can almost hear his laughter under all the cheering and muttering as he makes it past 2 seconds. The wranglers pace back and forth around the bull as it jumps, another left spin. It has to be the longest 8 seconds of your life, every time the bull’s hooves touch or kick up dust, your stomach tightens. You’re undoubtedly more nervous than he is, but that feeling is soon replaced with something else.

You don’t understand why, but watching him steady while the bull thrashes about, toothy grin unwavering, heel and knees tight, something stirs within you. The whole world goes quiet as you watch intently, biting at your lip as you try and fathom how you are attracted to this. Your face flushes, the people around you are too rowdy to notice how you’ve squeezed your legs, to abate the heat forming. Luckily, that action snaps you back to reality, and as the horn sounds above you, signaling that Boothill has made it to 8 seconds, he rides out a couple more. Finally, after about another second and a half, he lets go, falling to the ground and rolling back on his feet. The bull continues to buck, and the wranglers usher it back out of the ring.

The crowd cheers and hollers as he climbs up the railings, taking his hat off and waving with a triumphant grin. Some people around you grumble and move away while the announcers try to end off the show. Boothill looks directly towards you, and you must’ve given him the look, because he gives you a sultry smirk, one that screams ‘I'm gonna get my reward’. You can even hear him say it in your head, as you try and tear your gaze away. Alas, it’s futile, cause he shoots a wink at you, before putting his hat back on and tipping it towards you again. You can’t help but stare, really. It’s only when he walks out of the ring with the wranglers that you can look away.

.  * 　　　 ✦     .     　⁺ 　 .

You meet Boothill outside of the ring, the stars above dulled by the shabby street lamps that flickered weakly. As he walks up to you, he’s thumbing through the money he’s got, grumbling something about being scammed. Yet, when he sees you, he beams, as if he hadn’t been annoyed at how little he won.

“What’s the payout?” You ask, trying to look over the cash.

“Enough for a motel,” Boothill replies quickly, moving his hands away from you as if to hide the money. “That’s all that matters.”

Despite his complaining, his tone is heavy with implications. Truth is, he could care less about the cash. He’s never around one place long enough to really need their currency; save for enough for a round of drinks or two. He was much more interested in the adrenaline rush, or the substitute of it. Boothill has always been rough n’ rowdy, he didn’t mind being thrown around, especially now. He enjoys pushing his body to his limits. But, since you’ve come into his life, there’s a new thrill added to the list. Who cares about the money when he could have his head pressed between your thighs? You knew exactly where this was going. And it’s not like you mind.

“C’mon,” Boothill jerks his head in the direction of the motel he’s got in mind, that grin never leaving his face. “There’s one close to here.” You can tell he’s eager, as much as he does his best to hide it. His hand slips around your waist, squeezing your hip gently as he ushers you away from the venue. He’s quick to pull you away from the crowd forming outside, perhaps it is to slip away from any sore losers.

You follow his lead without complaint, after all, why not indulge? A date with Boothill is rare, a night with him even rarer. You can’t reel your mind in once it’s wandered back to the sight of Boothill on the bull. You have no idea why you were entranced and why it stoked the fire low in your belly, but it’d be quelled soon enough.

As honest and sometimes discrete Boothill may be, the quick walk to the motel is filled with all sorts of lingering touches. He hooks his thumb into the waistband of your pants, teasing lightly at your hip bone. He presses himself up against your side, whispering all sorts of sweet nothings and dirty words, or what he can, at least. His goal is to make you squirm, and squirm you do. Every heavy-lidded look, every breath, it serves to fan the flames of want, of need. And by the Aeons, he’s doing it. And doing it well, at that.

By the time you two make it to the motel, you’re essentially whipped. He’s got you wrapped around his finger, and it’s hard to keep your composure for much longer. You’re a blushing mess, and you can only hope the clerk doesn’t take notice of the way you’re clinging to Boothill, the way that you avert your gaze from anyone else, even the cowboy himself. It’s not that you’re embarrassed, it’s just… a while without his touch and his time, you’ve been left empty for a long time. It’s a hunger that you can’t satiate with your hands or even toys– which feels ironic, considering the definition of Boothill’s dick was essentially a toy. But you weren’t after his dick. No, it’s his mouth you missed.

As you reminisced, you hadn’t realized he had whisked you away to the room. But, he brings you back to reality with a bruising kiss, pushing you further into the room and slamming the door behind him. His eyes are shut tight, it seems he’s more keen on satiating the heat within him then you are. He cups your face as your hands find his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. Out of instinct, he begins to grind against you, even if it does nothing to abate his own desire. Regardless, he moans into the kiss. Perhaps it was some sort of phantom feeling, chasing after something he can’t quite feel. But that didn’t matter, no, not at all. What mattered was the feeling of your lips pressed against his, the way his hands tangle into your hair and pull ever so lightly, and the way you give him another moan in response.

As you begin to lose your breath, he finally pulls away. With a half-lidded gaze, his hands drift down to your waist. Wordlessly, he pushes himself closer once more, bending down ever so slightly and wrapping his arms underneath the curve of your ass, before essentially throwing you onto the bed. You yelp when your back meets the plush mattress, bouncing back slightly as the springs squeak underneath you.

Everything he does is hasty, it’s not that he’s rushing the moment, he’s just hungry… starved. He snakes his way in between your legs, arms caging you in, placed by your waist as he finally leans back down. Boothill’s face is flushed, lips parted as he pants slightly. He takes in another heavy breath before he closes the distance between you two again. He allows no room for words, only breathy moans and whimpers. This kiss is a lot shorter, it is more like an act of devouring your lips then anything, short ragged breaths escaping from the both of you in the split seconds that your lips part. Eventually, his lips make their way from your lips, down your chin, to your neck. His teeth graze your throat, causing you to sigh softly.

Oh, how you’ve missed this feeling. The sense of desperation that fills the air as you two rut against each other, the gasps and breaths that fill the space around you. As much as the space between you two feels like it could kill you, and how those nights wishing– even praying– to have Boothill in bed with you again are agonizing, these nights where desperation reigned supreme made up for it. Where you two could be at eachothers throats, ripping each other apart, exploring every inch of skin and metal once more. The nights where Boothill sinks his teeth into every inch of skin he can see, where you’re putty in his hands. It’s wonderful, letting everything go, allowing yourself to unravel. The touch you so desperately craved, metal and skin alike, honeyed words lost into a sea of bliss.

His cold hands slide up your shirt, anchoring you back into reality for a second time. His teeth sink into the crook of your neck, letting out a low hum as you whine. You arch your hips, but he pushes them back down, running his tongue along the definition of his bite. He murmurs something against your skin, the first words since you two have entered the room, and you can’t exactly make out what it is. Something like ‘stay put’, which you oblige to, regardless. His hands knead at the flesh, trailing his tongue along your shoulder where his teeth find home once more. He groans this time, as you close your eyes and roll your head back. He doesn’t even have your shirt off and you are soaked. You try to close your legs to stave off the heat build between them, however, his legs prevent you from doing that. You whimper slightly at this, which finally draws Boothill’s attention away from your neck and shoulders. He looks down between you with a smirk, and for a moment you swear you could see his eyes lock on.

“This what ya want?” Boothill asks, pressing his body closer, grinding his groin against yours. The friction makes you groan, arching your back once more. The friction is delicious, every press of his hips against yours fanning the flames of tension. It only serves as a temporary reprieve, but it feels good. You can only nod and babble out something that sounds like a ‘yeah’, pressing your hips up against his every moment they pull away.

It’s wonderful, the way that his cock slots in between your legs, and presses up against your clit, despite the barrier. You can’t help but wrap your legs around his waist, locking him closer. In your hazy dance, you feel as if you mourn every split second his cock doesn’t press against you. He can only chuckle at your desperation, pressing increasingly more feverish kisses against your neck, sometimes sucking, sometimes biting.

Boothill is drunk off all the little sounds you make, picking up the pace of his grinding, pressing you back into the mattress. He just can’t get enough, the way you raise your hips into him, wordlessly begging for more, the taste of your skin… Aeons, you’re addicting. He could care less about how little physical gratification he gets, to have you undone beneath him already is reward enough. Every moan from you earns a grunt of appreciation from him, throwing his head back. While you miss the warmth of his mouth against your skin, you aren’t necessarily disappointed with the view from below…

The heat in between your legs hits a fever pitch as you feel a coil tighten below your stomach. Your legs squeeze against Boothill’s, shutting your eyes tight and letting out a high pitched ‘mmh!’ as a warning. Boothill takes this as a sign to stop, to toy with you. Just as you feel like you’re about to unravel, he pulls away, leaving you feeling empty. You groan and reach up for him, wiggling a little underneath him as an attempt to allow yourself to finish.

“Ah-ah-ah,” Boothill tuts, stepping back. Before you can press your legs together, he catches your thigh with his hand, squeezing and the flesh. “Gotta wait. You can do that, yeah?”

All you manage is a weak nod, wanting so desperately to beg him to let you cum. That doesn’t mean you’ll be complacent though, you know he’s missed you just as much as you have, and you know he’s rather… impulsive. All you have to do is moan a little louder, say his name in a sweeter way, and you’ll have him weak in the knees. You’re so sure of it.

As you hatch your plan, Boothill takes his sweet time getting himself ready. He takes off his hat, setting it on the bedside table, before climbing up onto the bed. His knees pressed against your hips, stradling you. He’s got his cocky grin plastered to his face once more, eyes half-lidded and hazy as he looks down at your flushed face. You prop yourself up on your elbows, a silent challenge as you shift beneath him. His grin turns sultry, leaning his head down and meeting your lips. It’s a chaste kiss, somehow softer from the hungry kisses from early, and he pulls away all too soon.

He doesn’t leave you wanting this time, though. You can tell by the way his eyebrows are barely furrowed, the way he starts chewing on his lip, and the slight narrow in his eyes that, good Aeons, he just cannot wait. That, and, the very obvious tent in his pants. Sure, he’s not adorned with the most ‘human’ bits, but he told the mechanic to make sure ‘it worked juuuust right’. But that’s not the focus here, no, the way he’s sliding down between your body, practically drooling as his head rests on your thigh.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…” Boothill grumbles as he fumbles with the button on your jeans. It takes him a full second to undo them, sliding them down to your ankles. You wiggle them off, just as he decides he’s too impatient and presses his mouth to your underwear, tongue flat against your pussy. You let out a stifled moan, hand instinctively tangling within his hair.

Boothill’s eyes flicker up to you, then close, his hands sliding up and anchoring you in place by your hips. He noses at your clit, lapping up whatever he can between your legs. He could care less about the barrier, really, you can feel his teeth grazing your clit every once in a while, which adds a whole new thrill to this experience as is. He wouldn’t bite, as he is prone to, he knows better.

In between hurried licks and sloppy sucks, getting what he can even through the barrier, he presses gentle kisses to your thighs, sometimes licking along your stretch marks. He does this to prolong the experience, granting himself some restraint, no matter how badly he wants to make you cum over and over and over in his mouth. You can tell how hard he’s trying to hold back, his fingertips digging into the plush of your hips, small exasperated grunts found their way in between his ministrations.

You tug on his hair softly, thighs pressed against either side of his face. He looks beautiful like this, face squished between your thighs, eyes closed, mouth open as he laps at your clothed folds. It’s a sight to behold, truly. Every lick causes you to whine, the rough feeling of your underwear pressing against you, pushing just a little further. His breath fans against your pussy, soft grunts and groans escaping his lips, providing a delicious vibrating sensation against your heat.

You feel the coil tightening once more, and silently pray to Lan that he won’t stop in your hazy mind. Your moans increase, letting out soft, high-pitched noises, tugging at his hair slightly. Boothill lets out a low, raspy laugh, hands pulling you closer harshly as if you weren’t close enough. He doesn’t pull away this time, lapping at your underwear at a near crazed pace, like he needs you to cum. And cum you do, your body arching as you dig your nails into his scalp, whimpering out his name.

He laps up your release, or what he can, growing increasingly agitated at what little he can taste through your underwear. Only then does he finally peel away the barrier, his fingers almost too quick. If he was still human, he’d be shaking. He is too quick to claim his place back at your pussy, his licks sloppy and greedy as he claims his prize. Each stripe licked up against your drooling pussy sends a tingling feeling up your spine, making you whine and try and push his head away. But he doesn’t stop.

When your thighs squeeze against his face, as if trying to block him away from such a precious well of ambrosia, his hands fall from your hips, snaking in between your thighs and pushing them open. He pants against your pussy, his warm breath fanning over it, causing you to shiver. You feel like you are… at his mercy, even if you’ve only came once. It is not a bad feeling, you yourself know you are putty in his hands, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

However, it seems Boothill is now unsatisfied with this position. He pulls away from you reluctantly, pushing you up further on the bed, and shimmying his way up onto the bed fully. Before you can even ask what he’s doing, he grabs you by the hips and rolls you over so you were on top of him, hauling you down easily. His mouth finds purchase on your pussy so easily, lapping at it eagerly.

You don’t dare to even move, simply arching your back as you press your hands into his abdomen to keep yourself up. All sorts of lewd noises come from his throat as he continues his ministrations, staring right up at you with a near challenging look. He alternates between licking and suckling on your clit, hungry growls filling the space in between grunts as if having you press flush against his mouth was not enough.

You can feel overstimulation creep up on you, while his actions don’t hurt, it’s starting to tingle a little, providing a comfortably numb feeling alongside the pleasure that wells between your legs once more. Your body heats up more than you thought it could, and slowly your hips follow Boothill’s tongue. It’s not long until you start to grind against his mouth fully, his nose notching against your clit when he wasn’t sucking on it.

“Ya forkin’ like that?” Boothill asks, muffled, before diving back in once more, his hands pulling your hips down even more, pressing you into his mouth. “F-Fudge… So gosh dang good…”

You’d be poking fun at his censorship, but you just can’t help the moans that roll off your tongue. You can’t help but chase after it, your orgasm already gripping you. Your thighs tense and you groan, rolling your head back and cumming onto Boothill’s tongue once more. But he wasn’t done. Your hips jolt as his eating becomes even more hungry, sloppy, the need to ravage you taking hold. What a beautiful aphrodisiac you are, how he would love to drown in between your thighs.

But you stop him from that dream, unfortunately. The numb feeling gave way to an odd hurt, something that felt almost electric. Your hips buck as your body tenses, doing what you can to pull away from Boothill’s iron grip. Eventually, he loosens, his hands coming down onto your thighs, and you raise your pussy from his lips. Slimy tendrils of spit and slick connect his mouth to you, his chin covered in your slick. He grins up at you, eyes practically sparkling.

“M’sorry,” He starts, squeezing your thighs. “Taste too good. Got ahead of m’self.”

You can’t help but admire the sight beneath you, Boothill’s flushed face, happy as can be, as if he had just won the world. Before he lets you go, he leans in, pressing a heated kiss to your clit, pulling back. He changes his mind quickly though, now peppering your folds with more kisses until you shuffle off of him. At that, he lets out a low, mock annoyed groan, before sitting back up.

You sit on his stomach, your slick painting his abdomen, your ass pressed up against the erection pressing against his tight jeans. He doesn’t move to relieve it, he could really care less about it. He’d already taken what he wanted– more like what he deserved– and he was sated. Unless you were game to give him more…

© sentoooo, 2024 | masterlist | kofi | star header by roseschoices | sfw blog DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN, REPOST ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[bangaveragewhitewine]

snowed in⋆⁺₊❅

Eddie Munson x Reader (from Happy Hours, but can be read as a standalone)

Word Count: 1.4K

Summary: My first contribution to @littlexdeaths The Twelve Days of Promptmas revisits Bouncer!Eddie and Bartender!Reader as they brave a blizzard together. 

Content: Cosy and domestic overall. Mentions of sex (oral m & f recieving, penetrative sex). Spit / spit kink mention. Vomit mention if you squint. Hints to anxiety.

December 1993

Silhouetted by the brilliant white sky, he looks like spilled ink framed by the wooden window frame. Accidentally beautiful or intentionally dark and mysterious, a Rorschach print filled with meaning, you want to mount him on the wall and admire him from every angle. 

Eddie gazes out at the falling snow, the way it blankets the city streets below. He watches the flakes float and fall, fat and frosty from the fit-to-burst clouds above, and twists the red phone cord around his fingers as he listens to Wayne on the other end. 

You can’t see his face from your spot on the couch, curled up beneath a blanket with fuzzy socks and your hands wrapped around a warm cup of tea, but you would bet all of your earthly possessions that he’s wearing his worry beneath his bangs, pinched between two dark brows. You would also wager that Wayne is insisting he is fine and dandy, teasing him for fretting like an old woman (but secretly feeling heart-warm that his boy cares so much). 

Your tea is cool enough now to sip without scalding your lips (which Eddie would gladly kiss better if such a tragedy would occur). You smile into the cup when he laughs low and throaty, warming you inside out. 

“We’re good, Wayne. Yeah, the bar’s closed tonight, we’re staying put.” Eddie twists slightly to look over his shoulder and winks at you, “Yeah, I’ll tell her.” In socked feet, he shuffles back from the icy-cold glass and turns his back on the blizzard beyond. “You too, old man. Tell Laurel hi from us… Call me tomorrow, okay? Bye, Wayne. Bye.”

You watch him place the phone and its cradle back on the sideboard once his fingers have been untangled from the cord. “How’s Hawkins?” you ask.

“Pretty bad. They closed the Plant, that never happens.” 

He picks up his coffee cup, drains the dregs, and comes to join you on the couch. Eddie is grateful when you lift the fuzzy blanket for him and lays himself on his front with his head against your heart. Going quiet, he sighs and soaks in your warmth before continuing - you can feel the tension wash away now that he has spoke to his Uncle.

“And Wayne? He sounded in good spirits.”

“Mmhm. He’s good. Staying with Laurel, her heating is less-shitty. They’re stocked up on groceries for a few days, so it’s fine.” His voice is muffled against your sweater, but you can feel his relief that Wayne and his girlfriend have each other and don’t have to brave the blizzard alone. Just like you and Eddie. Being snowed in alone would royally suck.

You had enjoyed the light dusting of snow that came at the start of the week, braved the sub-zero temperatures to keep the patrons of Jackie’s happy and drunk, and endured a busy Walmart with Eddie to stock up the fridge and cupboards ‘just in case’. It was fun at first, writing your initials in the snow and pegging snowballs at Eddie, laughing until your ribs ached when you tried and failed to dodge his retribution and cold hands. But winter in Chicago was no joke and overnight, a dump of powdery white perfection and a frigid wind had frozen the midwest. Luckily, the bar closed early last night so everyone could get home safe and sound. The phone call from Frank this morning woke you both up and alerted you to the city at a standstill; there was no need to open the bar tonight and maybe tomorrow. With nowhere to be and nowhere to go, you both curled up again to sleep the day away.

A few hours later, Eddie stood by his sleepy promise to keep you warm by burrowing beneath the blankets and making himself at home between your thighs until you were both sweaty and satisfied and the bedroom windows had fogged up behind the thick curtains. 

You started cooking a lasagne as Eddie called around to make sure your group of friends were safe and sound and fully stocked up for the next few days. He cancelled guitar lessons planned for the next few days, bidding farewell to the extra cash that makes the Holidays a little more extravagant for you two. When Eddie joined you in the kitchen to help chop and taste-test, he brought loose plans to meet in the park and build a snowman tomorrow if the blizzard permitted. He watched the clock, giving  Wayne time to sleep after his night shift; intrusive thoughts of black ice and snow drifts and his Uncle frozen to the bone tightened the tension in his shoulders and made him restless. Finally, he was able to relax once he knew everyone was coping, and once he knew Wayne was safe and warm a two-hundred-odd miles away.

You watch a few episodes of Twin Peaks with the lights low and Eddie falls asleep for a while, looking younger and so peaceful. An unplanned day off is exactly what he needed, wrung out from extra shifts at the bar and guitar lessons and odd jobs he picks up along the way - a day here or there working a sound desk for community theatre, slotting in as a session musician, and learning the ropes at a local radio station (sometimes you even get to hear his voice on the air, though that’s usually when he forgets to mute himself, or his laughter breaches the booth). His ability to try his hand at anything, watching him persist and flourish, makes your heart ache with how much you adore him. Though you do wish he would not spread himself so thinly some weeks, especially now when the days feel so short, when the bar is getting busier as the Holidays tick closer and the days off are fewer and fewer. This snow day, you think, is some sort of divine intervention and you let him sleep on for a little longer than he might like - there’s nowhere to be, nowhere to rush to.

Now the apartment you share smells like the rich and warming lasagne you made together and cheesy garlic bread. Outside, the snow is settling and you sit together at the little dining table with candles and two beers in lieu of wine or something fancy. Eddie’s cheeks are rosy warm and one dimple is stained with a speck of tomato sauce that you will wipe away so gently and call him your ‘mucky pup’. Taking the opportunity to make this an impromptu date night, he attempted to serenade you in butchered Italian until you had to cover his mouth with your hand. 

“Baby, I love you so so much, but we’re going to get another noise compla- Ew! Did you lick me?!” 

You wiped your spit-damp hand on his face as he cackled and threatened to not give him an edge piece of the lasagne - as if you would ever deny him his share of that crispy cheese topping, as if licking your hand was any worse than living with his boyish burps and flatulence, as if you haven’t nursed him through food poisoning, as if your eyes don’t roll into your skull when he spits in your mouth while your legs are up on his shoulders.

Two empty plates sit in front of you as you share memories of snow days passed and agree that this might just be the best one both of you have ever had. Better than the giant snowman Wayne helped him build when he was eight, better than the big hill you went sledging on when you were ten, better than every cup of cocoa with marshmallows that warmed your cold hands after snowball fights. 

Soon you will stand side by side in the kitchen, washing and drying the dishes as you agree on a movie to watch and and wondering aloud if the snow will settle enough for a snowball fight fuelled with hipflasks of warming whiskey with your friends tomorrow. Eddie will call Wayne one more time before bed, and you will talk in the darkness of your bedroom as you fall asleep curled together under too many blankets.

Neither of you is sure what tomorrow will be like, but you both know that you won’t have to spend it alone.

Thank you for reading - I hope you enjoyed! Reblogs, comments and likes are loved, cherished and adored!

[verstappenf1lecccc]

if you go I go

Dr. Oscar Piastri had always been a man of few words, his life dominated by the cold precision of surgery and the quiet solitude that came with being the best in his field. Yet, when he met you, everything changed. You were the light to his dark, the calm in his storm. You filled the silence of his world with laughter, joy, and warmth. To Oscar, you were everything—the pulse that kept him going, the reason he woke up every morning. He loved you more than words could express.

The two of you had been married for two years, and it was your wedding anniversary. Oscar was known for being meticulous, but even he couldn’t keep up with the chaos of the day. As much as he wanted to surprise you, he had been so focused on work and the pressures of his surgical career that he’d forgotten to plan. You, being the loving and understanding wife, had taken it upon yourself to surprise him with a gift—a token of your love for him.

It was early in the afternoon when you decided to go out. You had picked out a sleek, beautiful wristwatch for him, something to mark the special occasion, and you couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he opened it. He had always worn the same old, worn-out watch, and you knew he’d love the new one.

But fate had other plans. As you were driving home, a car ran a red light, crashing into your vehicle with a terrifying force. The impact was deafening. The world around you spun out of control as the car flipped, the screech of metal on metal and the shattering of glass echoed in your ears. You tried to scream, but the pain—sharp, sudden, and all-consuming—cut off your breath. Your head collided violently with the steering wheel, and the world went dark.

Oscar’s day was just beginning to take a turn when his phone rang. At first, he thought it was another case, a consultation, or an update. But when he saw the name of the hospital flash on the screen, a chill ran down his spine. The voice on the other end was calm, clinical—but Oscar could hear the faint tremor, the underlying urgency that spoke volumes. His heart sank when he heard your name. He didn’t need to hear the details; the panic that gripped him in that moment told him everything he needed to know.

Without hesitation, he rushed to the hospital. The drive was a blur, his heart pounding in his chest, his thoughts racing. He couldn’t even remember the route he took, but all that mattered was getting to you. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was horribly wrong.

When he arrived, the first thing he saw was the stretcher—the one carrying you, the love of his life. The sight of you, so pale, so still, sent a wave of panic crashing through him. He wasn’t sure if he could breathe, or if his legs would even hold him up. The world around him felt like it was collapsing. His perfect, peaceful world had been torn apart in a split second, and all he could do was watch as they wheeled you past him, unconscious and battered. The stretcher was stained with blood, and Oscar’s heart clenched, his thoughts spiraling into an abyss.

“Oscar, we need you in the OR,” a nurse called out, snapping him out of his trance.

Oscar nodded, but his eyes never left you. He followed the team as they rushed you into a trauma room. The fear in his chest was suffocating, but he forced himself to push it down. He couldn’t break down. Not here. Not now.

Once inside, the beeping of monitors filled the room, a steady rhythm that seemed to mock him with its mechanical nature. He was no longer the detached surgeon—the one who had learned to separate himself from his emotions. As he looked at you, barely recognizable from the blood and bruises, all the walls he’d carefully built around his heart began to crumble.

Your breathing was labored. A blood-soaked bandage was wrapped around your head, but it wasn’t enough to stop the bleeding. You had fractured ribs and internal injuries, but it was the internal hemorrhage that worried him the most. A small tear in one of your arteries had gone unnoticed earlier, and now it was slowly, quietly, tearing you apart from the inside.

Oscar could feel his hands trembling as he worked quickly to assess the damage, each moment more desperate than the last. His mind was a mess, but he had to keep it together. He had to save you.

But seeing you like this—the woman who had been his sunshine, his reason for waking up every day—made him feel more helpless than he’d ever been. His wife, his world, was slipping away, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. His professional mask was shattering, piece by piece, as his panic threatened to overwhelm him.

He was a doctor. He had saved countless lives. But you? You were different. You were his. The thought of losing you was unbearable.

And then, in the sterile chaos of the trauma room, when he couldn’t keep his emotions in check anymore, the words escaped him, a whispered confession that broke the silence.

“I don’t want you to die,” Oscar muttered, his voice rough with emotion. His hands shook as he held the scalpel, his mind racing with terror. “I can’t lose you. You’re all that I have…”

There was no response from you, only the steady hum of the machines and the frantic activity around him. But Oscar couldn’t stop. He worked tirelessly, desperately, knowing every second was a battle for your life.

The next few hours were a blur, but in the depths of his mind, he couldn’t shake the haunting thought that he was about to lose everything.

Somehow, against all odds, you made it through. The surgery had stopped the bleeding, and though the road to recovery would be long and uncertain, you were alive. But for Oscar, the terror of nearly losing you didn’t go away so easily. The fear still clung to him, gnawing at him in the quiet moments, in the spaces between breaths.

Months had passed since that day, but the memories never fully left him. They lingered, haunting him in the dark corners of his mind. And on one particularly restless night, the memories came crashing down with full force.

Oscar awoke suddenly, drenched in cold sweat, his heart pounding in his chest. The nightmare had been so vivid, so real, that he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had lost you all over again. In the dream, you were gone, your blood spilling out in front of him, his hands unable to stop it. He had been too late, and in the horror of that realization, his world had turned to ash. No colors, no joy, just a hollow, aching void.

He sat up in bed, gasping for breath, his chest tight, his hands trembling. His pulse was erratic, and the cold sweat clung to him like a second skin. The nightmare felt like a cruel replay of his deepest fear, and it made him feel helpless, powerless, and empty in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to feel since the day you were injured.

His heart was heavy, and despite his desperate attempts to calm himself, he couldn’t escape the feelings of loss and dread that had consumed him. He slowly slid out of bed, careful not to wake you, and stumbled down the hallway to the living room, where he collapsed onto the couch. His body shook as the sobs he’d been holding back for months finally broke free.

He was a doctor. He was supposed to be strong, unshakable. But right now, in the silence of his home, with the memory of that nightmare still fresh, Oscar felt completely shattered.

You awoke to the cold emptiness of your bed. The space beside you was vacant, and a chill swept through your chest as you noticed Oscar was gone. Panic stirred in your heart. You knew something wasn’t right. As you slipped out of bed, your bare feet padded softly across the floor, the house eerily quiet, save for the soft sniffling you could hear coming from the living room.

When you found him, the sight of him—slumped on the couch, his face buried in his hands—broke you. Oscar, the stoic, the composed, was in pieces, vulnerable in a way you had never seen before.

His body trembled as he cried, a raw, heartbreaking sound that shattered your heart. You knelt beside him, your hands gently touching his shoulders.

“Oscar…” you whispered, your voice filled with concern. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

He looked up at you, his eyes bloodshot, his face streaked with tears. For the first time in months, he allowed himself to feel it all—the fear, the grief, the terror of losing you again.

“I’m so scared,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I saw you… I saw you die, and I couldn’t do anything. I don’t know how to live in a world where I’ve lost you. I don’t know how to breathe without you.” His hands gripped your shirt as though he were afraid you would slip away again.

You pulled him close, wrapping your arms around him, holding him tightly against you.

“I’m here, Oscar,” you said softly, your voice trembling with emotion. “I’m right here. And I’m never leaving you. You won’t lose me, I promise. We’ll face this together, always.”

Oscar let out a shaky breath, his body relaxing slightly in your arms. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmured. “I was so scared… I thought I was going to lose you forever.”

“You don’t deserve this pain, Oscar,” you whispered, your fingers gently stroking his hair as he clung to you, the warmth of his body pressing against yours like a lifeline. “But you do deserve me, and I’m not going anywhere. You’ll never lose me. I promise.”

He pulled back slightly, looking up at you, his eyes raw and red from crying. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, his professional armor was gone. There was no mask of calm detachment, no wall of control. There was only Oscar—the vulnerable, terrified man who had almost lost the love of his life and couldn’t bear the thought of living without you.

“I don’t know what I would do without you,” Oscar said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re the only thing that makes sense in this chaotic world. Every day I wake up and I see you beside me, and it’s like the world is okay again. But when I lost you… I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. Everything went dark. I couldn’t stop it… and I still can’t shake that fear.”

You gently cupped his face, guiding his eyes back to yours. His hands trembled against your skin as if he were afraid to let go of you, to face the world without you by his side.

“You don’t have to fight this fear alone,” you whispered, your voice filled with tenderness. “I’m here, Oscar. I’ll always be here. You can lean on me. We’re stronger together. We’ll always find a way through the dark, no matter how much it hurts.”

Oscar’s lips parted, his gaze softening as he searched your face, looking for reassurance in the depths of your eyes. For a brief moment, the frantic anxiety that had consumed him faded, replaced by the quiet comfort of your presence. He took a shaky breath, his hands finding yours, holding them with an almost desperate intensity.

“I thought… I thought if I lost you, everything would shatter,” he admitted, his voice almost a whisper. “But then I realized something. I don’t have to face this alone. We face it together. You’re not just my wife. You’re my strength, my heart, my reason to keep going. And I’ll never let that go. I’ll never let you go.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you leaned in, kissing him gently on the forehead. “And I’ll never let you go, Oscar. You’re my heart, too. Without you, I wouldn’t be whole. We’re a team, always. Together, we’re unbreakable.”

A moment of silence passed, thick with the weight of everything unsaid. But in that silence, there was a peace—an understanding that neither of you could imagine life without the other. The fear, the pain, and the scars of that near-loss would always be a part of you both. But it wasn’t the end. Not now. Not ever.

Oscar closed his eyes for a moment, his face buried in your neck as he finally allowed himself to rest, to let go of the suffocating anxiety that had gripped him so tightly for months. He felt the warmth of your arms around him, the steady beat of your heart, and for the first time in so long, he let himself breathe.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, but full of emotion. “I love you more than I’ll ever be able to say. Thank you for not giving up on me.”

“I love you too,” you replied, your voice soft but unwavering. “Always. And I’ll never give up on you. We’re in this together.”

For a long while, neither of you spoke, content to just hold each other, to let the quiet calm of the moment fill the empty spaces where fear and grief had once lived. Slowly, the tension began to leave Oscar’s body, his breathing evening out as he finally allowed himself to relax in your embrace.

The nightmares that had haunted him for months didn’t vanish overnight. But in your arms, he found something he had lost: hope. The kind of hope that only love could give. He knew the road ahead would still be hard, that the scars would never fully fade. But as long as you were by his side, he could face anything.

Oscar gently pulled away, his eyes searching yours with a softness that only you could bring out of him. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, fragile but real.

“I’m so glad you’re still here,” he murmured, his hands holding yours. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

You smiled, your heart full of love. “You never have to find out. I’m not going anywhere, Oscar. Not now, not ever.”

And as you both sat there, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s embrace, you realized just how deep your love ran. It had been tested, scarred, and nearly shattered, but through it all, you had come out the other side stronger, more united than ever.

Because without each other, neither of you would have survived.

But with each other, you were unstoppable.

[tradgedyinwaves]

his heaven on earth

I'm sorry I haven't been around much lately. Here's a random bit that implanted in my brain this morning.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x reader

tw: fatshaming behavior

something about Price's frumpy, round assistant, but the one who's really interested is Ghost.

Sure they all think you're gorgeous, but Ghost...Ghost has never seen someone so soft. From the roundness of your cheeks to the thick of your calves, he just wants to sink his fingers into the squishy parts of your body. And not even in a sexual way. (Well, not only in a sexual way.)

Everything about you screams peace and sanctuary and what he wouldn't give to press his face to the roundness of your tummy just to know what Heaven is like.

But despite his desires, the most you've ever received from him was a grunt when he turned in some reports for you to give to his captain. You had nodded up at him with wide eyes and the smallest smile, chirping out a 'thank you'.

When a military ball comes around and Price insists that you go, you immediately decline with the excuse that you don't have anything to wear. He tells you not to worry about it and that he'll take care of it. After fighting with him on it for twenty minutes, you conceded. Throwing up your arms as you headed back to your desk.

Did Price actually pay for the exquisite gown that now hung on the back of your door? Absolutely not. Ghost would rather set himself on fire before he let anyone else doing anything for you. Some people said he had a tendency to be possessive. He called it protective.

The military ball finally arrives and it requires a couple glasses of wine before you slide the gown on. It fits perfectly, tailored to your body shape and size and the color compliments your skin so nicely. The only information you'd provided to Price were your measurements (given only after you made him swear on his cigars that he wouldn't comment on the numbers - not that he would ever dare) and that you looked better in certain types of colors.

Your friend from base comes by to do your hair and makeup, keeping it light and fresh as you know you have a tendency to sweat in these situations.

And when you finally walk through the doors of the ballroom, Ghost is pretty sure his heart has never beat so hard. Not when he's laying in his sniper's nest about to pull the trigger on the head of a sex ring trafficker. Not when his team finally took out the leader of a terrorist group. Not even when he had a hook through his ribs.

You immediately fade into the background, grabbing a glass of champagne and standing against the wall. Price approaches you with that smile of his, the one that crinkles the corners of his eyes as he looks over you appreciatively.

"You look lovely, my dear. The dress fits you perfectly." You thank him as the apples of your cheeks turn pink before he tells you not to thank him - thank Ghost. That only darkens your blush as you duck your head when the captain leaves.

You don't go searching for Ghost to thank him and ask why he'd gotten you the dress because you're stopped by a gentleman you don't recognize. But you do recognize the smirk on his face and the sound of laughter coming from a group of his buddies.

As adults, one would think people would be mature enough not to poke fun at the big girl. But that didn't seem to be the case as the man struggled to ask you to dance through his laughter, eventually giving up and going back to his friends when he couldn't manage the sentence.

You wanted to leave after that, but that meant letting them win and you refused to give them that satisfaction.

So when Ghost finally found the courage to come and approach you, you thought it was another joke.

"Would you like to-" "Please, don't. Just...go away."

Ghost was not used to being interrupted and it showed in the way his black Balaklava twitched around his mouth.

"What's wrong, luv?" "Just...don't, Ghost. I'm not in the mood." "I just wanted to dance with you." "No, you didn't. You're just here to make fun of me like everyone else."

Ghost was stunned before it turned to anger. Who had hurt you like this?

"M'not. Just wanted to dance with you, promise."

You glanced up at him, meeting those dark orbs - the only part of Ghost you'd ever seen. They didn't crinkle at the corners like he was laughing at you and the way the fabric of his mask didn't move meant he wasn't holding back his laughter.

"You want to dance with me?" It was unbelievable to you that anyone would want to be seen with you, even if the dress you had on was gorgeous.

"O'course, yer stunning. Why wouldn't I?" Ghost had never been one to compliment women. His team got compliments all the time from him. "Well done, Gaz." "Good job, Johnny." "Nice shot, Cap." Those were easy.

With you, he was terrified he'd say the wrong thing and upset you. And that...he couldn't stand that. Watching those beautiful eyes of yours fill with tears because of him and his stupid mouth. It should be easy. Beautiful, gorgeous, ethereal, stunning. All words he felt described you and yet they didn't hold enough weight.

In the end, you agreed to dance with him. Just one, of course. But that went out the window as another bad joke of his pulled a giggle from you. He found he quite liked the tinkling sound of your laugh and the way your nose scrunched when he complimented you again.

And that night, he found out what it was like to watch his thick fingers dimple the roundness of your ass, to worship between your plush thighs as he deemed you a goddess. His grip left pretty bruises all over your body while his lips left his mark across your collarbone.

In the light of the morning, he leaned over your sleeping form as the suns rays gently shone on your face. There in that moment, you embodied peace and beauty, radiant even as drool slid from the corner of your parted lips.

His Heaven on Earth.

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Having To Patch Soshiro Up After A Kaiju Attack

Soshiro Hoshina X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Blood, injuries, mentions of death, teasing, and kaiju remains

Word Count: 1k

(A/N:) I am enjoying the Kaiju No. 8 anime immensely and it's giving me all sorts of ideas to write! I have several more Kafka ones in my drafts and I want to write more for several other of the male characters. So keep an eye out I may write your favorite dude! I'm also thinking about opening my requests back up in case anyone has any Kaiju No. 8 requests, even though my drafts are insanely full. We'll just see but until next time happy reading! ~Countess

The suits made by Izumo Tech were a marvel of innovation and technology. Designed to give the members of Japan's fiercest warriors; The Defense Force, a fighting chance against the Kaiju that plagued their country. But still the warriors were only human no matter how amazing the suit.

Your booted feet thundered against the broken asphalt, breath heaving in pants as you raced across the now quiet battlefield. Just seconds ago it was Hell on Earth as you and your fellow soldiers fought for your very lives. But now Kaiju matter was splattered against everything. It was going to be quite the mess for whatever cleaning crew was open to do the dirty job. The attacks had become more frequent here lately, that the few companies that specialized in Kaiju clean up were becoming overwhelmed to get the different attack sights back to some semblance of normalcy for the citizens. But even that problem was far back from your mind. Only one person had you running so hard after fighting so intensely. Soshiro had gone silent after dispatching some of the smaller ones with his blades. You knew he had sustained injuries, but for him to go quiet, it wasn't a good sign. There was closer Third Division officers nearby but you knew with whatever stamina you had left you could make it. Your worries taking over any rational thought in your mind.

Konomi echoed in your ear, leading you straight towards Soshiro's location. Her frantic directions wasn't doing much to calm your nerves, but as an officer you couldn't let your anxiety show.

"Just around this corner," Konomi said. You thanked her turning down your communication device as you skidded around a pile of rubble. There leaned up against what remained of a wall was Soshiro. He held his side, eyes closed, and protective mask discarded at his side. Though winded and exhausted from the long race here, you gripped your rifle tighter the sling hitting your neck and tangling in the wild strands of hair that had broken free. Blood coated Soshiro's face and the fact that he wasn't responding to footsteps coming closer was more than concerning. Fear was beginning to grip your heart, when you finally got at his side.

"Two cracked ribs and significant blood loss," Konomi's sudden voice through the comm caused you to jump. "He's not critical just yet but I do have the medics on route to your location."

"I can staunch the blood flow," you replied. "I'll try to get him conscious again too."

"Good idea. I'll keep monitoring his vitals and let you know if anything changes."

"Copy."

Unslinging the rifle from your neck, you set it close by in case any threats remained. You removed the small med pack from your belt and got to work. Tapping at his cheek, you started working on getting Soshiro awake. Several moments went by and it wasn't until you put pressure on one of his worse wounds did he finally groan.

"Vice Captain," you continued to pat his cheek. "Vice Captain Hoshina! Soshiro wake up!"

He stirred, bleary eyes blinking against the bright sunlight before his gaze finally found you.

"Welcome back to the land of the living sir," you sighed in relief.

"So I died," he groaned. "And here I thought I was immortal."

"Well you didn't die but you do have a long road to recovery. You're pretty banged up and look terrible. The Kaiju Captain blew to smithereens looks better than you."

"Officer (L/N)," Soshiro groaned more as you wrapped several wounds tightly in gauze, "did anyone ever tell you that your bedside manner is garbage?"

"We're out on the battlefield and you're not laying on a bed sir," you grinned before going back to placing pressure on a wound that was too large for bandages. "Beside manners don't exist out here."

"Fieldside manner then," he glared. "And if you press any tighter to my side you're going to stab my lungs with my ribs."

"That's not me. That would be your suit keeping you from jostling your cracked ribs."

"(Y/N)! Vice-Captain Hoshina's vitals seem to be stabilizing more. Medics are inbound and will be there shortly," Konomi updated you and you acknowledged her.

"You had me worried Soshiro," you sniffed, hands stained with his blood. You had turned your comm off so you could talk with him in private for just a moment. You both didn't have long anyway with the evac team so close by.

"Sorry," he grimaced. Righting himself up more he wrapped one arm around your neck and pulled you in tight. "I'm sorry I worried you so much. I take risks but this time my decision wasn't the right one."

You held him as best as you could without hurting him further, "I'm just so glad you're okay!"

You hated crying but the relief you felt, had you breaking down in seconds. Soshiro wasn't used to seeing you cry and it broke his heart. Always the strong soldier, you couldn't help yourself around him as you wanted him by your side forever.

"You're not hurt are you," Soshiro asked as he stroked the back of your hair.

"No." You breathed deep, calming yourself and wiped your eyes. "Does that mean that I have surpassed the great Soshiro Hoshina in skills?"

"Absolutely not. We both know that my blade skills leave everyone else in the dust," he scoffed.

"Yeah but I didn't decide to use my ribs to stop a kaiju punch."

"Shut up."

You laughed kissing his forehead quickly, as it was the only place not covered in blood, as the boots of the medics came closer.

"I'm glad you're okay," you whispered. Soshiro couldn't answer as he was suddenly surrounded by several medical officers. He nodded towards you as you picked your rifle back up and started to go join the other members of the Third Division. The battle wasn't over just yet as you needed to look for more survivors. But you felt the burden lift from your shoulders knowing that the man you loved was going to be okay and was in capable hands. The fight with the kaiju continued on but if you stayed by Hoshiro's side you felt like you both could make the world a better place together.