#in their own snarky special way

[dizzyrobinsims]

Ok so talking about Arcane spoilers on rewatch for my fic I'm working on ~under the cut~

One of the tragedies of Arcane that I want to unpack is the "too little, too late" aspect. The biggest example of this was the council deciding to free Zaun while all the domino pieces were already falling from their ignorance, neglect and parasitic relationship with the city.

If they had even called for independence the day before, the attach wouldn't have happened. But because of their delay and inaction, it resulted in the council getting blown up and all the effects that spiraled from there.

LIKEWISE.

Rewatching it- on my first watch through like, I love Mel, she is my fav alongside Viktor right? But I was leaning towards being a purely Jayvik shipper since Jayce chose Viktor. I wanted Mel to have someone who would choose HER.

But on rewatch it's the scene on the council where she is fighting to keep Jayce's promise to Viktor alive, the look of betrayal and pain in her face when she sees the hextech weapons- hoollly shit.

And like. Original arcane timeline and how things worked out, def Jayvik. But if she had opened up and allowed the intimacy and closeness sooner with Jayce, if she had known sooner how important Viktor was to him and had developed a relationship with Viktor outside of purely seeing him as a wise investment-

It makes me wonder how many things might have changed.

The tragedy of Mel in Arcane is how due to being the fox, and not allowing anyone to truly get close and know her on an intimate level, she was forced to become the wolf and lost the man she loved (and who loved her, but by the time she started fully reaching back Viktor was dying and Jayce was spiraling and- excuse me I need a moment to cry for my girl).

She girlbossed too close too the sun and it cost her SO MUCH.

Also my read is Mel only had a business relationship with Viktor since he was like, very rarely on the politics side. So she never really got the chance to know him.

Now what would happen in an alt timeline where our Jayce and Viktor get shunted into the past and cause a butterfly affect maybe the tragedy can be averted for the baby versions of Jayce, Mel and Viktor maybe not I am FURIOUSLY WRITING.

[wriokitty]

content includes: female reader, drunk reader + mentions of alcohol, modern + non curse au sukuna, established relationship, unnamed friends, reader makes one (1) dick sucking joke, reader dips fries into shakes because she’s elite like that, he carries reader

It’s half past midnight when he comes to pick you up. Your face sours as soon as you see him, taking an instinctive step back.

“Nuh uh,” you say, wagging a finger back and forth in his face as he scowls. “It’s girl’s night. No men allowed—we’ve been over this!”

“As if I wanna join your stupid girl’s night,” he scoffs. Sukuna is tired. (Of you). It’s too late at night to be worrying about what ditch you’re going to end yourself up in after lord knows how many drinks, so regrettably, he takes matters into his own hands.

It’s a good thing he does, too, he thinks with a flare of his nostril as he eyes the drunk, mess of a woman that’s supposed to be your ride home. Designated driver my ass, he all but grumbles under his breath.

“Hey—” he looks over to the side with an irritated flick of his eyes as a hand smacks his shoulder. Your friend (in not better condition than you) levels him with a snarky look before she hisses, “You heard her! It’s girl’s night. Go away.”

Sukuna ignores her—because, well, that’s what he always does anyway. She talks far too much to be considered a normal amount, and he doesn’t like the shrill sound of her voice. Instead, he turns to you, gives you a firm, scolding look before he grunts, “We are going home. Now.”

You seem to catch onto the stern tone of his voice because within seconds, you’re slumping against him as you whine, “Fine,” with a pout. “Mean.”

“Yeah?” He snorts, “You know what’s meaner? Nasty men who find girls passed out in the middle of the streets. Now let’s go. We’re going home—all of you.”

A chorus of whines and petty insults makes him want to grab a drink himself—being inebriated seems like the only way your friends are tolerable, but as annoying as they are, he refuses to leave them here wasted.

So he does the noble thing, and sacrifices his ear drums as they play whatever stupid pop song is trending on the radio at full volume down the streets, heads sticking out of the windows and screaming the lyrics out to innocent passerby’s.

Sukuna is just a guy. Not the best, most chivalrous or charitable guy, maybe—but just a guy, all the same. He’s not done anything wrong to deserve this torture. He’s been nothing but a kind (usually) boyfriend that loves you unconditionally (most of the time), supports you wholeheartedly (when it suits him), listens to your problems (if he’s in the mood), and makes you feel special (as long as it doesn’t inconvenience him).

Still, he’s stuck basically being an uber driver—for free, no less—to your ungrateful, bratty, obnoxious friends that aren’t pretty enough to enjoy your company in the first place. They don’t even thank him when they get out as he drops them off one by one to their homes, opting to say goodbye to you as if you’re the one who pays for the gas in his car.

Finally, the last of your friends (who he likes to consider nuisances) leaves, freeing him of anymore radio pop songs and unnaturally loud giggles.

He grumbles as you ask, “Can we get milkshakes?”

“No.”

“Please?” You whine, “I want strawberry.”

“That’s great,” he says sarcastically, “The answer’s still no.”

“Please, please, please, Kuna? I’ll suck your dick on the drive there—”

“Jesus, what’s the matter with you?” He hisses, fighting back flushed cheeks as he glares at you once the car rolls to a stop at a red light.

Usually, he’s the one making such lewd comments and getting under your skin—but lacking in sobriety is seriously forcing the two of you to switch roles. He’s starting to wonder if maybe he should be nicer to you—you deal with a lot. (Not that he’s mean. He considers himself a pretty generous boyfriend).

“I’ll even pay,” you offer.

“You didn’t bring a wallet, so it looks like I’ll have to pay,” he says blandly.

You grin, giving him an innocent smile as you excitedly ask, “So that’s a yes?”

“Are you going to be quiet if I say yes?” He clicks his teeth in thinly-veiled irritation.

You grin, nodding enthusiastically.

Well, he thinks bitterly, so much for no more pit stops.

It’s not long until he’s pulling into the drive-thru of the nearest fast food joint, rolling his window down to order your stupid, late night request.

“We’ll take one strawberry milkshake, please,” he says gruffly.

“Anything else?” Comes the tired reply of whoever is taking his order.

“No—”

“And large fries, please!” You lean over him to shout out the window and make sure the poor worker hears you. Sukuna glares, (gently) pushing you back into your seat as he hisses, “Put your seatbelt on! And you asked for a milkshake, not a damn meal.”

“Fries aren’t a meal,” you huff, “And they’re good dipped in the shake. You can’t have one without the other.”

“No—”

“I’ll scream that I’m being kidnapped,” you warn, “I want my fries.”

“Fucking fine,” he throws his hands up, exasperatedly caving to your request because, yeah, having some drunk, half-conscious woman in his front seat screaming bloody murder about being abducted at two a.m. is not a good look to a stranger that doesn’t know any better. “One strawberry milkshake and large fucking fries and that’s it,” he growls to the other person through the drive-thru speaker.

It’s not the poor employee’s fault, and he knows it, but he’s too tired and sleep-deprived to care about his snarky attitude.

“It’ll be ready at the window,” the man speaks tiredly, completely unphased.

“Yay!” You squeal.

It’s a pretty bothersome task to have to stop the car five minutes after receiving the food just to open the lid of your cup for you so that you can dip your fries into your milkshake easier, but he figures it’s better than a tiring drive home. Or worse, a spill all over his car seats at your own attempt.

He glances over at you wearily as he finally (hopefully) starts to drive home, watching as you dip your french fries into your frozen drink and happily eat away. He crinkles his eyes at the combination.

He’ll never understand people’s unnatural obsession with pairing anything remotely salty and sweet together.

“My friends think you’re weird,” you hum, taking a handful of fries to your mouth as you say between chewing, “They say you’re intense. Like, scary intense. But I told them, that’s just his face.”

Finally, a small smile cracks on his face, breaking through the grumpy, tired exterior. He snorts, shaking his head. “Drunk you has way too much to say.”

“Drunk me is honest,” you retort, clutching your fries to your chest as you huff, “Now I’m not sharing my fries anymore.”

“You weren’t going to anyway,” he rolls his eyes.

Finally, his car pulls into a familiar parking spot, just outside of your shared home as he parks and turns to you. You giggle at him before humming, “How’d you know?”

“Because you never do,” he rolls his eyes.

“That’s because this relationship is 50/50! You buy the food, and I eat it.”

“Yeah?” He snorts, shaking his head—still, there’s something endearing about the way you clutch your fries close to your chest, as if guarding them with your life. He leans over, snatching one easily anyway, smirking in amusement when you gasp and pout at the gesture.

“Hey! That’s mine!”

“Yeah, whatever,” he grunts, fighting back a fond grin before he asks, “Let’s go. We’re going in.”

With that, he comes around to your side of the car, pulling you out and hoisting you up to carry you bridal style as he marches over to the front door. Sighing happily, you admire his face as he walks.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

He raises a brow, mildly shocked. “For?”

“For bringing me home. Same time next week?”

He chuckles, pressing a soft, affectionate kiss to your forehead. “Absolutely not. No more girl’s nights with those shit shows.”

[nanaslutt]

Milking Sukuna's cock

cont: fem reader, sex toys, m!masturbation, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, m!squirting, dirty talk, shibari, true form Sukuna, Sukuna and reader have some kind of special relationship, Sukuna doesn't know how to deal with love and aftercare, fluff

note: saw an ask for smthn along the lines of this, it’s not exactly what they asked for but it sparked smthn in me so :3 (this is the closest to sub!sukuna i will get, i can’t see him as a sub at all lol)

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

"F-fuck a-ah fuck-" Sukuna struggled against the Shibari that kept all four of his arms snugly against his back and out of your way as you sat between his thighs and jerked a pocket pussy mercilessly over his cock. His abs are clenching rapidly and his breaths are coming quicker and quicker as you keep going, ignoring his obvious overstimulation.

His legs are twitching and shaking violently, and still, you keep going. Sukuna's face keeps twitching at his own sensitivity, his nose scrunching as his eyebrows furrow, and his teeth clenched together in tandem, making the muscles in his jaw pop out from under the skin. His mouth stomach is biting his lip between his teeth as you touch him. He's so tense, you don't need to touch his body to tell that every single muscle is clenching and unclenching, not a single atom of his being is relaxed.

When Sukuna growled and tipped his head back against his throne, you knew he was about to cum again, for the fourth time. You were alternating between his cocks, meaning each time he came, one of them sprayed his cum all over his body, making him hiss in annoyance as his cum stuck uncomfortably to his skin, seeping into the shibari. His other cock, whichever was inside the toy, filled it to the brim, so much so it dripped out from the bottom from how much he came.

You had no idea how he still had so much cum left in him, it seemed like no matter many times you milked him, he always had more to give. His hands gripped the shibari behind him harshly as he came again, his thick cum filling up the fake pussy as his jaw went slack, long groans and moans leaving his lips while you jerked him faster and faster, making the cum covering his dick inside the pussy cream up, bubbling around the base of his cock.

"Does that feel good Sukuna? You're so wet down here." You teased, biting your own lip as your eyes raked over his impressive body, not wanting to miss a single reaction from the king. Sukuna groaned at your words, too focused on filling up the toy to shoot back any snarky response.

His eyes fluttered back in his head when you continued stroking him through the aftershocks of his orgasm, your eyes watching his face carefully as his face twisted in pleasure, clearly overstimulated since he had already cum, and yet, you were still going. "Fuck, w-wait woman," Sukuna growled, the muscles in his thighs flexing and shaking as he tried not to get lost in his own sensitivity.

You wondered if he knew how much he was really shaking. He was clearly trying to hold back, maybe to save some of his ego from this vulnerability he was allowing you to see, but he was doing an awful job at holding back. Sweat beaded along his hairline and dripped steadily down the sides of his face, mixing with the drops on his neck. He was panting heavily, and his face was incredibly flushed, it was quite a sight to witness.

"Hm?" You teased, leaning closer to him, placing your hand on his pecs as you got in his face, keeping the toy steadily jerking over his cock as you looked into his eyes challengingly. Your eyes darted from his swollen lips to his eyes, steadily rolling back in his head. "A- A break." He grit through his teeth, keeping his words short so he didn't let out any unwanted noises. "Huh?" you asked, feigning ignorance as you leaned forward, your lips grazing against his as you spoke.

Just when you were about to lean in and kiss him, his head started jerking from side to side away from you, his jaw falling open as he groaned loudly again, his breath coming out stuttered. He struggled harshly against the ropes, his body jolting and wiggling around as he tried to stop your hand as his orgasm rapidly approached again, and so soon after the other one.

You smiled agaisnt his lips, using the opportunity of his eyes being shut to do so. He would've ripped through the shibari in half a second if he saw you laughing at him like this. Right before he came, you pulled back from his body and sat back down on your heels. Quickly you grabbed his neglected cock and held it steady as you ripped the toy off of his cock, sliding the other one inside it.

Immediately a loud groan was ripped from Sukuna's lungs as he came the second his neglected cock felt the tight, wetness of the inside of the pocket pussy. You opened your jaw as you watched him fall over the edge before a warm feeling on your leg brought your attention to below his legs. Looking down you noticed a thinner stream of clear liquid squirting out of his cock, spraying over his and your thighs. "Oh shit, there's so much…" You mumbled under your breath.

Likewise, the cock inside the toy was spurting out the same wetness as it leaked around him. Sukuna's mouth was open in a silent scream as he squirted all over you. Behind his eyelids, he pretended he was filling up your pussy, and with how wet the toy was from his copious amounts of cum, he almost believed it. "E-enough-" Sukuna growled lowly, too quiet and timid for you to take him seriously.

You continued anyways, feeling hot all over, your body feeling reenergized as you just watched the king of curse squirt from getting his cocks milked. When you didn't stop, Sukuna winced hard and yanked hard on the ropes. A loud cracking sound echoed off the walls of the chamber as his arms shot out in front of him and immobilized you. Two grabbed your throat, and two grabbed your wrist ceasing all of your movements on him.

You gasped for breath as Sukuna stared at you, his cocks softening as he caught his breath, letting his head back as he tried to relax now that your assault on him was paused. Sukuna squeezed his hands harshly around your throat, making your mouth open in a silent gasp as air failed to fill your lungs. "When I say enough, you listen." He said, trying to sound stern but the shakiness in his voice was very much evident.

You nodded in his hold, gasping air into your lungs when he released you. He controlled your hands though, slowly sliding the toy off of his cock he winced in overstimulation, his legs twitching around you as he threw the silicone somewhere behind you. He kept his hands around your wrists, preventing you from touching him as he laid back against his throne, his body finally relaxing, save for the unintentional spasming and shaking of his overworked muscles.

Sukuna pouted as he looked at you, almost looking like an angry cat as his eyes never once left yours, but he stayed silent, letting his gaze do the talking. You pursed your lips together to force down your smile, not wanting him to think you were looking down on him. "Sukuna, are you mad at me?" You asked, tipping your head at him. Your arms throbbed from the exertion of jerking him off for so long, and his hands gripping your wrists harshly, preventing blood flow to the sore appendages, wasn't helping.

Sukuna stayed silent, as you already knew his answer. "I'm sorry Lord Sukuna." You said, speaking to him formally to gain his forgiveness despite the uniquely intimate relationship the two of you had. "Please forgive me, I got carried away. I just wanted to bring my master pleasure." You spoke dramatically, looking at him from under your lashes.

Sukuna started at you challengingly for a few more seconds before he decided to release your wrists. You smiled, rubbing the soreness away as he placed his large arms on the side of the throne, looking away from you. "Lord Sukuna, thank you for sparing me~" You cooed, leaning forward and wrapping your body around his, his cum and sweat rubbing against the thin robe clothes you wore.

Sukuna's nose scrunched at the contact, his body going rigid against yours. It wasn't like he hated this affectionate touch, he just never got used to it. Each time you clung to him like this after sex, it felt so foreign to him, and yet he never pushed you away. "I do hope you felt good though Sukuna, thank you for letting me do that." You whispered, nuzzling your cheek against his skin.

Sukuna cringed, he never knew how to respond when you said stuff like that. Instead, he placed a hand on your lower back softly, keeping you pressed against his body as he sighed. "Brat." He whispered, briefly looking down at your tiny body on top of him before he opted to stare at the walls around him, unable to tolerate the strange emotions he felt when he looked down at you clinging on to him.

[lokisgoodgirl]

In Your Hands [Loki x Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: That irritating, smug, asshole Loki has taken your final fuck to give. Or so you think... Warnings: 18+ minors DNI. Smut. Avenger! Loki x female reader. Mild BDSM (ball related), hostility, enemies to lovers. Language. (w/c 2.4k)

Loki’s curses beat the air behind you, and the door from the training room slammed; smothering them.

I fucking hate him, I fucking hate him.

In your experience, dramatic exits should be reserved for special occasions. And striking an ego-killer blow to Loki ‘Godsplainer’ Laufeyson was a special-fucking-occasion. It’d been a long time coming. Although you hadn’t meant to punch him quite so sharply in the balls.

I’m sure he’s had worse, you thought as the stale sweat of the changing room hit.

The last thing you’d seen was Steve’s wide, earnest eyes as Loki had doubled over in a slap of dark hair with a muted oomph—the final syllables of his snarky ‘advice’ fading along with his sperm count. You did warn Loki if he told you the correct way to deliver a blow to the transversus one more time that you’d start intentionally missing.

Not my fault he never fucking listens.

It’d been building for months: every ‘actually-I-think-you’ll-find’; ‘bad-form-even-for-a-mortal’ and ‘are-you-sure-you’re-meant-to-be-here…did-you-sneak-in-with-the-domestic-staff?’.

But under it all, the worst thought of all was your own: you still want his praise.

You picked up someone’s shoe from the floor and lobbed it at the lockers – pure, impotent rage ratcheting back with the clang. If Steve kicked you off the A-Team then so be it, worth it to see that moment of pure, wretched shock in his eyes every time you closed your own.

Breaths scraped from your throat, trying to stop the tremble in your hands. You’d spent months trying to catch his eye like a desperate pick-me teenager, spent months wishing his approval into existence: the aloof, pretentious god. Begging any higher power who’d listen for the chance to kneel at his feet and choke on his cock while he called you a good-fucking-girl. You’d bought an emerald green lingerie set for Christ’s sake. It was still in the box—the returns window a dot on the horizon.

Embarrassing. If he knew, you think you’d die of shame. Months running yourself into the ground trying to fit what he’d want and for what? Fuck. “Do you feel better, now?” The ripple of Loki’s smarm filled the air like steam, but it’s edge could cut stone.

Your lips pinched, biting back a slew of curses. You’d expected Steve, but not him.

The idea of turning made your feet root even firmer to the floor. But with every strained second that shifted past, thickening the air, he was winning—staring at the back of your head with that imperious look that only said one thing: I’m better than you, and you know it.

“If you’re waiting for an apology, don’t hold your breath.” Loki released a low chuckle. “Be assured, I can wait much longer than you. How much of your meagre lifespan would you squander staring at those dismal tiles in order to preserve the façade of your superiority, I wonder?”

You spun with a force that twinged a nerve in your neck. “My…?” It came out in a pathetic gasp. “My…superiority?!”

Loki’s face was the picture of serenity: posture impeccable, lips straight. His eyes slid between yours, brows peaked in sanctimonious expectation.

Borderline indecent gym-wear clung to the sinews of his muscular body. The material was like elasticated silk, and every time you’d made contact in training it made it impossible not to imagine frotting against him: bitch in heat.

The lines of the sweatpants draped like a sheet of liquid tar to the bulge of his thighs as he shifted his weight and said, simply, “Yes.”

Heat flared up your neck.  “You’ve got some fucking balls, Laufeyson, I’ll give you that,” you hissed, regretting it immediately. “I’m not sure your knuckles experienced my anatomy’s full glory to report on such an accolade,” Loki replied without a beat. “Their contact was a little brief…”

He tilted his head, an infuriating dimple crushing into one cheek as the heat scorched up your cheeks and made your eyes itch. “A little…weak.”

“Maybe I should twist them again,” you said, folding your arms. You hoped he couldn’t see the fingers trembling. Loki’s eyes narrowed as he crossed the changing room in three, elegant strides and loomed so close that your bellies touched. “Go on then,” he goaded. “You seem under the impression I don’t like it.”

You searched his face, noting the tremor of something deeper than the familiar irritation. Was that…but, it couldn’t be. “What are you doing?” you whispered, stumbling slightly against the lockers. The heat from his abdomen radiated through your gym top. Christ, his stomach was so hard.

“What are you doing, Agent?”

A few black strands had come loose from his ponytail, sticking to the sweat pearling on his jaw. “All bark, no bite,” he murmured, squinting lightly.

His scent crept up your nostrils like smoke under a door: fresh musk, the linger of the cologne he wore at last night’s party, and above it all a scent that was inextricably him. You could never put your finger on it. It drove you mad: just like the rest of him.

Loki released a short puff of irritation, eyes rolling to the side. “I knew you didn’t have it in you.” As he took a step back, your mind skidded to a stop as a hand flew to his chest, gathering a clutch of the slutty gym top, making no effort to cushion the scrape of your nails against his skin, and pulled.

Loki’s mouth crushed to yours with a gasp, his hands flying to the lockers on either side of your head with an ominous crunch of metal. His breath groaned into your throat, the softness of his lips jerking your senses.

Had you expected them to be cold, hard, unwelcoming: just like the rest of him? Yes. But there was time to mull over that later.

Loki’s tongue nudged against your lips, and you relented. The tension in your body seemed to melt as he draped over you like liquid; the cage of his frame and the rub of a thumb down the valley of your cheekbone making you forget just for a second how much you really fucking hated him.

“Show me,” he murmured against your neck. You hadn’t even realised the kiss had slid apart and your head was tilted back against the lockers, the god’s mouth raging a ravenous path down the valley of your throat.

“Show you what?” you panted, bringing your head forward so quickly your vision swam. A lopsided grin spread across his mouth. “How much you hate me,” he said. “You have a problem.” The barb was unnecessary, but Loki’s grin widened all the same. “Discipline me, then.”

His sapphire eyes blazed as your hand flew to his shorts, grabbing his crotch. Fingers curled around the soft, tight sac nestled below the huge erection snaking up the hip joint. Loki hissed, stomach clenching, more clutches of hair falling free. His forehead pressed to yours as your grip tightened.

“Fuck,” he grunted, voice tapering to a whine. You squeezed tighter, and the lockers behind you crumpled under the strength of his fists bearing down.

“Harder,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

His legendary cock twitched above your white knuckles, straining against the running shorts and Loki’s narrowed eyes glistened, the muscles in his jaw and the veins in his neck hard enough to pop.

“Apologise,” you spat, and Loki’s breath hitched as you gave him a brief moment of relief before clenching an even tighter fist than before.

His trainers slipped against the floor, thighs shaking with the effort not to fall to his knees. Even gods, it appeared, shared some of the weaknesses of men. Loki flipped his hair back.

“Why should I? You’re the c-combative v-viper.” A deep set of lines furrowed his forehead, rippling with each flex of your fingers. “You’re nothing but a shit-talking, spoiled prince with a big cock and nice hair,” you said, every muscle tingling with the desire raging through your veins. “You noticed,” Loki said with the twitch of an eyebrow: incorrigible, even in this position. “The hair, I mean,” he added. He didn’t mean the hair.

The god swept your forearm to the side, and your fingers ached immediately. How tight was I holding him? But there wasn’t time to wonder. His kiss slammed into you with the force of a storm, teeth clashing and his fingertips digging in to your scalp and the wet slide of lips across your own. “Loki,” you breathed, and he moaned into your mouth in response. You found yourself bucking against his hard body, grasping at everything and anything you could to be closer to him; to wind yourself so tightly to him that you though you might snap.

And then, your fingers were playing at his waistband. Loki drew back: eyes wild. “Really?” he asked, flushed and breathless. You stared at him, searching his eyes for any hint of ulterior motive, any sign he was about to pull the rug from under you. You gave a curt nod, and Loki’s expression rippled with surprise.

Your hands slid up the sides of his face, tangling in his hair. “You better make it good, considering you have a lot to make up for.” Loki snorted, “Please,” and then several things happened at once. Out of the corner of your eye, the door to the changing room glowed green around the crack. Loki shoved the waistband of his shorts down, scooping his cock in one hand while you fumbled with your leggings and send them skittering across the gleaming floor. “Norns,” Loki groaned as he cupped your breasts under the flimsy sports top, palming upwards. Beneath the bra, your nipples were hard as pebbles.

His brows peaked as his gaze rose from your chest to your face: a realisation that there wasn’t time for all that— all the filthy things you were beginning to realise he’d fantasised about. All the filthy thing you were beginning to accept that you’d fantasised about. “Maybe next time,” you muttered, pulling his hair-tie free in one sharp movement. A wicked smile unfurled on Loki’s lips.

He dipped, burying his face in your chest as he cupped the back of your thighs and you let out a gasp as he hoisted you upwards. Your legs folded around his hips, slick pussy flush to his stomach, sliding down the taut skin until you met the solid bar of flesh beneath.

“Oh, Agent,” he said in your ear, low and smooth, “I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

You shoved his shoulder, but Loki’s fingertips sank into the soft curve of your ass, pushing you up so your slit hovered above the crown of his cock.

His eyebrow rose. “Last chance,” he said with a ladle of sarcasm.

Steadying one hand on his shoulder, you scraped the other through his hair, winding in a fist. You tugged, slowly…slowly, and Loki groaned, letting you sink onto his cock with every sharp ache pinching at his scalp. His thrusts weren’t like you imagined: selfish, primal, uncontrolled. If anyone was a Jackhammer —you’d always imagined it would be Loki. But his hips rolled like dough, undulating against you until your eyes rolled back and the rear of your skull cracked against the lockers. “Harder,” you sobbed quietly, nails digging into his back muscle. “Harder,” Loki groaned, his breath hot in the hollow of your neck. “Ruin me, Agent—I’m in your hands.” You dragged the nails deep against his skin: not enough to break blood, but close. Loki’s ragged breaths of pleasure made a new thrill swell between your legs, meeting his sloppy fucks like you were trying to beat him.

The fist wound in his hair yanked again, and again, and each time…the gods hips jolted. His thrusts were faster now— your moans higher— the rattle of the metal lockers and the squeak of rubber soles on tile making your mind swim. “Can I come?” he gurgled between rough exhales, and you pulled his face to yours. There was something in his eyes you’d never seen before—swimming in the whirlpool of blue. “No,” you said, and his head fell back to the ceiling. Loki’s veined cock tugged every inch of your walls as he pulled out, and buried in, stars bursting in your vision as climax began to shift and slide in the depths like a riptide.

Your legs spasmed against his hips, crossed ankles digging into the base of his spine, the grip on the god’s hair unbreakable. Biting back the urge to sob his name, you slammed your hips down to the root of his length, pulling Loki’s mouth to yours. His tongue massaged the syllables of his own name forming on your tongue, the rumble in your throat matching the one you could feel in the depths of his chest.

“Gods,” he choked when you broke, panting, riding your cunt in sloppy thrusts.

You could feel the slip of your cum between your thighs, and coating the length of his cock: and Loki could too. He looked at you with something a little like fear, one hand flying from your ass and steadying against the lockers.

“Can I—” he started, but before you could respond his knees buckled, wobbling as orgasm hit him like a train. Loki’s cry echoed around the changing room, the pained pleasure of his release making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Fuck: he was beautiful. And now...it was over. A sharp stab of sadness slipped between your ribs. The doorhandle shoogled violently. “Everything okay in there? Loki?” You and Loki’s eyes met. Steve was outside. And he wasn't alone. “What if he’s fallen? Jeepers, the floors are freshly waxed for crivven’s sakes—” “—will you calm down. I think Loki can handle himself on some polished floors,” Sam said dryly through the door. “—Bet that’s not the only thing that’s been polished,” Bucky replied, and even at a distance you could feel the heat building in Steve’s cheeks. “You’re disgusting—our comrade could be in peril. I don’t know what got into her.” There were a series of snorts, and several brisk knocks. “Yo, Laufeyson. You in peril in there?” Sam asked, and Bucky’s laugh followed. “Yes,” Loki whispered; brushing a sex-damp strand of hair from your cheek. His eyes searched yours, pinning you to the lockers as he lowered you to the floor. “I think I might be.”

Tags in comments: ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜❤️

[amazinglyashy]

HI I LOVE ur lads headcanons ‼️ idk if u do angst but im feeling some angsty/hurt/comfort........... can i pls request the lads men's reaction to the reader rejecting their confession bc we think they deserve better...... someone who doesn't have a heart condition (like the mc) or something........

Oh my gosh, thank you so much!! And oh man, I love angst and hurt/comfort, as long as I get to give it a tiny bit of hope/a happy ending! I felt this one though, I've thought about it before with my own MC…….. a few dozen times- Hope you enjoy, and thank you for the request! <3

Love and Deepspace Li’s reactions to you rejecting their confession due to feelings of inadequacy

Rafayel -

Rafayel is… surprised, to say the least.

Not only do you not have any memory of him or the things you did together- the things you did to him- but you also are straight up turning him down when he finally realized that he needs to confess to you all over again.

He's pretty upset.

It'll definitely turn into an argument, and you know he's hurt. Damn, you're hurt too, just having to turn him down. He makes you feel something, like you're special. Like you're everything to him. Like you're not…

Broken.

And it'll come out eventually. Maybe not blatantly so, but in small ways, your feelings of inadequacy will start to leak through the cracks that are forming in your resolve as you try to refuse a man who has already been refused his love by fate and prophecy for far too long.

And somehow, that makes it so much worse. Because he can fight fate, he can go against the currents of time and the ever evolving cruelty of human nature. But he can't do anything about the feelings raging inside your own head.

He's sure going to try though.

Angrily but calmly, he will start firing off things he has done for you, just because he's loved you so much, throughout all of your time together and even before. He doesn't know if it'll make it worse, make you feel like he already does too much for whatever it is you see yourself as, but he's going to do it anyway. And slowly, it'll start forming into the things you two do together- the things you've done for him when he needs you.

And you're going to be there a while, because until you start to realize, until he starts to chip away at that dark feeling in the deepest reaches of your mind and heart, he's not going to let up.

Not now, not ever.

Sylus -

He's a bit taken aback, but he's not particularly surprised. He had seen this coming, mentally prepared himself for it, even. He knew after his treatment of you when the two of you had just met again for the first time, that any sort of official relationship between you two would be tricky to get to. Especially putting an actual label on it.

He'll be a lot more surprised when he reads between the lines at your words, and realizes it's not because you're still scared of him, but because you don't think you're good enough for him.

"You can't be serious, sweetie."

He's not going to force you to accept his confession, but regardless of how timid or aggressive you become, whether you escalate it vocally or try to exit the conversation, he's not arguing with you. He pretty much refuses to, as he instead begins to state snarky facts as he crosses his arms, watching your reactions as he does.

"When you patched my wounds a month ago, was I not deserving of your hands caring for me because they were shaky and belonging to you? How about that girl you muttered about that we saw at the café who was mad at her boyfriend to the point of shouting, when he didn't get her the right cake she wanted? Are you saying you're worse than her? Helping me on jobs simply because you want to exist near me is… not good enough for me?"

"Sylus, that's not what I'm saying-"

"Oh don't worry sweetie. I know exactly what it is you're saying. I just know it's a particularly misinformed, self loathing thought for you to be having. Don't you think it's insulting for you to decide who I give my love to? After every calculated decision you have witnessed me make?"

He'll finally soften, reaching out a hand to gently rest on the side of your neck, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a gentle back and forth.

"You don't need to be concerning yourself with what I deserve in a partner. You should have faith in my opinions, if not for yourself, but for your confidence in me, sweetie. After that, the rest is up to what you truly want in your heart."

Zayne -

His reaction is definitely the most reserved initially, especially until he realizes why exactly you're turning him down.

He definitely has the passing thought that maybe you're just misunderstanding him again, just like back with the snow seals when the two of you were still kids.

When he realizes that's not the case, and instead, it's your own internalized feelings, he's first a bit relieved, and secondly- pretty perturbed.

"It's interesting to know that's your perspective, given how much you enjoy those fictional stories with ironic pairings. I would think that it would be the most romantic thing for a heart patient to be in a relationship with a cardiac surgeon.

His biting but well-meaning quips aside, he's not quite sure how to break it to you that he used to be in a similar boat, and still is to some capacity. Which is partly why he's a bit upset to understand your perspective.

He's genuinely surprised you haven't processed the timeline of the two of you and your lives. Your accident that caused the state of your heart, his leaving to study medicine and become a specialist in cardiology and a renowned cardiac surgeon- are you not able to see that it's not an inadequacy for him, but his own lack of knowledge when you first started having issues made himself feel inadequate? Why he left without a word for years in the first place?

And not just that- it also applies to other fields too. He has no issues helping you where you need him, because he knows the extent of your capabilities, much like he knows his own. And he will spend forever if he needs to, to show you that loving is not about who does more. It's about doing what your partner needs, no matter how much or how little that is, and loving each other through every hard moment.

And you're about to hear every ounce of his convincing, opinions, and own feelings, until you start to see. Until you finally see.

Xavier -

Unless you tell it to him straight, he's not going to know why you rejected him. He'll be hurt, but he'll accept your rejection graciously and politely, before trying to figure out just how to get you to accept it.

There's an increase in claw machine dates, movie night invitations, and how much he helps you with missions or even just around your apartment. Eventually, you process the weird behavior and you're all but forced to confront him on really truly why you rejected him.

It's Xavier, so you try to play it off as a lighthearted situation or a joke, but you can see his expression darkening, and you're not sure if it's because of him being upset at your words, or realizing just how much time he has sunk into you with how... broken of a person you are.

Turns out, it's the former!

It's hard to not realize such, as he's pulling you into the tightest hug he's probably ever grabbed you into.

For a while, it's just you and him standing there, with him squeezing you tightly and you not knowing what to do with your hands or the lump rising in the back of your throat. He doesn't really know what to say, but he does know he needs to say something.

"I'll definitely make you see that you're more than enough for me."

"Xavier- that's not how this work-"

"I know, and I don't care. I- I need you to know that you're everything to me. You're not inadequate, or broken, or anything you've been telling yourself. You're more than enough. You're more than everything to me. And I'm not going anywhere until you finally understand that."

[honeekyuu]

stuck. [tsukishima kei x f!reader]

>>Tsukishima is the kind of best friend that makes you want to leave him, but you just can't bring yourself to.

or

You end up confessing in the middle of a fight and he fucks you to show you how much he really cares.<<

______________________________

tags: smut, fluff, angst, best friends to lovers, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, rough sex, alcohol/drinking, college au, tsukishima kei is a dick, drunk sex, unprotected sex (dont do that), creampie, dom/sub undertones

a/n: ahahahaha this was my first hq work posted on ao3, and it is everything Mean Best Friend Tsukishima Kei that i needed. i hope you enjoy!

[feel free to buy me a cup of coffee!]

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

“Okay, I’m done! How do I look?”

“You look like shit.”

You sigh, trying not to let him get to you. 

Tsukki’s always been this way - dismissive, nonchalant, indifferent. Through middle school, he’d been sarcastic. He’d been snarky and brutally honest. And in high school, he’d only gotten worse. 

Anyone else in your position might have left him already. People you’d known in school had told you to find someone else, a better friend. Best friends don’t treat each other the way Tsukishima treats you , they’d said. His teammates had been in the habit of scolding him whenever he’d go too far, whenever he’d push your buttons a little too hard. The only one who could see your side had been Yamaguchi, and even he’d had his reservations at times.

But other people don’t know Tsukishima Kei. They know the Tsukki that would refuse to share his notes with you after you’d been out sick. The Tsukki that would steal parts of your lunch and hold it high above your head, far out of your reach, and call you mean names with a cruel smirk. The Tsukki that would often leave you behind after school and head home without you, leaving you to text him and wonder where he’d gone.

They don’t know that the same person would show up at your house with his notes, walking you through calculus and poetry lessons himself because he knows you learn better with a teacher. And, even though you never called him out for it, he would show up the day you’d been out sick, too, just to check on you. Just to watch movies in bed with you, waving off your concerns about him getting sick. He hated being sick, but he would ignore your complaints and force you to relax - because you’d only ever get sick when you overworked yourself, which meant he hadn’t been watching over you closely enough. 

They don’t know that Tsukki would secretly swap your lunch out for his own - better, homemade food that wasn’t the cafeteria slop you were often forced to buy because your parents weren’t home a lot. He would watch you push the food around on your tray while you’d laugh at something Hinata had said, identifying at least 3 things you were allergic to on that plate. So he would reach for it, leaving his own (allergen-free, thanks to Akiteru) lunch open for retaliation while he’d use his height as a way to take out his frustrations on you - his irritation that you never seemed to put yourself first, choosing starvation over just simply asking your parents for money before they go out of town.

And the times he’d leave you behind - well, half the time, it had been an accident. It was impossible to remember your packed schedule, all your clubs and student council meetings lumping into a vague ‘ Y/n’s busy ’ block of time in his mind. The other half of the time, it was because he needed to be alone. It’s not that he’s an asshole and loves to make you suffer - in fact, he would often call you later the same night, apologizing in his own, special Tsukishima Kei way and explaining himself. He gets overwhelmed easily, overstimulated by too many people, too many responsibilities, too many social expectations. So he would disappear as soon as he was allowed, needing to be alone with himself and no one else.

So, the people in your life had known a different version of Tsukishima than you do. Where they’d seen a bully, cold and unrelenting even for his best friend, you’d known nothing more than an introvert, expressing his care in a way that was unrecognizable to anyone but you.

Care that had carried over into college, the last three years filled with a Tsukishima Kei that even you hadn’t expected. A version of him that walks you from the library to your dorm at night, despite his increasingly hectic volleyball schedule. A Tsukishima who calls you in the morning on his walk to class to make sure you haven’t overslept, because - even if the calls consist of nothing but your crabby morning disposition, berating him for pulling you from your slumber - he knows you’ll thank him later, as you often do.

A Tsukishima who lets you drag him to parties, even though he hates them to his very core. He lets you tug him along to your dorm, lets you force him to sit through the hour-long ordeal of choosing your outfit. Lets you spin in front of him when you’re done, clearly pleased with yourself, and ask him how you look.

Lets you throw a pillow at his face when he tells you that you look like shit, even if he wholeheartedly believes otherwise.

“Tsukki, can’t you say one nice thing to me? For once?”

He scoffs when you put your hands on your hips, turning his gaze back to his phone as he lounges on your bed like it’s his own. It might as well be, with the amount of time he spends in this room.

“That would require you to have something worth being nice about, wouldn’t it?” He smiles mockingly when he catches the irritated twitch of your eyebrow.

“You’re a dick.”

“Nothing new about that.” Tsukishima watches as you turn back to your closet with a huff, taking the time to look you over appreciatively. No , he thinks, his eyes lingering on the curve of your breasts and the way your dress hugs your hips, the material tight but soft. His hand itches with the urge to touch it, to find out for himself. It’s not that you have nothing. It’s that you have too much.

He sighs, sitting up, and runs his fingers through his hair.

You have too much, and it’s fucking annoying. 

His eyes flick to you again, his own irritation growing. You’d always been too good. Too perfect, too overwhelming. He’d hated falling in love. It had sucked. High school had sucked . Having you cling to him every day and finding himself clinging right back. Not understanding these complicated feelings he has - ones that want nothing more than to hold you in his arms, against others that would tell him to push you away with his sharp tongue, to protect himself from this terrifying feeling. 

And now that he’s accepted it - it had only taken him the entirety of high school and at least a year of college - he almost hates it more. Being so close to you and somehow still feeling like he can’t breathe because it’s not nearly close enough.

So he stands, shoving his phone in the pocket of his jeans, and stares you down when you finally turn back to him.

“Can we go? The sooner we get to this stupid thing, the sooner I can go home.” He thinks he sees a flicker of hurt flash across your eyes, but that can’t be it. He’s said worse things before. You always bounce back, a retort on the tip of your tongue for everything he could throw at you. You always match him, blow for blow.

So why, then, can he see your jaw clenching as you turn away from him? Why does he feel like you’re pulling your jacket off the rack with more force than usual? Why are you leaving without responding?

What the fuck ?

-

Fuck Tsukishima Kei . 

It’s the only thought in your mind as you down the shot, wincing as the alcohol slides down your throat. You’d lost count of the drinks you’ve had about an hour ago, when the thought had been something more like ‘ Fuck Tsukishima Kei. Stupid fucking idiot. Never thinks before he speaks ’.

Clearly, you’d mellowed out a little, but the anger is still there, simmering in your chest and threatening to rise every time he gets close to you.

The walk to the frat had been silent, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about your mood, only scrolling through his phone and occasionally glancing over at you. You’d felt the irritation crawling under your skin with every pass of his eyes over you, but you hadn’t returned any of his gazes, only looking forward to getting to the party and being with other people.

But he hadn’t let you wander off so easily, his tall form following close behind as you’d tried to find some of your friends from class. You can tell he’s been trying to silently check on you, like he always does when he knows he’s bothered you. 

He’d brought you drinks, only smiling emptily when you’d glared up at him. It shouldn’t have made your heart skip that he’d done nothing more than offered you a drink, tapping his own red solo cup against yours and matching you shot for shot. It shouldn’t affect you when he does the bare minimum. 

He’d danced close to you, one hand on your waist and his warm chest pressed firmly against your back. You’d hated it - feeling so safe in the arms of someone who had derived pleasure from picking on you your whole lives. And even if that’s not true - even if you only take into account all the ways that he’d taken care of you, celebrating all your accomplishments with you and holding you while you’d cried about your failures - you still shouldn’t be feeling that familiar tug of nerves in your stomach when he presses his hips against your ass, slipping his fingers through yours and pulling you close.

And when that hadn’t worked - when you’d held your ground and managed to cling to your anger from earlier - he’d even tried to talk to you about it. That isn’t normal for him by any means, but you could see the confusion in his eyes when he’d leaned down to be heard over the music, mumbling his question against the shell of your ear.

“Are we okay ?”

It had taken everything in you to resist him, to resist the pull that is Tsukishima Kei. The same pull that had kept you next to him all these years, through all the teasing and the poking. The pull that kept reminding you that he’s just bad at expressing his feelings. He’s just bad at being nice. He’s just bad at holding his tongue.

But that doesn’t mean you have to sit and take it every time.

So you’d only smacked his hand away and glared when he’d cupped the side of your face, trying to get you to look at him. Stomping over to the bar, you had asked the frat boy for a shot of something random. 

After downing it, you try not to look back but fail miserably - you might be pissed, but you’ve never been immune to him. You probably never would be.

Glancing back, you can see his blond head in the sea of people. He’s trying to make his way to the bar, but his head is whipping to the side at the sound of something. A tall guy - you recognize it’s someone from his team - appears at his side, clapping his shoulder, and you can only assume he’d heard his name being called.

They start talking, Tsukki seeming distracted but drunk enough to at least pretend he’s interested in the conversation. You look away just as he’s turning his head back to you - you won’t be caught looking his way again tonight.

Luckily, there’s someone stepping up beside you, catching your attention with their bright smile.

“Y/n?!” 

You blink, startled by the recognition. But when you finally see who it is, you can’t help but beam.

“Oh my God, Bokuto?!” You leap toward him, wrapping your arms around the man’s neck and dragging him into a hug. You feel him laugh against you, his arms sliding around your waist and pulling you in tight. When you step away, he keeps you close, hand on your hips.

“What are you doing here?! You don’t go here, do you?” 

The man shakes his head, grinning down at you and pointing over his shoulder.

“Nah, I’m just visiting a few friends over the weekend.”

You glance past him, seeing a group of boys that seem like they could be familiar to you, but you can never tell - Bokuto Koutarou is friends with everyone.

When you look back, you catch his eyes wandering down the length of your body, his gaze snapping up to yours when you clear your throat. He has the decency to look ashamed.

“Sorry, Y/n - You’ve just, uh… grown up a lot since high school.”

You flush deeply, something that makes him grin when he catches it. 

At least someone thinks I look good tonight .

You’re smiling flirtily up at him, feeling confident enough to drag this conversation out. He seems to notice, an interested glimmer in his eye. But then he’s glancing over your shoulder, and his eyebrows are raising in surprise.

A hand wraps around your bicep, much tighter than necessary in your opinion. You barely have time to spot the blond hair in your peripheral vision before you’re being dragged away. You can only wave at Bokuto, who looks a little disappointed but mostly just amused.

Tsukishima only lets you go when you’re outside, his hand dropping from your skin like you’ve burned him. You whip around to face him, more than ready to yell at him on the front lawn of this frat house. But he’s already walking away, in the direction of your dorm.

“Dude, what the hell? You didn’t even say hi to him - he’s one of your closest friends!” You stalk after him, determined to figure out what could possibly be going through his mind. But he won’t answer you, just shaking his head and mumbling something that sounds vaguely like ‘exactly ’ as he makes his way down the street.

You scoff, turning back to the frat. He’s out of his mind if he thinks you’re just going to follow him home quietly.

You start to head back to the party, but you barely make it five steps before his fingers are closing around your wrist and tugging you back to him. When you look up, enraged at his entitlement, you see that he’s incensed, staring down at you with wild eyes. He looks pissed, which he has no reason to be. But there’s something else there, something that’s contributing to this almost panicked anger sitting just below the surface.

“Tsukishima, what do you want?” 

He bristles at the use of his full name, golden eyes narrowing as he stares down at you.

“You’re going home.” He punctures every word with barely concealed irritation, finally turning and dragging you back down the street. You don’t say anything this time, feeling that previously mellowed out anger returning full force as you stare at the back of his head.

The walk back is just as silent as the walk to the party had been, but this time you feel ready to explode. You’d been annoyed before, bothered and hurt by his words and the way he treats you.

Now you’re just ready to pick a fight. Which means you’ll probably say something you’ll regret if you don’t get away from him soon and take some time to calm the hell down.

When you get to your door, you’ve already got your keys out. He’d let go of you in the elevator, finally realizing that he’d been gripping you way too hard. You might just be able to get inside without him following.

But the second you unlock the door and slip inside, not a word said to the blond as you try to shut the door behind you, his hand is slamming down on the wood. He stops your attempt, staring down at you with annoyance.

“You’re joking, right?” And then he’s pushing into your room with an angry sigh, letting the door swing shut behind him. You only step back, crossing your arms over your chest as you look him over.

“What do you want?”

“What do I wa- What is your problem tonight ?” He squints down at you, eyebrows furrowed. When you only raise yours, his jaw is clenching. “Why the fuck are you so mad at me?”

“Because-” You stop yourself, taking a deep breath in order to maintain some semblance of control. “Because you’re an asshole, Tsukishima-”

“Stop fucking calling me that, Y/n-”

“-and maybe I’m just not in the mood for your shit tonight!” You yell over him, clenching your fists against your body. You need him to go. You cannot let him see you cry.

“I’m always an asshole! How is tonight any different-” He’s taken a step further into the small bedroom, and you take a step back, feeling overwhelmed. You’re immensely glad you don’t have a roommate, so they don’t have to deal with the mess that is your friendship with Tsukki.

“Tonight isn’t any different, you dick. It’s the same as it always is. I’m just tired of it tonight.” You feel yourself growing angrier when he just laughs, throwing you a mocking smile as he paces the room. He’s definitely drunk.

“Oh, excuse me, I didn’t realize I needed to account for Little Miss Y/n’s fucking mood swings whenever I open my mouth-”

“What the fuck did you just sa-”

“I just didn’t take you for someone who’s sensitive-”

“Well, maybe I am, you fucking asshole! ”

You’re definitely drunk, too.

Tsukishima stops short, taking you in. He can’t hide the shock on his face when he sees you - the way your hands are shaking at your sides, the quiver of your lip as you try your best to stand up to him. You’re trying so hard not to cry, he can tell.

Wow, I really am an asshole.

“Y/n… I-”

“Did you really think I would still want to go to that party once you’d made it clear how much you didn’t want to go? That you think it’s stupid to hang out with your best friend on a Friday night doing something she wants to do - because your idea of a good time is so different from mine that you would try make me feel like a fucking idiot for it?” 

Tsukishima’s starting to panic - had he made you feel that way? He’d just been talking. He hadn’t even been thinking about how it would make you feel - he’d thought nothing could hurt you, that your friendship is guaranteed and that having you next to him is a given. 

Now he feels like he’s losing you. 

“Maybe, once in a fucking while , it wouldn’t hurt you too much to tell a girl she’s pretty when she’s just spent an hour trying to look good for you.”

The frustration on Tsukishima’s face drops, and he’s left staring emptily at you. 

That’s what this is about? 

He stares for a while, his eyes just flicking back and forth between yours as he thinks of how to take that. It makes you nervous. You’d said too much. 

“Fuck this.”

You blink, staring up at him in disbelief. What is that supposed to mean?

“What do you- mmh -” 

Tsukishima had crossed the room in just two steps, taking your face in his hands while you’d been preparing to yell at him again. And then he’d smashed his lips to yours.

Your heart jumps into your throat, and you let out a noise of shock, muffled against his mouth. Your eyes remain wide open, flitting in a panic over his features as you feel his lips move against yours. His brow is furrowing behind his glasses, and you’re realizing that you still haven’t kissed him back. You push against his lips experimentally, watching that wrinkle between his eyes all but disappear when he feels it, and you think it looks a lot like relief.

He’s nervous.

Your body moves of its own accord, hands sliding up his chest to grip at his shirt, and your eyes slide closed when you feel one of his hands fall to your waist. He nudges you backward, and you feel the hard surface of your closet door against your back.

Tsukishima slides his tongue against your bottom lip, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth when he feels you inhale sharply in response. He takes advantage of your surprise, pushing past your lips and brushing his tongue against yours. When you slide your hands up and around his neck, tugging at the hair there, he groans and leans down. 

Planting a hand on the door behind you, he angles his head, slotting his lips against yours. He presses his hips into you, and you can feel how hard he’s getting. You sigh into his mouth at the feeling, smiling when his body reacts to the sound, his cock hardening against your thigh. 

Tsukishima Kei might be impossible to read sometimes, but he never could hide from you.

He drops his mouth to your neck, latching onto a spot under your ear and using his other arm to pull you flush against him. The sounds you’re making are clear now, soft gasps and whimpers echoing in your tiny dorm room.

“So stupid… ” 

You barely hear him, too busy wondering why it had taken so long to feel his lips on your skin.

“The only person in the world that can see right through me, and you were stupid enough to believe what I said. ” He mumbles it into your ear, taking your earlobe between his teeth and sighing when you moan against him.

“You’re so mean…” Your breath catches in your throat when you feel his hand drop to your leg, pulling the fabric of your dress up slightly. He grips at the back of your bare thigh, brushing against your panties and kneading into the plush skin just below your ass.

“What were you gonna do, Y/n, go home with Bokuto?” Tsukishima all but growls the question against your neck, dragging your thigh up and wrapping your leg around his hip. He feels your dress slide up, feels your warmth against his jeans. He’s desperate to get out of them.

“Y-You called me ugly-”

“I never said that.” Yes he had. He knows he had. He just hadn’t realized you would take it to heart. Now he hates himself for even saying it. For pretending you aren’t the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.

“Bo said I looked good… Figured I might as well go for someone who’s actually attracted to me…” You whimper when Tsukishima presses his erection against you, your thin panties useless against the rough fabric of his jeans.

“Does it feel like I’m not attracted to you?”

You breathe out a laugh, clinging to his biceps as he sucks another bruise into your skin.

“How was I supposed to know, you dumbass? You only ever say mean things, and I thought I could get over you by-”

“By what?” He’s getting irritated again at the thought of what could have happened tonight if he hadn’t brought you home. If he’d left you alone, like his brain was telling him to. If he’d given you space and just texted you in the morning. 

“You thought you could just fuck some other guy and get over me?” He lifts his head, grinning cruelly when you look up at him, your lip trembling. “Because I didn’t call you pretty tonight? Because you were tired of me being mean all the time?”

You nod, a gasp leaving you when he wraps an arm around your waist and hoists you up so you’re eye-level, slamming you back against the closet door and pinning you there with his hips. Your dress is bunched up around your stomach now, leaving Tsukishima with a perfect view of the wet spot on your panties when he glances down. His grin widens, an evil glint shining behind his glasses.

“But it seems like you like it when I say mean things, Y/n.”

You whine in protest, growing louder when you feel him rut involuntarily against you at the sound.

“This is different, Tsukki-”

“Is it?” He’s distracted when he asks, too busy steadying you in his arms so he can lift you up and away from the closet. Making his way to your bed, he drops you unceremoniously on the mattress, smiling when you yelp. He removes his glasses and leaves them on your bedside table, dropping to his knees at the edge of the bed and wrapping his arms around your thighs so he can drag you toward him.

You sit up, taking his face in your hands and pressing your lips urgently to his - even on his knees, he’s tall enough to be eye-level with you. You feel his fingers, long and calloused, drift up your thighs and hook into your panties while he nips almost affectionately at your bottom lip.

“Tsukki… ” You whisper against his mouth, but he’s quick to shake his head, mumbling back to you.

“Not that. ”

You’re a little surprised - you never really call him by his first name. He’d found it uncomfortable the one time you’d tried it as a joke. But if he’s asking, then-

“Kei .” His pulse quickens under your fingertips when you murmur against his lips, his kiss becoming more full, and you realize just how much he likes it.

You pull away and press kisses to his face, peppering them across his nose and cheeks. It’s a moment that’s far softer than either of you had had before, one that has Tsukishima’s heart beating a little too hard in his chest. 

God, he hates being in love.

He pulls away from you, planting one hand on your chest and shoving you away from him. You fall back onto your elbows with a noise of surprise, bouncing lightly on the mattress. Tsukishima only reaches for your panties again, tugging them down and smiling to himself when you lift your hips to help him. 

He throws them somewhere over his shoulder, refusing to break his attention. Planting his hands on each of your knees, he pries your knees open slowly, glancing up at your face for any signs of discomfort. When he finds none, his gaze flicks back down to what’s in front of him.

And then his breath is cutting short at the sight of you lying bare in front of him. You’re glistening, even in this dark room, and his cock is suddenly unbearably hard. 

He’d been thinking about this moment for far longer than he’d ever care to admit. 

“Well, isn’t this just the prettiest little pussy I’ve ever seen?” 

You throw your head back at his words, moaning loudly. 

“Oh, shut up.” You know Tsukki’s slept with his fair share of girls since you’d started college - being a popular volleyball player has its benefits. You’d done the same, hoping to squash down that jealousy in your own, twisted way. To hear him praising you like this - like you’d always wanted - has you clenching and squirming from the desire coursing through your veins.

“First you get mad because I’m too mean, and now you’re mad because I’m being nice?” He tilts his head, his voice mocking. “You really need to make up your mind.” 

And then, before you can let out some kind of snarky quip, he’s dipping his head and dragging his tongue over your slit in one long stripe. 

You gasp loudly and moan out his name, falling back onto the mattress as your hands fly to his head. You bury your fingers in his hair, tightening your grip when he does it again, licking through your folds before latching onto your clit, pulling the nub gently into his mouth.

He moans loudly against you when you mewl and pull his hair. The vibration on your clit makes you squirm, and you’re involuntarily rutting your hips against his face. He only laughs against you, his breath tickling your skin, and wraps an arm over your hips to hold you steady on the bed.

He pulls his mouth off of you, and you lift your head to look at him in annoyance. He smirks, holding eye contact while he brings his other hand to your folds. When he runs his fingers through them, stopping briefly to circle your clit, you whimper. And when he drops his middle finger to your entrance, nudging gently at it in question, you bite your lip and nod furiously, just wanting him to touch you already-

“Oh my- Kei-” Your head falls back when he slides his finger in and drops his mouth to your clit to suck on it. He sets his pace with his finger, thrusting into you and curling gently up toward himself, repeating the process until he can tell by your squirming hips that you’re starting to feel something.

And then he’s pushing another finger past your entrance, his cock twitching when you moan at the stretch. He’s been painfully hard for a while now, and all he wants is to be inside you of already. He doesn’t realize you’re feeling just as impatient, only noticing when your hands drop to his shoulders, tugging on his shirt.

“Kei …” You pout down at him, your eyelids fluttering when he thrusts his fingers into you again. His fingertips are brushing against a spot you’ve never been able to reach yourself, his fingers much longer than yours. You think you might become addicted to his hands soon. But you only pull again on his shirt with a whine, hoping he’ll get the message. 

Luckily, he does, because he’s pulling away to rip his shirt impatiently off his back, wiping his mouth with it before throwing it to the floor. He unzips his jeans as he makes his way up to the bed, pausing to scoop you up into his arms and tossing you closer to your pillows so he can climb on top of you.

When he pushes his mouth to yours, you’re moaning. He tastes like you, something he’s apparently proud of, because he’s just smiling against you and shoving his tongue past your lips. He drops his mouth to your neck again as he fumbles with his jeans.

“You taste so good, you know that?” He latches onto your skin, sucking harshly. “So much better than I’d imagined.” He pushes his pants just past his thighs, growing impatient. You gasp quietly when his cock brushes against you, the sound changing to a moan when Tsukishima runs it through your folds, sliding against you.

He lifts his head to look at you, his eyes searching yours in a moment of astounding clarity given the insanity of this whole night.

“You sure?”

Your heart jumps when he asks. He’s got the tip of his cock nudging against your entrance, clearly holding himself back. But the way he’s looking at you makes you realize he wants this to be done right - after all, this had started with the two of you fighting. He doesn’t want you to regret this later and be even more upset with him.

He doesn’t want to lose you.

The idea that that’s what been hiding behind Tsukki’s eyes tonight - that vague panic that you couldn’t put your finger on - makes your heart sing and your stomach swoop with butterflies. You can only nod, cupping his face and bringing him down to your lips. His kiss is gentle and full of something that makes your nerves worse, something that makes you feel more than sure.

“I want this more than anything.”

Tsukishima’s heart skips, and he’s swearing softly against your lips. He hovers over you, keeping his mouth on yours as he presses his thumb against the head of his cock, guiding it past your entrance.

You gasp together as he pushes slowly into you, a moan pulled from your throat when he bottoms out and breathes out your name. The fog in your head - a mixture of alcohol, arousal, and nerves at the realization that you’re having sex with your best friend - worsens considerably when he drops his head to your neck, making an admission against your ear.

I’ve wanted this for so long …”

You whimper, curling your fingers into his hair and holding him close as he pulls out slowly just to slide into you again. You moan at the slow stretch, feeling his shaky breath against your ear.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you…” Tsukishima doesn’t know why he’s choosing now to have this conversation, when you very well can just talk about it after. But there’s a strand of fear twisting around the butterflies in the pit of his stomach, and his mouth is moving without his permission. He needs you to understand what this means to him.

“I didn’t know it would hurt you… I didn’t mean it…” His hips are still slow, moving languidly against yours. He’d expected this to be rough - sex is only ever rough for him - but he needs to concentrate on what he’s saying. And you feel so good like this, so warm and tight around him.

You’re having the same problem, your head completely empty as you feel him push into you inch by inch instead of all at once. You can barely hear him, your ears ringing and your skin overheating while you try to process that this is actually happening - that you finally have Tsukishima Kei the way that you’d always dreamed about.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, Y/n.”

Your heart stutters when you realize what he’s been saying. Even with everything else going on right now - even as his hips are picking up the pace, even with his breath shuddering against your skin as he moans quietly in your ear - he’s distracted, trying to apologize. Trying to make things right between you.

“It’s okay…” You whisper forgiveness into his hair, but you feel him shake his head, his grip on your hips tightening.

“It’s not. I shouldn’t hurt you. Not you…” He gasps quietly into your neck, his hips stuttering momentarily before he returns to his previous speed. “S-Sorry… You feel really good… Trying to focus.”

You flush, clenching around him and pulling him closer when he groans. You think about what he’s saying. ‘ Not you ’?

You’re about to ask what he means, but he’s mumbling another admission against your skin, this one much more intense than the last.

“I love you, Y/n… So fucking in love, it hurts…”

You inhale sharply, your heart stopping in your chest. But then there’s a moan ripping from your throat, because he’s hitting a spot in you that you didn’t even know existed, the tip of his cock bumping up against something that makes the coil in the pit of your stomach twist harshly.

“I- fuck - Tsukki, I love you, too…”

Tsukishima lifts his head then, staring down at you with surprise written all over his face. You can only breathe out a laugh, moaning quietly while you giggle.

“What, you’re shocked? I just told you I almost went home with Bokuto just so I could stop thinking about you.”

His eyes darken at your words, and his hips are snapping harshly against yours. You moan in surprise, feeling your stomach flip at the way he’s looking down at you. He seems to remember now just how this night could have gone.

He sits up, knocking your hands away when you reach out for him with a whine, and pulls out of you completely. Slipping off the edge of the bed, he wraps his hands around your thighs and tugs you toward him roughly. He only smiles mockingly down at you when you slide across the mattress with a quiet yelp, pulling your hips flush against his.

When he slips into you again, the soft, caring Tsukishima is gone, replaced with the Tsukki you’ve always known. The one who has no problem running his mouth just to get to you.

“That’s it then, huh? If I hadn’t dragged you home, you’d be wrapped around another man right now?” He slams into you, watching with delight as you cry out and arch your back. He keeps this pace, his grip on your hips bordering on painful as he drives his cock into you.

“Tsukki-”

“What did I tell you? ” His tone cuts through you, yanking hard on that coil in your navel and setting off a fresh flurry of butterflies.

“I- Kei -”

“You think you can forget about me that easily? You think I would let you?” 

You’re writhing under him, hands gripping your sheets tight as you gasp with each hard thrust of his hips on yours. The sight makes Tsukishima’s hips stutter, and he feels his orgasm coming on. He drops his thumb to your clit to push you closer to the edge, throwing his head back with a moan when you clench around him.

“Kei, please- feels so goo- ah- ”

“S-Shit, Y/n, I’m not gonna last… Where should I-” Tsukishima almost loses it when you claw at his hands on your hips, latching onto his wrists as you moan.

“Insi-Inside… Inside, Kei, please…” You look up at him, taking in the flush of his cheeks, the way his eyelids flutter when you clench around him. The way he bites down hard on his bottom lip and moans after a few seconds, breaking his hold on you so he can slam his hands down on the mattress on either side of you, his hair falling into his face as he pants down at you.

“Fuck -” He reaches down, brushing his thumb over your clit again. When you tighten around him this time, he’s letting out a choked gasp and your name, and you’re suddenly filled with warmth as his hips stutter, as he spills into you. He drops his head to your shoulder, his breath shaky as he thrusts into you, riding out his orgasm.

And when he’s done - when his cum is dripping out of you while you squirm, feeling full but unsatisfied - he sits up, pulling you against him again. He wraps his fingers around your wrists, smiling breathlessly when you cling to his forearms, and uses you as leverage when he draws his hips back and snaps them harshly into yours.

You cry out, feeling yourself throb the more he all but drags you down onto his cock and tries to draw your orgasm out of you. He releases your wrists, his thumb circling that little bundle of nerves while his other hand grips the back of your thigh, spreading your legs even further. 

When he changes the angle of his stroke, you’re gasping, unable to handle all of the sensations he’s causing in your body. There’s too much going on, too many feelings happening, each of which is bringing you closer to the edge. You slap your hands down over your face, trying both to muffle your moans and also hide your face, feeling embarrassed that your body is reacting so strongly to everything Tsukishima does.

He only coos down at you, his tone almost insulting.

“Oh, is my baby going to come?”

You whine loudly at his words, so rude but so endearing - your stomach swoops as the coil tightens, but you nod anyway. His low chuckle reaches your ears.

“Let me see you, then.” When you don’t respond, only moaning into your hands with each thrust, he clicks his teeth at you in annoyance. “Come on, Y/n. I wanna see how pretty my best friend looks when she comes on my cock.”

Tsukishima beams when that does it, your back arching as you cry out his name. You screw your eyes shut and fumble desperately for his hands. He slips his fingers through yours, holding tight when you come, your walls fluttering around him. He fucks you through it, inhaling sharply when you become impossibly tight, and then drops down over you when you're done, pressing his lips to yours.

You let out a sob against his mouth, your limbs heavy as you try to catch your breath. 

“Tsukki …” You wiggle uncomfortably, wrapping your arms around his neck and clinging to him. He laughs against your neck, pressing kisses to your skin. And then he leans up again, pressing his lips to your tiredly.

“Let me get you cleaned up.” He snickers when you whine but joins in on your soft gasp when he slides out of you, both of you sensitive. Stripping you out of the dress that’s been bunched up on your stomach this whole time, he leaves you on the bed, kicking his jeans off as he makes his way into your connected bathroom. When he returns, it’s with a wet rag and a gentle hand on your thighs.

Tsukishima scoops you into his arms when he’s done, setting you carefully against the pillows and climbing into bed with you. Your head is still empty, and you reach your arms out uselessly for him, mumbling his name. He only smiles, pulling you against his chest and kissing the side of your head.

“You okay?” When you nod sleepily against his chest, he smiles, tugging you closer. “Not too mean?”

You giggle, planting a kiss on his neck.

“I like you a little mean.”

Tsukishima snorts, shaking his head.

“I know you do. But still…” He meets your eyes, suddenly shy, his cheeks flushing. “I’ll be better from now on. Less ‘ toxic boyfriend ’ and more ‘ insufferable but still cute ’.”

You beam at his words, your heart skipping.

“Boyfriend , huh?”

He rolls his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Oh, I’m sorry - I forgot you and Bokuto were basically married.”

“Oh, right, I should probably tell him the wedding’s off-”

“You’re a dick.”

[midnite-c6]

Heyyy! I just wanted to say I love your writing!! And I was wondering if I could request VIP!thanos x reader x VIP!Namgyu ?? I haven’t seen anyone write something like this yet and I think you’d write it so well😚 thank youuu❤️

ugh. yes. this. to pink guard, to frontmen and now to VIPs, god those pervy ones in season 1 really fit their essence!! this is also for the ones who wanted bukkake of the two! <3

VIP!thanos & VIP!nam-gyu x reader !!<3 warnings: 18+, DARK content, noncon, sa, sex, public space, threesome, no aftercare, degradationnnn (pls read at ur own risk!!)

つ⁠｡⁠☆ your broke ass was looking EVERYWHERE for a job... luckily! a man with dressed in a suit gave you a special card to call. boom. you're hired. but not as one of the guards, not as one of the players, but simply a servant, more of a maid. instead of being in any involvements during the games, you'd be cleaning up the soldiers rooms, washing the sheets for the 456 players who'd lay down on the beds, to think, the games were actually pretty clean and organized.

but... now it's your time to shine, since now the VIPs would come and visit. the frontman would prepare the small watching area for the VIPs, this was the first time you ever caught a glimpse of what was actually happening during the games, you thought it was some low quality TV show before, not realizing it was way darker than that. it made you quite shocked, and scared, duh.

the VIPs were loud and talkative, with their fancy suits, sure, but the ones in the corner were just full-on distracting! both had golden masks, a dog and a cat, they even seemed like bestfriends. "hey, pst, maid, c'mere." the one with the tattooed hand would signal you to come over, you were hesitant, but you decided to join them nonetheless. carefully walking over to not spill the tray you were holding onto. "a shot of vodka, please." the one with the cat mask hummed, offering his glass so you could refill it. you'd turn your face to the man in the dog mask, a much more deeper voice, he had the hand tattoos too. "babe, which player do you think will last the longest? bet on it, if you will." you shrugged, you weren't really trained to talk to the people you were serving at, especially in these type of games. he wasn't slow to surprise you, giving you a smack in the ass, making you yelp out loud. but only as much as they're the only ones to hear. "ah!"

"talk. i want you to talk. don't be boring.." he nudges your stomach, trying to annoy you even more. you really want to punch him, this guy's nerve. but the frontman was looking directly at you, if you were to do anything absurd, there's no doubt you'd get a bullet through your head. "just give us a damn number, woman, is it so hard?" the man in the cat mask groaned. he had less of a deep voice, sounding much more sly and snarky, like it was meant to push you over. "don't pressure," the tattooed hand would make way to touch your face, you were masked aswell, the frontman had his ideals in not to provide any information of the workers to the viewers and participants. "take this off? i'm sure you're pretty without it, hm?" you quickly shake your head! you can't do that! "fuckin' idiot, you remember what the guy said? no taking off masks." the cat was definitely much more grounded. "oh yeaah, whatever, nam-su. fuckin' stupid idea, but..!" "nam-gyu." the other one corrects, guess the guy wearing the cat mask was named nam-gyu? why do you care about this now? ..when the unnamed one has his hands now moving to your neck.. then to the sides of your chest, your body was shaking.. "they wouldn't mind if i take this off, huh?"

you didn't wanna strip! of course that wasn't in your plans, ever, even if it was in the darkest corner of the room! "i can see your eyes, all worried, sososo cute." he giggles, nam-gyu would sigh, "it's too easy," "right? m'sure it is, you getting turned on by masked men, honey?" this guy was getting on your last nerve. shut up! "let's make it a bit more challenging for me then." as if, as if you were turned on right now, as if you didn't tremble at the sound of his deep voice. "just say a number of a player, someone you'd think would survive!" you quietly mumble, not wanting any other servants or your boss to hear, "sir.. i.."

he cuts you off, with a warning. "...and if he dies, we'd get to fuck your cute little body, 'kay? make a wise decision." "and if she gets lucky? we'll just be blue-balled, idiot. thanos the legend my ass." his name was thanos ?? "shut up, jeez." was this even fair? no way! you shake your head, not wanting to do whatever they say. thanos would only scoff, flicking your forehead. "you're a servant here and you don't serve? are you dense?" this wasn't in anything you signed up for. "hey, man, we can take her to the bathroom later, yeah?" nam-gyu would question the black-masked man, you turn your head to face him, he surely knows what that implied.. but it broke your heart into pieces when he'd nod, not caring about you :(. poor you.

you look at the big window outside, quickly muttering out a number, you'd only pray that they'd live for the whole entirety of the round.

nope, the player didn't survive. (⁠.⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)

nsfw below!! ->

as they both promised, carrying you out to the small bathroom stall strictly for VIPs, your squirms and attempts to escape were no match to their strength, especially thanos'.

"fucking hell! these masks were making me sweat." nam-gyu would take off his mask, forehead sweaty, he had soft yet sharp features, he looks young too. "let- let me go!' you'd see him look down on you and laugh. wow, it felt much more humiliating this way. thanos would toss his mask out aswell, flashing you with his purple hair. "looks like we won the bet, babeee." fuck, these were handsome men, who look like they're high as hell, but handsome nonetheless. "i'm sure you're not even thinkin' about it like it's a punishment."

thanos would quickly rip off the black tights you were assigned to wear, ripping off the black body-con dress that fit the aesthetic of the frontman's taste. he'd bite his lips, seeing the wet patch forming at the center of your panties, he politely moves them aside instead of ripping them off! still, he'd shamefully slide his fingers onto your slick, making you unfortunately moan in front of him, he'd take a lick at the residue that would stay on his fingers. "you like? you taste like you do." he asks, before diving in to give a generous lick on your pussy, licking the juices off clean, what the hell "stop-" you whined. he'd bite your clit in response, making you whine even louder, "if you didn't want this you prolly would've guessed better." making it sound like it was your fault, ultimately.

nam-gyu would move underneath the two of you, he was as aggressive as thanos, tearing more of your stockings, just to feel your pretty ass bare. his hands would grope roughly. "you used to takin' two?" he asks, into your ear. even at this point, you didn't wanna entertain them at all, "jesus." his grip on you would tighten. why was he so pissed all the time? "i'll fuck you with no prep, just answer, damn." his grip was now starting to hurt even more. "n-no! no. i'm not.. i'm not used to two." "yeah. was that so hard?" you shake your head. "no..no.." he was too rough, he makes the purple-haired one look gentle.

turns out, their idea of "prep" was just spitting on your trembling pussy, before putting out their dicks to simply put inside you! thanos was too teasy about it, he'd have the tip of his dick brushing against your pussy lips, slightly pushing past your hole, but he'd pull out quickly, leaving you to clench against thin air. "nn... please..." as much as you didn't want to, he'd make your subconscious beg for it! to beg for more! "beg more, baby, let me hear." "please, pleas-! hoh- fuck!" and when you did beg for more... nam-gyu, who was underneath you, would fully push inside your other hole, leaving a loud groan to echo your ears. "so tight, holy fuck. not used to anal?" you nod, it was pretty obvious. though that didn't stop him from starting a brutal pace, leaving you moan out from the pain and stinging feeling, whining about how it hurts too much... "stop bitching around, and take it, that's all your good for, yeah?" all the while, thanos's dick would teasingly brush against your clit, giving it the slightest bit of attention.

and when thanos would feel generous enough to slide inside your needy cunt, who was aching for his dick to finally be shoved, prepare for the thick loads of seed to be inside you, i mean, he seems pent up all the time. the sight of leaking cum out of you, juicing their balls dry, was too rewarding. "ah bro, i feel like a true VIP now," thanos would laugh. "she's beginner at best, i woulda paid less." that hurt a bit... still, they'd take turns to fuck your cunt and ass, dumping their load inside, leaving your body to become a container of their white sticky juice, you'd pass out from the contact, losing breath, and the compact space. :< "we'll come back again, okay?" "we already trained you for next time. don't forget."

now you're left in the VIP bathroom, your unconscious body lying on the tiled floor, they didn't even take the time to take off your mask to see your pretty face :(. you were only two holes to them </3.

war is almost over for me, my training is almost over 💓 i'll be free to write moreeeee

[colourstreakgryffin]

Oh my gosh! HELLOO!

Anywho~

I had a request for Alastor with a reader who’s contract with Valentino just ended and Angel brings them to the hotel to help them get on their feet, they have lots of trauma from what the endured, maybe they stay close to Alastor because he’s very much a gentleman and never treats them like Val did?

Thank you!!

Oooh! I like this one a lot! We got a second Angel but unlike Angel, we’re probably better and less snarky and bitchy. Sorry, Angel. Anyway! Idk if it’s meant to be romantic or not so I am gonna guess—

Alastor- Redemption Path

Alastor can’t help but feel sorry and feel pity for you. You’re just like Angel but you aren’t as bad as Angel. A ex-pornstar that has finally been free from the pimp Overlord, Valentino and your dear friend Angel Dust is so relieved that you’re safe from him, now, he’ll take even more measures to make sure you’ll do better than him

Bringing you to the Hazbin Hotel, Angel Dust introduced you to the Hotel Staff. Hoping they could help get you back into Hell more stably. Out of Charlie feeling immense sorry for your sexual abuse trauma, Vaggie considering to sign you up for counselling and Angel Dust barking at Husk to be nicer to you. Alastor is the one who is the most interested in you

Alastor is the one who escorted you around the Hotel. He is the only one who treated you so perfectly, he is a true sweet gentleman and he is doing much for you that it’s unbelievable. He doesn’t want anything from you? How is that possible

Throughout the days since you first checked in as a client, Alastor notices the way you follow him around and he finds it adorable. You’re such a lost lonely little puppy needing somewhere to feel safer and he doesn’t mind playing that little safety spot for you. It’s quite amusing

“Oh. My dear, is something bugging you?” Alastor asked curiously as he finally turns around to face the cute eager shorter sinner that has been clinging onto him and following him around ever since he was polite and ‘respectful’ to them. Treating them like a person and not like an object. Unlike the first and only Overlord they knew at the time, he doesn’t even notice their curvy attractive body or make creepy sexual remarks in the slightest

He just compliments the cozy colourful classy outfits they’d wear, calling each and every one ‘adorable’. He finds you adorable as a whole and he is entertained that you’re so enamoured by his kindness, that you act like a baby fawn following his mother around

The sinner that has been following him around all day, takes a few seconds to even blink. You’re shyer around Alastor since he actually gives you a voice and a say-so, something you’re unfamiliar with. Having that… you never did back with Valentino and it’s almost overwhelming that such a friendly treatment is addictive to have, the way he handles you with delicacy. He isn’t usually a man to sympathise with an awful situation but for some reason, he sympathised with you in his own special little way. You’re thankful that he is even more polite and caring than anybody you’ve ever met, even Angel!

“Oh. My, you’re shivering. Are you cold?” You didn’t actually answer Alastor with words but instead with actions, approaching him and shyly reaching out for a handhold but you didn’t actually touch him, reminding yourself of his no touching clause. You hoped he’d let you slide this once. You don’t really have anybody to talk to after you were jolted awake from night terrors over what that awful squeaking sex-obsessed freak of a moth did to you throughout your contract with him

Angel is there as a friend but he’s busy still suffering under Valentino’s maniac rule right now, you don’t want to bother any of the staff nor Charlie about your problems whilst they are busy. Sooooo

You figured your emotional support, the one who has been very patient and understanding with you. He hasn’t let you down once just of yet

Alastor willingly takes your hand when he recognises your reach out attempt and brings you up to his side in a lone but strong tug. Not minding the sweater you wore being your only coverage for your bottom half. Just a cute off-the-shoulder sweater and thigh highs. Whilst your style mirrored Angel’s in an odd way, you didn’t gross the Radio Demon out like the current top pornstar did. You’re more innocent, more sophisticated

You’re nothing like Angel, despite escaping from the same ugly world as that spider sinner is still trapped in. You’re a recovering traumatised, overexploited pornstar in need of help to gain a new life within Hell and Alastor actually likes the idea of playing that knight in shining armour you clearly view him as. He can’t tell why but he likes it

Leading you down the empty, slightly dark hallway with one arm around your body to keep you close, pressing your face against the side edge of his broad chest and the other slightly stylishly twirling his signature staff-like microphone cane, the Radio Host plans to take care of you in other ways then just hand you some blankets and set you out to your own Hotel room. He’d prefer to personally put you to sleep and the process would be begin with a picture show, a talk and a darker warmer room

You didn’t know why but your face was beet red, your heart was pounding in your chest and your eyes sparkled as you tilted your slightly fuzzy head up to look at Alastor. In, what felt like a blink, his crimson red eyes flashed a sense of genuine affection before returning to the usual half-emotionless bloody haze as the radio effect on his rather mighty voice kicks in with the overlap of both sincerely caring and classic semi-mocking Alastor style caring

It doesn’t help that you swear you can feel his heartbeat grow faster…

Is Alastor feeling the same you are?!

“Come now, darling. You’re clearly having bad sleeping patterns. How about me and you watch that picture show you’ve been holding off? Yes. Yes, I know. I don’t like your technology but I wouldn’t be a help provider if I didn’t provide you help, now would I?”

[svtiddiess]

Ok idk if ur comfortable with this if no it’s okay. So I see a lot of reactions of threesomes and who would be with who and how it would work out between the boys. but what instead of a threesome it was a cuckhold situation. What boy would be paired with who how would the vibes work out and is it a one time thing something to happen frequently like once a month? Kind of similar somewhat different 

Cuckolding With SVT

Genre: smut, reactions, one shot, established relationship

Pairing: SVT x afab!reader

Warnings: smut, explicit language, cucking, penetrative sex, oral (fem receiving), squirting, threesomes, cumming on pants, voyeurism, exhibitionism, mentions of alcohol, lemme know if I missed anything!

Rating: mature

Word count: approx 800

Note: I really hope this answers your ask anon. Thank you so much to @hannieween and @multi-kpop-fanfics for helping me with the warnings!

A special thank you to my fellow sin sister @barbs4shua, couldn't have done this without her.

Click here to join my taglist!

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

Joshua

Joshua would 100% allow Jeonghan to ravage his girl. He would sit there with a smug look on his face and watch as Jeonghan has his way with you. But he won’t be quiet; he’d make snarky comments and throw in some insults as well; "How's my pretty girl doing? Is Jeonghan being mean to you? You want his cock? Eyes on me beautiful, let me see your pretty fucked out face as you cum....or not.” Jeonghan would feed off of this and would throw in some insults of his own. They both would be SO MEAN. Endless teasing from the both of them. You would either cum a lot or not cum at all, no in between. This would be such a frequent thing as well; he doesn’t mind sharing you with Jeonghan and watching you get fucked by him.

Seungcheol

Seungcheol would also have Jeonghan over, but with him, it’ll only be done when he wants to punish you. Been acting up lately? Well, time to call Jeonghan and watch you get absolutely destroyed by him. He sits legs spread, smirk on his face, and whiskey in hand as he watches you. And Jeonghan’s so much more meaner than Seungcheol so you’ll definitely be sobbing and begging by the end of it. But he wouldn't want another man getting his woman to finish, so he'd most likely grab you and growl, "You only get to finish on my cock", right before pushing in. And Jeonghan would get to stroke himself till he cums.

Minghao

Mingyu is the one who suggested the whole idea to Minghao; after a bit of convincing, Minghao decided to give it a shot. He didn’t think he would get so hot and bothered by it, but boy, was he wrong. Mingyu would see how riled up Minghao was getting, so he’d make sure to put on a good show for him. And boy, does Mingyu love putting on a show. He’d make you cum over and over again, drawing out moans and whimpers. He’d also manage to make you squirt, completely soaking the bed. As Minghao is slightly possessive of his girl, this wouldn’t be a frequent thing, but if he feels like spicing up the sex life, Mingyu would be on speed dial.

Seungkwan

Seungkwan and Hoshi’s relationship in this situation will be…odd. This whole thing stemmed from an argument. To prove a point, Hoshi would go back to Seungkwan’s place, eat you out, and make you cum as many times as possible as Seungkwan watches. After the first time it happened, they concluded that every time they argue it must end with Hoshi eating you out for hours, no questions asked. And Hoshi just NEEDS to piss off Seungkwan even more, so you know he’s gonna make you cum until you pass out just by using his tongue. And Seungkwan just loves seeing you fall apart again and again. You look so angelic as you plead with Hoshi to stop, but you know he’s not gonna be stopping any time soon. So if Hoshi and Seungkwan get into an argument, just know that it’s gonna be a long night :)

Jeonghan

Jeonghan wanted to teach Dino how to treat a woman right, and what better way to teach than to give a hands-on experience? He’d invite Dino over to ‘teach him the ropes’ by letting him have a taste of you. But it turns out Dino was the one pulling the ropes. Dino proves he’s no novice; he makes you cum over and over again until you’re screaming his name. Jeonghan would be impressed and very turned on with the way your face contorted in pleasure as Dino pounds into you. But Jeonghan being Jeonghan would never admit that Dino fucks you better than he does, so he keeps on inviting Dino over to ‘teach’ him when in fact, he just wants to watch you get fucked by Dino.

Wonwoo

Wonwoo sees the way you flirt with Jun; he’s not dumb; he knows that you’re into him, and he sees the way that Jun flirts back, too. Wonwoo isn’t really into watching his girl get fucked by another dude, but he’s way too whipped for you not to allow your dreams to come true. He talked to Jun about it, and it was intended to be a one-time thing only, but with the way he sees you writhing under Jun, he’s not too sure he wants it to be a one-time thing. The way Jun fucks you as you moan Jun’s name and look directly at Wonwoo has him palming himself through his jeans. He’d cum in his pants without even realising it; he’d never admit it, though (but it’s pretty obvious with the way his jeans are stained). He’s inviting Jun over more often than he initially thought, not because he’s into it or anything; it’s only cause he wants you to be happy…right?

[lordofdestructionm]

Wick Sable

The odd duck in the guilded cage

Despite this being a feral Mordecai and Viktor account I do occasionally like to dig into the others.

Wick is a character Lackadaisy fans love but don't talk about very much. He just the rich friendly geologist with a love of illicit beverages and a crush on Mitzi. Indeed he is all those things. But I want to dig a little into what may be hidden depth (geography joke haha)

Professional dissatisfaction

When we first meet Wick he is behind his desk looking very tired and beaten down. Forcing himself to keep working late into the night with excessive coffee. Attending to a large pile of paper work for tomorrow.

His expression shifts slightly when he sees the Lackadaisy pins fall out of the envelope and realises the letter is an invitation to him (and his fellow aristocrats) to the speakeasy.

This hatred of paper work and the administrative side of his business is a recurring issue for Wick. Making the reason for his reliance on the capable and attentive Lacy very obvious. Exhaustian and too much alchohol are no doubt partly to blame, but it seems to be something that puts him in a very depressed state of mind.

But when actually on the job, overseeing the hands on work of blasting a new quarry, his mood is much more positive. Indeed he has a very real and sincere love for geology and the nitty gritty work of his business. When he first went to the Lackadaisy he was spellbound by the lime caverns themselves as much by Mitzi's charm.

Its his special interest and he will go on long unprompted monologues on the topic if given the chance. Meaning it is specifically the being trapped in his office dealing with the red tape that makes him so unhappy not the industry itself.

Its almost sad that he is the one in charge of the company rather than in a role that puts him closer to the action which seems to bring him real joy. Like someone who loves cooking being in charge of a restuarant or someone that loves drawing running an animation studio.

They love the product/industry but that doesn't mean they enjoy their specific place in it.

Unimpressed Peers

Despite Wicks enthusiasm it proves not be infectious with his fellow elite, who complain about being dragged out of town to watch something, that while very important to Wick, they clearly could not care less about (even not that quietly mocking him and his love for rocks and construction)

When the evening doesn't go to plan due to the uninvited pig farmers Wick has an interesting exchange with Edmund Church, seemingly the most prominent of the St Louis upper crust in the group. Warning him about getting any more involved with an unsavoury crowd, especially Mitzi, outside of simply enjoying the occasional drink.

Wick doesn't take kindly to the snarky criticism and borderline threat to his reputation and responds with a much more direct statement on his peers sour nature

Tracy has mentioned that Church has a role yet to play in the story and it seems safe to assume from this it may well involve Wick in a less than friendly way if he continues to associate with his "lessers" as Church and the others see things.

Despite needing to remain on civil terms to keep them invested in his business, Wick clearly has little love for them, a feeling that is mutual as they have little respect for him and see him as an oddball, only tolerating him because his talent in his field can help make them a tidy profit.

But while he doesn't appreciate Church's sniping Wick IS concerned about his reputation, but not entirely for his own sake or that of his elitist associates, but for the many people who rely on him for employment, who could be hurt by extension of he gets pulled too deep into the less than repectable world of bootlegging

Romantic life

Outside of the crush he has had on Mitzi since first meeting her at the Speakeasy, we have very little information about Wicks love life before this. Being a handsome and wealthy gentleman from a good family, you would think he would he fighting women off with a stick, maybe even be a bit of a playboy.

Instead you get the impression Wick is pretty far away from being a ladies man. Mentioning to Mitzi that he doesn't even really know how to talk to women unless its about rocks, bugs or limestone.

He is clearly attracted to her and is tempted by her to risk his reputation and by extension his business to get closer to her, but so far his fear of the very real consequences are deterring him from taking that gamble.

Though there is that personal aspect to it, it seems that in a more abstract sense Mitzi's appeal to Wick is not just in her beauty and seductive personality, but in the excitement and thrill of her Speakeasy and bootlegging operations.

In that sense Mitzi represents that touch of danger and excitement that during prohibition many otherwise law abiding citizens enjoyed indulging in illegal drinking establishments. Being* just* naughty enough to give them a fun thrill while being detached from the more brutal blood soaked aspects.

Wick is a good natured person (the worst thing he has done is shoot a duck in his youth which he was forced to do) living a very "respectable" life, but that makes the superficial glamour of the world of underground drinking establishments and secret booze stashes even more appealing. Thats why despite his concerns and responsibilities he keeps going back ,not just to Mitzi, but to the Lackadaisy specifically. It has pretty geography, a pretty owner, and an open door to a more exciting avenue of life

Its for that same reason he doesn't seem to be overly uncomfortable with lovable bi disaster Zib flirting with him at the bar. He may have no intention of reciprocating, but it couldn't be a more different experience to the world he is used to

Even if he doesn't yet want to take the full plunge it all excites him enough to keep him circling the edges.

Because despite having so much going for him there are things about his life that not only bore him but make him unhappy. Whether its piles of paperwork, dealing with much stuffier "conventional" fellow aristocrats and not wanting to be like them, or just a general lack of true passion in his life, he is clearly a man looking for something more satisfying

Whether or not he remains a "tourist" or decides to take that gamble, throw his reservations to the wind, and take a more active role in the gang, is yet to be seen...

Assuming Rocky doesn't set fire to him first of course XD

[yandere-sins]

Wriothesley didn't smile much.

Occasionally, he felt his features being torn into a grimace of faux pleasantry, his eyes as cold as the sea that his prison lay beneath while he bared his teeth to pretend a mood he wasn't in. People liked it when he appeared friendly before them; he felt nothing. Only the most perceptive amongst them would have noticed his smiles never reaching his eyes. And those few knew better than to run their mouths. There simply wasn't much to smile about when he kept himself busy by dealing with the problems and conflicts that kept rising around him. No matter how hard he worked, he always woke to a new day of challenges. It was how he wanted it, as it allowed him to forget the memories he didn't want to ponder.

And though Meropide forged unique relationships amongst its prisoners, the same couldn't be said about Wriothesley.

Even respected and, occasionally, admired by others, his life was more lonesome than it would seem to some. Good company was hard to come by when he spent all his time below the surface, running his prison and enjoying tea in his office with only his own thoughts to listen to. Every day was bittered by the uncertainty of the future he never thought he'd live to see. That same bitterness robbed him of genuine smiles to decorate his face with.

That was until you came along.

If he was the gasoline keeping the machines working, you were the match setting them ablaze. If he was the hot water to make his tea, you were the sugar sweetening his day. There was no friendly banter to have with you, no matter how little Wriothesley cared for the cold shoulder and snarky rejections you gave him every time he sought you out. And yet, the thought of seeing you again was enough to put a spring in his step, his lips parting in a grin more becoming of a little boy than a grown man.

Undoubtedly, you'd be there, in his office, sorting through his paperwork or glowering at the tea cups as you counted down the seconds the leaves needed to seep. You were meticulous like that, although Wriothesley would have drunk straight-up poison if you had served it. He knew you would welcome him with a sigh and your attention diverted towards other matters than him—you liked the credit coupons way too much that this work earned you. It was a privileged position, and you sought after any work Wriothesley handed you, even if you harbored no other feelings but indifference for the 'Duke'.

But how could he not adore you?

It had been a while since Wriothesley felt as alive as he did when he met you. You might have turned down any offer to join him for a meal (on his dime, mind you) or to give you a paid day off. Still, the way you fretted over a minor, completely irrelevant mistake you made was too adorable to send you away. He loved your serious ways, loved your hardworking mindset. He kept replaying your focused expression and grimaces in his head, chuckling into the darkness while he laid in bed at night.

There was no particular reason his heart chose you. Or perhaps his heart chose you, which made the reason special? But either way, he watched you over the edge of the report he should have been reviewing. Watched your hand guiding the feather over the paper you were working on, wishing you'd come over and hold his hand instead.

Wriothesley observed how you furrowed your brows tensely, wondering if you'd let him massage the tension away. He caught the way you nibbled at your lips, wishing he'd be able to have a taste of them instead. Working with you was torture. Torture he enjoyed a little too much.

"You're going to stare a hole through that paper, your grace," you noted, not even looking up at him as you spoke. You two weren't on the best terms since you still hated him after he thwarted your plans to escape the prison. But the way you called him by the respectful title he didn't care about didn't send a shiver down his spine because of the vitriol you spat it with. The grin curling the corners of his lips was evidence of that, but Wriothesley quickly hid it behind his hand, clearing his throat.

He went to grab his cup of tea, but it was already empty. The sinking feeling of disappointment curled in his stomach as he realized what this meant.

"It's past your work hours," he reminded you, secretly hoping you'd not care. It was past his work hours, too, but he'd rather sit in silence with you, working, than at home with only the memory to keep him company.

"You're right," you noted, no indications of your next move from the sound of your voice. Would you stay? Would you leave? You kept scribbling the itemization he had you create, and a glimmer of hope lit his world up. That was, until you set down the feather, gathered your documents, and created order on your table that Wriothesley had squeezed into his pretty crowded office.

Before you could say anything, he had gotten up, standing even before you did. "I will see you out," he explained as you glared at him, knowing fully well that with his gaze so strangely fixated on you, his reaction was not normal. And it wasn't, not when it made his heart beat incredibly fast, Wriothesley hoping you couldn't hear it break out of his ribcage the closer he got to you.

"My, someone's in a hurry," you commented snidely, and Wriothesley's grin jerked back into place. "Are you invited on a date or something...?"

"Depends," he started, quickly catching his composure after the initial surprise over your question. Was it jealousy, perhaps? A man could dream. "Are you free tonight?"

Taking a quick step forward, he stopped you in your tracks, coming to a halt in front of you. You two stared at each other in silence, displeasure written over your face that was just inches away from his. Your breath caressed him, swirls of your scent fogging his mind. Wriothesley could have leaned forward, abused this situation in ways unbecoming of his position. Risking it all just to brush his lips against yours. But his heart might have burst into a million pieces had he done so. Instead, he stood and waited, hoping for you to be the first to break the charade of your hatred. Give him the signals he so desperately hoped for.

Maybe it was all false after all. Perhaps you felt even just the smallest piece of love for him, too.

But instead, you rolled your eyes as you pushed past him, gesturing for him to go down the stairs first. He was your superior, after all, although he would rather squeeze up next to you than walk before you. Even if his heart clenched with your simple and justified rejection, it was unthinkable he'd miss out on the chance to walk beside you and watch you like a hawk until the very end.

"Funny," you finally replied, and it brought the heat to his face as you complimented him. Wriothesley was not trying to be funny by asking you out—again—but he'd take what he could. "But I fear I'm too busy for that. I'd rather get out of this prison faster than waste my time."

The laugh that escaped him was one he had practiced for years, barely distinguishable from a real one. It covered the hurt of your rejection and the fear of losing you. Inside this prison, he had the power to keep you by his side. But outside of it? His reach didn't go much further than these walls.

"You're very optimistic about your time here. How refreshing."

It was rare that you smiled in his presence. In fact, Wriothesley seemed to cause your mood to sour with the whisper of his name alone. So when it was your turn to grin, he noticed it immediately. He watched your lips curl in awe as if you were bestowing him with a blessing rather than your pity.

"It's already been a year, your grace. And don't try to tell me my behavior wasn't anything but perfect. I don't think my sentence will be much longer than what I've been given after the escape."

Time slowed as you moved forward, passing Wriothesley as his steps halted. You noticed quickly when his shoulder stopped bumping into yours, standing still at the bottom of the staircase before turning around.

"Don't tell me you thought I'd always be here."

Of course, he didn't. He knew your time would come. But not so soon... had it really been a year already?

"I'm glad for you," he mumbled, more out of reflex than from his heart. Wriothesley only ever strived to have his prisoners redeem themselves, but did that really mean he had to let you go? "Your hard work will be missed."

"I'm sure," you replied, turning back to the door before heaving open the heavy metal as he trudged after you slowly. The news hit him like a fist to his face, breaking, shattering. But it was his heart that received the blow. Perhaps in all this time, he enjoyed himself a little too much by your side, the end of your sentence seemingly so far away. And now that you were slipping out of his grasp, the panic began to fester—feelings he could not control.

"As always," you suddenly chimed up, and although his eyes didn't stray from you, Wriothesley noticed you two were no longer alone, activating the false persona you liked to display in front of strangers. It always made him feel special that you didn't put it up before him, but right now, he wished the conversation wouldn't be interrupted. That he had time to convince you to stay here. With him.

"It was a pleasure working with you, your grace. I look forward to our next meeting. Don't let me keep you!"

And with a smile and a wave, you bounced off to enjoy your evening. Away from him. Happy without him.

Wriothesley could barely pull himself together to greet the prisoner who walked up to him. The man tried to get his attention, but Wriothesley watched you disappear into the crowd even long after you were gone.

"Your grace!" the man suddenly yelled right next to his ear, and although it was not as angelic and beautiful as what came from your lips, it tore him right out of his thoughts.

"That person," the man mumbled, pointing the way you left and indicating he was talking about you. He leaned in closer to whisper, and Wriothesley curled his hands into fists, holding back from punching him after he dared mention you. "There's something I have to tell you about."

"Sure," Wriothesley said, wincing at his own soundless answer. He couldn't help the annoyance that someone knew something about you that he didn't. But he'd listen and learn.

"To say it frankly, they've not been conducting themselves properly. Many of us have suffered from their actions, and now that they will be released, I think we should speak up about their misdeeds."

Oh, Wriothesley thought, the tension falling off him. He raised his hand to pat the man's back, inviting him inside his office. Wriothesley couldn't pretend not to be happy, a gentle smile creeping over his face. It was a little less fake than any other smile he had given the countless prisoners around here, but the real ones were still only reserved for you. "These are some serious accusations. How about we take your statement inside?"

He sent the man inside, looking back into the crowd aimlessly for the sight of you before he shut the door. You were somewhere out there, still thinking you'd get to go home soon. Wriothesley smiled. Unless there was a reason as to why you'd need to stay.

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

"It's good to see you again."

It was impossible to wipe away the big smile off his face as you stood before him, frowning deeply.

"I'm really, truly sorry that your sentence has been prolonged. But alas, it will be nice to work by your side once again."

He watched with the greatest satisfaction as you bit your lip, the thought of kissing you right on the mark popping into his head again. However, fear crossed his features as he noticed you didn't stop, even as it started to bleed. Wriothesley wondered how your blood tasted before he focused back on the situation at hand. He knew you had to hold back every inch of your being to not scream and cry and shout at him, although he would have liked to be given a reason to shut you up—any way necessary.

You knew fully well he was the one signing your final sentence. Buying and selling illegal goods didn't warrant another five years of imprisonment. But your conduct had been too good to push for the ten years Wriothesley wanted—believe him, he fought hard for justice that day. Even Neuvillette was surprised that Wriothesley was so intensely interested in your redemption. However, the Ludex still went against the pleading of an old yet desperate and needy friend and just gave you five.

It was disappointing, but Wriothesley didn't plan on letting the time he had been given go to waste.

Picking up his cup, he held it out to you, giving you a gentle, reassuring smile that reflected nothing of the malice he had to harbor to get you to stay. After all, he was delighted, thoroughly pleased even. The day had only just begun and his mood was already through the roof just having you back in his office again.

"Cup of tea?" he asked innocently. Your eyes dropped to the cup, a hint of uncertainty about why he was treating you so kindly even though you misstepped again.

"On it," you mumbled, taking the cup from his hand, your fingers brushing over his, feeling much too soft for such a bad criminal as you were. But before he could imagine those fingers wrapped into his hair and clothes in an intense make-out session, you shocked him as you whispered, "Thank you, your grace," as if to thank him for not kicking you out from this job that definitely benefitted you. You were still snide, still angry you had to do it in the first place. But apparently, a part of you recognized his innocence as goodwill. At least, he could make himself believe that besides the perceived snark.

Off you went to brew some tea, standing barely ten meters from him. But at least with your back turned, you missed the heat spreading over Wriothesley's face, into the tip of his ears and across his cheeks. And even when you turned back, the hand clasped over his mouth didn't give away the genuine smile of adoration he couldn't seem to wipe off his face. Wriothesley would enjoy the time spent with you, day after day, waiting for you to make another mishap so you'd have a reason to stay with him forever. Otherwise, Wriothesley was sure he'd find another way to keep you all to himself.

But for now, he'd start by making you smile at him first.

[please-destroy]

River

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 4k

.

There were two of you. You knew that from the start. You did not ask about her.

You were in love. You wanted to be.

When she took your hand, her fingers would thread slowly with yours. Your heart beat stronger with her gentle touch. You ignored the cool metal of her wedding band.

You pretended that no one else loved her like you did.

Her lips were always rougher than they looked. You lived for the feel of them on your skin. 

Sometimes, she told you about her wife. Only in passing, only in reference to their shared life. Mentions of weekend trips and dinners after work.

At first, you listened eagerly. Naive and envious in the same breath, you longed for a life just like it. Most embarrassingly, you started to hope for it. You remembered small details purposefully, how she always forgot to wear sunscreen, that she hated the stress of driving to new places. 

You didn’t ask her to choose you, not yet. But, now she was with you in your daydreams.

.

Months passed like water pouring out. You let each one wash over you.

She rented an apartment in the city just for you to share. Soon, it felt more like home than your own cheap rental. 

You found yourself on your lunch breaks at the cafe, living for her short texts, laughing at her snarky complaints. 

In the evenings, her nails scraped through your hair and you felt alive. 

Winter froze the city but you’d never felt warmer. 

She saw you the day after Christmas. You’d already decorated a small tree in the apartment. Her long dark hair sparkled under the strings of lights that you’d hung. She smiled with a special kind of relief when you told her about the takeout that you’d ordered. 

You listened to her quiet murmurings about the exhausting holiday season trapped with a woman who only drained her.

She gave you a watch that felt too expensive to sit on your wrist. You glanced down at it while you ate your takeout, feeling unspeakably special.

You gave her polaroids that you’d been very shy to pose for. 

She left the next morning, extra early to ensure she was on time for some obligation at her wife’s work.

You lay an extra hour, tangled up in the sheets, realising that you didn’t know who you were without her.

She had flooded your veins, watering down whatever had made you up before. You decided that you liked it.

She called you on New Year’s Eve; she’d bailed on some party just to speak to you. You could hear the frustration simmering in her tone. You ached at her unhappiness, but you also thrived on the feeling of being wanted by her. That you could be her place to turn to. 

At last, she said the words that you’d been praying to hear.

She was ready to end her marriage. 

The new year began with fresh anticipation. 

.

January ended and nothing had changed. 

.

You tried to be patient, waiting for her to tell you about divorce papers or formal separations.

You saw her more than ever in that sacred apartment. But, the precious lingering moments started to feel sluggish. You felt like you were on the edge of something real. You awaited the promised vacations, the shared domestic life, your own evening dates in fancy restaurants. 

The delay made you feel more stained by everything you’d done together. Reality began to feel heavier. 

In the evenings with her, you’d curl in her arms and let the white sheets take away the sin of it all. Slowly, in those quiet moments together,  she started to tell you all the details of her marriage. 

The words seemed unstoppable, unflinching in their honesty. At first, you felt proud that she could confide in you.

She listed the reasons that she’d strayed, the reasons that she’d found you.

The abstract wife who’d never seemed real, now became increasingly formed.

‘Natasha’ started to haunt your dreams.

You heard bitter stories about Natasha’s crippling fear of intimacy, the impact it had on everyone close to her. How frustrating it was. The way she distrusted simple kindness. The holidays she had ruined with her petty arguments. Her insecurities that never seemed to go away. 

Natasha’s motives seemed twisted, illogical, cruel, as you were told them. The stories seemed like bad fairy tales but you listened patiently to each one.

She continued to confide in you. Stories from years ago and moments from her day to day. You waited for the inevitable conclusion to be reached, for the logical choice to separate from the villain in every tale. 

All you seemed to get were more bitter stories.

.

You started to feel like a stone embedded in a riverbed, caught in the constant stream of water but never quite dislodged enough to break free.

You started hearing the bias in her stories, the cruelty of her tone. You started seeing a side of her that you didn’t want to.

More than anything, you found yourself starting to root for another woman who could only hate you. 

Natasha was so much stronger than either of you. 

Snippets of description lingered in your head, even when you were alone. 

Sometimes, sitting in your own apartment, you tried to imagine what shade of green Natasha’s eyes were. If she was really so tiresome or just not as self-interested as her wife.

You’d spent half a year living for the moments in that apartment. For warm towels wrapping around you, soft sheets and tangled limbs. The fleeting comfort of being held from behind, warm kisses on your bare shoulders.

You’d felt precious, like a gift meant for her. Someone to be cherished.

Now, you looked at yourself, staring back in the foggy bathroom mirror and knew that you were unloved.

You realised that your eyes were empty. You had stopped trying to be someone you liked.

You felt drained and understood at last that you were being used. .

You realised that you didn’t covet another woman’s wife. You didn’t covet anything at all.

You felt like an empty vessel, now filled to the brim with someone else’s bitterness.

You wanted yourself back. You broke free.

.

The end was brutal in its abruptness.

Two texts from you finished something that should never have been started. 

You didn’t give her a reason. You couldn’t think how to justify yourself. How to explain that you hated the way she talked about her wife. How you were starting to hate yourself. That her adultery was suddenly unforgivable.

You felt like an accomplice to something gut-twisting.

.

It was the precipice of summer now. You blocked her number when texts and calls continued to flood your phone.

You took extra shifts at the cafe. You’d grown distant from friends during the winter and now you tried your best to make amends. 

Each apology was painful and awkward, forcing you to confront your own selfishness when close friends gave you long overdue life updates. 

When you glanced at yourself in the bathroom mirror, your eyes were brighter. Every new morning, you hated yourself a little less.

You started walking more, trying to fill time that had been saved for her. You took detours to and from work, listening to thudding music through cheap earphones. You tried to leave your mistakes behind. Putting distance between you and your regrets.

You couldn’t walk away from the guilt. Thoughts of Natasha were inescapable, regret took a heavy seat on your heart.

.

It was a Saturday afternoon, simmering with uncomfortable city heat. 

You walked back to your apartment lethargically, sweat sticking your shirt to your back.

There was a woman standing in the dim hallway, just outside your door. 

Fear pinned you to the spot. The world moved in slow motion as she turned to face you.

Her red hair was braided back. Her jaw seemed tight, but her lips looked too soft for words. Anger flickered behind her green eyes. 

‘I think you know my wife.’ She spoke clearly, the crisp words slicing through the air between you.

‘Fuck.’ You whispered, doused in sudden icy panic.

.

You knew you were a homewrecker. You hadn’t realised that it was an Avenger’s home.

Your stomach sank through the floor as you warily regarded her at the end of the hallway. Natasha Romanoff was capable of anything. You’d heard rumours that she was super human. 

She was also hypnotising with her casual beauty. 

Her eyes were a deeper green than the woman you’d imagined. 

Silence stretched between you. You waited in fear.

Finally, Natasha nodded her head toward your front door.

The pointed reminder of social etiquette threw you off. You huffed an embarrassed breath as you hurried forward to unlock it.

You held the door open and Natasha walked past you. You caught the way she held her breath as she passed by you. You felt her disgust like a harsh blow to the chest. You reminded yourself it was the least you deserved.

An apology burned in your chest, desperate to be spoken aloud. 

Standing in the centre of your shitty small apartment, Natasha turned back to you. Her diamond stud earrings stood out comically in the dingy room. 

‘I hear we are in love with the same person.’ She commented, looking you straight in the eye. Her hands were buried deep in her leather jacket’s pockets, but you could make out the clenched fists. 

Her tense frame seemed sharply vulnerable. She was much smaller in person.

‘I think we’ve known different people.’ You replied cautiously, sympathy beginning to build in your chest. 

‘You need to leave her alone.’ Natasha bit back and her eyes flashed suddenly.

‘We’re not-’ You stumbled over your words, rushing to correct her impression. ‘We ended it. Everything.’ You cleared your throat. ‘I’m so sorry.’

Natasha blinked with clear surprise; she ignored your apology completely. 

‘What do you mean?’ She asked, voice dropping unexpectedly. Your gaze lowered to the ground, hot shame burned through you.

‘It lasted six months and ended three weeks ago.’ You answered factually, hating the taste of the truth. ‘I’m so sorry.’ You added again uselessly.

Natasha’s expression closed off and for a moment she was very still. Then, she moved suddenly across your apartment. The heel of her hand slammed against your wall, leaving a clear dent. You watched her forehead tilt forward, leaning heavily against the old wallpaper.  You heard her rapid breathing. Every inhale was drawn shakily. 

Your next apology died on your lips. Tears burned in your eyes. You hovered in awful limbo in the centre of the room.

Slowly, Natasha faced you again. Her eyes were rimmed red, but she wasn’t crying. She swallowed once. Her gaze dropped and she stared down at your wrist. Distress flickered behind her eyes.

You followed her stare to the wristwatch that had stopped feeling special a long time ago. Wordlessly, Natasha reached up to her earrings, undoing them one after the other. She threw them with unerring aim onto your side table.

‘There.’ She murmured, sounding broken in ways you couldn’t comprehend. ‘You might as well have all my Christmas presents.’

Nausea rose like a tidal wave as you tried to swallow down your disgust.

‘Oh God.’ You whispered in horror, unclasping the watch and throwing it onto the nearby sofa.

Natasha’s focus returned to you. Her lip twitched with a strange, resigned half smile.

‘You’re not special.’ She commented neutrally. ‘And neither am I.’

You shook your head with automatic fervour.

‘You’re a superhero.’ You countered quietly, unable to meet her eyes all over again.

Natasha’s hand brushed her cheek harshly and you realised that she’d started crying. 

‘I wreck everything.’ She muttered harshly and you recognised her honesty as another sign of your irrelevance to her. ‘Everything I touch, I ruin.’

‘You’re an Avenger.’ You tried to speak up again. You’d been fucking her wife, who’d been complaining whilst she’d been saving the world. Everything was so twisted. 

‘They just point me at the right targets.’ Natasha whispered. ‘It’s what I was made to do. I’m not made for anything else. I can’t even make a fucking marriage work.’

It felt like pieces of the room were falling down around you. The woman you had no right to speak to was imploding quietly at the edge of it.

‘I’m so sorry.’ You whispered one last time.

The apology seemed to snap Natasha out of her misery. She blinked away the tears clinging to her eyelashes and straightened up.

‘I don’t even know why I bothered you.’ She admitted tiredly as her hands slipped back into her pockets. You caught the reddened palm of the one that had hit your wall. ‘I should go.’

As she took a step toward the door, you took a step forward too.

‘Your earrings.’ You began, eyes darting unsurely to the watch that you realised was also technically hers. 

Natasha caught your hesitation and sudden exhaustion rinsed her face clean.

‘They’re not worth saving.’ She murmured in dismissal.

‘Don’t tell anyone about this.’ Natasha added in a tighter, controlled voice, before shutting the door with abrupt finality. 

Your next hesitation was short lived.

‘Wait.’ You called suddenly, hurriedly following her out into the hallway.

Natasha turned around at your voice. Fresh, private tears stained her cheeks.

‘Can I give you my number, just in case?’ You asked nervously, hand already reaching in your pocket for your phone.

‘Why the fuck would I want to talk to you?’ Natasha bit out so harshly that you flinched.

‘Because who else can you talk to about this?’ You retorted with sudden certainty.

Natasha’s mouth shut abruptly.

You reeled off your number aloud, Natasha didn’t write it down but she stayed stoically until you’d finished speaking.

When you returned to your apartment, you sat on your sofa and stared up at the cracked ceiling, thinking about the mess you’d made. The pain you’d inflicted on someone else.

Natasha’s eyes were going to haunt you forever.

.

Natasha called you three days later. You answered the unknown number unsurely. You were on your lunch break, sitting on a step just behind the heavy fire exit door. The warm breeze barely made the summer air tolerable.

Your throat closed at her voice. 

‘There’s definitely someone else.’ She told you, without preamble. You felt sick, you realised how little you wanted to have this conversation. You felt like you owed her everything.

‘How do you know?’ You asked, forcing your voice to be even.

‘How do you think I knew about you?’ Natasha retorted, voice deceptively cool. ‘Did you think that she’s subtle?’

You stood up, beginning to pace with the phone pressed to your ear. 

‘Are you going to confront her?’ You asked, wondering if she was looking for courage.

‘No-’ Natasha’s voice faltered obviously, as if your question had thrown her. ‘No, it’s not that simple.’

‘She’s being cruel.’ You whispered, thinking guiltily back to the horrible things that Natasha’s wife had said about her. 

‘I can make this work. Natasha replied, voice cracking. ‘I just need another chance. I just need to-’

‘You can’t push all this bad shit down, that’s not balance.’ You heard yourself advising in a low voice.  ��You’re the only person here who hasn’t done anything wrong.’ 

Natasha hung up the phone.

You spent another afternoon filled with regret.

.

The next evening, she was standing outside your door again. You tried not to be relieved to see her again. 

There was something laughably put together about her professional outfit. The black suit jacket was pristine. 

You let her in this time without hesitation.

It felt like a movie cliche. Natasha sat tensely on your sofa. You sat nervously beside her. She put her head in her hands and you watched the way her jacket went taut against the curve of her spine. 

‘I can’t tell anyone.’ Natasha whispered into her hands. ‘I’m so ashamed.’

Your heart shattered silently. You didn’t understand. 

‘This isn’t your fault.’ You murmured softly.

Natasha adjusted, crossing her arms tightly as she sat up straighter. 

‘I promised her that I’d get better.’ Natasha told you, in a voice dripping with self loathing. Her tone was too cold, you found yourself resisting the urge to shrink away from her.

‘What do you mean?’ You asked hesitantly.

The line of Natasha’s jaw tensed before she answered. Her long straight hair was loose, obscuring her face slightly. Her eyes flickered to you and you remembered how little she must trust you.

You lifted your hands in mock surrender.

‘What I meant to ask.’ You corrected hastily. ‘Is, do you want a drink?’

Real surprise flooded Natasha’s face at your words. Still, you didn’t miss the way her shoulders relaxed at the turn in conversation. She swallowed a lump in her throat, nodding wordlessly. 

You left for the kitchen, returning with an unopened bottle of vodka.

Natasha took it silently, unscrewing the cap between her thumb and forefinger. 

‘I hate that I’m here.’ She admitted after lifting the bottle to her lips. 

“I hate what I did.’ You admitted readily too.

‘Stop saying that.’ She advised suddenly, twisting the gold band on her finger. ‘It doesn’t make anyone feel better, except you.’

You nodded, feeling embarrassed.

‘When I told my boss that I was getting married. He said it wasn’t something I could do well.’ She confessed suddenly. Natasha made you feel invisible, her eyes skated over you as she spoke.

You didn’t matter to her. You had no right to.

‘Pain only makes us stronger.’ She breathed softly and the sound filled the hesitations between her words. ‘I don’t know how to deserve her but I have to keep trying.’

‘She doesn’t deserve you Natasha.’ You hated yourself completely. You knew she couldn’t hear you, that your opinion held no weight and it was your own fault.

Natasha took another drink from the vodka bottle.

‘I get stuck behind these walls in my head.’ She mumbled in a low voice, tucking her hair behind her ear. ‘I can’t be normal.’

A lump rose in your chest. Her words were unbearably sad. 

Your hand moved carefully to rest in the space between her shoulder blades. Natasha flinched away sharply.

‘Don’t touch me.’ She told you angrily and you felt yourself truly want to die.

‘I’m sorry.’ You whispered, embarrassed tears filling your eyes.

The air was stifling as you fought to keep your breathing even.

‘Every time I look at you, I think about her fucking you.’ Natasha continued, anger flowing through her, uncontrolled. She slammed the bottle down on the side table and fear iced up the back of your neck. 

‘Do you think I just fucking forget about that?’ She asked cuttingly, getting to her feet.

There was an awful pause. Then, with sudden clarity, you felt brave. You owed Natasha everything, no words could tear you down lower.

‘Do you forget when you’re with her?’ You asked, standing up too.

‘You have a wife who is breaking your heart.’ You heard your voice growing stronger and you barely recognised yourself. ‘Do you think she loves you? Do you know what she says about you?’

Natasha’s face went ashen.

‘You are better than her.’ You continued fiercely. ‘I can’t forget the things I did either. The only person who can live with themself is her.’

The silence that met your words was pervasive. You could hear your refrigerator humming in the other room.

.

Natasha ran her hand through her hair, leaving it messier than before. Another piece of her collected image fell apart.

‘I’m trying.’ She muttered brokenly. ‘I’m trying so hard.’

‘It’s not your fault that she’s hurting you.’ You countered quietly, feeling self-conscious after your outburst.

Natasha gave you a strange look, filled with twisting guilt that you recognised too familiarly. 

‘It is.’ She whispered in a cracked voice. 

She sank back down onto your old sofa. 

‘Fuck.’ She muttered, rubbing her face briefly with her hands. ‘I love her. I do love her.’ She started quietly, twisting her wedding band harshly.

‘But, everything is hard.’ Natasha confessed, staring down at her lap. ‘And I asked her to be patient with me, but I can’t figure out how to make myself change.’

You watched Natasha with bated breath. It felt cooler suddenly, like a breeze had finally found its way into your shitty apartment.

‘Don’t fucking change.’ You determined firmly and Natasha turned to stare at you in shock. ‘You’re fine as you are.’ Your confidence came from a certainty in your chest. 

‘There’s nothing wrong with how you love people.’ You continued. ‘Your love has saved so many fucking lives.’

Natasha watched you like an unsure child.

You felt stronger, closer to a freedom that only her happiness could bring.

‘You’re not failing by being yourself.’ You continued to assert. ‘You can’t be.’

‘I really do love her.’ Natasha murmured and you realised that she was looking at you differently now.

You hoped she knew that you were on her side.

‘I know.’ You reassured her softly. ‘Love shouldn’t be this hard.’ 

‘Believe me, I know.’ You added in a mutter under your breath. 

A short laugh left Natasha unexpectedly.

You fought a tiny smile as the air settled, drenched in unspeakable relief.

.

The end was brutal in its abruptness.

Two texts from Natasha finished something that should never have been started. 

She didn’t need to give a reason. But, she did.

She explained how much she hated the way that her wife talked to her. She wrote that her adultery was unforgivable.

At last, you felt like an accomplice to something good.

.

It was autumn when you next saw Natasha. 

She walked into your cafe like she was a regular. A hush fell over the busy establishment. Whispers of Black Widow circulating faster than the caffeine did.

Her hands rested on the counter and you noted the absence of her wedding ring. Natasha caught your gaze and she smiled simply.

‘When’s your break?’ She asked, as you began filling the coffee cup.

You sat together, on the step just behind the heavy fire exit door. Natasha’s shoulder was pressed against yours. The cool air was made pleasant by your warm coat.

Natasha told you that things were easier now. 

She had better friends than she’d ever realised. She told you about Friday movie nights with some people from work. She told you about the cat that had moved into her new apartment, only a few weeks after she had.

You sipped on your coffee as you listened, not tasting anything except its warmth. 

You asked carefully if she still spoke to her ex-wife. 

Natasha shook her head and gave a gentle laugh. Her hair caught the autumn light and you realised suddenly that it was made up of many shades of red.

Before she left, Natasha gave you her number. 

.

You didn’t text her. 

Natasha was a better person than you. She was brave, strong and kind. 

You’d been granted more forgiveness than you deserved. 

Natasha’s eyes finally stopped haunting your dreams.

.

It was the start of winter when Natasha called you. She invited you to the next Friday movie night with her friends, she was hosting it at her apartment. You didn’t realise how easy it was to say yes, until you did.

The streets were icy when you walked over that evening. Natasha wore an oversized wool jumper and leggings when she answered the door. 

She’d invited you earlier than anyone else. She offered you a glass of wine and introduced you to a black cat that slunk away from you in distaste. 

There were various framed photos placed around the living room. Natasha was smiling in every single one. 

More people arrived and soon the small gathering felt like a party. 

Natasha introduced you to each new guest as an old friend. You caught the way her work friends exchanged curious glances. 

More wine was poured and soon a cheesy romcom occupied the room’s attention.

Her living room now held more people in it than there were comfortable seats and so Natasha sat on the floor, just in front of you.

Somewhere, between the wine and the easy laughter, and Natasha’s back pressed comfortably against your legs, you started braiding a piece of her hair.

You watched the way Natasha smiled to herself, pink cheeks from the alcohol.

.

The new year began better than the last.

[telephoniii]

Deuce watches you and Ace fall in love

Ace version

Deuce feels he can pinpoint the exact moment you and Ace fell in love. It wasn’t anything grand, but it was sweet.

All the first years were at their own lunch table after desperately convincing Sebek to come sit with them. Everyone was having a good time, laughing and enjoying one another’s company.

You and Ace were next to each other. He told some corny joke and you lightly hit him over the shoulder, snickering.

Then your hand brushed against his.

Deuce watched it all unfold fast, but he could imagine how time must’ve stopped for the two of you.

Your eyes glance up to Ace, flustered and confused, only to be met with Ace’s equally conflicted gaze. Pink lit up on both of your cheeks.

After a minute or two, you cracked a sarcastic comment and returned to the status quo.

Except the look in both of your eyes had changed.

Whenever Ace looked your way, suddenly he seemed more compassionate. His snarky attitude seemed to lighten up when his eyes spotted your smiling face.

In return, you would admire Ace like he was the only person alive. Whenever Ace entered your view, everyone around you disappeared. It didn’t matter that you were struggling to get home, that you belonged to a whole other world. Because Ace was there. And that seemed to make you feel okay.

Deuce doesn’t exactly know what to do.

He’s not the best matchmaker and he doesn’t want to interfere lest he accidentally ruin this special bond you two have grown right in front of him. So he stays silent.

He watches as you and Ace grow closer, shooting Epel knowing glances that something is happening.

He’ll watch from afar as the two of you fall deeper in love, and he’ll be there to support both of you the whole time.

[nanaslutt]

YOUR DRABBLES GIVE ME LIFE AHAGDJSH if you ever write about virgin gojo somehow being really good even on his first time i might lose it !!!!!!!

THANK YEEWWW NONNIE<3333

virgin gojo is very special to me i will HAPPILY expand on this idea, ty sm for the ask~

contains: fem reader, dirty talk<3, virgin!gojo, established relationship, choking, size kink if you squint, two seconds of plot for context

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

before getting into a relationship with gojo you thought he was arrogant, albeit for good reason but he was always so confident and snarky, it drove you insane

the way he would flirt with the cashier at the coffee shop when he took his students out for a break, never failing to fluster them

you’ve seen the way he teases his opponents and coworkers alike

there’s no way that a man with no sexual experience who speaks like he’s trying to seduce you constantly, has never got his dick wet

even hearing yaga say something about how he wears his glasses when he meets with women, so of course you thought he had some experience under his belt (literally)

so it’s safe to say you were a little shocked when you were straddling gojos hips, steadily rocking back and forth on his growing bulge, reaching between the two of you for his belt when one of his hands left your hip and gripped your wrist, stopping you in your tracks mumbling against your lips “slow down baby, never done this before”

it’s not like he consciously tried to stay a virgin for most of his life,

being the strongest he doesn’t exactly have time to relax all that often, so before he knew it he was twenty seven and still, had never had sex

you two have been together for a couple months, you’ve had your fair share of partners, but working at jujutsu tech yourself, you and gojo didn’t have a ton of private time for things like this

sure he’s pulled you into a janitors closet once or twice to slide his knee between your legs and sloppily make out with you till you lost your breath (only adding to the illusion that he’s done this before)

coming to the realization one day that you two haven’t gone much further than that, and wanting to feel closer to him you invited him over to your place after work,

so here you currently were

pulling back from kissing him you looked into his crystalline eyes with an unreadable expression, the gears turning in your mind

memories of him saying sentences straight out of porn when he was kissing you, the way he always knew the spots on your body to caress to make you melt into him

and what did he just say? 𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦???

“did i break you baby? heh, sorry i never told you it’s a little embarrassing” he looks away for a second, rubbing his big hand over the back of his head before placing both hands back on your hips, caressing the skin there, “jus saw were things are headin n thought i would let you know.”

this didn’t make any sense to you, you couldn’t wrap your mind around it but you had to say something, “that’s- but you’re- you- how-“ okay, not exactly what you wanted to say but it made him giggle

“‘s that a problem princess?,” caressing your legs up up up, sliding his lithe fingers under the hem of your shirt and teasing the soft skin of your tummy, he snapped you out of your daze,

“sorry, ‘s not a problem, really satoru, jus had my own assumptions about you, but this doesn’t make me want you any less” you succeeded in forming a coherent sentence, squirming and squeezing around his legs as he stimulates your body, “good to hear baby, ur gonna have to show me what to do right? how to fuck you n make you feel good?,” his teasing voice returns

it was the truth, gojo being a virgin weirdly make you feel hotter, being the first one the worlds strongest sourcerer will be inside of filled you with a sense of pride, “jus sit back baby, let me do all the work.” a wave of confidence filled your chest and he returns his own sinister looking smile

“𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘥𝘰 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬” you said. so how did you end up here? currently face down, ass up with gojo’s girthy cock splitting you in two as he gives you the most devious backshots, his long middle and index fingers rubbing your own juices all over your clit, adding to the already intense stimulation you were feeling

“fu-ck ‘s-toru-uuu” words getting cut in half as he gives you deep, heavy thrusts, “cant believe ive been missing out on 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴” he punctuates with a hard thrust, knocking the wind out of your chest

“though you d-didnt kn-ow what to d-ooo,” you were trying and failing to speak in an intelligible way, “am i doin a good job?,” he giggles, biting his lip at he looks down at the thick ring of cum you’re leaving at the base of his cock

“so good ‘toru, fuckin me s-so so good.” you turned your head to look at him to the best of your ability, feeling slight better as his words might’ve seen composed but his face and chest were flushed the prettiest shade of red, his chest heaving like he just ran a marathon

“yeah? fuckin ur pussy that good? tell me more baby, tell me how good ‘m makin you feel,” not suprised gojos love of praise transferred into the bedroom, you indulged him

“dick ‘s so big toru,” you cried out, “feel you in my tummy,” your jaw dropped as his cockhead kissed your cervix, making your eyes roll back in your head

“fucckkk,” he clenched his teeth together, leaning over you and pressing his sweaty chest to your back, reaching his big palm for your face as he crashes your lips together, a kiss full of need

how the fuck was he a virgin? no one has ever gotten you this close, this fast

he pushes his tongue into your mouth, fingers spelling his name messily on your clit, cock fucking your gspot like he has a personal vendetta against you

“‘m gunna cum pretty, u close? huh? tell me ur close, gotta feel you cum on me first.” his filthy words has the coil in ur belly tightening steadily, “wan u to choke me ‘toru please.” you manage to get out, right on the edge of your orgasm

“i got you baby,” he wraps his massive hand over your throat, almost completely enveloping it, and he squeezes at the perfect strength, coil in ur tummy snapping as your pussy pulses and swueezed round his pretty cock

“oh god, he pulls back from the kiss and whines, thrusts becoming erratic, loosing his pace, “squeezin so tight, haaa-“ his jaw is completely slack, eyes screwed shut before his orgasm follows, right behind you

“yesss give it to me toru,” you smile against his slack jaw, and he’s never sounded as pretty as he does right now, cumming so hard, fucking his come as deep as he can into you, some spilling out around his dick as his large figure collapses onto your back

“toru…ur fuckin heavy.” strength in your arms completely gone as you try and fail to wiggle him off you, realizing that the strength in the rest of your body has completely abandoned you as well

“js… jus- gimmie a second, please,” all teasing in his voice completely gone, he’s still inside you and you feel his cock twitch every so often as his breath hitches against your neck

you let his weight press down on you for a couple seconds, letting him regain his own strength

“never cum that hard in my life, think i just died for a second.” he says, lifting himself off of you and sliding his softening cock covered in your combined cum, out of you

you wince at how sensitive you are, groaning as he wipes you down with his discarded shirt, “sorry heh, got a little carried away,” he giggles at your protests

coming up on your side and wrapping his arms around your figure, burring his face into your neck, peppering kisses there

“soo,” he purses his lips, lifting his head a bit to get a good view of your face, “any feedback?”

“cant feel my body, you virgin freak.” you sigh, wrapping your arms around the ones encasing yourself, “how did you just fuck me an inch from my life and you’ve really never had sex before??” you ask your boyfriend in disbelief

“porn :p” he cheeses into ur neck

“i’m gonna forget you said that.”

[revelboo]

You are honestly my fav transformer writer because i ALWAYS read all of your fics!! Not to mention, how fast you are at writing and eachs?? Thats crazy and awesome!! 😭

(Wonder if you ever take some break whenever you write a fic. Dont push yourself too hard tho!!)

Thank you! I’m actually taking a break from serious writing to do these because I got a bit burnt out. And I missed writing silly TF drama

Stop Talking Pt 3

Skywarp x Reader

• “You can’t really be that stupid,” you say and his optics narrow. “Do I look like a goat to you?” Gesturing angrily at the food he’d provided, before crossing your arms across your chest and scowling up at him. Like he’s the one being difficult. “That’s an azalea bush. I can’t eat that.” It’s a plant. Humans can eat plants, so he’s not sure what your problem is. But the angrier you get, the more it strings him tight. Tempting him to double down to see how angry you get. Because there’s something scandalously enticing about your temper that goes straight through him.

• And he’s just frowning down at you, slowly crossing his own arms to mimic you in challenge. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you needed a special diet,” he growls, leaning into your space. Like not wanting to eat a bush is being picky. Because he really is that stupid apparently. Shaking your head, you stalk off. “Where are you going?” He snarls, a hand landing on the desk to make you flinch. Turning to glare up at him as he looms over you.

• “Oh, I’m sorry. Lord Skywarp, may I please be excused?” Frag, why does your insolent sneer make his spark heat? Make him ache and want wholly inappropriate things? Like bending you over and fragging you until you can’t move, let alone muster the energy to be snarky. What is wrong with him? “Sorry I hurt your delicate ego.”

• That look on his face right then. Furious and promising retribution, it shouldn’t be as much fun as it is to provoke him. To goad him just to see how far you can push him. “Maybe you should make it up to me, then,” he growls. Rolling your eyes, you tense as he hooks a servo around your middle and drags you back to him. And the way he’s looking at you now, it’s not angry. It’s predatory and completely different, leaving you oddly breathless with anticipation. That look is dangerous.

• “Oh, yeah?” You challenge and his wings flare slightly. A low growl escaping him. There’s a lot more of you on display than Star’s human. Wearing just those skimpy coverings when he’d taken you. But now he’s wondering what’s under those. “Not happening, buddy,” you say, tone sweet and mocking. And he grins. Because you have no idea how persistent he can be when he wants something and right now? He knows exactly what he wants.

Previous

Next

[nagichi-boop]

SHADOW IS WRITTEN SO WELL IN THE MURDER OF SONIC THE HEDGEHOG!!

First of all, just him showing up to Amy’s party is a step up from his recent “I will do everything myself, I hate everyone, imma fight you” attitude that we have seen. Secondly, and idk if it was intentional, but him attending shows he cares about Amy. He’s always had a special place for her after the events of SA2, so it’s nice to see him showing up for something that maybe isn’t his style for her sake. (Parties aren’t really his thing, after all.)

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT

It’s also really sweet of him to go through so many lengths to try and get Amy’s present. I definitely don’t think he forgot to get her a present, he genuinely just didn’t seem to know that it was a social norm to bring presents to a birthday. If he really didn’t care, he either wouldn’t have gotten her anything or he would’ve given her a rushed gift. But no, he went through a lot of effort, basically foregoing the game, just to stall Amy so he could get her a present she would enjoy.

And not just any present - he remembered her mentioning a specific band she liked and that she hadn’t seen them live. This not only suggests he listens to her and remembers what she tells him, but also implies that he has had multiple conversations with her. Clearly he must have also done some research too since he knew that the tickets were going live soon. He thought this through, even if it was a bit last minute, and did his best to get the tickets (even though he admits to not being the best with computers, which is also nice because usually Shadow just insists he’s the best at everything). I also think it was sweet that he didn’t heavily protest Amy’s suggestion to see the band together. He hesitated, but then yielded. This…for a character who recently has been written to be quite selfish.

He seemed upset that he couldn’t keep this a surprise, but he also didn’t become enraged or lash out at Tails and MC/Barry. In fact, he didn’t really lash out at anyone at any point which is refreshing, since in most Sonic media that’s his go-to emotion.

Most of his expressions throughout the game are fairly gentle in fact. Sure, he doesn’t smile, but he also isn’t actively angry. And the one expression where he does seem a bit negative just seems like his resting expression, or at absolute worse just a little annoyed. He’s very mellow throughout the game and it’s refreshing.

Even after he has finished talking to Amy, Tails and MC/Barry, he offers to stay with them and help them with the investigation. Normally in Sonic media, Shadow has no interest in helping others and only really cooperates if there’s a mutual goal/interest. And even then, he tends try to do things on his own. But in this game? He actually cooperates, and what’s more, he goes out of his way to offer his help.

So far I’ve mostly talked about his attitude towards Amy. But what’s his attitude towards Sonic? People debate back and forth on whether Shadow hates Sonic and the recent games and media have made it seem like he does hate Sonic. But in this game? I wouldn’t say so. I mean, he’s literally hanging out with him and his friends and instead of having beef with Sonic, he just focused on making Amy happy. And even when the situation gets more dire and Sonic is found to be knocked out, he doesn’t make any snarky comments or anything. In fact, he actually helps to tend to Sonic’s condition, even if it was just checking his pulse. If he rly didn’t care, he would’ve left it to everyone else.

Man, I could talk for hours about Shadow in this game. I can’t believe this April Fools prank game is actually the best characterisation for Shadow we’ve had recently. He’s not overly aggressive, he isn’t selfish, he isn’t super edgy. He is still sorta cold, but he’s not rude or mean. He’s actually really kind (in his own way), putting his needs and desires on hold to make Amy’s birthday fun and to help everyone out. I seriously hope that Shadow is written more like this in the future and not like he has been. Maybe Sega wasn’t joking about taking on board the complaints of the fandom.