#it's decently reflective of what i like though!

[midday-clouds]

Yandere Batfamily x Neglected & "Immortal" Reader 》

There are many yandere batfam x neglected reader but I can't get enough of them--- So here is a silly story idea I have

I don't go into too much detail about how the reader is immortal but I'll probably share about it another timeee

CW: Neglect, Self-Degrading, Kidnapping, Violence(Being shot at)

Reader is a product of a hookup between Bruce and some random other woman, your mom

You and your mom had a decent relationship. The two of you would help each other out and have fun playing games. You were so content without knowing who your father was.

Your world begins to collapse when your mom doesn’t come home one day. A bunch of strange people suddenly come into your house and drag you out. You never understood what happened that day besides that you were now alone.

After your mother is announced dead, you find out that you are related to the millionaire, Bruce Wayne. You don’t know much about him but still find yourself put on the Wayne Manor's doorstep

Bruce had just gone through the loss of Jason and had just taken Tim in. He would have happily made some space in his schedule but a case always comes up and makes him forget about you.

Due to Bruce being too busy, you never properly mourned for your mother. Alfred would try to help you but you needed your dad.

For the first week, you locked yourself in your room, almost immediately forgotten by the rest of the family. Alfred would bring meals to your room, knowing that you aren't ready for any sort of interaction in this state. 

Alfred tries to convince Bruce to prioritize your health but there is always a case that takes up all of his attention

After that first week, you become comfortable enough to try and get out of your room at least.

With you around the manor more, the family begins to see them more often but not enough to care.

All of them were busy being vigilantes and weren’t interested in connecting with you. Sure, don't mean to neglect you, but some criminals just don't know when to stop

This worsens your mental state, making them regret not trying to bond with their family earlier. If they had tried in the beginning, then maybe they would have made connections with your new family. Now it feels like they've lost their chance

Alfred would do his best to comfort you but he could only help so much.

When you met Dick, it was when he was stopping by to talk to Bruce. You both had a fun conversation together but that was it.

After that first interaction, you tried to talk to Dick more often when he stopped by, but it seems the first time was just lucky. Dick always had something that didn't allow for a quick chat,

Meeting Jason was honestly terrifying. You were in the kitchen when you heard some noise from outside. It's dark outside so you walk up to the window to see what the sound was

Because of the darkness outside and lights inside, you mainly just see your reflection when looking outside

You squint your eyes to try to see past the reflection when a red helmet pops up and frightened you

Falling onto the ground, you stare in shock at seeing the stranger open the window and step inside

Jason tries to relax your nerves by taking off his helmet, showing he isn't a threat. It doesn't help much when you don't even know who he is

He explains himself after seeing your confused look and you both end up having a small conversation. It was nice until Bruce came in and pulled Jason away.

You never seem to meet Jason again

There were very few instances where you interacted with Tim. Even though you lived in the same house, Tim was always busy.

You’d both exchange small greetings when seeing each other in the hall but that was it. You didn't want to disturb him so you never stopped by his room

you hoped that when Tim had free time, the two could hang out. However, Tim always made plans that you couldn't fit into

Sometimes you would hear that Tim has been playing a game with his friends and you would play it but by yourself.

After a couple of years, Damian enters the family and you were so excited

Because Damian was new to the family, you thought it would be the perfect opportunity to bond with him

That didn't go well. He almost stabbed you

Your opinion of Damian was quick to go sour.

Damian's acts to show authority have gotten you scared of walking around the manor and frightened of animals. Specifically Titus.

It is quite unfortunate as you love animals and to have a dog in the family would bring you so much joy. Too bad Titus has attacked and chased you on multiple occasions

You didn't know what to do with the violence Damian had been taking out on you. You don't feel comfortable talking to Bruce and don't want to bother Alfred. This leads to you bottling up your emotions and locking yourself in your room

During your time, you spent reflecting on your life. Being in the manor isn't helping your mental health so it would be good to go outside more. Due to your constant attempts to bond with your family, you don't spend too much time with your friends from school

Seeing this as another perfect opportunity, you make plans with your friends to get out of the house and have a bit of self-care

Once the day comes, you quickly pack a small backpack and leave the house, only leaving a note for Alfred that says where you're at.

Finally getting some “fresh” air and being surrounded by those who feel more like family than your real family

You all have the best day and make plans for more get-togethers. 

It may not be the safest to be out so often but you’ve lived in Gotham your whole life, you know the safety procedures to stay safe. There isn't much news on you so people don't even recognize you as Bruce’s kid

Of course, something had to happen

You and your friends had just finished a fun day and you realize that your bike was stolen, meaning you don't have a way home. Your friends offered to take you home but you declined out of politeness. If something does go wrong, you ask your friends to call you to check up on you

Your walk home is longer than expected and it’s getting darker. As you walk through the streets of Gotham, you’re suddenly pulled into an alley and are threatened with a gun

There a three masked guys and one of them seems to have recognized you as Bruce’s kid, changing their plan to use you for ransom

You’re knocked out and taken to an abandoned building where you’re tied up to a pipe in the back

The kidnappers have a ransom letter and take it to the Wayne manor, including the small backpack you carried around

Unfortunately, Alfred was on his month-long vacation and Bruce was the one to receive the letter

He takes the time to contact "all" his kids and they're all perfectly fine and he doesn't recognize the backpack that was sent with the letter. There was a wallet but no ID card of any kind. The letter also didn't have a name on it.

Bruce brings up the case to the rest of the family but they agree that it may be a scam. 

The letter was likely from some desperate person who was trying to trick Bruce into giving money so it was put on the side while the family worked on a bigger case. 

Because of this, you’re held hostage for an unknown amount of days before the kidnappers get tired of waiting and shoot you in the gut out of frustration 

You’re filled with immense pain from the bullet before darkness consumes you.

More days pass before you wake up, still tied to a pipe and blood stained clothes

It seems your kidnappers had left your body behind rather than getting rid of it. You’ve been struggling with the rope since you have been taken and it was paying off because you can see that you can almost get your hands free.

Once you're out of the building, it is midnight. You immediately run back to the manor the moment you find a family path.

No one is there to notice you make your way back to your room. Because of how long it's been, you don't leave a trail of blood. Maybe some dirt but hopefully it won't be too hard to clean up

You debate on what action to take next. Looking in the mirror, the injury from the bullet is gone and you don't want to go to the hospital

One thing that is clear though is that you are extremely hungry and how dirty you feel. With this on your mind, you do your best to clean yourself up before going down to the kitchen

You don't feel comfortable talking to anyone so thankfully the rest of the family is busy at night,

Once you are sure no one is around, you take a bunch of snacks and hurry back to your room

In your room, you eat everything until you finally feel full. Hopefully, you don't just throw everything up because it feels so nice to finally have something in your stomach

Your nerves begin to relax and you truly take in the events that happened

How are they still alive? They were shot at and haven't had food for half a month. What happened? Did Bruce not get the ransom letter? Why did no one save you? Did your friends call you?

Quickly remembering your friends, you look for your phone but are unable to find it. Not wanting to worry your friends, you open up your laptop to contact your friends through there. You see that you've gotten multiple calls and messages from your friends and it honestly makes you happy, knowing that there were people that worried and cared about you. You quickly text your friends and tell them what happened (Not mentioning how you survived being shot)

During your chat, the topic changes to college stuff. Your senior year has just ended a couple of weeks ago and it would be good for you to move out and be closer to those that make you happy. Also, after the kidnapping, you don’t want to be near your current family. They were the reason you were kidnapped and didn’t even bother to help you

Your friends suggest going to college outside of Gotham, perhaps in Bludhaven.

After many years of being stuck in a family that does nothing but hurt you, you got an acceptance letter for a school in Bludhaven. You were so happy and had a small celebration with your friends. Unfortunately, none of your friends would be joining you but you couldn’t wait to truly be free. 

Alfred returns from his vacation and reviews all the work that he left behind, along with Bruce’s mail. He knows Bruce has likely already reviewed them but it helps Alfred get back on pace with his work

He finds the discarded ransom letter and immediately checks up on you.

When he goes to your room, he finds the room empty besides some items that you weren’t planning to bring to college with you. This worries Alfred more and goes to Bruce’s office to confront him about the letter.

Bruce is filled with immense guilt when he realizes he forgot that you existed and now you could be dead in an abandoned building. Him and the rest of your family completely forgot about you

Bruce has an emergency meeting with everyone where he explains the situation. Once a plan is set, they all go out in the night to find you. However, they only find loose restraints with dried-up blood and a broken phone.

When the family returns to the manor, Tim goes to his room to fix the phone, Bruce and Damian go to the Batcave to review the cameras, Dick and Jason decide to visit your room

With Alfred’s help, Dick and Jason find your room and take a look around. It isn’t the biggest and barely has anything in it. 

Jason finds some old and filled journals and looks through them. There is a checklist for school work, notes to yourself, and personal entries. He understands the emotions you put in your journal and wants to protect you. Especially when he reads your last entry about your kidnapping 

Dick looks at the decorations you have on the wall. There are some glow-in-the-dark stars, some posters from school events, etc. One of the posters is for a theater show and he wonders if you were a part of it. Either an actor or tech person, Dick wonders why he never heard about your shows. He attempts to take a poster off the wall but the tape used peeled some of the paint off the wall.

Bruce loads up the camera and looks at what happened the day the ransom letter was given to Bruce. You had this happy smile as you made sure you had everything you needed before going through the front door. About a week later, Bruce sees you on the camera, in bloodied clothes and completely exhausted. This brings a wave of relief to Bruce while Damian looks closely at the camera footage. The front of your shirt is covered in blood and has a hole in it, but you seem completely uninjured. 

The last thing the two see of you is you slowly taking your stuff out of the manor and officially moving out

Bruce and Damian find your room to update Dick and Jason on their findings.

They’re thankful that you’re alive but still need to see you in the flesh. Looking around your bedroom, there aren't many clues about where you have gone. 

Tim takes a few days to fix the damage on your phone. At the very least, he needs to save the data that was kept on the phone. After messing with a few parts of your phone, he transfers all the data to his computers.

Once everything is saved, Tim lets his curiosity get the best of him and looks through all of your stuff before informing the rest of the family. All your photos, text messages, etc. He sees all the calls and voicemails your friends sent you on the day you were kidnapped.

Tim continues to learn more about your interests and your efforts to spend time with the family. You ranting to your friends about only playing a game or reading a book because someone in the family has read or played it.

Tim ends up having a copy of all your data for personal use before speaking to the rest of the family

Your phone is finally fixed and Tim can use it to find the location of your laptop. All the way in Bludhaven

With new hope, the family begins their search for you

They just need to take you home and keep you safe

Forever

[inkykeiji]

bnha manga spoilers!!!!!

EEEEEEEEE I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!!

his hair!!!!!!!!!!!!! his fucking HAIR!!!!!!!!! i just AAAAH i cannot get over it because !!!!! that is exactly how i picture touya-nii’s hair to look 🥹🥹🥹 just down/undone n fluffy n shaggy n soft <333

anyway i am sickly in love with him, i’m not surprised to see what he actually looks like after the war, but the fact that he’s still got his eyes makes me think that his blue irises must be so stark and vivid and just pop against the rest of his injured body—which makes me both swoon and sad, because goddamn you’d recognize those eyes anywhere, the very moment your gaze meets his…but enji still didn’t, not even when he first came face to face with them, not until they were thrust in his face and screaming at him ._.

[dexaroth]

i cant believe the day but i finally got a full tower pc. bought it already built and at a considerable discount of some 320 dollars off. its fucking huge and theres so many things going on inside... i was initially planning on choosing the parts myself but finding the graphics card was so hard and everyone else convinced me to just buy it built and honestly? good. id probably have fucked this up so badly by myself

i cant use it yet bc i took too long to buy the monitor that was also on sale and now its regular price -_- tho i managed to find a discount used one for now. well see how that goes since ill get it tomorrow. i tested it on out living room tv and it had some kaspersky thingy open and like thats so cute. i hope they left some treats in the browsing history for me to search through before i wipe it clean

[ambrosiagourmet]

I love Izutsumi. She's got a great design, she's a fun addition to the main party, she adds some new tension, and she's honestly one of the reasons I read dungeon meshi in the first place. I mean, "the most cat to ever girl" is an extremely appealing hook to anyone who loves cats and girls (me, I love cats and girls).

However, while I have always liked Izutsumi, I finished the story kind of feeling like I didn't really get her. I felt like I had a decent grasp on her character an character arc (she's a traumatized teen given space to feel safe and open up, and because of that she realizes that she can't grow without letting go of the coping mechanisms she once needed). But I didn't feel like I really understood her role in the story as a whole.

She follows the group of her own accord, after a coincidental meeting and a misunderstanding of what they can do for her. She's never super invested in saving Falin, at least not compared to the rest of the group. Though they do help her escape Maizuru's shackles, and are clearly good for her in general, she doesn't really have a healing Moment with the group the way that Senshi does with the hippogriff soup.

And yet, she gets an entire chapter, the third-to-last chapter, dedicated to exploring her growth and future. She's the one who frames much of the falling action, who lets us check in with everyone. She's the one who helps talk Laios into accepting his role as king. She may join the story part way through, but she is there for most of it. So Izutsumi! What's your deal!?

Well, I think I've come up with an answer, at least for myself, that I really like. Two of them, even! Though they both really work together to form the overall point - Izutsumi is the character that most helps the story face towards the future. Here's why I think that.

So the first of these "ah-ha" moments was when I realized that Izutsumi really is the best supporting evidence for Laios' point about the good things that wouldn't have happened if Falin hadn't died.

If Falin hadn't been eaten by the dragon, Izutsumi probably would still be a slave. It was because of Shuro and Laios' parties both being in the dungeon to rescue Falin, as well as Marcille's use of ancient magic in the resurrection, that she got the chance to escape. None of that would have been the case if Falin hadn't died. Shuro wouldn't have separated from the group and joined up with his retainers, Marcille wouldn't have revealed her knowledge of ancient magic, and Izutsumi never would have even met any of them. They are only part of her life because of Falin's death.

Though this isn't explicitly pointed out by Laios or Izutsumi in the scene, I do think you can very much feel the presence of it. For one, when Marcille reflects on the journey and how much it made her realize she didn't want to lose everyone, her relationship with Izutsumi is prominent:

It's the main original group at the top and center, but when you read it right to left, it’s Izutsumi and Marcille who might catch your eye first. And it's specifically Marcille and Izutsumi's relationship on display here, not just Izutsumi's presence in the group in general.

Also, after Laios' statement about how none of their adventure would have happened without Falin dying, it is Izutsumi who gets the final word:

Izutsumi is also the one here who is the most forward-facing. Chilchuck is trying to correct Laios, Senshi is focused on the immediate future, and Izutsumi is talking about her new goal.

And I want to talk about that goal in general as well, because it’s also interesting how it comes up. In that moment, everyone is trying to remind Marcille of her less destructive desires - to eat food, to share it with them, and to meet Chilchuck's family. All of which are previously established, existing desires. When prompted by Chilchuck to join in, however, Izutsumi offers something new:

That's interesting, isn't it? It's kind of funny, of course, to see her rambling on about a completely new thing, her own personal motive, in the middle of everyone working together to reach out to Marcille. Izutsumi doesn't even know who Yaad is! But at the same time, it’s kind of meaningful. Amidst the focus on desires that everyone already had, she adds a completely new one to the mix. It’s even the final bridge that lets Laios reach Marcille.

It is, in fact, even an idea that comes back later to help out another lord of the dungeon. The idea of finding new goals and feeling new desires... this is exactly how Kabru reaches out to Mithrun, after the Winged Lion is gone

So yeah, Izutsumi's presence here, both in what she's actively choosing to say as well as what she represents of the consequences of Falin's death, supports the story's ideas of moving forward. Of accepting the past, and finding new reasons to live.

Which is all really good, and that alone works pretty well as an answer to what Izutsumi's role in the story is.

But oh, oh. There's more. Something I realized after having thought of all this, because I still couldn't let go of the feeling that there was still something I was missing.

And as I reviewed the things I loved about Izutsumi - her sometimes unhealthy ways of coping with trauma, her struggles with isolation, her skill with fighting, her selfishness contrasted with the ways she grows to care for and protect the group, her perpetually guarded nature, born from the seeming impossibility of ever fitting in or finding a safe place to just be herself - I realized something.

Izutsumi...

is a foil to Falin.

Where Falin copes with isolation and trauma by being eternally caring and struggling to say no to people, Izutsumi copes by constantly saying no to everything she can. Falin is often considered selfless, but does have selfish desires that she can’t easily express until a moment of crisis. Izutsumi is delightfully selfish, but chooses to stick by her friends when they need her. They are both transformed, against their will, into partly monstrous hybrids, and they both will have to live with that - there is no undoing what has been done to them.

Falin anchors the group in the past. Izutsumi pulls them towards the future. Neither would find freedom without the other - it is Falin's death that leads to Izutsumi joining the party, and likewise, it is Izutsumi who inspires the realization of how they can save Falin.

And Falin is her future, as much as Izutsumi is Falin's. Both learn to be a little more like each other, even though they never meet. Falin gets a little more selfish. Izutsumi gets a little more willing to bend.

In this context, I feel like I have finally started to understand just how important Izutsumi is to the story. She is a proof that they cannot just go back, and she is a clawed, happy-to-scratch-anyone-who-pisses-her-off reminder, at that. In any conversation about what the group wishes would have happened with Falin, she cannot be ignored or brushed aside.

She is a reminder that, even in the midst of a tragedy so big it feels like a shadow you will never escape, you have yet to met all the people you will love. Hell, some of those people might even be catgirls. We should all be so lucky.

[jonnywaistcoat]

Hey, Horrormaster Sims. I have a wildly different question that barely relates to TMA (Sorry about that) but its about your own process. Please, if you could, can you tell me how your first drafts made you feel? I'm on the fence about writing my own thing (not a podcast, and again, not Magnus related, though I have a million little aus for that delightful tragedy you wrote, thank you for that!) But I'm discouraged by the collective notion that first drafts are always terrible, because there's no ... examples I can solidly use to help the dumb anxiety beast in my brain that tells me everyone who is in any way popular popped out a golden turd and not, well, you know. One of my friends said 'Oh I bet Jonathan Sims's first draft was nothing like what he wanted' and I got the bright idea to just. Send you an ask, since you're trapped on this hellsite like I am. Anyway, thanks for reading this (if you do) and if you'd rather ask it privately, I am cool with that. Alternatively, you're a hella busy man with Protocol (you and Alex are making me rabid, i hope you know) and you can just ignore this! Cheers, man, and good words.

To my mind all writing advice, especially stuff that's dispensed as truisms (like "first drafts are always garbage") are only useful inasmuch as such advice prompts you to pay attention to how you write best: what helps your workflow, what inspires you, what keeps you going through the rough bits. There are as many different ways to write (and write well) as there are people who write and so always consider this sort of thing a jumping off point to try out or keep in mind as you gradually figure out your own ways of writing.

On first drafts specifically, I think the wisdom "all first drafts are bad" is a bit of unhelpful oversimplification of the fact that, deadlines notwithstanding, no piece of writing goes out until you decide its ready, so don't get too hung up on your first draft of a thing, because a lot of writers find it much easier to edit a complete work than to try and redraft as they go. It's also important to not let perfectionism or the fact your initial draft isn't coming out exactly how you want stop you from actually finishing the thing, as it's always better to have something decent and done than to have something perfect and abandoned.

But the idea of a "first draft" is also kind of a fluid one. The "first draft" you submit to someone who's commissioned you will probably be one you've already done a bunch of tweaks and edits to, as opposed to the "first draft" you pump out in a frenzy in an over-caffeinated weekend. For my part, my first drafts tend to end up a bit more polished than most, because I'm in the habit of reading my sentences out loud as I write them (a habit picked up from years of audio writing) so I'll often write and re-write a particular sentence or paragraph a few times to get the rhythm right before moving to the next one. This means my first drafts tend to take longer, but are a bit less messy. I'm also a big-time planner and pretty good at sticking to the structures I lay out so, again, tend to front load a lot of stuff so I get a better but slower first draft.

At the end of the day, though, the important thing is to get in your head about it in a good way (How do I write best? what helps me make writing I enjoy and value? What keeps me motivated?) and not in a bad way (What if it's not good enough? What if everyone hates it? What if it doesn't make sense?) so that you actually get it done.

As for how my first drafts made me feel? Terrible, every one of 'em No idea if that's reflective of their quality, though, tbh - I hate reading my own writing until I've had a chance to forget it's mine (I can only ever see the flaws). I suppose there's theoretically a none-zero chance they were pure fragments of True Art and creative perfection, but Alex's editing notes make that seem unlikely.

[summercourtship]

WASTE NOT (18+)

or, the reader is travelling with the Ghoul when he discovers she's never fucked before. You figure out what comes next.

cooper howard/the ghoul x reader | warnings/notes: loss of virginity, masturbation, exhibitionism, piv sex, oral sex, barely proofread | side note: i might end up reusing this general plot for a longer multi-chapter fic, we'll see

read on AO3

Five hundred caps, two hundred upfront.

That’s how much it took for you to get out of the gilded cage that was your hometown, a decent sized settlement inside of what used to be a Rodeo stadium and aptly named for it. That’s all it took for you to escape your father, the mayor of said town who kept you under lock and key, both literally and figuratively. You’d tried to escape before, attempts that had been thwarted before they even began. It only led to you being locked in your room and only allowed to walk the town with a bodyguard, someone hired to make sure you didn’t run for it. 

Some people might say that it was a privilege to be cared for so much that you didn’t have to constantly fight for your life. You thought it was a surefire way to get you killed when you finally did leave his grasp.

Since running away, you’d done many things for the first time that most people did before they were even ten years old. Held a gun, caught your own food, killed a man. 

And the man you’d paid to take you through the wastes was the first ghoul you’d ever met. Your settlement didn’t ban them from entering, but they weren’t exactly welcoming either. But you’d been immediately drawn to him, which you at first chalked up to the novelty of meeting a new kind of person, the kind you’d only read about.

However, as you’d continued traveling with him and the novelty wore off, you quickly realized that the draw you felt to him wasn’t just because of culture shock. 

The Ghoul, which was the only thing you called him because he’d given you nothing else to call him, was sitting by the fire he’d built, a slow curl of smoke drifting from the cigarette hanging in his mouth. You looked over at him, observing how the light from the flames reflected off of his worn and imperfect skin. It was a sight you’d seen almost every night this week, but every time you felt like it was the first time you were seeing him. 

Your week was almost up. When you’d hired him, you’d told him you only wanted to leave your town for a week, just to experience the Wastes before returning to your “ivory tower,” (his words, not yours). It had taken some bargaining on your end (and you had to give him chems in addition to the caps) but it had worked. You were out of the clutches of your father, you were finally experiencing life for the first time.  

And you had no intention of going back when the week was over. 

You were sitting across the room, perched on an old bed that was still standing in the half-ruined house, though shack might be more accurate. An entire wall was missing, letting you look right into the starry night sky from your seat. But mainly you were looking at the Ghoul, who was looking after one of his guns. You brought the drink you’d been nursing- just a Nuka-Cola you’d found on your journey and saved for this moment- taking a deep sip of the fizzy drink when he spoke up. 

“Stop starin’ at me.” 

You choked, sputtering up the Nuka-Cola in your attempt to catch your breath. In your coughing, you only managed to spill more of the drink on yourself, an unfortunate chain of events that left you with a soaked through shirt. You cursed under your breath, looking down at the brown liquid that would surely stain the fabric. Did you even have a clean replacement in your bag?

Leaning towards your bag, you placed the almost empty bottle on the floor before flipping the flap, peering inside. 

“You might wanna take that off before the flies smell the sugar.”

Your current task forgotten, you stared up at the Ghoul, who wasn’t even looking at you when he said it. But the idea of taking your shirt off around him when you knew that he could see it was terrifying. However, he was right when he said you’d need to get the shirt off of your body soon and put it into your bag. Who knows how much sugar was in Nuka-Cola, how far its sweet scent would travel if it was out in the open. And you certainly didn’t want to attract any bugs your way. 

Sitting up straight, you cleared your throat. Your fingers worried at the hem of your shirt.

“Could you turn around…” Your voice trailed off at the look on his face, a brief glance your way. 

“It’s nothing I ain’t seen on other women.” 

“Okay, but I’ve never-” You stopped yourself from finishing your sentence, realizing exactly what you were admitting, but the damage was already done. The Ghoul leaned forward and you tightened your grip around yourself, as if the shirt still being on your body would protect you from his judgment. 

“You’ve never…?” The pregnant pause hung in the air between you, but you weren’t going to clarify. You didn’t move, which must have been enough of a confirmation for him because he whistled low in his mouth. “Why am I not surprised? You didn’t even know how to shoot a gun.”

As if shooting a gun naturally came before losing your virginity. (Maybe it did, you wouldn’t know). 

“Can you stop?” You huffed, your face hot. “If I had wanted to, I would have.”

But it seemed that any of your attempts to get him to drop the subject wouldn’t work, because he was looking at you intensely, an unreadable look in his surprisingly human eyes. Not for the first time, you wondered what he looked like when he was human. You’d tried before, to imagine what it looked like when his skin was smooth and he had a nose and hair, but nothing seemed to match his demeanor as well as being a ghoul did. 

“And why didn’t you want to?”

“I-” You swallowed nervously, your heartbeat in your throat choking you. “I didn’t see the point, not when my dad is probably going to marry me off to some geezer who can’t get it up anyway. And I don’t need your judgment about it.”  

You were now trying to hold onto any semblance of dignity you had left. Pretending like you’d made a conscious choice to not lose your virginity instead of it being a result of your virtual imprisonment by your father. Like you hadn’t yearned for the touch of someone else. (And, of course, like you hadn’t yearned at all for him over the course of the past week.)

“Do you touch yourself, at least?”

You froze, looking across the room at him like he was a Deathclaw. He leaned forward, perching his elbows on his knees. Like he could smell your apprehension, or worse, your burgeoning arousal. 

“Do you touch yourself?”

This isn't something you had talked about ever with anyone. But you couldn’t help answering him. “Y-yes.” If he looked surprised that you actually spoke, you couldn’t tell over your own embarrassment. 

“Show me.” When you didn’t respond, still sitting there staring at him like he had grown two heads, he sat back in his seat again, his hat dipping low. “Or don’t. I’m not going to force-”

You cut him off before he could continue, suddenly not wanting this opportunity to pass you by. After all, you only had this last night with him and then you would go your separate ways. If you horribly embarrassed yourself, it would only be for tonight. “Okay.” You think that this is your biggest streak of surprising the Ghoul. But he recovered quickly, a sly grin sneaking onto his face. 

“Take your shirt off first.” 

Nodding, you slowly reached down to the hem of your shirt, trying and failing to will your hands to stop trembling. Then, quickly, you peeled the sticky fabric off of your skin. You were a bit annoyed that you had managed to spill so much onto the shirt- it was a nice shirt, a rare find on the surface. But it didn’t matter now, considering where it had led you. 

You dropped your shirt onto the floor, unable to look at him as he surely looked at your chest. 

Suddenly feeling bold from his gaze, you did more than just take off the glorified rag from your chest- you divested yourself of all of your clothes, placing them into a messy pile by the mattress. You were now exposed to the elements and to his gaze, heavy as he looked over your body. Once again, he didn’t betray any of the surprise he might have felt. 

“Should I-”

“Lie down.”

You stared at him before you slowly lowered yourself, trying to keep your eyes on him. When you couldn’t anymore, you closed your eyes. If you couldn’t see him, it wouldn’t be nerve wracking to be watched. But even as you thought it, you could feel the heat of his gaze on you. 

“Touch yourself.” 

At his surprisingly gentle command, you exhaled shakily. Gently, you dragged your hand down your body, your breath quick. After a moment of teasing yourself, you pressed the pads of two fingers against your clit, rubbing a slow circle against the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

Immediately, you sighed, relieving tension you didn’t know had been building. While you had masturbated every night at home, you certainly needed the relief it gave you after a week of stress and almost dying. You were surprisingly wet, though not enough to qualify as dripping. your fingers circled your clit, your hips sudden bucking slightly. 

Across from you, the Ghoul groaned, and you tilted your head up, looking at him. His eyes were entirely focused on your cunt, watching the wet slide of your fingers over your folds. His teeth were clenched together, and you gasped at the sight of him watching you so intently before you bit your lip to muffle the sound. Then his eyes moved from your fingers, looking you straight in the eyes as he started to speak.

“I bet you touched yourself all quiet, trying not to let daddy hear you fucking yourself. But your daddy ain’t here, and I want to hear the noises you make.”  

You whined, his words going straight to your cunt. What was more painful was that he was correct- many nights you’d bit your pillow as you’d fucked yourself with your fingers, trying to keep quiet. 

“Go ahead, slip a finger inside-“

You stopped moving, looking at him again, taking the moment to catch your breath. 

“I’ve never really done that-“

The Ghoul cursed, and before you could blink he was off of his chair, moving closer. He was now knelt in between your legs, his gloved hands on your knees and staring up at you. 

“I gotta fuckin teach you everything, don’t I?”

Swiftly, he removed his gloves, throwing them onto the pile of your clothes. Then he swatted your hand away from your cunt before replacing it with his own fingers. At the dramatic shift in skin texture you gasped, immediately grinding against his rough fingers mindlessly as your hands flew to your mouth to muffle your cries. 

“None of that, I told you I’m gonna hear the sounds you’re making ‘cause of me.”

He moved down your body, pressing kisses and delivering brief bites to your flesh. With each nip of his teeth you gasped, torn between the desire to push his head away or beg for more. Then he reached your sex, pausing for a moment and letting his warm breath fan over you. You squirmed, unsure if you wanted to beg him to touch you or if you wanted to run away from the sheer overwhelming intensity of it all.

Then his mouth was hot against you, his tongue licking a thick stripe up the length of your cunt, and you wondered why you’d ever thought about not letting him do this. With no nose in the way, he was able to press his face fully against you. He dipped his tongue into your opening, flicking it against your walls and thrusting a few times, the movement of his tongue in addition to his fingers overwhelming. 

He groaned against you as he lapped up your wetness, sounds of a man dying of thirst reaching an oasis. 

With a final wet sound, he removed his tongue before moving to suck on your clit, his hand moving from your thighs to return to your core. 

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He murmured as he pressed two of his fingers inside of you. You’d tried before to fuck your self like this but always found the feeling unsatisfactory. But his fingers were larger than yours, able to hit the places inside of you that you had begun to think were myths. 

It was overpowering, and any thoughts that weren’t about him quickly dissipated. 

Every indent and ridge of his skin dragged along your cunt and the sensation of being filled combined with the attention he was giving to your clit started to build you towards your peak. 

“Come for me, cmon.”

But even though you’d never come before at the hands of another, you knew what you wanted. You were afraid that if you came now, he wouldn’t actually fuck you. And if you were taken back to your rinky-dink town, you wanted to at least say you’d been fucked by someone you wanted. 

“I want to feel you- hm- inside me.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” His teeth were gritted together again, like he was so entirely focused on making you come that he didn't want to hear anything else.

“Yes, I do.” You raised your hips to meet the thrust of his fingers. “I want your cock, I need you to fuck me-“

“Fuck.” He murmured, eyes lidded as whatever shaky resolve about actually fucking you he had broke. “For someone who never killed before this week, you’re dangerous.”

With swift movement, he pulled himself out of his pants and climbed up your body, pressing his hips against yours. He hovered above you, the head of his cock rested heavy on your clit, his hips rolling once to grind the length against your wet cunt. 

“Please.” You murmured, raising your hips to meet his cock. He gave you a dark look, and if he had eyebrows you’re sure one of them would be raised as if to say ‘you ready?’

Then he started to press in, his thick head catching before he pushed through the tight ring of your opening. Your mouth was slack, eyebrows furrowed as you focused on relaxing for every inch that was slowly pressing into you. When you looked at him, he was entirely focused on watching his cock disappear into your wet heat. 

He was slow, but you didn’t think it was due to any care for your comfort. No, from the look on his face, you would hazard a guess that he enjoyed slowly taking your virginity, feeling each inch of you give way to his thick cock. He liked the surrender. 

When his hips finally nestled against yours, he rested for a moment, his breath heavy. 

“Ready?”

Okay, maybe he cares slightly about your comfort- the thought was quickly erased when he pulled out and slammed back in, filling you quickly. You cursed, your hands flying to the bed to scramble for something to hold on to. But there were no sheets on the filthy mattress. So instead, you reached up to him, grasping the back of his duster for dear life as he began to fuck you in earnest.

He lowered himself as you wrapped your naked legs around his hips, bracing himself on his elbows above you. 

“So fucking tight.” He murmured against your face. One of his hands slipped from where it was braced above you to circle around your clit, the pressure just enough to send you back towards your peak. “This cunt belongs to me now, y’hear?”

“Yes- fuck.” You babbled, and when he whispered against you to finally come, you did so with no hesitation. Your legs gripped him tighter against you, his thrusts shorter but more forceful with the constraint. With your cunt clenching around him as you sighed through the aftershocks of your orgasm, he removed his hand to suddenly grab your chin, looking you in the eyes.

“Where should I-“

“Inside me, inside me please.”

For a moment he looked like he was going to argue with you. But then you clenched down on his length again and his hips stuttered against you, a low groan escaping him. Reinvigorated, he began fucking you even harder, which had seemed impossible. 

“Take it, take my cum like a good girl- that’s it-“ his words left him as he finally finished, his hips pumping as he cursed and spilled his warm spend inside you. You hummed at the feeling of it, the tiny thrusts as he pumped you full of him dragging his cock along your sensitive walls. 

When he finally pulled out of you, watching as his cum dripped out of your opening, he looked back at your face with a sly smile. 

“I hope you have some RadAway at home.”

____

The Ghoul didn’t bring you back into the city. He seemed to think you were experienced enough to handle the last hundred yards of desert without him. I’ll come back later for the rest of my caps, I have some business I need to deal with. Did you feel a little bad that you were cheating him out of three hundred caps? Yes. But you hadn’t thought this far when you’d paid him the first time, and now it was too late. 

You barely said goodbye. 

Once you were out of sight, you took off running in the opposite direction, only looking behind you once to make sure no one was watching or worse, following. 

You were free.

____

Well, you were free for about two days. 

Then, one evening, you sheltered yourself in an abandoned house. Two stories, though you only peeked in the upper story to see if there was anything worth grabbing. You didn’t want to risk the floor falling out from under your feet. 

A noise in the doorway draws your attention upwards, to where the Ghoul stands, silhouetted in the setting sun, like he had just left for a second, not for days.

You’re allowed a split moment of happiness at the sight of the familiar figure before you recognize what's in his hands. You barely have a second to try and escape before, like a flash, he whips the lasso around your torso, drawing it tight and pulling you closer as you struggled against the rope. But it held fast, and with every passing second you were losing ground. Finally the pressure of the rope was too much and you collapsed to the ground, the sun bearing down in your eyes until a shadow fell over your face. 

“Y’know, when I went back to your little… Rod-e-o to collect on the final portion of my payment, I really expected to see you there. Tellin’ people you regret ever leaving. Maybe I’d have to rough you up a bit for the caps, though I’m sure you’d enjoy that. So imagine my surprise when I find out your father has put up a reward for whoever finds ya and brings ya back.”  He laughed, a cruel and humorless thing. “I’ll get paid for takin’ you out and takin’ you in. And the word around town is that there’s a man there willin’ to take you off your father’s hands.” 

His last words made your stomach sink, more than anything else he had said. It was something your father had threatened, even if he hadn’t meant it as a threat. Maybe he thought it was your dream to marry and have children. But you knew that whatever man he picked for you to marry would be powerful, powerful enough to ensure that your father would remain in office until he died. 

And powerful men were cruel. 

“No-” You gasped out, suddenly out of breath. 

“Ah-ah-ah.” The Ghoul tuts softly, leaning down. “D’ya really think a week is enough experience to survive out here?”

“I won’t go back.” You spit, renewing your struggle against the rope. “You can’t make me.” 

If you were a complete idiot, you’d say: I’d rather die than go back. Because while, in spirit, it was true, you knew that he would take your word for it. And you really didn’t want to tempt him to put a bullet through your brain. 

You may have fucked him, but you certainly weren’t anything special to him. 

“You don’t have much of a choice, sweetheart.” 

“He wants to marry me off!” You said, like saying it indignantly would change his mind about taking you in as a bounty. “I refuse.” 

“And what’ll you do when I drag you back?” 

Find a way to escape again, even if it takes years. 

Like he read the answer in your eyes, he stood up straight. 

“I sympathize, I really do-” You sincerely doubted it, but let him keep talking, “but unless you’ve got something better to offer me, I’m afraid you’re going in.” 

“How many caps is he offering you?”

“600.”

“I have more saved.” You laughed, though it lacked any actual humor. “Every cap he gave me for years, I’ve squirreled away. Not letting me leave my room really helped me save money.” 

“And how, exactly, are you going to get to your stash without your daddy finding you?” 

You tried to find kindness in his words and were surprised when you did. Though he may not have meant it, he had already given you a perfect out the night before. 

“No self-respecting man is going to want to marry a woman who fucked a ghoul. And no mayor will tolerate his daughter making a fool of him like that.”

For a moment, you think he takes offense to this. But then a smile creeps across his face, hot and hungry.

“Well then, I think we can come to an agreement.” 

[chadleys]

›› pairing: astarion x reader

›› wordcount: 1.9k

›› genre: established relationship, smut, fluff.

›› rating: 18+, mdni

›› synopsis: got a request for pregnant tav and astarion taking place after the events of the game. this is that.

›› warnings: pregnant!reader, impreg, biting, mentions of blood drinking.

the grounds of the manse are still, quiet, as you examine yourself in the full-length mirror by the window. cloud cover has been rolling in all day; a storm is brewing. you wish it would just arrive already — you’ve always loved the rain. and any excuse to spend the afternoon in bed with your beloved while rainfall pounds at the windows is a good one to you.

you turn this way and that, examining the subtle swell of your belly. that’s not the only change you’ve noticed, of course; your hips and thighs are a shade larger, your breasts more plump, arms slightly too thick to fit into most of your tunics anymore.

at the moment a sheer, lacy negligee drapes from your shoulders, the bottom hem barely brushing the backs of your thighs.

just as you start to grimace and turn from the mirror, a knock at the door distracts you.

❝ is my love decent? ❞ astarion’s dulcet tones make your legs quake and a tenuous bout of gooseflesh prick your arms.

❝ as though you’d care either way, ❞ you purr. a moment ago, you were desperate to get away from the reflection in the mirror. now, you stand your ground, waiting for him to enter.

which he does, beautiful body sliding between door and frame as his crimson gaze finds you. he sighs, wistfully, and his bare feet make quiet shuffling noises along the hard wood floor as he approaches. ❝ what can i say other than that you’re right? you are utterly indecent and i have to be honest. i prefer you this way … ❞ those last words spoken right into your ear send a shiver down your spine, your lashes fluttering before flying open again.

this. this is why you so suddenly changed your mind about abandoning your post in front of the mirror. it’s been enchanted. ever since your return to baldur’s gate, both your and astarion’s fortunes have vastly improved. not only monetarily, though it’s certainly been fun to watch your coffers steadily rise and eventually overflow. but also your general quality of life; not only do you have a special midwife who’s been helping to check on the babe from time to time, making the periodic blood meals it requires more palatable for you, but every mirror in the house has been magicked to be able to show a vampire’s reflection.

❝ admiring yourself? ❞ astarion’s voice is unbearably low and intoxicating in your ear. you nearly fall into his arms, as one wraps itself around your waist, hand cupping your belly. ❝ … i know i am. ❞

your hands come to brace themselves on astarion’s forearms, running back and forth, though you’re comforting yourself more than you are him. ❝ just the opposite, ❞ you all but spit. ❝ i don’t look like myself anymore. these changes, they … they disgust me. ❞

suddenly, you’re being whirled, losing your footing. but astarion is there, hands on your biceps, drawing you close and pressing his mouth fiercely to yours.

you melt, fingers clutching at the collar of his tunic, trying to pull him impossibly closer.

just when you think he’s sucked all the air from your lungs, he presses you back and allows you to breathe again.

❝ i don’t ever want to hear you talking about yourself like that again. and i do mean ever. ❞ gentle fingers swipe a lock of hair back from your forehead. ❝ you’re carrying my child; how could you possibly be disgusting? ❞

at a loss for words, you let him wheel you slowly back around to face the mirror. chin hooked over your shoulder, his scorching carmine gaze roves over you. slow hands part the lapels of your negligee, traipsing over all of your newest curves. ❝ look at this beautiful body ... ❞ his voice is low and hot, splashing molten waves over your entire body. ❝ and it's all mine. ❞

in one swift move, he sinks his teeth into your neck, making you moan and squirm against him. he doesn't drink from you anymore, not when you need all the energy you have to keep up with the life growing inside of you. but it's enough for him to continue to mark you, never letting your bites heal fully before he leaves more.

❝ astarion ... ❞ his name is a plea on your lips as you lean back into him, a solid pressure against your back.

❝ i can smell you, ❞ is his response, one hand traveling steadily downward, ❝ getting so wet for me. it happens more often now that you're pregnant, have you noticed? i certainly have. ❞

you want to tell him that it's not like the two of you weren't having sex every single night before. but now you're having sex every morning, too. and afternoon. and evening …

instead, you swallow thickly and swerve onto your other path of thinking. the path that focuses on the heat between your legs, thighs already sticking together as astarion slips a hand between them and cups your sex.

❝ please tell me you were wearing this — ❞ he plucks a piece of flimsy fabric from the negligee between his teeth. ❝ — for easy access? ❞

❝ of course. ❞ it hadn’t even crossed your mind.

astarion releases a shaky breath and steps away from you. you miss him immediately. ❝ get on the bed. ❞ normally he would throw you onto it, bthe two of you are taking every precaution for the baby.

climbing onto the soft bedspread of your giant four-poster bed, you allow astarion to come after you, crawling, hunting you as if you were his prey. the softest, sweetest prey he’d ever encounter.

legs spread, you welcome him between them, where his hardness presses — warm and insistent — against your wetness. but he still has his breeches on.

you hook a finger into the waist and tug, letting the fabric snap back against his alabaster skin. ❝ these, i think, need to come off. ❞

❝ why, i do believe you’re right. ❞ using his roguelike reflexes, the trousers are gone before you know it and his erection is jutting up, thick and hard, against his stomach. the sight is enough to make you salivate.

normally you’d put it in your mouth straight away, but pregnancy has made you overly sensitive to nausea and you really don’t want to chance ruining this lovely afternoon. so you pull him down by his tunic and kiss him again, your tongues slipping, dancing, enjoying themselves.

one of astarion’s hands has found itself down between your legs again, and he parts from you to whisper, ❝ you’re so wet … i think i could just … ❞

he trails off, and the head of his cock finds your entrance. gentle fingers splay your lips apart and he guides himself right into you, gliding easily along your slick walls. this is not the first time you’ve gotten wet so easily for him and certainly won’t be the last.

you pull your legs back, hooking your arms around your knees to hold yourself open for him. you’ve made this exact shape with your body many times before, and not always in a bed as comfortable as this one. but the extra weight you’ve put on makes holding the position a touch more difficult this time, and one of your legs slips from your grasp, knocking astarion hard in the side.

❝ gods, sorry! ❞ you reach for him, to make sure he’s okay, but the vampire catches your hand easily and pins it to the bedclothes, fingers twined with yours.

❝ never apologize to me, my love. you have no need to. you could ravish me, and still i would thank you. ❞

the thought makes your toes curl; being with astarion hasn’t always been easy, especially when you first met. but now … especially now that you’re pregnant, his desire to dote upon you has grown immeasurably. you want nothing more than to bask in the intensity of his gaze forevermore … and to give birth to his child, of course, but that is still months off.

❝ i still c-can’t believe, ❞ you stutter as he begins to thrust, ❝ you actually managed to get me pregnant. ❞

astarion covers your swollen belly with one of his perfect hands, and both of you watch your breasts sway as he fucks you. ❝ my dear, i was so full of your blood that night i’d be surprised if you don’t give birth to twins. ❞

the thought makes your head swim, your legs clench around his waist, drawing him in, wanting him so much deeper.

neither of you had strictly known that was how it worked; that the more blood a vampire had drunk, the more virile they’d become. not until conducting some research and investigation after you’d mysteriously missed your cycle that month.

needless to say, however, both of you were beyond thrilled.

❝ careful, ❞ you jest, with your legs still tight around him, urging him on. ❝ don’t want to poke the baby’s eye out. ❞

astarion chuckles, leaning down to lay a chiding bite to your chest, fully on display now that the opposites sides of your negligee had fallen completely open. ❝ i don’t claim to be an expert, but i don’t think that’s how it works, love. ❞

as if to prove his point, his hips start to piston in and out of you. harder, faster, astarion holds your gaze as he all but begins to plow you.

pregnancy has made you sensitive in ways you couldn’t believe were possible. the ridges of his fat cock dragging against your tight walls make the room go fuzzy, the bed canopy above you shifting and twinkling like a sky full of stars.

your hands are in his hair, tugging, drawing a hiss from him as he tosses his head back against your ministrations.

he growls, tight and low, that he wants to see you cum, wants to see you lose yourself for him. and you can’t help but obey.

your entire body seizes, toes curling in the sheets, and astarion fucks you through it with harsh, demanding thrusts. you’re so wet that his cock makes sticky sweet noises every time he enters you.

it takes him no time at all, after that, to finish for you. this time you pull your legs back as far as possible and tell him to cum as deep inside of you as he can, wishing to every god you believe in that he could get you pregnant again now, fuck another baby into you.

the one already inside of you is demanding enough, but you can’t help but marinate on astarion’s earlier words: what if you’re having twins? the thought fills you with inexplicable joy, heart pounding big and broad in your chest.

astarion sighs and slips to the side of you, sliding down to place his cheek against your belly. ❝ see? i don’t think he minds at all … ❞

❝ oh? and how do you know it’s a he? ❞ you can barely catch your breath to ask, fingers brushing hair back from astarion’s sweaty forehead.

❝ i don’t. but if you have a boy, you can be guaranteed i’ll be getting you pregnant again as fast as i can, so that he’ll have a sister to keep him in line. ❞

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹｡ 5:55 p.m. | oikawa tooru

wc: 709 summary: oikawa comes home missing a step in the ‘oikawa family routine’.  contains: f!reader, papa!oikawa, baby girl oikawa, use of term ‘baby’, baby/child/kid, being parents, food descriptions, oikawa coming home to his lil family of three!, oikawa aged up to pro. a/n: thought of this lil blurb today and had to get it down !! i love papa oikawa my heart is bursting !!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

Oikawa comes home in the late afternoon.

He takes his shoes off by the genkan, and keeps a hop in his step despite a full day of volleyball; being a setter might be what he does best, but bursting into his house, shouting his usual 'baby, i'm home!' might just be what he loves the most.

And he's about to do it, as he steps into the hallway, gym bag on his shoulder and mouth open pre-yell, but he stops, because—

—there peering up at him is his little girl, greeting him with an index finger to her lips as if to say: 'shhh, papa, be quiet ...'.

When he looks further behind her, to the couch, he sees you, fast asleep with your right arm folded to cushion your head, and the other hanging over the edge.

"Mama sleep," she whispers, almost giggling, and he thinks the saying could never be more true; her laugh is infectious (or maybe just to her papa)—he'd never be immune.

Oikawa's eyes widen and he mouths an 'oh' as he lets down his gym bag quietly. He crouches low, coming eye-to-eye with his mini-me, the splitting image of him except for her smile—which is yours, undoubtedly.

He stretches his arms out, welcoming her in, and she rushes to him, giggling, her brown curls bouncing with each step closer to him.

This is the Oikawa family routine: when papa arrives home, he gets 3 kisses, one on each cheek and the last one on his nose. Then, he lifts his little girl up, supports her with one arm while he kisses you and pulls you close.

This time, the routine isn't quite as complete but he still has his little girl on his arm, perched by his hip kissing his cheek. Her little hands grab on to his face to place the final kiss to his nose and he scrunches it, joking with her, a remix of his favorite tune as she giggles some more.

"Did my baby sleep too?" he whispers, feet light as he makes his way to the kitchen, past you.

His little girl nods, "Small only." and he thinks it's so cute, that she's the smartest girl in the world for knowing what to say—even though he knows 'small' isn't exactly the right word to describe it.

He lets her down on the kitchen counter before opening the fridge to check what's available: chicken and a few vegetables. Then, he gathers what he needs and places them on the table.

"Should we make dinner for mama?" he asks, a glint in his eyes that can only mean one thing. 

His little girl perks up, brown eyes widening and gleaming just the same, a perfect reflection of his as she nods and says, "Egg!"

He laughs, volume restrained, but he kisses her forehead and replies, "Okay, egg for mama it is."

By the end of it, there's an empty carton (or two) of eggs he's used (failed attempts to make Omurice until its decent, but still half as good as what you always do). His little girl sprinkles the last few bits of green onion before you round the corner just in time, eyes slightly puffed and his love right there, laced in your sleepy smile.

"Mama!" his (your) little girl shouts, making grabby hands at her papa to let her down.

You shake your head and laugh, smiling just like your little girl as you drag your feet nearer. The food is resting on the counter as Oikawa picks her up, keeping her perched on his hip as he walks towards you.

It’s a warm, fuzzy feeling sitting in his stomach that's been there for a while, even before you two became three, that's reminding him of how good his life is, coming home to you, sleep lines and all running across your cheek.

When you meet in the middle of your kitchen, you don't forget the Oikawa family routine, tiptoeing up to kiss him as he pulls you closer, your little girl squished in-between.

"I'm home, baby." he whispers, nose-to-nose, just as you let his lips go, and you laugh, his favorite tune, the original, before your baby girl made it her own.

"Welcome home."

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[gabseyoo]

HELP — SAKUSA KIYOOMI

content: female reader, established relationship, public indecency, car sex, blowjob, handjob, ball sucking. word count: 1,3k.

“So… are you feeling better?” You asked your boyfriend—who was resting his chin on his palm looking out the car window—after several minutes in silence.

Kiyoomi shook his head and replied without even looking at you, “Give me another minute.” You couldn’t help but giggle, and that apparently didn’t please your grumpy boyfriend. “Stop giggling. This isn’t funny.”

“It absolutely is.” You said with a smile and decided to tease him a little more by poking his arm as you added, “You like me that much, baby?”

“Stop.” Kiyoomi finally turned to see you though still with his elbow leaning against the window. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”

The accusation almost makes you burst out laughing, “I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“I won’t kiss you anymore if you don’t want me to. But apparently you like my kisses too much for that to even be an option.” You noticed how a chuckle almost escaped his lips before he playfully rolled his eyes and looked back at the window. 

No matter what Kiyoomi said, this was funny.

You were supposed to have a dinner date to celebrate your anniversary, and in fact, you were already parked in the restaurant’s parking lot. 

The thing is that you decided to give your boyfriend a small kiss just before you got out of the car, well, if a ‘small kiss’ means sticking your tongue in his mouth for more than three minutes— but you just couldn’t help it! You were happy and excited for tonight. 

Anyway… the result was that he got hard, and now you’ve been in the car for for who knows how long waiting for him to ‘feel better’. 

Honestly, you found the situation as funny as you found it sexy— your handsome, big, tall boyfriend getting rock hard just because you gave him a kiss. That also had an effect on you, which obviously wasn’t as noticeable as the big bulge in his pants, but you still couldn’t stop those not-so-decent thoughts that had you rubbing your thighs together. And well, it’s not like you have a lot of self-control. 

“I can help you, you know?”

That apparently caught his attention, because he turned to look at you curiously. “Huh?” 

“I can help you feel better.” You said innocently, leaning your elbow on the middle console to rest your chin on your hand. 

Kiyoomi was quick to understand what you meant.

“We’re in a parking lot, baby.” Despite his words and the dim lighting, you could see that hint of excitement in his eyes as he looked around, perhaps analyzing how empty the parking lot was. 

“And? It’s not like we haven’t done this before.” 

“I know, but—” At  that moment he looked back at you and his words got stuck in his throat when he realized that you were already looking at him with those doe eyes you knew he loved and couldn’t resit even if he tried. “Doll, don’t give me that look.” 

“What look?” You tilted your head slightly to one side as if you really had no idea what he was talking about.

Kiyoomi didn’t respond, but his actions spoke for him, maybe it was on purpose, or he did it by reflex, but when his hand that rested on his thigh went to cup his bulge—perhaps in an attempt to soothe himself—it turned you on. Fuck, you wanted his dick in your mouth now. 

“So, Kiyoomi?” Your other hand went over his, forcing him to put a little pressure on his erection that made him moan. “I’ll be quick. After all, judging by the way you look right now—” You leaned close to his ear to whisper, “I don’t think you’ll last long.”

A second later, his lips were on yours, kissing you as desperately as if it was the last time he would ever taste your lips. 

He moved your hand to hastily unbutton his pants and pull them and his boxers down, just enough to release his throbbing erection. Immediately, you wrapped your palm around his dick and began to stroke it up and down slowly before breaking the kiss to see his face and the pleasure reflected on it. 

Kiyoomi tried to maintain eye contact, but when your thumb circled his tip while your other hand moved to fondle his balls, he couldn’t help but close his eyes in pure pleasure. He already seemed to be in heaven, and you hadn’t even used your mouth yet. But that will change soon. 

You lowered your head down until your face was close to his cock and spat on it to lubricate the rest of his length with your palm before taking the tip into your mouth.

Kiyoomi cursed under his breath as you made circles with your tongue, tasting his precum, and without waiting any longer, you slipped the rest into your mouth to start bobbing your head up and down, not taking long to find your rhythm. 

Your hand kept massaging his balls while with the other you kept stimulating what couldn’t fit in your mouth, and you knew that now you had your boyfriend in actual heaven by the moans coming out of his mouth. 

Although many wouldn’t expect it, Kiyoomi was a vocal, and you loved it. That’s why you shoved his entire length down your throat until you gagged, knowing how much he loved that. He sighed your name as he pushed his hips up and his hand settled on your head, holding you there for a few seconds until you couldn’t take it anymore and had to pull away to catch your breath.

Kiyoomi used this moment to recline the seat and spread his legs further apart, “You have no idea how sexy you look right now.” His words were accompanied by his hand caressing your back before moving it down to your ass, where he squeezed the flesh over the fabric tightly before slipping his hand under your dress and doing the same but now with direct contact with your skin. “So fucking perfect, I— fuck!” He couldn’t finish his praise because at that moment you put one of his heavy balls in your mouth, sucking it a little and then doing the same with the other one while you kept pumping him with your hand. 

Kiyoomi threw his head back when you took his length back into your mouth, resuming your previous rhythm. He was practically panting now, completely immersed in the pleasure you were giving him. 

“Baby, I’m going to cum.” He mumbled after a minute, and without resisting any longer, he brought both of his hands to your head to now guide your movements, making you go faster and deeper each time you lowered your head. 

More tears came out of your eyes every time you choked on his cock on every downstroke as you tried your best to breathe through your nose. It was hard, but you managed to hold on until he came in your throat with your name leaving his lips.

You swallowed what you could as Kiyoomi continued to move your head now more slowly until he emptied himself. Seconds later, he released his grip and you licked the cum that had oozed from the edges of your mouth as you sat up straight.

A smile appeared on your face when you saw that he was still panting, trying to recover from his climax. You watched him with lust in your eyes as he pulled up his underwear to cover himself, without even bothering to fasten his pants. 

“Well, problem solved.” You said, breaking the silence and Kiyoomi snorted as he turned to look at you with a smirk. 

“Still want to have dinner?” He asked with a suggestive tone, “Or should we go home?” He added before leaning toward you to kiss you again. Slower, but no less eager. 

“Dinner was the plan, wasn’t it?” You answered playfully, still with your lips on his, and you deepened the kiss a little more before speaking again. “But you know? Now I’m the one who needs to feel better.”

He smiled against your lips, “And I’m more than willing to help.”

+ note: happy anniversary i guess <3

[thenightling]

Dead boy Detectives review

I've watched all eight episodes of Dead Boy Detectives and it was a decent show. It's not something I may obsess over like The Sandman, or The Witcher, but it was decent.

Dead Boy Detectives is the story of Edwin Payne and Charles Rowland. Edwin was killed during a Satanic ritual in 1916. Charles died from hypothermia and internal bleeding after some bullies drove him into an ice-cold lake while throwing rocks at him.

(Note: That was not how Charles actually died in the source material. In the comics, Lucifer had quit and shut down Hell (the basis for the TV show Lucifer) so many evil souls returned to Earth, including the boys that sacrificed poor Edwin. They badly burnt Charles' back on a hot stove and Charles died from his injuries.)

The two ghosts decided to dedicate their afterlife solving mysteries to help other ghosts find peace. They are aided by psychic, Crystal Palace, who is haunted by her abusive ex-boyfriend who happens to be a demon.

Both Edwin Payne and Charles Rowland originated in Neil Gaiman's The Sandman: Season of Mists, The Sandman: Volume 4. Issue 25 of The Sandman comics, and within Act 2 of The Sandman audio drama.

The Dead Boy Detectives made their TV first appearance in Doom Patrol for HBO Max (now Max). During a shakeup at Max the show was moved over to Netflix as to better connect it with The Sandman since that is where they originated.

The show features different actors from the ones that played Charles and Edwin on Doom Patrol.

The Dead Boy Detectives is a decent show but ...it feels a bit like a CW teen drama. I had been told that some of the show's writers were originally writers for the CW... and it shows.

There are some deliberately surreal elements of the show that I think are a callback to their appearance in Doom Patrol.

I love the variety of supernatural entities in the show, including the appearance of two of Morpheus's siblings. Death and Despair. The things I don't like about the show can be considered CW tropes or cliches. The angsty romances and unrequited love. The ham-fisted abusive ex metaphor between Crystal and David The Demon.

And of course the most tedious of CW tropes, the end of the episode pining and angst while a sad pop song plays in the background.

If you look past the CW-ness of it, the show is enjoyable.

The only other things I can complain about is the "connecting thread" subplot of The Afterlife: Lost and Found feels like unnecessary filler. And I wish they would openly establish that Edwin, being an innocent, would NOT return to Hell if collected by Death now. I don't think that should be left hanging over his head. Especially since we're supposed to see Death as a kind entity. Also I think Charles says "Aces" a little too much. It's very distracting and makes me feel like the writers didn't know much late 80s English slang. It would be like if he was an American and they had him say "Radical" all the time. I get that it's kind of his catchphrase but it also got a bit annoying.

The parts I don't like are CW tropes and what I'd consider to be late 90s Vertigo edginess.

The thing I liked were plentiful though. The protagonists were and are likable. The ending is satisfying enough so that if there is only one season this was still good. I liked that it appears that one can ascend out of Hell after some self-reflection as is indicated by the boy Edwin confronted in Hell. The blue light was established to mean ascension, a good afterlife.

I also LOVE the opening credits theme music and animated sequence. It reminds me of the intro to Showtime's Creature Feature movies. (See the trailer for 2001's She Creature, not the 50s version. Watch the trailer at thirteen seconds in, on Youtube, and you'll see what I mean).

That's two Gothic themed shows from Netflix in the last two years with great opening credits sequences. The first being Wednesday. That one won Danny Elfman an Emmy.

It's funny, Wednesday and Dead Boy Detectives (which is a spin-off of The Sandman) have great opening credit intro sequences but The Sandman does not. Apparently Neil Gaiman was told people don't watch the opening credits anymore so The Sandman doesn't have them.

I feel we were cheated out of what could have been a great opening sequence for The Sandman.

Episodes 7 and 8 of Dead Boy Detectives were probably the best of the series. I liked it well enough that if Dead Boy Detectives gets renewed I'll happily watch season 2.

[permanentswaps]

SwapFindr (Pt. 2)

It had been a week since the swap, and the silence from Andrew was starting to gnaw at me. I’d reached out twice now, casual messages just to check in, see how he was adjusting to my life. No response. Not even a “hey” or a thumbs-up emoji. At first, I told myself he was busy—maybe wrapped up in the gym routines or trying to nail down my daily rhythm—but as each day passed, the more unsettled I became.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, the unfamiliar bulk of Andrew’s body staring back at me. It still felt weird, like I was wearing someone else’s skin—because I was. His stockier build, his broader frame, all of it was alien to me. I flexed an arm experimentally, watching the muscles shift under the skin, but it didn’t give me the same satisfaction I used to get in my own body. This wasn’t me, and the longer I stayed like this, the more wrong it felt.

I pulled out my phone and opened our chat again. The last message I sent sat there, unread. I typed out another one, more direct this time.

L: Hey, man. Just checking in. Can we please talk about swapping back?

The notification ping startled me out of my thoughts. I glanced at my phone—finally, a message from Andrew. I opened it quickly, my stomach tightening in anticipation.

A: Hey man, sorry for not getting back to you earlier. Been crazy busy. I get it, though—you must be missing this body hard right now. I mean, come on, it’s so fucking sexy. Can’t say I blame you.

A photo loaded on my screen—my body, shirtless in the gym, flexed biceps like I’d just finished a heavy set. The lighting hit just right, showing off the muscles I’d worked so hard to build. Seeing myself like that, from someone else’s perspective, felt strange. And uncomfortable. It wasn’t me behind those eyes.

I typed back quickly.

L: Looks like you're putting it to good use. So, can we swap back soon?

His reply came almost instantly.

A: I would, but I can’t tonight. Got a date lined up. ;)

A date? I felt my stomach drop. I wasn’t even sure why I was surprised, but something about it rubbed me the wrong way.

L: A date? Since when?

A: Well I’ve been seeing guys all week, actually. Hookups mostly - this is the first date. This body is a magnet, dude.

L: Really?

A: Dude—it’s been wild. First night, there was this insanely hot Spanish guy who works at some fancy law firm downtown. Had the nicest apartment I’ve ever seen. After him, there was this frat guy—super built, kinda douchey, but fun. Then a hipster with some really sexy tattoos, and last night was this daddy type. Buff as hell and just the right amount hairy. Kinda gave new meaning to being called a “good boy.”

I couldn’t believe what I was reading. Andrew was living the life I never had the confidence to even attempt. I’d thought about meeting up with Grindr guys before, but always bailed.

L: How the hell do you have the confidence to do that?

A: Dude, it’s not about confidence. It’s this body. Guys are just drawn to it. You’d have no problem if you tried. Trust me, it’s not hard when you look like this.

That stung. Not because he was wrong, but because he was right. I knew my body was decent, but I never felt like I could pull that off.

L: So, you’ve been, like… doing a lot?

A: Haha, yeah, man. Getting bred every night. It’s been a blast.

I felt my heart skip a beat. Bred? Was he serious?

L: Wait, please tell me you’re using condoms.

A: LOL. Relax. I tried to. But man, once you go raw, you can’t go back.

L: What?!?

A: First hookup with the Spanish guy, I told him to use one. But halfway through, I wasn’t paying attention, and he slipped it off. When I realized, he was already deep inside, holding my arms down, telling me how good I felt bare. And honestly… I didn’t want him to stop.

I stared at the screen, my fingers shaking slightly.

A: Since then, none of the other guys have said anything about using a condom … so I didn’t either.

L: Andrew, that’s dangerous. You have to use protection.

A: Dude, chill out, your body’s on PreP anyway. Besides, tonight's a date not a hookup so I wont even fuck him … probably.

L: Andrew, I'm not kidding.

But my message hung there, unread.

[yourmoonie]

How to manifest an SP

The Neville Goddard way and my interpretation:

Neville:

“When I decided to marry the lady who now bears my name, I applied this principle. At the time, I was terribly involved. I had married at the age of eighteen and became a father at nineteen. We separated that year, but I never sought a divorce; therefore, my separation was not legal in the state of New York.”

Moonie:

Neville had specific circumstances in front of him:

- He wasn't legally divorced

- The Ancient laws of the New York city were getting on his way of marrying his 2nd wife

Neville:

“Sixteen years later, when I fell in love and wanted to marry my present wife, I decided to sleep as though we were married. While sleeping, physically in my hotel room, I slept imaginatively in an apartment, she in one bed and I in the other. My dancing partner did not want me to marry, so she told my wife that I would be seeking a divorce and to make herself scarce – which she did, taking up residence in another state. But I persisted! Night after night I slept in the assumption that I was happily married to the girl I love."

Moonie:

As you can see, despite the annoying circumstances, Neville still believed in his imagination even if his 1st wife wasn't around, even if his 1st wife didn't sign the divorce papers, he still believed in his imagination more than his 3D or his human senses. He slept in the assumption that he was happily married to the girl he loved even if his 3D was showing him the opposite.

Neville:

“Within a week I received a call requesting me to be in court the next Tuesday morning at 10:00 A.M., giving me no reason why I should be there, I dismissed the request, thinking it was a hoax played on me by a friend. So the next Tuesday morning at 9:30 A.M.I was unshaved and only casually dressed, when the phone rang and a lady said: “It would be to your advantage, as a public figure, to be in court this morning, as your wife is on trial. “What a shock! I quickly thanked the lady, caught a taxi, and arrived just as the court began. My wife had been caught lifting a few items from a store in New York City, which she had not paid for. Asking to speak on her behalf I said: “She is my wife and the mother of my son. Although we have been separated for sixteen years, as far as I know, she has never done this before and I do not think she will ever do it again. We have a marvellous son. Please do nothing to her to reflect in any way upon our son, who lives with me. If I may say something, she is eight years my senior and may be passing through a certain emotional state which prompted her to do what she did. If you must sentence her, then please suspend it.”

Moonie:

Despite the fact that his 1st wife was "running away" from signing the divorce papers or facing Neville so he could marry his second wife, Neville didn't hold any grudges against his ex wife because he believed that his imagination was greater than anything. So Neville experienced a very unique bridge of events, which then later on led him to get whatever he wanted in his 3D

Neville:

“The judge then said to me, “In all of my years on the bench I have never heard an appeal like this. Your wife tells me you want a divorce, and here you could have tangible evidence for it, yet you plead for her release.” He then sentenced her for six months and suspended the sentence. My wife waited for me at the back of the room and said: “Neville, that was a decent thing to do. Give me the subpoena and I will sign it.” We took a taxi together and I did that which was not legal: I served my own subpoena and she signed it. “Now, who was the cause of her misfortune? She lived in another state but came to New York City to do an act for which she was to be caught and tried.

Moonie:

See? She was in another state, but when she came to New York, she was "forced" to do a specific act, which later on became Neville's bridge of events to marrying his 2nd wife. Neville focused on the desire, aka marrying his 2nd wife and not the circumstances (the divorce papers).

Neville:

So, I say: every being in the world will serve your purpose, so in the end, you will say: “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do." “They will move under compulsion to do your will, just as my wife did.” “I tell this story only to illustrate a principle. You do not need to ask anyone to aid you in the answer to a prayer, for the simple reason that God is omnipotent and omniscient. He is in you as your own wonderful I Am ness. Everyone on the outside is your servant, your slave, ready and able to do your will.“

Moonie:

So if people have to move for you, then THEY WILL. Do you want your desire to get externalized faster? Forget about the timing and "trying" and start BEING. If 5000 people have to move for you in order for you to get your desire in a materialized way then they will have to run for you

Neville:

“All you need do is know what you want, Construct a scene which would imply the fulfilment of your desire. Enter the scene and remain there. If your imaginal counsellor (your feeling of fulfilment) agrees with that which is used to illustrate your fulfilled desire, your fantasy will become a fact. If it does not, start all over again by creating a new scene and enter it. In my own case the scene was a bedroom of an apartment, with my wife in one bed and I in the other, denoting that I was no longer living in a hotel alone. I fell asleep in that state, and within one week I had the necessary papers to start action on a divorce.“

Moonie:

You really don't need to beg, or lift up a finger to get whatever you want. Don't focus on the problem, focus on the solution, don't focus on the circumstance, focus on the end goal.

He really proved himself that all he needed to do was to stay true to his imagination.

Do you want your shit faster?

- go straight to the end, accept that your desire is yours (has already been externalized and is yours)

- stand firm

- forgive yourself, forgive the people in your reality bcs they are just playing their roles in your reality.

- It is not your job to worry about "the how" or "the when", your job is to define+decide your desire, then believe and trust yourself that its already yours

Because THERE IS NO SEPARATION

[nana-au]

𝐈 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐍'𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄...

 𝜗𝜚 Satoru Gojo Prince AU ♡ part four

 𝜗𝜚 Summary: satoru has an announcement to make to the royal court. you don't think you could've ever prepare yourself for what it could be. the two of you see each other after months of no contact and the result is bitter sweet. story summary based off of this drabble

𝜗𝜚 Warnings: forbidden love, unspoken feelings, heavy angst, intense emotions, suggestive flirting, heated make out, cussing, depression symptoms, misguided anger, jealousy.

 𝜗𝜚 wc: 4,323

𝜗𝜚 an: there is a surprise guest from the jjk cast being introduced.. heh. dw he is just for the story and holds no interest in reader.

┊p1┊p2┊p3┊p4┊𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠... p5┊

“How do you like kitchen duty, my dear?” the Queen asks, the royal blue wallpaper of her study behind her head seems to shift like the ocean waves; rising and falling - dancing in the reflection of your pupils as your tea is poured for you. With a wave of her hand the Queen’s servant is dismissed and it’s just the two of you alone. The silence is unsettling as much as it is intoxicating. The kitchen is noisy - pots and pans clanging together, the repeated motion of knife hitting cutting board, and the bubbling sounds of a roiling boil. But then there is your room at night; the bed you climb into is decently soft and the covers keep you warm enough but you’re missing the noise of Satoru’s words. Before everything changed you would lay awake and replay every conversation with the Prince; your heart would pound remembering every brush of his hand or intense gaze he didn’t bother to hide. Instead now even your own thoughts have quieted, leaving your night void of any stimulation. 

“It’s been pleasant,” you respond, blowing on the hot tea you’ve brought to your lips. You don’t try very hard to sound convincing but if the Queen notices she doesn’t comment on it. 

“I’ve heard you have been getting pretty close to one of the men in the kitchen,” she wiggles her eyebrows, like you’re her girl friend and she’s genuinely interested in your potential love life. You’re not entirely sure where she got such information from; but it’s been clear to you for a while now. She has eyes and ears everywhere. 

“Forgive me, I’m not quite sure who you are referring to,” the tea is hot as you sip it, burning the taste buds you’ve barely been using these days. 

“Well, Nanami, of course,” she takes a moment to sip her own tea. “He’s handsome… quite burly too for working in a kitchen,” she’s smirking describing the man like it's the most entertaining gossip in the whole world. You guess it's not the worst thing she could potentially hear about you. All though, the worst had already been said. 

“He’s knowledgeable,” you tell her, stoic and devoid of any real emotion, “I enjoy learning what I can from him,” it’s a boring answer but your life is boring now. She frowns, almost a little disappointed that you won’t bite and indulge in ‘boy talk’ with her, but she continues on anyway. 

“That’s how your parents met, you know,” another long sip of her tea, “your father used to volunteer in the kitchens just to see your mother,” she’s obnoxiously giddy again and you can’t fight the sour taste of disgust. It feels more like she’s describing a silly little romance novel and not real people’s lives. It’s almost amusing knowing that as soon as your ‘silly little romance’ got too close to her son it was no longer exciting to her. You kept silent - having nothing worth commenting aloud as you waited for her to get to her point. She didn’t invite you here to gossip, your life had hardly been entertaining since 3 months ago when you were banished from Satoru’s presence. Her lips purse for a moment before she talks, “Well that’s not why I invited you here anyways,”

No shit. 

“I wanted to say thank you. I’m sure you’ve heard of our upcoming event in which Satoru will announce who he is courting,” you could have choked on air if you were not incredibly aware of yourself around the Queen. Instead you sucked in a quick breath. You had obviously been preparing for the event seeing as it was tomorrow and everyone in the kitchens scrambled around to get everything set for it - but you missed the part where it involved Satoru and his new potential partner. “I was incredibly worried for the future of our kingdom, and I appreciate your diligent work in securing that,” her words danced around the true meaning - but you weren’t a dunce. She was thanking you for hurting Satoru - and yourself in the process. A truly noble sacrifice indeed. You had to fight the desire to strangle yourself in front of her.  

“Of course,” is all you muster, not bothering to put on a brave face. 

“Remember the blonde Princess I talked about all those years ago?” she says, observing her pristine nails, “I knew Satoru would warm up to her if he tried,” your tea was gone by the end of her sentence and you lacked the stimulation now required for this conversation; your uneasiness eating away at your insides. 

“I’ve heard she’s lovely,” your throat is dry despite downing an entire cup of tea. 

“Oh more than lovely, if you could even imagine. I’ve never seen Satoru more at peace than when he’s listening to her playing piano. She’s quite the pianist!” 

𝜗𝜚

Satoru did indeed enjoy the times she played for him. The melody left no room for chatter. It was the only moment the two of them were together that he could close his eyes and rest; shutting down after hours of struggling to be present. He didn’t need to pretend to listen to how her day went or care about her childhood. He didn’t need to make up details about his day or share stories of his own youth that he struggled to edit you out of. He could just be. And that’s how Satoru preferred it. 

You would never know about it because ‘how could you?’ - but Satoru was a new man. Gone were the days of acting out or scoffing at his lessons. Gone were the days he preferred fencing to etiquette lessons. He now spent his time indoors because that’s where his bed was closest. His new favorite activity was painting. It was quiet and kept his mind occupied. He enjoyed painting with the new Princess the most - she would play while he would paint and as her hands created beautiful melodies Satoru’s created melancholy works of art

She peers a glance at his canvas over the piano, eyebrows furrowing as she notices the brooding blues, “You do realize this song is meant to elicit joy?” she inquires playfully, and Satoru apologizes. 

“Forgive me, I don’t have much experience with music theory,” his brush dips into the blue oil paint before dabbing it onto the course fabric. 

“Blue seems to be your favorite color,” she comments, her hands walking over each other as the keys come alive from her touch. 

Satoru nods, “I do enjoy reds too. Deep reds,” he murmurs. 

The color of his bleeding heart. 

𝜗𝜚

When the King and Queen announce a new ball, Satoru already understands the reason without being told. He had to fix his blunder - the one where he abandoned his duties and prioritized the pleasure your presence gave him. He hadn’t seen you since that day - but he was sure your face would bring him anything but pleasure nowadays. He was agreeing to the expectations of this new event without listening. It didn’t matter to him anyways. His life wasn’t his - this was a fact he could no longer be gullible about. 

That’s why he stood there in the center of the ballroom, fingers interlaced with the Princess as he smiled down at her like she meant something to him. Because his life wasn’t his and there were worse women in the world to be arranged to. The Princess really wasn’t all that bad. She was intelligent, respectful, charitable and incredibly humble. She knew there was more to life than her appearance all while being a sight for sore eyes. Satoru couldn’t have expected anyone more perfect for the role of his wife. With his heart now out of the picture - there was no better option than her. He could see that clearly now.

She nuzzled her head against his shoulder, hiding her blush as Satoru talked about the first day they met to an inquiring older man and that is when you finally see the two of them together. Surprisingly, you’re allowed out of your metaphorical cage - the King and Queen now fully entrusting you in the same room as Satoru after you successfully stomped out his light. You’re with the kitchen boy, Nanami, who was the Queen’s new show pony she liked to trot around; insisting he was there to describe the new hors d'oeuvre he created himself. Neither of you were entirely convinced the Queen thought that highly of the dish - rather than the idea of having such an esteemed cook now residing in her royal kitchen. Your jaw drops seeing the two of them next to each other. You had only seen paintings of the Princess, and even those did not prepare you for the intensity of her eyes and the silkiness of her hair. You were right all those years ago; next to Satoru wearing his family’s signature blue - she fit perfectly. 

And Satoru. Your Satoru. He looked so sorrowfully beautiful. His jaw was sharper and his eyes were darker but he was still Satoru and that fact alone made it impossible to look away. You had no right - but your watery eyes threatened to spill over watching the Prince hold hands with the Princess. A pitiful feeling fell over you once you realized you couldn’t read his expression. There had never been a day that you couldn’t skim his face like the pages of a book and pinpoint exactly what he was thinking - but now being in the same room with him after so long - you realized you were no longer privy to his thoughts like you used to be. Perhaps that ability was now reserved for the woman who held his hand. If it wasn’t so devastating you might have considered thanking the Queen for what she made you do. You had to have looked so silly beside him seeing the Princess in front of you now - appearing to be a piece of the same puzzle by his side. 

“Are you doing okay?” a deep voice prods your ear and you turn to see Nanami, standing by your side with a look of worry. The Queen wasn’t entirely wrong when she spoke of rumors that the two of you were close - you were in a lot of ways. Just not in the way she found most interesting. Nanami taught you a lot of skills in the kitchen. He showed you the best ways to cut vegetables and the importance of never looking away from milk boiling on a stove top. He told you stories of his travels in search of the best ingredients and his experience being raised on the country-side of a faraway nation whose people were dying of hunger. How his life as a child shaped him into who he was to this day: a seasoned cook who the highest of society paid a pretty penny to grace their kitchens. For some time you spared him the details of your life and he took it well - waiting for the moment you decided he was someone you could trust - and once you did it seemed to flow out of you and never stop. He knew all about your childhood with Satoru and how things became the way they are now. He didn’t scoff at you for daring to imagine yourself next to a Prince or gawk at the audacity it must take to delude yourself into believing your life could possibly be different than those before you. He just listened while he prepared a snack for the two of you. It was cathartic being around someone who carried as much baggage as you. The two of you were stronger than ever by each other’s side, and that is why you stood with him while he talked to the snobs he couldn’t stand and he stood with you while you watched the Prince make his love interest known to everyone. “Go take a moment for yourself, I’ll cover for you,” he offered and you shook your head.

“I promised I wouldn’t leave you alone with these assholes,” you say, earning a chuckle from the blond man next to you. You look up at him and all though he’s laughing his eyes don’t contain humor - more concerned for you while witnessing the same display you had to. He knew it couldn’t be easy.

He leaned in once more, “Well if you change your mind, I won’t be mad,” you smile at him, grateful that you weren’t entirely alone in your new reality. 

𝜗𝜚

Just like the two of you could see the royal couple they could see you too - if they knew what to look for. You caught the Prince’s eye while he took a sip of his champagne, using it as a moment to take in the scene around him until he spotted you. He didn’t know what to expect when he first considered the possibility of running into you again; you two inhabited the same estate and though it was big you had your whole lives to bump into each other. Originally he thought his anger would get the better of him once he finally laid eyes on you. Or he considered that given enough time had passed, looking into your eyes wouldn’t elicit any kind of emotion in him - completely indifferent to your role in his life, like all other servants. What he didn’t expect was for his heart to fail him, the once slow pace now jump started with adrenaline. His heart rate was wild and his pupils dilated. The bubbly drink that usually burned on the way down had effortlessly passed his throat and entered his stomach that grew weak with just one look at you. If he wasn’t careful the Princess beside him would take note of how he completely removed himself from their conversation - but careful he could not be. He wanted to curse his cheeks for warming up at the mere thought of breathing the same air as you… how could he be present? Satoru wouldn’t have even noticed the man standing next to you if not for the way his tall form towered over you, blocking you from the Prince’s view. That’s when Satoru began to grow just a little more aware of his surroundings - or more so your surroundings. While he repeated the words you said to him that day like it was a prayer he couldn’t help but retell before bed - lest he forget - he still fought the logical side of him begging him to accept your words as fact. But he couldn���t because he couldn’t accept your own interpretation of your feelings while you shook and sniffled in the stables. He believed you wanted nothing more to do with him - but he thought the pressure of fighting for your rightful place in his life was one you could no longer stomach. That was what caused him the pain he felt each passing moment. That you lost your fight because Satoru wasn’t worth it. But how could he believe you lost your fight when you had no one in your life pressuring you to move on like he did - yet there you stood seemingly cozy next to the tall man beside you. Perhaps the thought of you giving up on Satoru hurt his heart less and that was why he settled on that thought, instead of the earth-shattering possibility that you could have actually wanted nothing to do with him.

So why would you have kissed him?

𝜗𝜚

It was a quiet afternoon when the two of you decided to stroll through the garden’s after Satoru’s tea break. You often found it beneficial to have Satoru spend time outside inbetween his lessons - he would have a new found focus when given the chance to allow his mind to wander in the cool air that the spring time offered. His fingers would busy themselves with the petals of a flower and you would walk in silence beside him, listening to him ramble or letting him bask in the tranquility nature offered. 

That day was one of those times Satoru pondered silently and you let him, enjoying the unique flowers the Gojo’s had planted from all across the globe while you walked by his side. His face was scrunched in thought and his hands were busy with the stem of a lily, using his thumbs to pry the plant open to feel around its sticky insides. You two were deep in your walk, the garden trail extending surprisingly far on the Gojo’s lawn. The estate was now hidden by the yards of thick bushes that separated the trail from other parts of their extensive property. Satoru let out a breath you didn’t realize he was holding, and you turned to look at him. 

He seemed anxious, the tips of his ears were deep red and his face was scrunched with worry. “Did you get a sunburn, Satoru?” you ask him, stopping him in his tracks to get a better look at his ears. They were hot to the touch as you inspected them but he was antsy rather than in pain from the grip you had on his cartilage.

“What do you think about kissing?” he asked, his cheeks turning as red as his ears. You giggle at him, not because it was random - no that was normal for Satoru - but the topic was a bit suspicious.

“Why do you ask?” you all but flirt - finding the confidence to since you had the upper hand.

“I don’t know… it just kept coming up in the book I’ve been reading,” he puts simply, trying to end the conversation he brought up. It was rare for Satoru to embarrass himself like such, and it was going to be hard for him to get you to ignore it. 

“You've been thinking a lot about kissing, haven't you?” you continue to tease, and he scratches the back of his neck. 

“No!” he scoffs, “Just.. nevermind,” the flower he was dissecting was discarded for a new one - his fingers plucking the petals before tearing into the ovule roughly. 

“I don’t know what I think about kissing, I’ve never kissed,” you answer his original question, engaging him back into the conversation. 

“Me neither,” he responded, defiling the poor flower a little less since you had his attention. ‘What do you think it’s like?” It’s your turn to blush and he definitely realizes his newfound control over the conversation - turning the tables on you as he begins to poke you about it. “It’s probably wet, right? Well if you used tongue,” you’re a blushing mess listening to your best friend describe something such as tongue-kissing and he’s smiling at you. His pearly white teeth sparkle under the sun while he continues his torture, “I’d imagine it’s warm too - and soft. Your lips look soft,” he comments and you could feel yourself struggling to hold back your bashful reaction. He knew how to work you up just like you knew how to work him up. Unfortunately he was a little bit better at it than you - or you were just more susceptible under his gaze. He comes in closer to you - you think just to tease you further and get your heart to racket against your chest and you’re not entirely wrong. It’s hard to focus when his broad shoulders contrast yours and when you feel the palm of his hand touch your sternum to feel the pounding of your heart - you can’t fathom how you’re still standing on your own. “Your heart rate is fast,” he comments, pretending he has no concept as to why that could be. 

“You flirt too much, Satoru,” you grumble at him, trying and failing to steady your heart beats with him so close. His breath smells sweet like the candies he eats and you can’t protect your nose from the pleasant musk that clings to his skin. 

“I’m not flirting. I’m just asking you a question,” he’s somehow closer and his hand won’t leave the spot between your breasts. 

“Yeah. Kissing is probably warm and wet and whatever else you said,” you mumble, desperate to crawl away from him while simultaneously scared of losing physical contact with him. 

“Maybe we should test our hypothesis,” he’s still smiling but his eyes don’t match; half lidded while he observes the twitch of your lips at his words. You gulp, unable to keep yourself from looking at his own pair of lips. You note that they look soft too, even when he bites at them upon noticing you’re doing the same as him. “It can just be a quick one,” he says, almost like he’s trying to convince you now like he’s already convinced himself years ago. Unbeknownst to him you needed very little convincing. 

“Just a quick one,” you all but breathe out, and the two of you are leaning in without realizing it until your lips meet. Your lips feel plump against his, soft like the pillow he lays his head on at night and he doesn’t want it to end. His hand meets your jaw, holding you still while his lips get used to the feeling of yours against them. Your hands come up to grip his shirt, bracing yourself while he slowly deepens it, testing the waters by slowly poking his tongue inside your mouth. You pull back, yelping at the unexpected intrusion. 

“Do you trust me?” he asks, voice sultry and deep and you nod at him, going back in for more. He starts slowly again, pecking your lips softly before working his way up to prodding his tongue cautiously against your sweet lips. You let him in and he all but groans, gripping your waist with his other hands so he can feel you pressed up against him. You both have no idea what you’re doing, teeth and tongues hesitantly clashing as you explore each other’s mouths. His pulse quickens when you let out a weak moan muffled by his mouth hot against yours. His hand on your jaw slowly works its way down your neck, across your collarbone, before hesitantly stopping at the start of your breast. You’re both clouded by the haze created between the two of you, unaware of your surroundings until you hear the scurry of an animal. You both pull away - scanning the area with no luck of finding the creature that caused it. You clear your throat and try your best to pull yourself together - but it’s hard when his eyes are so dark and his lips are so red and glossy from your spit.

“Let’s get back, Satoru. Your teacher will be expecting you soon,” and off you go, with Satoru trailing behind you.

𝜗𝜚

Satoru had never felt the foreign concept of competition in regards to you. It must be the reason he felt such vitriolic jealousy seeing you next to another man. He had no time to consider himself a fool. He wanted nothing more than to see his nose smashed in and your eyes on him again. 

But Satoru had to remind himself he was different. He was no longer the old Satoru whose emotions reigned over his logic. While the new Satoru was born through pain, it would do him good to act on the new things he learned; like patience. 

And patience he needed when later that night he found himself wandering into the kitchen for a glass of water - expecting the room to be empty and overcome with shock when he saw you there. You’re not alone either. The man from earlier guided your hand as you two fileted a fish. And what an odd sight it was - seeing your back pressed up another man’s chest as he carefully guided your knife against the belly of a salmon. Nanami notices the Prince first, respectfully removing his guiding hands and you look up, mouth agape at the sight of the unimpressed Prince in front of you. “Prince Gojo,” you both say, bowing respectfully at him. “How can we be of service?” Nanami asks, still stuck in his bow to Satoru. For the first time in your life you see Satoru ponder his next words and it is almost as shocking as being in the same room as him for the second time after going no-contact all those months ago. You aren’t used to him thinking so long about what to say; you’d always known him to speak his mind unfiltered. It made you incredibly uneasy.

“Are they aware you two occupy the kitchens after they’re meant to be closed,” he asks and you’re even more confused. Satoru? Becoming a stickler for rules? Your jaw hung open just for a moment when you remembered to pick it back up. 

“We’re very sorry, your royal highness. We will be sure to clean up and head off to bed,” Nanami is nothing short of respectful but Satoru still can’t hold back a scoff, turning his head to glance your way. His eyes miss their softness you’ve always been used to and you cower under his eyes, keeping your gaze on the ground until he finally turns around and leaves. 

𝜗𝜚

That night is the first night you let yourself think about Satoru again, now having many things to think about as you lay awake in your bed. 

He looked… almost disappointed in you? You try to fight the idea of him caring what you chose to do, chalking it up to your hopeless wanting that he was as stuck on you as you were stuck on him. But you saw him tonight with the Princess; getting close to her like he only ever did with you and you know you can’t let yourself get caught up in misguided optimism - Satoru had moved on and did exactly what you needed him to do… So why did that realization have to be so unbelievable to you?

┊p1┊p2┊p3┊p4┊𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠... p5┊

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(ty for all the support! comment to be added/removed)

[perlelune]

Training Wheels | Coriolanus Snow | vii.

Your mother's macabre work never appealed to you as you always preferred the comfort of your books, but when her apprentice takes a special interest in you, your safe, quiet world is flipped upside down.

Warnings: DUB-CON, NON-CON, Gaul!Reader, Shy Reader, Manipulation, Parental Neglect, Drinking, Peer Pressure, Hazing, University set, Loss of Virginity, Dumbification, Insecurities, Abusive Relationship, Degradation, Suicide Attempt

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

A heavy breath flows from your lips as you grip the edge of the sink. Your gaze lands on your reflection. Your chest seizes. Your fingers trail the path of bruises and bites Coriolanus scattered on your cheek and neck. A flash of his body shoving yours into the mattress crosses your mind, his throaty moans, his smell clogging your senses. A shiver races along your spine. You step back from the glass until your back collides with the opposite wall. You slump onto the floor. You glance at the bathroom door, thankfully locked. You need a minute on your own. You bury your head between your knees, body shaking as you wrangle with a sudden rush of emotions.

Only vague snippets of the night before remain in your mind. Still, you believed him when he stated you didn’t say no. You’re fairly sure that the word never passed your lips. So how could he divine thoughts you didn’t express? 

Coriolanus isn’t a mind reader.

Especially when you sounded so needy and desperate, rambling about never being kissed.

He probably misread you, assuming this is what you wanted.

In truth, he gave you exactly what you asked for. Perhaps even begged for, though your memory is a little foggy.

You rise on quivering legs, deciding to shelve the upsetting musings aside. You’re a virgin no longer. It’s a good thing…isn’t it? For years, you thought no one wanted you, that you would never experience what others did. That you’re too plain, attractive, weird and awkward. And you suppose, in his own way, Coriolanus proved you wrong last night. You keep convincing yourself of that, playing the words in an assuaging loop as you shed the dress and step into the shower stall.

The scalding water pelting your skin casts a balm over your stormy thoughts. You hiss when it stings in certain places, the ones where Coriolanus left marks that are still visible.

Your gaze drifts down. As you watch blood trickle from between your thighs and swirl down the drain, your stomach clutches. 

You cling to the bathroom tiles, breaths growing heavier. 

Panic escalates inside you. For a few minutes, you remain this way. Steam surrounds you as you spread your fingers over the wall. Hot tears drip down your cheeks, melding with the water sliding along your bruised flesh. 

By the time you step out of the stall, your skin is pruned from how much time you spent in the shower. Much longer than usual. Furiously rubbing and scrubbing at your flesh, as if your shame and disillusionment could be washed off like grime and dirt. Shaken off like a bad dream or a pesky thought.

When you trudge outside of the bathroom in your robe, Coriolanus is on the bed, waiting for you as he said he would. You fidget beneath his stare. He rises and approaches you.

“I should probably take a shower too. I’m filthy,” he observes, his nose scrunching as he sniffs his shirt. 

“Sure. Go ahead. I’ll…get dressed.”

You try not to flinch when he drops a quick, chaste kiss atop your head. 

“Thanks, angel.” 

He disappears in the bathroom. The pitter-patter of the shower fills the room, ropes of steam escaping through the crack at the bottom of the door. Your shoulders sag. You allow yourself to relax, using that reprieve to sift through your clothes until you find a decent outfit. Your spirits dim. The state of your closet is beyond desolate. It didn’t bother you before. After all, no one cared what you wore. But now, you realize how much it matters. You don’t want to be a blight upon Coriolanus’ perfect image. He’s always dressed so well.  

After a lengthy internal debate, you settle on a long, black dress at the very bottom of your wardrobe. One you bought on a whim but wouldn’t have worn in a million years before. Elegant, flowy and flaring at the waist. You’re grateful for the long sleeves and high collar that will conceal the marks Coriolanus left on your skin. 

You don’t want anyone to see. And, if possible, you don’t want anyone to know.

It likely was a one time thing. After all, Coriolanus has his pick of girls from Uni to choose from. So many who have been batting their eyelashes at him since the year began. He’d never go for someone like you. No, he’d rather court somebody like Livia or Persephone. Even Clemmie would be a far better match for him. 

It must be as he explained. He got lost in the moment. You surmise this happens sometimes when people are drunk. They do things they wind up regretting afterwards. 

You go to your bedroom door, bemused when you find it locked. 

As soon as the door opens, Walter leaps into your arms. He meows loudly, rubbing his face against yours while licking his paws. You chuckle. 

“Hey, buddy. Let’s get some food in you, okay?”

You pad across the living room with Walter clinging to your neck. You grimace as you walk, an ache still radiating in your lower body whenever you move. 

You note that his bowl is still half-full, meaning that Coriolanus must have fed him like you asked. A sliver of relief flutters through you. You felt so guilty for not returning home earlier. The ginger ball of fur is reluctant to part from you, his claws sinking into your collarbone.

“Walter,” you admonish. “I’m not going anywhere. Don’t worry.” 

He ends up allowing you to put him down. You sigh as you fill his bowl with dry meat and fish leftovers. You know how anxious Walter can get when you’re not around. You sometimes wonder if it’s because of the time he spent in your mother’s lab, being poked and prodded. Does his memory even go that far back? You genuinely hope not, a shudder coursing through you at the knowledge of how your mother treats her test subjects.

You stroke his fur as he bends down to eat. The familiar softness beneath your fingertips soothes you. 

You’re so distracted that you don’t hear the muffled steps creeping behind you.

“Should we go now?”

You bolt upright, startled by Coriolanus’ abrupt  presence.

“Sure,” you mutter. 

The corners of his lips quirk upward.

“You look pretty,” he says, prowling forward.

“T-Thank you,” you stammer in response.

Without thinking, you stagger backward, your stomach flipping when he matches your steps. Your back hits the counter. 

The blond crowds your space, placing his hands on each side of the countertop. Your heart misses a beat beneath his ponderous scrutiny. 

He cocks his head, his index finger outlining the buttons of your collar.

“It looks a bit uptight though, doesn’t it?” Amusement sways in his cobalt orbs. “Why cover so much skin?”

He flicks the first two buttons with his finger and the top of your collar comes loose, revealing some of the hickeys on your neck. Gasping in shock, you rush to button it back.

“Coriolanus…” you chastise.

He snatches your wrists before you can fix your dress, his intense gaze ensnaring yours.

“Are you trying to hide them?” 

Fire blooms in your cheeks.

“I don’t want people to see and gossip,” you reply quietly.

When he inches closer, his potent scent fills your nostrils.

“Let them gossip. Only useless people do that.” His inflection is dismissive, final. His smile broadens. “You shouldn’t hide. You and I had a wonderful time. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“O-Okay.”

He leans to plant a soft, slow kiss on your lips.

He strokes the side of your head. Long, lithe fingers attach to your collar. He undoes more buttons until a hint of cleavage is exposed. You don’t protest or argue this time, girdling your breath until he’s done. His eyes roam over you, satisfaction lighting his handsome features.

His voice is silky smooth as it pours from his lips.

“There. Much better.”

Just like last time, Coriolanus opens the door of his car for you. 

“Climb in, angel,” he whispers against your ear, making your heart race.

For a while, he drives while humming a soft tune to himself. You twine your hands in your lap, lost in the mayhem of your thoughts. You try to bury last night as far in the depths of your mind as you can, loathing the tendrils of dread coiling around your insides every time a sliver of remembrance slips through. It’s a brand new day. You must look ahead.

Astonishment slithers through you when you realize Coriolanus is headed towards the Corso.

Your head snaps up.

“I thought we were going to the city.”

“We'll stop by the penthouse first.” He turns to you. “I need to change, and check on the Grandma’am.”

“The Grandma’am?”

A soft smile hovers on his lips.

“My grandmother. I live with her and my cousin.”

Your brows knit. Right. Tigris Snow, you believe her name is. You may have seen her and Coriolanus together before. You always thought that was his sister. They both don the signature Snow blonde hair and blue eyes and share the same towering stature.

“Oh. You’re lucky,” you say absently.

He tosses you an inquisitive glance.

“Lucky?”

“To live with your family.” A forlorn smile spreads onto your face, your head dipping. “My mother she’s…she’s never around.”

His brows crumple.

“Truly, never?”

“Never.”

“What about your father?”

Your heart sinks to your feet.

“He…He’s never had any interest in being in my life. He left when I was a baby. Mother says he hates the Capitol and left to start a new life in District One.”

His hand drops over your thigh. His fingers caress you gently as he says, “I’m so sorry, angel. You deserved better, from both of them.”

You shrug, feigning nonchalance despite the prickling in your chest.

“It’s fine. I can’t miss someone I’ve never met.”

His gaze locks with yours.

“Still, it had to be tough, without your parents.”

Uncomfortable, you veer the topic in his direction.

“What about yours?”

You don’t recall ever seeing his parents around either. Neither at the Academy. Nor that first day at the University. Just that statuesque blonde girl around his age you are fairly sure was his cousin.

Coriolanus’ cheek flares, his face hardening.

“Both were killed by rebels…in different ways.”

“Different ways?”

“Yes. My father died while serving and my mother…” He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second before opening them again. When he speaks again, his tone is icier. “She bled out in labor because of those damn rebels.” You flinch, floored by the sheer rancor bleeding in his voice. His lips tighten. “Both she and…my little sister died.”

Your mouth drops. Coriolanus must have been so young when it happened. You and your mother aren’t close, but you can’t picture your life without her in it. Coriolanus lost his so soon and clearly had so much fondness for her. A wave of sympathy fills you. 

“That’s awful. I don’t…I don’t have any words,” you say, tentatively covering his hand with yours. He surprises you by lacing your fingers together. 

“None are needed,” he replies tonelessly. He turns his focus back onto the road, concluding in a matter-of-fact inflection, “It’s why we need the Games. To keep those filthy district rats in their place.”

Your mouth clamps shut. You don’t believe in the Games, finding them needlessly cruel. But your mother and Coriolanus do, actively working together to raise the viewership for next year. 

A wave of queasiness swells within you. 

Silence hangs between you and the blond, not another word leaving your mouths until he arrives at his home.

Coriolanus takes your hand and drags you inside. The two of you make your way through the lobby and up the twelve ornate flights of stairs leading to the Snows’ penthouse. You get lost in the gold and blue patterns swirling beneath your feet.

When he crosses the apartment threshold, he tells you to wait for him and takes long strides towards what you assume must be his bedroom.

You awkwardly linger by the entrance, your eyes meandering about. Everything looks recently renovated, a veil of tarp hanging by a glass window where some construction still seems underway. You step further inside, pacing across the living room while waiting for Coriolanus.

“Hi, I don’t believe we met.”

You whirl, blinking at the appearance of a stunning, slender blonde bearing an eerie resemblance to Coriolanus.

She smiles at you. You relax, gathering that this must be the cousin he mentioned. Tigris Snow.

“We haven’t,” you say.

She studies you. “You must be something special for Coriolanus to bring you around.”

“I-I doubt it,” you reply with a shrug.

She shakes her head.

“My cousin’s never brought any other girls here. Some friends visited but…no one like you.”

“No one like me?”

Sadness flickers over her delicate features briefly before she approaches you.

“Just be careful with him, okay?” she whispers, her voice hushed and secretive, almost as if she dreaded being heard. Her gaze lingers on your neck, a frown forming on her brow. “You just seem so nice and sweet. And Coriolanus he…He’s changed a lot lately. So promise me to take care of yourself.”

You’re stumped at first. It seems such a strange thing to say about her own cousin to a perfect stranger. Your forehead creases.

“Changed in what way?” you can’t help but ask.

Her mouth opens to form a reply but the loud clearing of someone’s throat forestalls whatever she was about to say.

You both whip your heads at the same time.

“Tigris,” Coriolanus says tersely while smoothing the cuffs of his shirt. He’s wearing a fresh new suit, his platinum locks neatly slicked back as always. “I see you two met.”

Tigris blanches. She gives you a quick hug.

“I hope to see you again,” she says before scampering out of the room.

“Me too,” you respond, still perplexed by the peculiar exchange.

Coriolanus turns to you.

“Is everything alright?”

“Of course. Why?”

He takes a step forward, a strange look on his face you can’t read.

“Tigris didn’t say anything strange to you, did she?”

“No, nothing,” you instantly reply. You kick yourself inwards. Why did you lie? You can’t even say yourself. Pure instinct drove the answer out of you.

He tilts up your chin, his intense blue eyes plunging into yours.

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, angel? If she said something, I mean.”

The drumming of your heart grows deafening.

You yield beneath the weight of his unflinching stare, words tearing from your tongue in a nervous heap.

“She told me to be careful,” you confess.

He snickers. But even as he laughs, you note the way his gaze hardens ever-so-slightly. He doesn’t like that Tigris said that to you, you realize. You should have kept your mouth shut.

His thumb sweeps over your bottom lip.

“I’m glad that you told me,” he croons, his tone much softer than before. “I hope you know that you can trust me, angel. Always.”

“I know,” you mumble, sinking in the sea of his gaze as he cradles your face.

[strniohoeee]

Amorous

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo X Female Reader ⚠️SMUT⚠️

Synopsis: Chris and Y/N never have alone time, so they decided to go for night drive, and take a pit stop🤫

Warnings⚠️: this is smut based on my request I just got! It’s obvious there’s sex, but it’s nothing intense. It’s pretty short imagine too🫶🏽

Song for the imagine: Wus good/Curious-PARTYNEXTDOOR

⚠️This is a 18+ imagine so minors DO NOT INTERACT⚠️

Chris and I had been dating for about a year now, and we loved spending time together going on dates, shopping, watching movies together, laughing and overall just enjoying each other's company. However he did live with his brothers, so they would usually join us on certain things like movies and games.

Although Chris had the downstairs room it still made it insanely impossible for us to have true alone time. Matt and Nick always wanted to sleep in his room, or stay with us watching movies till 3am. We loved them dearly, but sometimes Chris and I really needed alone time, and by that I mean we really needed to have sex

The last time we actually had decent sex was a good two months ago, and it was decent because as soon as we finished Matt came barging in the room looking for something of his he left the night prior. So it 100% ruined any lasting mood we might’ve had.

The most we have been able to do in the past two months was over the clothes stuff, and 10 minute quickies in the shower, but we were yearning for some dirty intense love making.

Chris had asked me if I wanted to take a drive with him. Honestly I wanted to stay home, but I know what he wanted, and I knew Nick and Matt would be home soon, so I agreed.

It was 9pm when he decided to take us for a “drive”

“Where are we headed baby?” I asked him as I shuffled his music library

“I’m thinking that little secluded area up on that hill” he said looking over at me

“Ahhh yesss where everyone goes to fuck” I said laughing

He sucks his teeth and looks at me “babe”

“Sorry! I’m serious though. Are you taking me there to fuck?” I said wiggling my brows

“I mean…..we can’t get more than 10 minutes alone, and I really need to fuck the shit out of you” he said glancing over at me

“True. I’ve been needing this too” I said kissing his hand that I was holding

We had gotten up to the hillside, and surprisingly there were no cars, and it was pitch black. All we could see were the city lights overhead

Chris had put the car in park, and turned the outside lights off, so it was extra dark, but he turned the lights on, on the inside.

“You looks so good right now” I told him as the warm light reflected off his facial structure and his blue eyes

“Oh yeah?” He said in a smug way

“Let’s go to the back,” I said. We got out of the car and opened up the back doors, putting down the seats in the van.

We both hopped back into the car, and immediately Chris pulled me down into him to kiss him. As we were kissing Wus good by PARTYNEXTDOOR started playing

“Look at that! It’s a sign” he said with a goofy smile

“You’re so corny” I said before going back to kissing him, he started to kiss down to my jawline and neck peppering light kisses. We slowly started to remove our clothes

I started palming Chris’ dick, but he grabbed my hand and stopped me

“Although this feels so fucking good. I’m trying to cum from fucking you, so please no more with the hands” he said laughing

“Sorry baby I can’t help myself” I said kissing him again

“Want me to fuck you, or you wanna ride” he asked? Massaging my boob

“Can I ride” I asked moaning as he’s groping my breasts

“Fuck yeah” he said. I didn’t need much foreplay because I was so dick deprived just looking at Chris had me wet

I hovered over his cock, and he helped me align himself to my entrance, and slowly I started to sink down onto him. My mouth falling slack at the stretch

“Fuck Chris I forgot how big you are” I said as I bottomed out

“Don’t boost my ego baby” he said, grabbing my chin and pulling me in for a kiss. I began to bounce on his dick immediately moaning at how good this felt

“Chris you don’t know how badly I needed this” I said as I continued to bounce on his dick

“Fuck Y/N use me. Milk me of all my cum please baby” he said running his hands up my sides and gripping my breasts

“Oh fuck” I said throwing my head back

I started to clench down On Chris, and he let out a whine that sent shivers down my spine

“Whine like that again, and I swear I’ll fucking cum so hard” I said looking down at him. He had both his hands behind his head propping his head up a little bit.

“Fuck if it means I get to see your beautiful face as you cum all over me I’ll keep doing it” He said biting his lip

I moaned at this and started grinding against him. My clit hitting his pelvic bone in a delicious manner. I continued to clench down on him as I grinded against him. His dick pounding against my g spot

“Chris im gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, can I please cum” I asked grinding faster

“Yes baby cum, cum for me please cum all over my cock” he said in such a raspy voice, and with that I was cumming all over his cock. Shaking and falling limp down on him.

Chris grabbed my ass and pounded up into me chasing his release, and this made me moan from the over stimulation, and hearing Chris’ grunting in my ear

“I think I’m going to cum again” I said sobbing into his neck

With that Chris came in me whining and moaning and shaking, and seconds later I came on his dick for a second time a mixture of our cum running down his dick

“That was so well needed” he said kissing me as we came down from our highs

“Oh god yes. I don’t know how I lasted that long” I said slowly starting to sit up, so I could get off of him

“Me neither, I needed that badly” he said as I got off of him searching for something to clean us up with

“Oh Matt left napkins in the glovebox” he said, and I reached over grabbing napkins to clean ourselves off with

After cleaning ourselves off we got back into our clothes and fixed the back seats. Chris threw the napkins on the floor outside

“Chris don’t litter” I said getting back into the car

“Oh yeah let me carry around a cum covered tissue to properly dispose of it” he said sarcastically

“Oh shut the fuck up” I said smacking him on his arm

As we got situated and he turned the car lights back on he got a call from Nick

“Sup bro” he said as he put the car into reverse

“Where the fuck yall went we have a car video to film” Nick said

“Oh shit my bad I didn’t realize the time. Y/N and I went out to eat and then went to see a movie” he said lying straight out his ass

“Yeah well it’s 12pm get home so we can film” Matt said from a distance

“Alright we should be back in 20. Be ready to hop in so we can film” they replied with okay, and he hung up

“Chris they’re going to know we fucked” I said laughing

“No they will not! We cleaned everything up” he said grabbing my hand

“Yeah let’s hope” I said blushing

After 20 minutes we arrived at their house, and he reached out to his brothers saying he was ready to pick them up. They got to the car, and hopped in the back seat.

“Y/N I MISSED YOUU” Nick said all giddy

“I missed you too Nick” I said laughing at him

Matt got in the car, but squinted his eyes before saying anything

“It smells like sex in here” Matt said looking at both Chris and I

“What the fuck you saying kid” Chris said

“It smells like sweaty hot sex” he said laughing, and Chris reached back to smack his brother

“Shut the fuck up” Chris said

“Omg omg wait yall fucked in here” Nick said getting loud, I slightly nodded at him

“OH MY GOD YALL FUCKED IN HERE AND I JUST SAT IN HERE AND PUT MY SNACK DOWN IN THE AREA YALL FUCKED IN?? IM SICK” Nick said screaming and thrashing around

“Nick shut the fuck up and calm down” Chris said getting annoyed

“CALM DOWN I DONT WANT TO SIT WHERE YALL FUCKED” he said pretending to cry

“Grow up” Matt said laughing at him

After 10 more minutes of that. They decided to finally drive to a location and film their YouTube video. Nick is ever so often being reminded of what just went on an hour prior.

And all Chris can do is give Y/N small smiles and flirty smirks here and there.

The End

For the person who requested this I HOPE it was good😭😭 as of right now my requests are still open. I’m currently working on Matt imagine, and then I have to work on a friendship imagine again🤭🤭

-J💅🏽

[ponderingmoonlight]

Sukuna coming for Megumi's little sister at Shibuya pt. lll

Part l here Part ll here

Pairing: Sukuna x fem!reader

Word Count: 2k

Synopsis: After promising Sukuna to do everything he wants in exchange for him sparing your friends, you find yourself in a bitter fight with Jogo. While you feel like dying, Sukuna enjoys teasing the hell out of you...

Warnings: this is basically Sukuna flirting with (y/n) through the newest episode so it has no real plot, not proofread bc I'm having a nasty headache, forgive me

Tags: @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @dazaisdick @sanicsmut @arehzhera @mynahx3 @wifenanami @ploylulla

You know how reckless it was, making a deal with the devil himself. But you just had to do it. For your friends, for Megumi, for Yuji. Maybe he will be able to regain the control over his own body before Sukuna is even able to harm another soul, maybe everything will turn out alright.

God, how much you beg for your mantra to be true.

“First things first. You.”

His finger darts towards the volcano curse whose forehead is soaking wet in sweat.

“If you land a hit on her or me once, I will fight on your side.”

You can’t believe your ears, whole body screaming at you to run away. Even though Gojo-sensei made it look so easy, you are very aware of the fact that this cursed spirit standing in front of your very own eyes is not to be messed with. How on earth are you supposed to keep up with him on your own, how are you supposed to survive all of this?

“A human?”, he cursed spirit questions, eyes darting towards you in disbelief.

“I hate waiting. Make your decision or die”, Sukuna replies dryly, rolling his eyes while all you can do is stare at him in pure horror.

He can’t be serious about that, right?

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”, you hiss at him, his eyes darting towards you in nothing but amusement.

“Nothing easier than that”, the cursed spirit replies.

You aren’t even able to comprehend that the cursed spirit lifted its arm when you get yanked into the air, followed by a wave of scorching fire.

Fuck fuck fuck. You know you are good, you know you are well-trained. But this? The whole ground underneath catches fire, gets eaten up by countless flames.

What the hell are you supposed to do?

“If you want to survive, you will have to stand close to me”, Sukuna purrs, his arms wrapped tightly around your ribcage from behind while jerking through the air with you.

How disgusting. The thought of feeling your boyfriend’s tight muscles against your back but knowing fully well that the man pressing his frame against yours is nothing but a psychopath makes your guts turn. Your hands fight desperately for your escape, to get out of his iron grip around your body. But instead of letting go, he chuckles into your ear, his body rubbing against yours.

“Pathetic. You might have a strong will, but your body is still as weak as that of any other human.”

“Why not letting me go then? Why did you safe me when I am a weakling in your eyes?”, you scream on top of your lungs.

“Because you’re fun to mess with.”

You stare at him through wet lashes, mind going completely blank. He can’t be serious about his senseless words, why on earth is he doing all of this? Is it because he knows that Yuji loves you? Is it because you are a decent hostage?

“Oh, there he comes again. Duck your head.”

Your usual cool composure is gone in the wind when another ball of fire is yanked towards you, reflecting in your wide-open eyes. A toe-curling scream escapes your lips, hands instinctively holding onto Sukuna for dear life-

Hot tears start to sting in your eyes. The bitter truth is that you don’t want to die. Not through the hands of a cursed spirit, not because of Sukuna, not even through your own force. You want a happy and long life, you want to grow old with Yuji and your brother by your side.

But the way this cursed spirits yanks towards you, eye narrowed when your gazes meet tells you more than urgently that your life is in serious danger.

You close your eyes, breathe in and out. Is there anything you can do to escape this situation? No, your faith lies in the cruel hands of Sukuna – the hands of the king of curses, the hands that are responsible of countless deaths. When he’s done playing with you…

You’ll be next.

“Balling your eyes out? How unusual, (y/n). Do you need a shoulder to cry on?”

This is the time. You have to choose between staying alive for a little longer or risking it all and telling yourself fall into the scorching hell underneath. Your eyes scan the area around you, mind pondering about a way to escape him. If you’re fast enough, you might be able to make it…

“Don’t get stupid ideas. Remember our deal, (y/n). If you break it, I’ll kill everyone you love without even blinking.”

The oh so sweet tone in his voice is replaced by so much taciturnity than your blood freezes in your veins. Your orbs stare at him boldly with your head up high. No, you have to keep on fighting. You have to stand up to him. For your friends, for your brother.

For Yuji.

“I won’t break it”, you assure him, earning a maniac grin instantly.

Oh, what a beautiful sight you are with tears streaming down your face and your eyes of determination.

“So, what now? You said you wanted me to let you go, right? Nothing easier than that.”

His grip around your body loosens. Before you are able to get a hold of him, your body flies towards the ground, cutting through the hot air.

“Sukuna!” you cry out desperately, arms flying around without an aim.

What are you supposed to do? Is there a way your technique might help you? If Megumi’s shikigami were here to catch you…

But it isn’t. And you’ll crash into the ground with full force within the next seconds if you don’t come up with a plan.

“I want you to beg for it, (y/n).”

You let out your breath, eyes piercing through the man flying above you. That fucking asshole. Nothing is further from you than to worship a creature like Sukuna.

“Go to hell!” you shout over the noise of the rapid air around both of you.

Do you really have a choice, though? If you want to live, if you want to survive Shibuya, you have no other choice than to do what that man wants.

“Fuck”, you curse under your breath, closing your eyes.

You have to do this.

“Please safe me, Sukuna”, you press out.

“Not enough.”

The heat of the ground becomes almost unbearable, with every breath your lungs feel like bursting from the hot air. Time runs out.

“I beg you with all that I have, please safe me Sukuna!”

His hands grab your body tightly before he catapults both of you into the air again.

“See? Wasn’t hard, was it sweetheart?”

Your fast and shaky breaths ring in your ears. That was close, way too close for your liking. What is all of this about?

He comes to a stand on a nearby building, still holding onto you while his eyes roam around the area in amusement. You really are a handful, the mix of emotions reflecting in your eyes making it so enjoyable for him to toy with you. And that oh so sweet scent of yours. You feel just like he imagined it, your heartbeat hammering against his very own chest.

“Out of breath, sweetheart?”

That fucker. He seems so unbothered by all of this, the whole city underneath your feet going up in flames. What about the people? Please, hopefully Maki was able to escort all of them out.

“Shut up and get moving, aren’t you able to see that he attacked us again?” you bark at him.

The dark night sky is discoloured in crimson, deafening noise keeps moving towards you. Without saying another word, Sukuna grabs you firmly by your waist and pushes your body up in the air along with himself.

“Let’s play a little.”

Your eyes aren’t even able to comprehend the movement around you. Fire blasts around your frame, just inches away from burning your skin. Without saying a single word Sukuna lifts you off the ground and holds onto your back and knees. You want to scream at him to let you go, you want nothing more than to free yourself out of his grasp.

But you are powerless. This fight that lays itself out in front of your very own eyes would have killed you in the matter of seconds if it wasn’t for Sukuna. These targeted attacks, the sheer force of his cursed power. All you can do is stare at the scenery with your glossy eyes wide open and your hands holding onto Yuji’s uniform for dear life.

The untouched part of Shibuya comes nearer and nearer. You squint your eyes, observing what looks like people on the ground. Wait…Your heart sinks immediately, the feeling of throwing up becomes almost unbearable. That there is Panda. Panda from Jujutsu High, panda your comrade.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Your hysteric voice doesn’t seem to interest him the slightest, bodies still aiming for the humans to your feet. No, you can’t let that happen, you can’t allow him to hurt your friends. Even though he swore he won’t hurt them if you do what he wishes…Sukuna is no one to trust.

“Panda, hurry up and run!” you scream on top of your lungs.

His soul almost leaves his body when realizing that it is Sukuna who holds you in his arms, thick fear clouding your sight. How did you end up here? He wants to turn around, to free you out of his grasp. But instead his feet are about to start moving, on their way to get him out of this mess-

“You won’t”

Everyone around you stops in their tracks, completely crushed by the sheer presence of Sukuna. Gently he lets go of you, letting you stand on your own wobbly legs.

“I hereby forbid every person in a 100-meter radius from here to move until I say ‘now’. And of course, I will kill anyone who violates that rule.”

“Sukuna…”, you mumble, eyes wide open by the sheer sensation of a fucking fireball shooting your way.

He chuckles to himself.

“Not yet.”

“Sukuna!” you bark at him, the sky completely on fire by now.

“Still not yet.”

“Sukuna, you promised!”

You fist the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer to you while staring at him intensely. If he won’t let them go immediately, all of them will burn to death. When his eyes meet yours, they are filled with nothing but amusement, lifting his arms painfully slow.

“Now”, he announces along with clapping his hands.

But he himself has no intention to leave this place, let alone letting you flee along with your friends. No, instead he holds onto your body tightly when a wave of fire, magma, rumble and death washes over you. Fuck, this will definitely burn you to the ground. Out of instinct you hide your face against his chest, squinting your eyes shut.

Is this how you die? Because you’ve got hit by a random fireball at Shibuya? What would Megumi say if he knew about all of this, would he be proud?

Your heart skips a beat. Definitely not. You acted like a coward, pressing yourself against the king of curses in order not do die. What about Yuji? What about your plan to free him?

“Now you’re in the mood to cuddle, huh?”

He moves fast. In the blink of an eye your body gets pressed against the ruin of a nearby building, his hands wrapped around your nape and wrist while all you can do is stare at the man in front of you in silence.

“What do you want from me?”, you breathe out.

“Oh, sweet little (y/n). You are my favourite toy since we’ve first met. Let’s just have a good time together, shall we?”, he hums in satisfaction.