#personal but also i hope it does reach people who need to hear it

[pineconepie]

Hello! i was wondering if you could do serial killer/slasher yandere parent? Dont know if thats too dark tho 😅

Here it is!! I've gotten a few requests like this, and since a lot of people also want to see more willing readers, I added a little of that to the mix!

TW: Implied/attempted murder, loss of child, implied assault/creeps toward reader (not the yandad), parental yandere, light forced infantilization, violence, reader implied to kind of has issues of their own

You know it wasn't a good idea to walk home alone, especially in this hour of the night, and double-especially when there had already been six murders around the same general area you live in, all clearly by the same person.

But, your phone had died, you couldn't get an Uber, and there wasn't really anybody you could call to come pick you up, even if your phone was working properly.

So, you decide that walking home will have to work tonight.

That probably wasn't the best choice you've ever made.

When you're halfway to your house, you hear a slight rustling around behind you. You spin around, hoping to catch whatever (or whoever) was following you in the act of making the sound. There's nothing there.

Shaking your head, you continue to walk down the street, subconsciously walking faster.

It must be that murder case that's been hanging over everyone's heads lately that's getting you nervous like this, right?

Wrong.

When you start speed-walking, the same noise as before starts up again, but it sounds closer than last time. You don't have much time before someone tries tackling you.

In the corner of your eye, you see a gun pulled out from under their trench coat. Quickly reaching out for the murderer's arm, you grab it, and try to stop them from aiming at you.

You shove them away and run in the only direction you can without getting tackled; the alleyway.

Seeing there's no time to hide, and all the hiding spots are obvious anyway, you succumb to a panic attack and crouch down onto the ground with your head in your knees.

You take out what money you have and chuck it in his direction. "Please, just take my money and leave me alone! That's all I have! If you want my phone too, just take it!"

The man almost cackles. "I don't need any money," he states matter-of-factly. You can hear the grin in his voice. He walks slowly towards you as if to intimidate you more, though it does little to affect your mindset more than it already has. He's still holding the gun. "Don't take it personally. It's nothing against you. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

At this point, you've fully come to terms with your demise, which is clear to the other party.

You look up at him with puffy eyes from sobbing, and tears and snot running down your face. Most of his face is covered, but you can see his eyes.

And much to your surprise, you see them widen.

A few seconds go by, and now you're afraid to break eye contact. You watch as the man before you put his gun back in its holster inside of his trench coat and curse under his breath while looking away.

He clears his throat after a few more dramatic seconds go by. "Go home, kid." You stand up on shaky legs. "Grab your stuff first, then get outta here. I won't chase ya."

Hesitant, you do so anyway, because who would refuse such an offer?

Grabbing your money, you stuff it in your pockets and wipe your face. As soon as you're ready to go, you dash past the stranger, not wanting to spend another minute around the killer.

...

After that incident, you feel as if you're being watched.

Well, obviously you'd think so; you were just almost murdered.

But, when you're going to anywhere, you can feel eyes staring at you wherever you go.

A car with tinted windows follows each time. It isn't unique by any means, just a black Mitsubishi.

But still, it's there. Every time you leave your house, the same vehicle parks near you until you return to your home. Sometimes you try going on wild goose chases to catch the bastard following you off guard, but when you make your way back, it'll be parked somewhere near your driveway.

For almost two months this becomes a cycle, and it especially starts becoming concerning whenever you get sick, or have a bad day, there's always a basket of goodies on your porch steps the next day.

You don't eat them, and instead just throw them away, but it's clear none of them have been tampered with. The most disturbing part about it all is they have your favorites—your favorite animals now into plushies, your favorite snacks and candies, and other such things.

Is this his way of just messing with you until he inevitably comes to finish the job?

One night, when you're walking home from work, you notice the same vehicle tailing you from your workplace to your house. You walk with speed and reach your porch step, where the driver can see you enter your house, and they pull out, as if reassured you're safe.

Maybe they're trying to make sure you aren't hurt in any way?

Another night, one late, you stay out longer than you should, and much like any other time, you're followed once again.

Unlike normal though, there are three men whistling at you, taunting you. You ignore them as best as you can, walking faster and keeping your head down in hopes you won't seem interesting. Your wishes are not fulfilled.

Your arm is tugged harshly backward, pulling you onto the sidewalk with brute force.

The three guys look at you hungrily. "Where are you going this late at night?" the obvious leader speaks up, a greasy, slimy grin on his face, only worsening when he sees how fearful you've become.

"I...I'm going home."

One of them tries grabbing you, and against your better judgment, you take off in an attempt to escape, though you aren't fast enough to avoid your jacket being grabbed.

In your panic, you somehow end up wriggling yourself away and onto the ground. You try to get up, but one of them holds their foot on your back, pushing you back onto the asphalt.

But, oh-so-conveniently, you can hear a vehicle door open and slam shut, and then the pounding of boots against concrete.

The foot on your back lets up, because the guy goes tumbling backwards onto his back.

Now free, you sit yourself up quickly, rubbing the back of your head, which had hit the sidewalk. You blink the blurriness away, to see the man—the same one who nearly killed you and has been following you—hovering over the main creep.

"Hey, what the hell is your problem?!" said creep yells. He tries standing up, but the killer stomps on his ankle.

A crunch resounds through the air, accompanied by a sharp scream. The other two guys stand frozen, watching in horror.

"Get your little buddy and get outta here," he warns the other two, finally backing away. He has a gun pointed at them threateningly, as to tell them not to try anything else.

They quickly help their leader up and hobble away in fear.

You want to yell at this man, to demand answers or run, but you can't. "Thank you, sir..." you whisper.

Now you can get a good look at him. He looks to be somewhere in his forties, maybe even fifties, and has graying brown hair, along with gray eyes.

There's a scar along his cheekbone that adds a rugged charm to him. He smells like expensive cologne and coffee beans. If he didn't try killing you not too long ago, you might've really put your trust into him, he seems like just a grumpy dad.

"Are you alright?" His voice sounds oddly soft, as if genuinely concerned for your health. He reaches toward you, and you close your eyes, readying yourself to be hurt, but he only examines a bruise forming on your forehead. "Thought you learnt your lesson last time about stayin' out late at night."

"I don't think it'd matter either way. You know where I live, I've seen your car," you mutter. You don't look him in the eyes, hoping to avoid seeing any possible rage held within them. He doesn't say anything after that, so you continue. "Why are you doing this?"

A rough hand grabs yours, lifting you to your feet. "Do what? Save ya from gettin' jumped?"

"No! That's part of it, sure, but the gifts, and protecting me, and—and...you were just gonna kill me all those months ago!"

He sighs. "Yeah, 'were'. Not 'are'. I decided I ain't gonna anymore."

"But why?" you repeat, glaring daggers at the older man.

"I usually go after bad people. I mistook you for someone else, and then when you looked up at me like you did," he says while shifting his stance to a more firm position, "'all scared and hopeless and pathetic and—" he pauses suddenly, shaking his head to recollect himself. "Look, I saw my kid in you."

"You have a kid?"

"Had. Had a kid."

You almost want to apologize for the loss of his kid, when you remember the fact he's literally a serial killer. "And that's why you decided to stalk me for the past two months and give me baskets full of stuff?"

"We both know for a fact you hardly take care of yourself well enough. You're clumsy as shit, always irresponsible, you eat terribly..."

"I'm not being scolded how I live my life by a serial killer!" you interject. "Who even are you, anyway?"

"Dante," he answers.

"And I figure you already know everything about me?" It's less of a question and more of a statement at this point.

He chuckles. "If I didn't, would you still introduce yourself to me?" When he gets no answer from you, he smiles lopsidedly. "Get in the car, I'll drive ya home."

You narrow your eyes at him. "So you can kidnap me, or something?"

Dante puts a hand on your shoulder, his expression becoming cold again. "If I wanted to do that, I could have already done it plenty of times before, kiddo. I'm a lot of things; a liar ain't one of them."

"Fine, okay. I'll let you drive me home." You roll your eyes when you hear him laugh victoriously under his breath and follow him into his car. "How do you have the time all day to stalk me like this?" you ask aloud, climbing into the passenger's seat. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

"You call it stalking, I call it watchin' over you like a father should his child. So far, we've seen just how helpful it is having me keep an eye on you," Dante replies. He pauses. "And I'm retired, but I used to be a private investigator."

"Oh joy. My own personal PI." You buckle your seat belt. You're still in disbelief. Someone actually gives enough of a damn about your safety, and it's your local neighborhood serial killer? "You said you only kill bad people." He hums in confirmation. "Does that mean 'petty thief' bad? Or, like, actual bad people?"

"The latter, kid. Not 'cause it makes me feel like a good person, just makes me feel like less of a bad person."

"So you can admit you aren't a good person?" you quip sarcastically, arms folded.

"Course not. But I don't think there really are any inherently good people in the world," he says.

"What about me, then? Why protect me if you think there's nobody who's actually 'good'?"

Dante glances at you. "I don't expect you to be a saint. In my eyes, you're amazing, perfect even. And sure, you got flaws—a lot of 'em—but so does your old man."

You cringe at the statement. "You mentioned me reminding you of your kid. What happened?" you pry further. "All I know is they died, right?" You rub the bruise on your forehead.

"They were out with some friends one night. And a few hours later I'm gettin' phone calls about how my baby's in critical condition. I get there, but there wasn't anything I could've done to save 'em. All I could do was sit beside them 'til..." He trails off. "They died holding my hand. But," he adds, looking at you sternly, "that shit ain't happenin' to you. That's why I'm keeping you safe."

After he stops at a red light, you stare up at him, deep in thought. "Is that why you kill...?"

"Because someone killed my kid?"

"Yeah, exactly."

Dante nods his head after a moment of hesitation. "It started with that, yeah. I killed the bastards that put them in that hospital bed. But that wasn't enough. I guess with monsters like that, I get a little trigger-happy."

It's quiet for a while.

"...how do you know I won't come forward about this information?" you question once your home is in sight. "Or try leaving, for that matter?"

Dante laughs. "You wouldn't get far without me knowing."

That shuts you up quick. Your house pulls up soon afterwards.

"Well, uh, thanks for driving me home," you mumble, opening the car door.

"No problem. Oh, wait—" he takes your wrist gently to keep you from getting out yet. He digs in the compartment below your armrest. Eventually he finds a pen and pad. He writes something down, ripping it off and handing it to you. "—call me whenever you need it. Even if ya just need help studying, or whatever." Dante shrugs nonchalantly.

"Or I'll just knock on the window of the car outside my place?" You weakly smile. Despite the oddity of the situation, this whole scenario is strangely hilarious.

At least, it feels that way because you might've hit your head a little too hard.

...

Those people who were harassing you went missing. You know for a fact it was Dante, and while you don't wish for their deaths, it still leaves a sour taste in your mouth when you see them on the news, with their parents crying about how sweet and kind they were.

You don't even know how to feel about Dante anymore. Maybe he is a good person, who really is doing the world a favor, but it's just not worth the risk to associate with him.

Except he isn't going to leave you alone.

Still though, you decide that ignoring him until he just leaves you alone.

Which proves difficult because sometimes he comes around and knocks on your door every so often, to drop off food, and just check in on you and how you're doing.

Some days you wonder what might happen if you answer, or send a text. He did give you his phone number after all.

You fight the curious urge, until one day, when tiredly trudging home after a particularly awful day.

For some reason, you look around the streets for a black car following you, but find nothing of the sort.

You decide to go against your better judgment and decide to call Dante. You don't know why you're doing this, every instinct in your body is telling you to not do it.

The phone rings a few times, until an annoyed voice picks up. "What? I'm busy," he snaps.

"Oh, uh, sorry," you stutter. "I shouldn't have called, that was stupid of me—"

"Wait, no, I didn't—" Silence hangs in the air. "Sorry," Dante says softer this time. "Didn't know it was you at first. Is everything alright?"

Your fingers tap against the wood of the table nervously, trying to make up some sort of excuse to cover for the real reason you're calling him.

"Nothing, just... didn't have a good day." You feel so pathetic right now, too caught up in your own emotions to hear the muffled cries in the background on Dante's side of the call. "But that doesn't concern you, does it? Why am I saying this?"

"It's alright, kiddie. Whatever happened to make you upset is important to me." Dante is definitely smiling right now. "Well, listen. I was busy right now, but it can wait, so how's about I swing by wherever you are and you and I can spend some time together? Get somethin' to eat, maybe? Your choice."

You find it hard to decline him. "...okay. I'm not home right now though. Can I just call an Uber and meet you somewhere?" you suggest.

He snorts. "My driving so bad that you'd rather waste money than spend thirty minutes in the same vehicle as me?"

"No, it's not that. I just feel like I'll be intruding since you're busy, or something."

"Don't be silly. Just tell me where you are and I'll be there soon. Alright? Don't get into any suspicious vans or anything like that while I'm not there." He ends the call with that.

The next ten minutes or so you stand around awkwardly, watching as pedestrians pass by. Eventually though, Dante arrives, driving up beside you. He gestures for you to open the passenger door, which you oblige.

You climb inside, buckle your seatbelt, and turn toward Dante. "So...where are we going?"

He stares back at you for a brief second. "Depends. Where would you like to go?"

After some hesitation, you give your favorite restaurant, which he nods in acknowledgement to and begins to drive.

"Why was your day bad?" he asks. "Did something happen? Someone hurt you?" At the red light, he turns to give you a quick glance-over, searching for any bruises or cuts, most likely. You're not injured, though the concerned look on his face stays.

"No, I just haven't slept much lately," you mutter.

"Have you eaten today?" You look away from Dante as an answer, making him curse under his breath. "The biggest hazard to you is yourself, it seems." He shakes his head disapprovingly. "I'm glad you finally called me, by the way. Why'd you decide to do it now?"

You hesitate. "I was feeling lonely, I guess."

"Really? Is that all?" The light flicks to green again, and Dante continues to drive.

"...I didn't see you stalking me today. Normally I see your car following me everywhere."

His breath hitches. "And...that worried you?" Dante looks at you from the corner of his eyes.

You don't reply.

Soon the conversation dies out, and neither of you bother to start another one up.

He focuses on driving, while you distract yourself with counting the amount of trees along the sidewalk on the way to the destination.

When you two pull up in the parking lot, you expect there to be tension, but surprisingly enough, the silence between you two feels comfortable, safe almost. It's a nice change from the usual uneasiness.

Dante gets out first, and you follow. The bell of the restaurant dings when you both enter.

"How many?" the hostess asks politely.

"Two. Thank you," Dante says with a charming smile. To you, it's an obvious fake persona, but she buys it hook, line, and sinker. You roll your eyes discreetly as she leads you two to the booth. You sit on opposite ends, taking your menus from her before she heads off to take care of other customers.

You think about it, then settle for the cheapest thing on the menu, trying to avoid taking advantage of Dante's kindness.

He notices anyway. "I know I don't dress fancy, or anything, but I've got the cash, kiddo. If you want to order the whole menu, you could, and I'd still be able to afford it tenfold. Nothin' is too expensive for you."

"I..." Your face burns out of embarrassment. You flip through the menu once more. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I am." Dante scans through his own menu, although half-heartedly, considering his focus is still mostly on you.

Once your orders are made, you both try making small-talk, which proves ineffective. Then your orders arrive, and that too, becomes awkward when he insists on helping you cut up your meal into smaller pieces.

You make a show out of being mad, though truthfully it isn't bothersome as you try letting on it is.

After dinner (which he pays for completely) he looks like he's contemplating on something in the car. "Would you like to come to my place, kiddo?"

"Like, your house?" you clarify.

Dante nods. "It's only fair. I know where you live, I figure it'd be polite showing you the same courtesy."

"Sure, but it depends if I'll leave alive," you joke, but part of you is still concerned about that.

"With the way you take care of yourself, I think staying with me might actually help increase your lifespan a little bit."

A few moments pass by, the two of you basking in the company of one another. It's...nice.

The drive to Dante's home is around thirty minutes long, and barely in the city, surprisingly enough. His house isn't anything super impressive, but it doesn't look bad either.

A very average, middle-class home. It's comforting to see Dante likes simple things, makes it easier to think of him as a normal person than the murderer you know he is.

He steps outside of the car and opens your door for you. You give him a questioning glance, but decide to ignore it for now, unbuckling and heading over to the porch with Dante trailing behind you.

"This is it," he states, pulling his keys out to unlock the door, beckoning you to go in before him.

The interior of his home isn't anything special either, which you enjoy seeing. It makes Dante seem more human. On top of that, it feels safe here, even if this is the last place it should feel this way. It does have a slightly annoying (and worrying) scent of bleach permeating throughout the house.

You bite the inside of your cheek. "Can I ask something? It might be a little weird or triggering, so..."

"You can ask me anything. Doesn't bother me," Dante says.

"Okay... are you so interested in me because I simply look like or act like your kid? I'm worried you expect me to act like them or something similar..."

Dante sighs heavily, sitting down on his couch, and motioning for you to join him. Hesitantly, you do so, staying silent while you wait for him to gather his thoughts.

"I know you're not them. Sure, you remind me a bit of them, but you're your own person, too. It's fine if you don't want to pretend you're anyone but yourself, y'know? That ain't what I'm looking for, and forcing someone to do that wouldn't make anyone happy." He mulls over his words for a moment. "I guess I just want to be a dad again. I felt useless after my kid died, so you gave me that opportunity again."

You look at the ground awkwardly. "Why couldn't you just adopt a kid?"

"A lot of money," Dante answers. "Not to mention not working anymore and not being married anymore makes adoption agencies wary. Plus, you looked like you needed protecting, so I wanted to do so. Now, my turn. Why'd you invite me out? Wanted to spend some time with your old man?" Dante laughs lightly, but his eyes show clear hopefulness.

"If you insist on acting like my father," you pause, taking in a breath, "then yes. I suppose that means I wanted to spend time with you. Is that okay?"

Dante looks almost ready to cry. His hands twitch at his sides. "'course it is," he mutters softly, barely containing himself from getting overly emotional.

You scoot closer to Dante, hesitating for only a few moments before wrapping your arms around him. "Thank you for inviting me into your home."

He reciprocates quickly, holding onto you like a lifeline, face buried in your hair. "I missed this so much..." His voice is choked-up as he holds you tighter to him. "My baby," Dante whispers.

You don't know why you're letting this happen, but you don't want to dwell on that. His embrace is more comforting than it should be, especially considering what he is. But if he wants to play pretend, to imagine he has a child again, you may as well let him.

Even if that means ignoring the faint noises from the basement, and pretending it's just someone next-door.

"I love you so much," he mutters. He almost sounds hysterical, even if his tone is quiet, almost a whisper. "Never leave me. I can't take that, kid. I can't."

You pretend to be asleep, just so you won't have to answer that. He sighs and only holds you tighter.

[requiemforthepoets]

hii do you write for franco? if yes can i request a fic where reader is short and insecure about her height so she’s afraid their relationship won’t survive his “f1 career” cause of the lifestyle and all the girls he’s going to meet so despite really loving him she tries to breakup with him but he won’t let her?

tell me that you’re still mine, tell me that we’ll be just fine 𖦹 FC43

PAIRINGS: franco colapinto x female!reader

SUMMARY: when you found out that franco will be racing for williams racing, you were so proud of him. though at the back of your mind, you can’t help but overthink about your relationship with him now that he’s finally in f1.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: hi! thank you so much for sending your request. it’s my first time writing for franco, but i really had fun. i hope you’ll like this one and it’s up to what you were expecting. enjoy! :)

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

WARNINGS: not proofread, typos, insecurities (mostly comparing self to others), cursing, low self esteem, overthinking, anxiety, and no use of y/n

As you stand in the Williams garage, you can clearly hear the hum of the whole circuit buzzing all around, and you can’t help but feel so proud. Franco had just achieved what he had been dreaming of since childhood—his first official race in Formula 1. It should have been one of the happiest moments of your life, watching him stand there, helmet in hand, chatting animatedly with the engineers, that wide grin plastered on his face. You knew how hard he worked for this, how many nights you spent listening to his dreams, encouraging him through the frustrations of karting, and celebrating every win, every milestone. You were there through it all, and here he was now—your Franco, living his dream.

However, alongside the pride that you were feeling, a bitter feeling also crept in. It had been lurking at the back of your mind for days now, only growing stronger with each passing moment. It was not about Franco’s career, but more about where you fit into his new world. The glitz and glamor, cameras that seemed to follow every move, the polished and perfect people that surrounded him—people you had never imagined yourself fitting in with.

Lily, Alex’s girlfriend, had been nothing but sweet to you all weekend. You bonded with her quickly, her kind words and warmth is a welcoming comfort amidst the chaos. Yet, as much as you liked her, being around someone so gorgeous and effortlessly poised had only made you feel even smaller. You weren’t tall or glamorous like her or the other WAGs, nor were you used to the attention, and you barely have a successful career. You were just…you. A university student trying to get by through her classes, someone who barely knew what to do when a camera pointed your way, and someone who couldn’t help but wonder if you were truly cut out for this kind of life.

When Franco finally made his way back to you, you could hardly breathe. He greeted you with that same wide smile and a soft tender kiss on the lips, his eyes still sparkling from the thrill of the race.

“Can you believe it?” He laughed, pulling you into a hug. “I can’t believe I just raced in F1. This is really insane.”

You smiled weakly, arms wrapped around him. Trying to steady your racing heart. “I’m so proud of you,” you murmured against his chest. But the words felt heavy, there was something you needed to say, something you dreaded.

After the media frenzy died down and the team began to clear out, you knew it was time. You asked Franco if the two of you can go to his driver’s room, away from the lights, cameras, and the noise. He nodded and led you towards his driver’s room, completely oblivious to the storm brewing inside of you.

When you reached his driver’s room, he locked the room to give you two some privacy. Franco quickly sensed that something was off with you, immediately frowning.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, as your hands shook as you fumbled with the words. “Franco…I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Do what?” His voice is gentle but confused.

“This. All of this.” You gestured around vaguely. “I don’t belong in this kind of world. I don’t look like the other girls in this kind environment, I don’t act like them. I just feel like…I’m not cut out for this, you know. For you.”

He blinked at you, and then—he laughed. A soft incredulous sound that only made your chest tighten. “You’re joking, right?” But you just shook your head, throat tightening painfully. “I’m serious, Franco.”

His smile faltered, eyes searching your face, and then he grew serious. “You’re breaking up with me?” He sounded like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing at all.

You bit your lip, feeling your resolve crack under the weight of his words. “I think I have to.”

Franco stepped closer, shaking his head in disbelief. “No. No way. Hell no. You’re not doing this.” He grabbed your hands, holding them tightly. “Tell me why. What’s really going on?”

You stared at the ground, unable to meet his eyes. How could you even tell him? How could you put into words the overwhelming insecurities that you had been drowning in.

“I’m not enough for this life, for your life,” you whispered, voice barely audible. “I’m just…me. You deserve someone who can handle all of this, someone who doesn’t feel like they are drowning every time the cameras turn their way. I’m scared that this will change us, that it will change you.”

Franco squeezed your hands tighter, forcing you to look at him. “You’re scared?” He asked softly. “Of what exactly? That I’ll stop loving you because I’m in F1 now?”

You nodded, chest tightening as tears began to fill your eyes. “I’m not like them, Franco. I don’t belong here.”

He pulled you into his arms, resting his chin on top of your head. “Listen to me, and you listen well,” he whispered. “You’ve been with me through everything, literally everything. Since my karting days. You’re the one I want with me, not some random model, not someone from this kind of environment. You.” He gently cupped your face, making sure that you were looking directly into his eyes. “I’m not breaking up with you. Not because of this, not because of anything. I love you so much. If this life makes you uncomfortable, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

You shook your head, still overwhelmed with doubts. “But I don’t know how to—”

“I don’t care,” he interrupted softly. “I don’t really care about any of that. All I care about is you. I’m not losing you just because you think that you’re not enough. You’ve always been more than enough for me.”

Tears finally spilled over, and Franco wiped them away with his thumb. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, okay?” He added.

You let out a choked laugh, burying your face in his chest. “Okay,” you whispered, feeling the weight of your fears slowly start to lift.

Franco kissed the top of your head as he kept you close, his voice soft but firm. “Look at me,” he said, lifting your chin so your eyes met his. “There’s no one else I see in my future but you. No one else who matters like you do. I don’t care about the noise or what other people say. Let them talk all they want, I don’t give a shit. You’re the most important person in my life.”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket chasing away the chill of insecurity. You couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered, how much you wanted to believe him. “But people will judge, Franco. They already are.”

Franco shook his head, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “I don’t care about them. They don’t know you like I do. I’ve seen you at your best and your worst, and I’ve loved you through it all. That’s what matters, not their opinions.”

You bit your lip, trying to push away the lingering doubts. “It’s just I don’t want to hold you back. You deserve someone who—”

“I already have someone I deserve,” he cut you off, voice unwavering. “You’ve been there for me through everything, you believed in me when no one else did, even when I wasn’t sure I believed in myself. I’m not letting you go because of some stupid insecurities about fitting in with this world. I don’t need someone from this world. All I need is you.”

Tears welled in your eyes again, but this time they weren’t from doubt or fear. They were from the overwhelming love you felt at that moment. “You’re sure?” You whispered, voice trembling. “You’re really sure?”

Franco smiled, the kind of smile that made everything else melt away. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. You’re my future, not them. Not anything else. Just you.”

As you stood there in his arms, you let yourself believe it. Because the way he looked at you, the way he spoke, it left no room for any doubts. You were the one he wanted, and that was enough.

After a long moment of silence, just feeling the comfort of being in his arms, you finally pulled back, wiping the last of your tears and giving him a small and sweet smile. The tension that had been weighing on you had lifted, already been replaced by the familiar warmth you always felt around Franco.

You wrinkled your nose playfully, trying to lighten the mood. “Okay, as sweet as this moment is, you really need to freshen up. You stink.” You teased, giving him a playful nudge.

Franco let out a laugh, the sound light and easy. “What? No way, I smell like pure victory,” he grinned, pulling you back into his arms, purposely trying to rub his post-race sweat on you.

“Franco!” You squealed, trying to push him away. “Ew, Franco! You’re all sweaty!”

He laughed harder, his arms tightening around you for a second before he finally let you go, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, I’ll go and freshen up,” he said, his grin still wide. “But don’t think I didn’t notice how you were crying on me. If anything, you owe me for that.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Fine, fine. I’ll owe you. Just go clean up before I regret taking you back,” you teased, earning an exaggerated gasp from him.

Franco winked at you before heading off to freshen up, not forgetting to steal a kiss from you. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ve got plans for us to celebrate.” He threw a playful look over his shoulder.

You shook your head with a laugh, feeling lighter than you had in days. The doubts that once felt overwhelming now seemed small in comparison to the love you shared. Franco was right—together, you could figure out everything, just like how you both always do.

[lovebvni]

a message from yourself.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚would you like to hear what the court has to say?

hello. by the time this post goes up, it will be my birthday. i feel like it’s always important to have a message from a version of yourself, higher or future, to move into another journey out the womb around this sun. in the past it has personally helped me adjust my mindset before stepping into another year.

now i’m not doing a crazy amount of piles. i’m doing 4. as always, this is a general reading. take what you feel applies to you, leave what does not. this is not legal or life advice. you have the right to do whatever you want in this life, and the next, and the past. i am not forcing you to take this advice or message. feel free to scroll.

now, please, center yourself by taking a deep breath, hold for three, and let it out. now, click below, and let the connection between the piles guide you. and don’t second guess yourself.

pile 1, the reach

six of swords, nine of pentacles reversed, the star, seven of wands reversed, three of pentacles reversed.

abracadabra — lady gaga

while shuffling, i heard “you’re changing your course.” maybe you’ve been on a path where it seems that your manifestations aren’t coming, and the exact OPPOSITE of what you ask has come instead. you feel betrayed by the universe, and you’re losing confidence in yourself and your abilities. you’re wondering if it’s even worth it to keep going, to have any hope, to even dwell on the thought you’re going to get better.

“why must you put yourself here time and time again?” is what i heard. i think this is your future self, the person you are to become. “you have so many blessings coming out this cloud of sorrow. why must you repeat what you’ve done?” “there are roads and rivers that are clear, that will heal you, that will help you grow, but you’re to afraid to go through a bit of fog. it will not kill you.”

you’re not standing your ground. are you going back to friendships that have been toxic? falling back that feels familiar? pile one, did you read the collective message i posted? this feels similar. the energy, the orange is coming through again. also blonde/blond. you may be someone who has blond/e hair or involved heavily with someone who does. anyways, you allow yourself, at any inconvenience to “give up”, or in some sense, “take a break” that’s indefinite and you come back, and this is specific what i heard “when you’re horny”… pile one oh my god. you’re letting your body guide you with no plan? you’re allowing yourself to pick up a passion because you feel like you can get some dick? then as soon as you don’t, on that first try, you give up...

i feel like this is a mindset you may have picked up from shifttok and took a tad too seriously. “when you get overwhelmed, take a break.” that is solid advice, of course, but you’re taking that break indefinitely. you don’t have a plan to come back, and the moment you do, it’s on a whim or half assed. you need to flip this mindset. that’s what your higher self is telling you. flip your mindset out of what people of the past told you. they are not serving you anymore. that was advice for the moment. it’s over now. this is a new moment.

i asked for closing messages for this pile and got six of wands, nine of wands and three of wands. your advice from this is look to the future, what that success could be, and hold it in your mind always. “if you can see it in your mind, you can hold it in your hand”. sure, you can use ovulation as motivation, but don’t let that be your reason to start. let it be a reason to keep going. in addition, build up to block yourself from your past. and every time you try to look at it, ask yourself “why am i trying to move forwards?” and “where am i supposed to be going instead?” you’re not supposed to fall back into the past. you’re not supposed to walk back to it, you’re supposed to move onward from it. it was a lesson, not a lifestyle. you have the opportunity to be on top of the world, pile one, why not take it?

pile 2, raindrops

king of cups, strength reversed, the world, two of cups, five of cups, seven of swords.

paint the town red — doja cat

okay pile two. you guys may be forgetful, i forgot four times what i was doing when shuffling these cards. you may have so many drs you’re focusing on as well, so the memories and connections get mixed up. i feel like you also get a lot coming to you at once a lot. punch after punch or blessing after blessing. or a mix of both. cards kept falling out like fully, and not to compliment myself, but i’m a pretty good shuffler and that doesn’t normally happen.

with the cards i pulled, it seems like you have a lot of baggage. your future or higher self is saying that “it’s okay to let go, it’s okay to lose.” i was reminded of something my pastor said, “sometimes God takes something our your hands to replace it with something better.” are you religious? or believe in higher powers/work with deities? a male/masculine deity, zeus, posiden, loki, dionysus, lucifer, they’re all coming through here. you could work with one or more of them. they’re asking you to allow things to fall out of your hands, as seven of swords depicts, and stop trying to pick them all back up. “you need your hands free for this” i heard. and “stop crying over what you lost, there is more to gain.”

the seven of swords and five of cups are just speaking to me in this reading. you try to carry all these things from where you were, to where you’re going. you don’t have room. you don’t have the time. and you get upset when they seem to be slipping through your fingers, through the cracks. they’re supposed to. you’re on new ground. your are shedding old skin. pile two, i know it’s uncomfortable, it’s really uncomfortable, but you need it in order to transform into your better self. the two of cups shows me that you’re going from a dirty cup to a clean cup. the dirty cups are the ones you need to let go, the ones you need to have washed, but if you hold onto them, that will never happen. what needs to be cleansed will never be cleansed if you “clutch your pearls” in offense.

listening to paint the town red, “my happiness is all of your misery.” i feel like your higher/future self is saying you’re going to gain so much from this. you’ve earned so much because of this moment, because you let go in the future… paul says in his writings to the corinthians, ���i rejoice in my sufferings.” because you surrendered the past to the universe. you’re in your blossoming phase. you’re growing from this past energy, and coming out the dirt. you’re germinating, transforming, growing. are you an earth sign? a plant mom? outdoorsy? all could be significant. the world, as i see it, shows me you grow so much from this. everything is sunshine and brightness after this. all you need to do is surrender control. let go of this “pride” you have in your past! that isn’t… a good thing. having pride in what you once did and not in the accomplishments you make each and every day? you’re reading this pile right now, you connected to your intuition to get here, are you’re really going to celebrate your elementary school project of a turtle that you sculpted? really, pile two? that’s what you’re proud of? not your development, not planting the seed, not finally finding the ground you need to be in, but something you did in a different phase of life? no. you’re doing amazing now. celebrate that. you are alarming. say this in a mirror sometime today. “i am amazing. i am brave. i am strong. i can accomplish all things. i have faith. i have strength. i have drive. i grow each and every day.” it’s so important that you show yourself some love. lions also came out in three of these cards, so they may be important.

for closing messages i pulled ten of cups, two of swords, eight of swords reversed, the hanged man, and three of cups. you’re going to get love from this. the birthing pains are well worth it. perhaps you’ve been searching for love or feeling loved your whole life. you’re going to get that. “trust me” is what i heard. “have blind faith.” even if you don’t feel it now, you WILL get it. you WILL feel it. i can’t even like about this, pile two, your higher or future self KNOWS what they’re taking about. they pulled these cards out so fast. they want you to know it’s all working in your favor. trust yourself. trust your intuition, trust your mind, trust your soul. stay strong in that. 111. take a step back to change your perspective on things. meditate on it and perhaps spend time with friends or in a common community. (shameless plug, ren’s discord!?!) that could seriously help you see things clearly. yes, two of these cards have blindfolds on, but that’s because you’re being called to look INWARDS instead of OUTWARDS. the blindfolds are aiding you. they’re guiding you and helping you gain that blind faith. that’s why the hanged man is here, for you to change the way you see things, or as i heard “this shit.” be willing to let go of things that no longer serve you. dont hoard that energy. let it cycle back into the universe like its supposed to. i also keep hearing singing. that’s seriously important here. let your voice be heard, pile two. continue to celebrate yourself and your accomplishments. you are worth it.

pile 3, field of wishes

ten of wands, six of pentacles, page of cups, the empress, the sun.

alter ego — doechii

this is like my third time doing this pile so three’s may be significant, the phrase “this can’t be it,” and not accepting�� something. carrying burdens from the past. this pile has been all over the place. the ups, the downs, the past, the future, the present… you’re carrying so much with you. you don’t need to carry the baggage of others, pile three. that is not your job. that is not your duty. you’ve been walking this path for so long, these people that you have met, that are now gone from your life, taught you a lesson. that lesson has gone, now. that lesson IS gone now. why are you still trying to learn from it? these burdens are no longer yours. you’ve got what you needed from them.

you need to sacrifice these to the universe. hold them out, look at them, and drop them into the sea. accept the fact you have learned these lessons. you don’t need to repeat them, you’re doing amazing. you have found your ground, your foundation, you have found you. you don’t need to edit that, you don’t need to change that. “the seeds are now sprouting, i’m no longer doubting” from melanie martinez’s pluto. perhaps planets and portals are important to you? this is the second time they’ve come up in this reading.

i’m getting the urge to tell you to “look inwards.” again, third time this has come up. look inwards instead of outwards. look at your inner child. look at your growth, look at your past one last time to let it go. drop it. you’re allows to. it’s no longer yours. you’ve healed what you needed to. just be grateful that you have gone through these lessons, these cycles, and be glad you’re out of them. you no longer have to be overwhelmed with them. “a severed head can no longer speak.” graphic, but okay spirit! you may be into the darker things in life and try to get the most out of them. that’s why you’re still carrying so much, because you want to make sure you’ve grasped everything you could from them. well, i’m here to remind you that self care is self respect, and self respect is knowing when to leave something behind. 666, look back, don’t go back.

while attempting to shuffle closing messages, for the third time, my deck has been facing each other. and it’s half and half. “standing face to face with i told you so.” chappell roan’s good luck, babe. have you been told this before, pile 3? has this been something lingering on your mind? i get the sense this is a very spiritual pile, and i appreciate that, but you’re being called to listen to yourself and nurture yourself more TO yourself more, and not to others. focus on you!!!

for actual closing messages, you have been given five of pentacles, ten of swords reversed, the hermit, eight of swords reversed, eight of wands, two of wands, and seven of wands. once again, the urge to look for the light within you. “nah nah nah nah nah, boom boom, bitch” from your channeled song keeps coming to mind. there’s something taunting you, as you feel. find it. look for it. grab it by the hand and lead it to a pond, let it drown there. again with the dark stuff oh my GOD. don’t let this energy form your past suck you in. you’re allowed to move forward from it. recognize this isn’t a fight, this isn’t a battle, it’s a surrender on their end. they have no more ammunition, and when you allow them close again only to push them off a cliff, you win. you win, pile 3. you have won. accept that. you have broken these chains, these ropes, these bounds that you have allowed to hold you for so long without refinishing, they aren’t locked. they aren’t tied together. in yourself, you have everything. your heart guides you. you have found it. run with it, and keep running. don’t stop. never stop. you are where you’re supposed to be. drop the past you no longer need. poetry and song writing is prominent, if you couldn’t tell. :)

pile 4, flee but be free

seven of wands, the tower reversed, four of cups reversed, death reversed, the artist.

eyes on me — asteria

while shuffling there was one card faced up, the empress. i decided not to put it in the reading, but this pile knows who they are. they know where they stand. they know where they want to be. they know how to get what they want. they are what they want. i also kept wanting to type a period between each card. they each felt very important, and three major arcana here. you may feel called to be uprooted. that’s what the tower reversed is telling me. but you, pile four, you’re refusing it. you’re struggling to fight the change. to see the light. i feel like you’ve been refusing this for a long time, an ego death. you feel you don’t need it. you feel you’ve gone through it. that’s where the empress comes in. this isn’t a real stability, rather it’s one you’ve built based on your god mindset of yourself, but you have never gone through the challenges you needed to to get there. i heard your “canon events.”

you just put yourself in the throne. marie antoinette came to mind, and we know how her story ends. your higher or future self is urging you to step out of this. to “open your eyes to see the truth.” raye’s genesis comes to mind, “i see a sad little sinner, in the mirror.” your higher self is looking back at you. you’ve built up a guard, a wall, that only you can see. one that you have fooled yourself and others into believing you have. there is so much resistance to change here, to growth, pile four. your higher self feels so disconnected from you. they feel like they’re talking to a brick wall when speaking to you. you ignore the lessons they try to teach you. the ones they know you will go through in order to grow. “to get to the top of the tree, to have to climb it.” eventually, you will see there is no other choice, that you’ve taken all other paths, and you have to go down this final one. this one will lead to your growth. this is your destiny.

for your closing messages, pile four, i feel like Genesis by Raye is a song you truly need to listen to, analyze, and find where you stand in it. there are three parts, the longest is the second. she’s stuck in cycle over and over. i feel this is where you stand, but you need to understand that is where you are. in the cards you have 10 of pentacles, ten of swords, eight of swords, page of wands, five of cups, and strength. your higher self is assuring you this is all worth while. you already know who you are, you just need to baptize yourself in that. spend some time alone, and think. you may feel lost after reading this. you thought you were doing great, and now you’re left in an empty field. do not sulk, please. cry, though. just for a moment, until you notice there is more for you. then take risks. take risk after risk until you finally get out of this need for control all the time. i keep seeing sign spinning/baton twirling. maybe that’s something you’re into? try it!

take it step by step. be patient with yourself. like really, really patient. know this isn’t going to last forever and you already have all the tools you need to build. now is about laying that foundation. and it is a lengthy process. but “it is very worth it.” never doubt yourself nor abilities during this time. that’s where this five of cups is. you may fall down ten times, but you can and will get up eleven.

[maacbrem]

Absolutely insane about the Thelyss brothers in Vasselheim cause like

Essek the Bright Queen is RIGHT THERE SIR PLEASE - but then, so is his brother, his little brother he probably still thinks of as a child because they were allowed to be children so briefly before anamnesis failed to come and they had to make something of themselves as new souls in an ancient Den, and Verin is the youngest Taskhand of Bazzoxan and a highly accomplished Echo Knight but he’s going to war??? Against aliens and would-be god killers and Ludinus Da’leth???? And Essek is a heretic fugitive and selfish to his bones, but he loved his brother even when he didn’t think he was capable of love at all, even if he wasn’t very good at it. So he stays in Vasselheim and he makes sure that these strange, awe-inspiring legendary heroes know his brother’s face, his voice, his armour, so that maybe if he falls one of them will deign to pick him up. He thinks about his friends, far from him now (Caleb, out of his reach and likely preparing to do something reckless but too brilliant to be called foolish), and looks at his brother, who will also go, who might never come back.

And Verin??? The youngest son of his Den, the second new soul prodigy by necessity who never really understood his brother but loved him anyway, who mourned their father so hard that he tried to become him by throwing himself against the endless hordes of the Hells, who now answers the call of all the gods and Exandria itself to fight a war with impossible odds, offering himself and his soldiers as potential cannon fodder so that the legendary heroes of the age might emerge victorious? I need to know how long he’s known what Essek did (because I know that Essek confessed and part of him hoped that Verin would condemn him, his righteous, devoted brother), and I need to know if Essek faked his death or just vanished, and I need to know if Verin wept for him. Verin who loves his people and his country and his god, who believes in things like faith and loyalty because he’s never really had cause not to, who has to find a way to believe in his brother, too. He learns to recognize this Archivist disguise and a few others that Essek favours, and he stops referring to his brother by name ever just so he doesn’t forget at the wrong moment, and he carries the beat-up booklet of Ashari poetry that he first learned to read Common from that still has child-Essek’s penmanship in the margins and he thinks about how seasons change and how winter doesn’t really kill, it just rests, and the process of a butterfly’s metamorphosis isn’t really that far off from the Luxon’s decree to become your ever-bettering self.

Essek doesn’t say “come back” but he does say “fight smart” and Verin knows what he means. Verin wraps him in a spine-cracking bear hug, uncomfortable in his armour but Essek has gotten better about physical affection in the past few years and one day Verin intends to thank the Mighty Nein personally for that. Verin says “stay sharp” and then quieter he says “i’ll see you again” and Essek hears ‘in this life or the next’ and he very calmly and sanely doesn’t start screaming, but he does press a pearl to Verin’s forehead (Caleb’s variation of the somatics, a useless bit of sentimentality made powerful that Essek adores). And then they have to part ways before Verin rejoins the Kryn contingent and Essek disappears back into the crowd, two brothers finally on the same side but unable to stand together.

Anyway, I think they’re neat.

[sirensslament]

REVERENCE hamzahthefantastic x reader

summary!: He messed up, drifted too far, too long, but when he comes back, it’s not just to say sorry. It’s to feel you, hold you, worship you. Between whispered apologies and breathless moans, love and lust collide in the softest, dirtiest way

Pairing: boyfriend!Hamzahthefantastic x female girlfriend!reader

Trope: established relationship

Genre: smut, fluff, slight angst, terrible writing (mature/18+)

Note: my first request hello???? i hope i lived up to ur standards anon. also, i think this is lowkey terrible now that im reading back. 🥹🥹🫶🫶 based on this ask

Word count: 2.5k

warnings !: explicit sexual content, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, praise kink, dom/sub dynamic, light bondage (wrist restraints), mirror play, edging/orgasm control, overstimulation, slight breath-play, possessive language ("mine"), slightswitch!!hamzah, more dom!hamzah

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You haven’t said a word all day.

The sun dipped below the horizon hours ago, but you don’t bother turning the lights on. The only glow in the room is the soft pulse of your phone screen on the nightstand, message after message from him. You don’t read them.

Not because you don’t care. But because you do. Too much.

Hamzah has this way of disappearing without ever leaving. He’s there, physically, but with his headphones in, eyes locked on his screen, nodding absently while your voice dims into the background. And when you finally gathered the courage to say something, to tell him how empty it makes you feel, he looked shocked.

Like he didn’t even realize you were slipping away.

That’s what hurts the most.

So when the front door opens with a soft ding, you don’t move.

You hear his footsteps. The familiar clatter of keys. Then… stillness. Long enough to wonder if he’s walked right back out again.

But then you hear him, low, shaky.

“…I’m here.”

Your eyes remain on the wall.

“I couldn’t keep texting. I needed to see you. To be here. Really be here.”

There’s a pause thick enough to drown in. You feel his presence just beyond the door, like a heartbeat you can’t ignore.

“I messed up,” he says, voice quieter now. “I got lost in all of it--editing, numbers, people who don’t even matter. And in the process, I stopped seeing you. The one person who actually does.”

Your chest tightens.

“I thought you’d be okay with it. That you’d understand. But I stopped checking to see if you really were.”

The door creaks open.

You don’t turn, but in the corner of your vision, you catch him, hesitating in the doorway, eyes dark with regret, with something softer beneath it.

He steps in. Slowly. Like he’s afraid the floor might crack beneath him.

Then he’s kneeling in front of you at the edge of the bed, hands hovering by your waist like he’s waiting for permission he doesn’t think he deserves.

“…Please,” he says, his voice a breath. “Don’t shut me out. I’ll do anything. Just—don’t be done with me.”

You finally look at him. And the moment your eyes meet, something in him unravels. His hands tremble. His jaw clenches like he’s holding back more than just words.

He leans forward, resting his forehead gently against your thigh. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “So fucking sorry.”

Your fingers twitch where they rest in your lap. Then, slowly, almost hesitantly, you reach out and grip the front of his hoodie. Tug him closer. Not as a pardon. Not yet.

Just to say I’m still here.

And that’s all it takes for his breath to catch, sharp, like he's breaking apart.

“I’ll do anything,” he repeats, his voice thick now, full of every emotion he tried to swallow for too long. “Let me make it up to you, baby. Please.”

His hands move, slow, careful, as he starts to slide the hem of your shirt up. His touch is reverent, fingertips ghosting over your skin like he's afraid you’ll disappear if he goes too fast.

He looks up at you, searching your face, waiting for the smallest sign to keep going. Want tangled with guilt, devotion laced with need.

And when you don’t stop him, when you breathe out, soft and shivering, and let him peel the fabric away, he exhales like it’s the first time he’s allowed himself to breathe in days.

“Thank you,” he whispers, like you’ve handed him something sacred. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Your shirt falls somewhere behind you, forgotten. Hamzah is still kneeling, still trembling, but his eyes never leave yours. There’s awe in them, the kind that makes you feel like you’re something holy. Something he’s not sure he deserves to touch, but desperately needs to.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes, almost in disbelief. His voice cracks at the edges, reverent and raw. “I don’t know how I looked past you for even a second.”

He leans forward again, this time kissing the inside of your thigh, soft, apologetic. Another kiss, higher. Then another. He worships in silence, letting his mouth say what his words can’t. And for a while, you let him.

But then you thread your fingers through his buzzed hair, and he freezes.

“Up,” you whisper, tugging gently. “I need to feel you.”

Hamzah rises slowly, climbing over you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he moves too fast. But you don’t. You stay. You let your hands explore the planes of his chest under that hoodie, feel the rapid beat of his heart as your nails skim his skin.

And when you push the hoodie off his shoulders, when your lips brush his jaw, he exhales like he’s melting under your touch.

“I want to make it right,” he murmurs, breath hitching as your teeth graze his neck. “I want to give you everything.”

You hum, lips at his ear. “Then stop waiting for permission.”

That’s when something changes.

Something deep in his eyes flickers. Submissive no longer, still gentle, still reverent, but now charged with purpose.

His mouth crashes into yours, not rough, but intense. Desperate. Like he’s making up for every missed moment in the language of heat and skin and breath. His hands grip your hips, firmer now, like he’s grounding himself in the weight of you, the reality of you still choosing to be here.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he mutters against your lips, sliding his hand under your thigh and pulling you closer, “how close I’ve been to breaking just thinking about losing you.”

You gasp as he flips you effortlessly beneath him, the sheets cool against your back, his body warm and anchoring above you. That reverent touch is still there, but now it’s laced with command.

“I need to feel all of you,” he says, eyes blazing. “Every sound, every breath. Let me remind you who you belong to.”

He kisses his way down, leaving heat in his wake, until your back arches off the bed and your hands clutch at the sheets. And he doesn’t stop, doesn’t rush. He learns you. Worships you. Makes promises with his tongue, his hands, the way he holds you open like a secret only he knows.

And when you’re breathless, trembling, undone beneath him, he finally rises again, hair tousled, lips swollen, gaze locked to yours with that quiet, dominant fire.

“You’re mine baby, ”he whispers, voice rough now. “all mine.”

Your breathing is ragged, shallow, like your body hasn’t caught up to the storm he’s pulling you into. Hamzah’s hovering over you now, hair messy, chest rising and falling like he’s fighting for control.

But he’s already lost it. For you.

“You’re mine,” he repeats, slower this time, like a vow. His thumb brushes your bottom lip. “Say it.”

And you do, because it’s the truth, because it always has been. “I’m yours.”

Something in him snaps.

His mouth is on yours again, hot, open, claiming, and his hands are already moving, one gripping your thigh, the other fisting the sheets by your head like he needs the anchor.

He grinds against you through his sweats, and even with the layers between you, the heat is blinding.

He pulls back just enough to tear his shirt over his head, his skin flushed, jaw tight. Then he’s tugging at your panties, slow at first, but when you lift your hips and help, he growls, low and possessive, and rips them down your legs.

“I missed this,” he murmurs, spreading your thighs again, mouth already trailing down. “Missed how you taste, how you sound, how you beg.”

You whimper as his mouth returns to you, more intense now, more focused. His tongue is slow and purposeful, circling your clit, teasing until you’re shaking. His fingers press into your thigh to hold you open, firm but never cruel.

And then, one finger, then two, slipping inside you with devastating precision. Curling. Searching. Finding that spot that makes your back arch and your cry catch in your throat.

“God, baby…” he moans against you, his voice wrecked. “You’re clenching so hard. You gonna come for me?”

You nod, breathless, and he doesn’t let up. Tongue flicking, fingers stroking deep, relentless. Worshipful.

And when you come, it’s violent in its softness, your body convulses, thighs squeezing around his head, and he moans like he’s the one unraveling.

But he’s not done.

He kisses his way back up your body, mouth dragging wet heat up your skin, and when he reaches your mouth again, he kisses you like you’re air. Like he’s drowning in you.

“You think I can stop now?” he pants, pressing the head of his length against your entrance, you don't even know when he stripped out of his sweats-- too delirious to pay attention to such a minor detail. “After that?”

You’re still trembling when he pushes in, slow, deliberate, stretching you until you cry out. And he freezes, just for a second.

Eyes locked on yours.

“Look at me,” he whispers. “I want to see your face when I fill you.”

And you do, you watch him watch you as he slides in, inch by inch, until he’s fully seated, his breath catching like it hurts.

“Fuck,” he groans. “You feel unreal.”

He holds there, buried deep, both hands cradling your face now, soft, intimate, until you shift your hips and beg for more.

Then he moves.

Not slow anymore.

Rhythmic. Deep. Every thrust punching out a sound from your throat, every snap of his hips harder than the last.

He grabs your wrists and pins them above your head, holding you open, vulnerable, but you’ve never felt safer. Never felt more his.

“You’re mine,” he growls again, breath ragged as he pounds into you. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours.”

“Louder.”

“I’m yours, Hamzah. All yours.”

His rhythm stutters, sharp and frantic now. “That’s right. Nobody gets to have this but me.”

Then he slows, drags it out. Deep rolls of his hips. Pushing you to the edge again, and again, until you’re a mess of gasps and pleading.

“Can’t—can’t take it—”

“Yes, you can,” he whispers against your mouth. “You will. One more for me. I know you’ve got it in you.”

And when it crashes over you again, hot, electric, too much, he follows, spilling inside you with a groan that sounds like a man breaking apart.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t pull out. Just holds you, forehead pressed to yours, breath mingling in the space between.

“You wreck me,” he whispers. “Every fucking time.”

Your heart’s still racing when he finally pulls you close, wrapping you up in his arms like you’re something fragile.

“You okay?” he murmurs, brushing damp hair from your face.

You nod, eyes fluttering shut against his chest. “More than.”

A silence settles, but it’s full. Safe. Warm.

He kisses the top of your head., and the rest of the evening fades to a blur.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Hamzah doesn’t sleep. Not really. Not when your body’s still warm and soft in his arms, and his brain is replaying every sound you made like it’s his new favorite song.

You shift slightly, still half-asleep, and he kisses your shoulder. “Baby,” he murmurs, deep, guttural. “I need you again.”

You laugh, low and breathy, still left in the remnant of your dream. “Already?”

“No,” he says, voice dark. “Still.”

He pulls you to the edge of the bed, body fluid and focused, like he’s been planning this the whole time. “Come with me.”

Your legs are wobbly, still aching from before, but you follow, trailing after him in nothing but his hoodie, down the hallway until he stops you in front of the full-length mirror.

“Look.”

You blink, dazed, as he steps behind you, hands on your hips. “See how fucking good you look like this? All mine.”

His hand slides between your legs from behind, fingers teasing over your clit again. Your breath hitches. “W-we just—”

“Exactly,” he growls. “And you’re still dripping for me.”

He watches your reaction in the mirror, eyes locked on yours, his other hand slipping up to wrap lightly around your throat again, not to hurt, just to hold. To own. “You’re gonna watch. Every second.”

His fingers start slow, sliding between your folds, rubbing that perfect rhythm again, light, maddening. Edging you back up, higher and higher.

“You don’t come until I say,” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear, tone sweetly cruel. “Think you can do that for me, pretty girl?”

You nod, desperate. “Y-yes—yes, I can—”

But he doesn’t stop. He speeds up. Fingertips circling your clit, other hand tweaking your nipple through the thin fabric of your -his- shirt that you must've absentmindedly put on after he completely wrecked you, whispering filthy praise like poetry.

“So sensitive now. So obedient. Fuck, look at how wet you are.”

Just when your legs start to tremble, he pulls away. Smirking.

You whimper, nearly collapsing. “Please—Hamzah, please—”

“Not yet,” he says, gripping your hips and pushing you gently down onto the ottoman in front of the mirror, your thighs spread, his body bare behind you like a sin you’re begging for.

Then, click. You blink as you feel leather. He’s pulling soft cuffs from a drawer nearby, wrapping them around your wrists, binding them behind your back.

“I told you I’d make this right,” he says, kissing your temple. “That means giving you everything. Including the things I used to be scared to want with you.”

He kneels between your legs again. Starts eating you out like a man starved, slow, then messy, then so precise you start begging through tears.

“Hamzah, I can’t—please, please—let me—”

“Not. Yet.”

His voice is dark velvet now, fingers deep inside you while he makes you watch the whole thing in the mirror, your body shaking, lips parted, eyes glazed.

After what feels like decades of cruel licks, sucks and flicks of his tongue, he finally pulls back, breathless. “You’ve earned it.”

He unbinds your wrists gently, scoops you up like you’re weightless, lays you back on the bed again, this time with your legs spread, hands on the headboard. “Hold yourself open f'me.”

You do it, bare, aching, on the edge of begging.

And when he finally sinks back into you, it’s slow and claiming, like he’s embedding himself into your bones. He's so big, so raw that you feel every vein marking the edge of his cock, every curve that hits you in the right spot.

“Now,” he whispers. “Now you come. Hard. All over me.”

You shatter. No build-up. Just fire. Your whole body arches, spasms, and Hamzah doesn’t stop, he grinds into you through it, saying your name like it’s the only thing keeping him breathing.

He follows fast, pulsing inside you with a gasp, forehead pressed to yours. “I fucking love you,” he breathes. “In every way. Every dark, messy, desperate way.”

He holds you after. Cleans you up again. Kisses your hands. Wraps you in blankets and himself like you’re precious.

“You okay?” he murmurs into your hair, fingers drawing circles on your back.

You nod, too soft and full to speak. And he smiles.

“Good,” he says. “Because next time, I’m tying you to the bed.”

a/n: idk. mixed feelings. also i think i js projected my submissiveness through this 💀💀

[azrielbrainrot]

I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 2

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: You're back home right when Azriel was starting to lose all hope, but is the person standing in front of him the same who disappeared all those years ago?

Warnings: Angst, mentions of blood, injury

Word Count: 6670

Notes: The original plan wasn't to write more of this story but I had a few ideas of where to take this and decided to turn it into a mini series, don't think it will be longer than 3-4 chapters. Also I don't know if the HoW has cells in the books but it does here and they're normal, not dungeon-y like, and the story is set after acosf but Amren never got turned into fae because I like her better like this. A lot of people liked the first part so I really hope this one doesn't disappoint. I hope you enjoy!

Part 1 ○ Part 3

Azriel was at the townhouse before he even fully realized what was happening. Didn't even give anyone an explanation, simply letting his shadows take him, barely hearing the questioning cries of his name. He didn't need to hear anything else aside from your name to know that's where he should be, his body moved before he even had time to formulate the thought.

Your sweet scent invaded his brain before he even arrived at the house. He'd be able to recognize it anywhere, he'd longed for it for so long after all. Every day when he opened his eyes, he hoped he would wake up to your scent floating around this house as it once did, as it did right now. He's not one to go into anything blindly, to run head first and only think about the consequences later, but this felt like his last chance. The loneliness that had settled deep in his soul had been replaced with hope with one word.

His shadows move to different corners of the room as soon as he's dropped off, leaving him uncharacteristically naked, unguarded. Even the shadows that would form naturally from the faint glow of the moon seemed to move off his face. They wanted him to enjoy this moment in full, this was his and only his.

In truth he barely noticed them leave, too preoccupied with the figure in front of him. He wouldn't have believed it if he wasn't witnessing it with his own eyes. How many times had he been haunted by this exact vision in his dreams? There you were standing in the sitting room, shining like a goddess under the moonlight filtering through the windows. You hadn't changed since the last time he saw you, only had gotten even more mesmerizing if anything.

Your hair was a bit shorter than you usually wore it, the tight pants a contrast to the usual short skirts you preferred. Then there was a scar running across your neck, even with the distance and darkness in the room he could tell it ran from ear to ear. It was a painful reminder of what you've been through, of the night he couldn't protect you. But it meant this was real. You were actually standing in front of him. This was something he had dreamed of many times, almost every night since you've been gone.

He calls your name and it feels amazing. Just the sound of your name leaving his lips, not in mourning or wistfulness but as a greeting, is enough to bring a face splitting grin to his face. Gods, he missed saying your name without almost feeling suffocated by the weight that formed in his chest.

You startle at the sound, seemingly not expecting company at the house. He has no time to study the strange expression on your face though, he needs to touch you first, to feel your skin against his, your warmth against his body, your heart beating behind your ribcage. He needs to make sure this is real and not some cruel dream or hallucination his mind thought up to torment him. He needs you to be really back.

As soon as your eyes meet his form, he clears the distance between you in two hurried steps, but, before he can hug you, he feels your hand reach out to him. He doesn't even have time to realize you're reaching towards his thigh, to Truth Teller. He doesn't know if it was confusion holding him back, the strangeness of the whole act or if he's simply willing to take anything as long as it comes from you, but he makes no movement to stop you from grabbing his knife, allowing you to pierce it through his stomach, never so much as looking away from your beautiful face or even flinching at the blade.

He can feel every inch of the dagger inside him, can feel the blood quickly seeping through his shirt. Still, the pain in his gut can't hold a candle to the relief and joy running through his veins. You're real. The knife went through, so you have to be real. He can clearly hear your heartbeat now as well, it sounds strong aside from how fast it's going.

Azriel reaches a hand out to you again, slower as not to startle you. He can't help the fluttering of his own heart as you finally let him make contact with the softness of your skin. You haven't moved your hands from the knife, your wide eyes staring at your now blood covered hands. He caresses your cheek lovingly and tilts your face up so he can meet your eyes at last.

He can tell something is wrong, as if it hadn't been glaringly obvious by his favorite knife currently stuck in his stomach. Your eyes seem unfocused, a bit panicked, maybe even angry. But he can't bring himself to care in this moment.

He doesn't know if this is your revenge for letting you die, for not finding you, or even if this is what you had wanted out of him from the start, maybe your whole relationship had been a lie. It doesn't matter. He'll gladly die at your hands if that's the fate you chose for him. At least he'd spend his last moments with you, a privilege he didn't think he would have the pleasure of experiencing.

His heart threatens to stop altogether when your eyes meet, it feels like time stopped around him. “You're home, my love,” he breathes out, letting out a soft disbelieving chuckle, “You're finally home.” He raises his other hand to your face, caressing both your cheeks with his scarred thumbs, he almost forgot how soft your skin felt against his rough hands. He's been clutching at faint memories for decades.

His smile falters when his thumb moves down, stroking down your jaw to the column of your throat, where a scar runs across your neck. He watches his thumb following the clean line, his scars had always been awful reminders of what was done to him, it ate at him even five centuries later, but seeing yours hurt even more. You should have never known this kind of pain.

“What?” Your voice was barely a whisper, confusion and fear holding it hostage. He looks back up into your eyes, seeing the same emotions swim in your gaze even more heightened. He didn't like that, you would never have any reason to be scared of him. He goes to tell you as much when he feels power surging into the room.

“Azriel?” Cassian's voice cuts through the moment and he has to close his eyes to keep himself calm. He wanted more time with you, wanted to talk to you before they got here, before they saw the blood but had gotten too distracted. His mind wasn't working properly, his thoughts were all over the place, he wanted nothing more than to hug you but was too aware of how strangely you were acting. He couldn't keep you and his family in check, not with every instinct inside him screaming to just pick you up and winnow you to the other side of the world.

He calls his shadows to him, a desperate attempt at hiding his injury. He knows it's in vain when he feels Rhys let go of the damper on his power, letting the suffocating night fill up the room. You look positively terrified now, he can even smell it mixing in your sweet scent. Letting go of your face, an act that takes more effort than he could imagine, he turns around slowly, trying to be mindful of keeping you covered, protected from his family.

Your hands don't stop holding onto the dagger, as he moves away from you, the force of it is enough to pull it out of his stomach and let the blood run free with no resistance. The pain was getting worse, it didn't look like you hit any vital organs but his healing wasn't fast enough to keep it at bay on its own.

Feyre is the first to move towards him when she sees the blood, but he simply holds up a hand, effectively stopping her in her tracks. Trying to keep a leveled head was proving to be a near impossible task as he saw the anger in everyone's faces, it was directed at you. He holds onto his abdomen, the pain was making itself known.

Seeing Azriel stop his mate from approaching, Rhys walks closer to the shadowsinger himself. His face was a mix of regret and fury as he spoke up. “What happened here, Azriel?” If his mind was in the right place he would have noticed the restraint his brother was showing at seeing him bleeding out in his house, restraint only present because of his own feelings towards you. Unfortunately, Azriel's instincts were winning against logic.

He hears you finally drop Truth Teller behind him, your body must have started listening to you when Rhysand got too close, recognizing him as a threat. He makes the mistake of looking back at the knife, not hearing the snarl that curls his brother's lips in time. Rhys winnows behind him in that moment and you had gotten too close to the window for him to reach you.

“Don't touch her,” he warns Rhys viciously. He doesn't want to think what he was capable of if anyone hurt you again, even if it was his own brother.

He sees you fall to the floor before he registers what happened. His heart almost leaps out of his throat, letting out an anguished cry of your name as he runs to you, pushing his brother out of the way and holding you up from the ground. Searching for a pulse frantically, he finds you were only unconscious. A breath of relief escapes him as he pushes your hair out of your face, it almost brings tears to his eyes. You will be fine. Rhys had only entered your mind to keep you asleep and stop you from escaping. You will wake up. You will not leave him again.

He hugs you closer to him, too focused on making sure you were alright and keeping his breathing leveled to hear what they were saying behind him. He felt as helpless as when he was still a child being subjected to his father's cruelty. It takes him a while before he finally calms himself down enough to hear the argument behind him.

“Let's talk to him first,” Cassian says, the emotion clear in his voice.

“He put up a shield around them,” Rhys was sounding less like a High Lord by the word, “He's not in his right mind.” A shield? He checks the air around them to find that his brother was right, there was a shield around them both, even his shadows had moved to cover them, separating them from the world.

“Neither are any of you,” Nesta's voice cuts through everyone, finally silencing them.

“We already called for Madja,” Feyre uses the silence that settled to speak, “We can get him treated and hold her somewhere until she wakes up.”

“No,” he drops you gently on the ground, letting his shadows cover you, protect you, before turning to face his family.

Feyre hesitates before continuing, seeing something on his face that makes her choose a different approach. He never mentioned being married to her but your name had been brought up before, he knew Rhys had filled her in on what happened, still she couldn't understand what he was feeling. Even he couldn't.

“The cells under the House of Wind are safe. It's just for-”

“You will not put my wife in a cell,” the words came out clipped, slipping through clenched teeth, the shadowsinger was barely holding on to a sense of restraint against his High Lady.

“She stabbed you,” Rhys yells, looking down at the wound in his brother's torso, thankfully already starting to heal, “it doesn't matter that she used to be your wife.” The growl Azriel lets out at his brother is nothing short of vicious, a feral and lethal thing rising straight from the center of his being.

“She is still my wife,” Azriel says behind a snarl, “And you will not hurt her.” Even if it was in the clean cells of the House of Wind, he could never bear to see you caged. He was ready to go to any lengths necessary to make sure of that. If helping you escape the Night Court was what it took he knew of a few ways not to get caught.

He could see Rhys' shoulders tense up, his own face morphing to match Azriel's fury. He didn't know if his mental shields were down or if his intentions were just uncharacteristically clear on his face but he was sure that his brother knew what Azriel - his spymaster - was thinking.

“She can stay in one of the rooms up in the House,” Cassian offers quickly, trying to settle the rising tension between his brothers, “She can't winnow out because of the wards and we can watch her until she wakes up.” Deep down he knows they don't want to hurt you either, that they're only worried but it's difficult to pay attention to the voice of reason within him during this whole situation. His greatest wish had just been answered. So why does everything seem to be falling apart with it?

Mor winnows in with Madja before he can give them a response which is a good thing because anything he could come up with would probably only put you and him in a more precarious situation. There were too many emotions warring inside him, the same going around almost everyone in the room if only more intense. The healer's presence seems to dissipate most of the tension automatically as Rhys even turns to look out the window and allows his mate to hold onto his hand, probably telling him soothing words in his mind.

Madja moves to Azriel with no hesitation, only stopping briefly when she senses the shield. She merely gives him a look before he drops it so she can reach him. He knows she wouldn't hurt you, knows he needs the wound in his stomach taken care of so he can focus on you, think about what to do when you wake up.

“You need to sit down so I can treat you,” she tells him while inspecting the wound.

“I will not leave her.”

“You can trust her with us, Az,” Mor tries to reassure him, but with the way the last minutes have played out he wasn't trusting you with them, or anyone else for that matter. He'd just gotten you back, no way is he letting you out of his sight for a second, he could bleed out for all he cares.

Suddenly, he sees Nesta walk to the table and grab a chair through his peripheral. She appears to be mumbling something to herself but he can't quite hear her to understand. She walks to him and drops the chair in her hands on his right, before giving him a narrow eyed look and returning to her mate's side.

He's not sure how much she knows of the situation. The three sisters probably all know by now that he used to be married but none of them has mentioned you to him, warned by whoever told them of the consequences of doing it.

He sits on the chair and lets Madja work on him. The wound wasn't too bad, even if he didn't have access to a healer it would close in a short time. You stabbed it cleanly through, just like he'd taught you. If he hadn't been the practice dummy he might praise you for it. By the Mother, he thinks he still might. He wonders if you'll grace him with a bright smile and flushed cheeks for it like you used to.

Azriel looks over to your sleeping form under the moonlight. He's calming down enough that he's starting to feel the uncertainty bubbling inside him. Truth Teller still laid on the floor beside you, covered in his blood just as your hands were.

“Is she…” What did he want to ask? Is it really her? How did she survive? There was so much blood on the ground that night. He didn't need to be a healer to know it was too much for someone to survive with no immediate help and an absurd amount of luck. “Is it really her?” He whispered the question, not bearing to look away from you as he does.

“You know that better than me,” the healer answers calmly. He can sense some emotion in her voice. You had asked her to make tonics to help him sleep and relax many times, to teach you basic healing and how to put on bandages to help him when he was too stubborn and not gravely injured enough to go see the healer. She probably missed you as well. “She's healthy.”

He feels a rush of relief at the words. You're healthy. The confirmation allows him to relax further. Finally looking away from you to see part of his family still watching the scene before them. He knows they too were thinking about the blood, the sleepless nights they spent searching for any sign of you. His eyes meet Rhys' briefly, knowing they'll need to talk about what happened.

He closes his eyes and leans his head back, letting out a soft sigh. You're back. He never thought he'd see you again but you're right here next to him. You're not a dream or a hallucination. You're healthy. The thought almost brings a smile to his lips despite the situation. Anything else can be dealt with now that you're by his side again.

“Are you sure you don't need to rest, Az?” He looks up from the familiar ring, still twisting it around his finger. It felt right putting it back on, he was almost giddy at the sight of the silver in his finger, but it also left him with immense guilt eating at him for taking it off in the first place. He studies Nesta's face for a second, giving up on trying to decipher what she was thinking in favor of looking back at you.

When everyone calmed down enough and Azriel was treated, it had been decided that you couldn't be left alone even in the room, they needed someone to keep an eye on you. It had also been quickly added that Azriel wasn't enough, his brother had seen right through him, he knew Azriel wouldn't try to stop you from killing him or trying to escape if you put your mind to it.

Cassian and Mor refused to stand watch unless it was truly necessary. He knows they wouldn't want to be put in a position where they had to stop you, knew they would not only feel guilty for hurting you but also wouldn't forgive themselves for hurting Azriel.

Even Rhysand, used to the weight and impartiality of the High Lord's title, looked hesitant in keeping him company, he had already forcefully invaded your mind to take your consciousness away, something he had vowed never to do to his friend. He could definitely stop you both from any of the worse case scenarios but at a cost he couldn't bear to pay.

That had left him with the two trained Archeron sisters and Amren. They set shifts to make sure Azriel was never left alone with you, he thinks they might not even trust him not to take you away from the room himself and help you escape. He can't really be sure himself if he wouldn't do exactly that if you asked. He'd follow you to the end of the world and beyond just to hear you call his name one more time.

“The wound is healed,” he whispers, keenly aware of your sleeping form, a habit that came to him naturally after seeing you. You always liked to sleep in and waking you up before your time was close to a death sentence.

“That's not what I meant.” Nesta walks closer to the chair beside your bed, the one he hasn't gotten up from since tucking you into the bed carefully. She placed a hand on his shoulder and studied you for a moment, something she's been doing since her shift started. “She stabbed you,” she says in an usually hesitant tone coming from her, “Are you sure it's her?”

“I would sooner forget my own name than mistake my wife for someone else,” the words came out clipped even with him trying to hold back his anger. It wasn't her fault for being suspicious, Nesta never got the chance to meet you, barely even heard about Azriel's marriage. She just wants to protect him, protect her friend.

“Why would she hurt you then?”

“Maybe it's my punishment,” the words leave him before he can think them through. It doesn't matter anyway, they all saw the state he was in at the townhouse. No point hiding now.

“Punishment?” She took a step back from the chair to be able to face him, her perplexed face coming into view. “You didn't do anything wrong.” The notion was almost laughable. Azriel had done plenty wrong in his life.

“I didn't find her,” he whispers, facing away from his friend in favor of watching you, “She's been out there for almost a century, on her own,” he clenched his fists at the thought, “and I didn't find her.”

“I know you looked for her as best as you could. I know you all did.” And what good did his best do?

“You don't understand, Nesta,” he says as he looks down at the ring once again, closing his eyes briefly at the burn he felt in his head. He didn't want to talk about this anymore, didn't want to explain his feelings to any of them.

“I do,” she starts, “If something happened-”

“If,” he cringes at how he raised his voice, immediately looking over to your sleeping form to make sure he didn't disturb you, and then added more quietly, with the same conviction in his tone, “If something happened to Cassian you would understand. But it hasn't and so you don't.”

Nesta lets out a defeated sigh, moving back to her original seat by the window, patting his shoulder comfortingly on her way. His eyes are focused on you once more and he has no intention of letting them stray until you wake up, and long after you do.

⋆｡°✩°｡⋆

You wake up slowly, your mind aware of your near consciousness before your body can follow. It feels like you've never been this deeply asleep, even the dreams that usually haunt you were quiet. Perhaps that's why it takes you so long to remember your current situation, it could also be the strangeness of it. You keep your eyes closed as your body and mind slowly come to.

You didn't expect to be lying on a bed, an unbelievably soft bed at that, after being caught stealing from the High Lord's home and then stabbing someone from his so-called Inner Circle. You're not sure when you lost consciousness but, in the split second the High Lord stood in front of you, you were more than certain you wouldn't be able to escape death again.

The sun is high in the sky, meaning you failed your mission, not only because you had been caught but also for not getting to the meeting point on time. Whether at the hands of your captors or your employers you were already as good as dead. The thought has heat burning behind your eyelids and your throat threatening to close up.

You don't even know what happened. This whole mission had seemed above your expertise from the start. You had never been sent on a mission to Prythian and the fact that you were sent to steal from a High Lord's home, the strongest in history at that, had sowed doubts inside you from the moment you heard about your mission from your handler. That and the sinking feeling in your gut as you listened to their descriptions of the city and people working for the High Lord. Every cell on your body was trying to reject this idea.

Deciding to trust your gut, you even brought up your doubts to your superiors, going as far as asking why you were being sent to retrieve some book when there are other fae more experienced in working there. There wasn't even any time to study the place or come up with escape routes. You had never been sent into any mission like this. Your worries had been quickly dismissed. They seemed completely convinced you wouldn't be caught, that you were the only member capable of this job.

Sneaking into the city had been simple enough, there seemed to be some celebration happening since so many fae were drinking and dancing around bars and even on the street. Your uneasiness only got worse as you walked through the streets. Something was wrong, every single one of your instincts was screaming at you, but you couldn't figure out why.

You walked to an alley close to the High Lord's house and surveyed the perimeter, making sure your intel was correct and the house was truly empty. After postponing the inevitable long enough, you took a deep breath and winnowed straight into the house, and, just like your handler told you, there were no wards or shields stopping you from entering. You thought this was peculiar for a High Lord but many powerful fae think themselves invincible to the point of arrogance and at the sacrifice of their own safety.

As you walked quietly through the hallway, your feet seemed to have a mind of their own, carrying you into a big room with sofas and a fireplace instead of the office you were supposed to be already searching through. You had the same feeling of deja vu as when you were walking through the illuminated streets before, something about the portraits on the walls and the peculiar chairs had your heart sputtering in your chest. It was an intricate design but you could swear you'd never seen anything like them before.

You moved closer to the window, far enough that no one could see you through it, and looked down at the city once more. Taking in the lights, the colorful houses and the fae cheerfully walking around the streets despite the late hour. There is no place like this in Montesere, not even close, so you don't understand how you could be confusing it, you really feel like you've been here before. Everything down to the names of the stores and smells wafting through the air look strangely familiar.

As you got lost in your thoughts, you had completely forgot about your mission. Letting your guard down, enough so that you didn't hear or feel anyone's presence in the same room until you heard them call out someone's name. The sound had goosebumps traveling through your entire body, your breath getting stuck in your throat. What scared you the most wasn't even the fact that you had just been caught but that voice, that name, almost brought tears to your eyes.

You stood frozen for a moment before turning around slowly and your entire body went still at what you saw. The male in front of you was the same one that haunted your dreams ever since you could remember, you would recognize that figure, those wings, those eyes anywhere.

You almost doubted you were awake at all but when he moved closer to you, standing in front of you before you could even blink, your body moved to protect yourself on instinct, to do as you had been taught at the guild. Your movements were a lot slower than usual, almost like something inside you was trying to stop you from hurting him but you had still managed to grab the long knife strapped to his thigh and stab it through his stomach in one clean movement.

The knife went in smoothly and he simply took it without trying to stop you or even letting out a sound. You've taken countless times before, killing was part of your life, of your job, but watching his blood run and coat your hands had made you feel incredibly guilty. You couldn't move, couldn't even let go of the knife.

When his hand reached to touch your face - a movement you didn't even register until his rough skin came in contact with your cheek - your wild eyes had met his and, suddenly, it felt like the world was spinning. The bright hazel was so familiar you could cry. He'd been starring in your dreams for so long but you'd never seen him quite this close. As you slowly let your mind catch up to you, you noticed he was smiling.

“You're home, my love,” he whispered softly. Your heart had felt like it was going to beat out of your chest at that point. You were missing something, a piece of information that felt like it was swimming right on the edge of your brain, but you couldn't quite reach it. His hands had both moved to cup your face by the time you found your voice.

“What?” What is going on? Who are you? Why do I feel like I know you? Why is your touch so familiar? My love? Your brain was filled with questions but you couldn't even find it in you to ask them. Couldn't look away from his eyes, the former joy seen in them giving way to something else.

“Azriel?” Both of you had tensed at the voice behind him. It seems he didn't hear anyone else arrive either, too caught up in each other and whatever mysterious tension was tying you together.

Your hands had tightened around the dagger on instinct, you could feel the power rippling through the room. You should have ran away while it was only him, he had let you stab him so maybe he would let you run away as well. But, as night incarnate filled the room, you knew every chance you had at an escape was lost.

The rest of the events were a blur, one moment you were watching more and more people winnow into the room, sending your heart further into disarray, and the next the High Lord himself stood in front of you with fury and what looked like disappointment etching his features, and then everything went dark.

As your memories from the night before fade, you become more aware of your surroundings. You could hear two separate breaths close to you, could smell two distinct scents, you suppose it was lucky enough that they had let you sleep on a bed, it's only natural they'd have someone keeping watch.

If they'd been watching you this whole time they would have to know you were awake by now, so you open your eyes slowly, blinking a few times to adjust to the brightness in the room. You study the intricate gold designs on the dark navy ceiling. Why did even the ceiling seem familiar? It feels like you are losing your mind.

Your head turns to the nightstand, where a cup of water sat over a flower shaped lace coaster. You almost gulped at the sight of it, your throat was so dry you weren't sure you could speak, but you were in a stranger's house, one you had tried to rob the night before, there had to be a catch somewhere and you didn't want to end at the cruel hands of poison.

Two pairs of eyes burned into you, and since you're not going to drink anyway, you decide that there's no delaying this confrontation any more. You turn to look at them, not surprised at finding the winged male sitting close to your bed, but he was accompanied by someone else, something else.

You sit up in bed slowly, not wanting to appear as a threat and startle them into thinking you had intentions of escaping or attacking you. You really didn't know why they hadn't just dumped you in a dark dungeon - you heard about their less than kind reputation before coming here - but you wanted to keep in their good graces if you could help it. They're probably keeping you to know more about who sent you, shame you can't tell them anything, maybe they'd even let you go if you could.

When you sit up against the headboard, your eyes meet the male's immediately, as if you were called to do it. Some of the same emotions you had seen last night were still shining in his eyes, but today there was so much more, so much so that you couldn't even begin to pick them apart even with the difference of a calm mind.

Your captors don't move so you take the moment to study the male before you. He always showed up covered in shadows in your dreams, you had barely caught glimpses of his face in the almost century of seeing him. Which was a real shame if you dared to admit it. He has an exceptionally beautiful face, the sun filtering through the window was giving his tan skin an ethereal glow, his eyes shine brightly, allowing you to make up the different tones of green and brown within them. His hair was stark black, curling slightly at the ends.

You had noticed the large wings that stood at his back the first time you'd seen him. You've never met any species of fae with wings but his were definitely peculiar. You always thought they were black but, with the brightness in the room and his shadows away, you can see they lean more to a crimson and gray-ish color. Trailing down to his torso, you notice that there doesn't seem to be any blood or sign of injury. He had already gotten healed then. For some reason, your heart calms at that and you try telling yourself it's because it might lessen the trouble you got in.

A shadow moves across him to reach up into his ear, almost like it was whispering something to him. You knew the Night Court's Spymaster was a shadowsinger, the only of its kind, but you didn't know what his shadows could do, what they could see and tell him. The hair on the back of your neck raises as his eyes watch you intently while listening to his shadow's words. They had to be talking about you. Could they read through your thoughts?

“Leave us alone, Amren.” Your eyes finally stray from the male when you hear her name, finally taking in the short creature behind him, and you almost regret it when her bright silver eyes meet yours. She was nothing short of terrifying, you think even the older assassins in the guild would feel unnerved under her gaze. You weren't even sure what she actually was but it had to be something other, something ancient and powerful. She seems displeased at the look you give her, though you doubt she's unacquainted with seeing fear on people's faces, or bothered by it.

Amren narrows her eyes slightly before looking at the male. She studies him with an intensity that could make most fae run for their lives, makes you consider it, but the male doesn't seem to care, his eyes never leaving yours. “I hope you know what you're doing, boy.” She walks out of the room with no hesitation, leaving you alone with the male that walks your dreams once again.

You stare into each other's eyes for what feels like an eternity. Neither of you seem to find the right words. You know why you're having trouble finding them. Between getting caught stealing in his house and the turmoil going on inside you, you're surprised you've been managing to keep your composure at all. But you can't understand why he'd be in the same position as you. Could he also be haunted by dreams of you the same way you were of him?

Leaning forward in his chair, he says the same name you heard last night, the one who made your heart tighten painfully in your chest. You had been too confused and scared last night to even consider it but now you can clearly see he's using it to call you. He seems to think that's your name.

“That's not my name,” you manage through your dry throat, the words coming out so rough and low that you're sure he wouldn't have heard you if it weren't for the quiet in the room. Your answer seems to hurt him, his face drops, the sunlight that was shining through his skin seems to vanish, and you see his wings tighten behind him. Your own body seems to respond to it. You want to make him feel better but you don't know how or why.

He nods almost imperceptibly, as if accepting a fact he was unwilling to, and rises up from the chair, tensing slightly when you press yourself further into the headboard. He seems to try to ignore it as he moves to the nightstand, picking up the glass and handing it to you.

You eye the glass sitting in his brutally scarred hands, momentarily wondering what could have done such a thing if he healed up from a stab wound in mere hours. He senses your hesitation but simply holds it closer to you. You look up to meet his eyes again.

“It's not poisoned,” he offers, “I promise.” You're not entirely sure why but you trust him, or maybe you were just in desperate need of water, reaching up to take the glass from him and almost drinking it in one go. He seems at least pleased enough with this, moving back to sit in his chair. As you observe his movements, you almost miss the way the glass refills on its own. You blink at it, deciding it's not worth considering, and take another slow sip.

Since he doesn't start asking you questions, apparently content enough with watching you drink, and you start to get unusually shy under his intense gaze, you start asking them yourself, seeing this as your chance to know the male of your dreams.

“What's your name?” You play with the glass as you ask, trying to appear nonchalant despite your perilous situation and the tension between you.

“Azriel,” his deep voice cuts through the silence. You repeat it, goosebumps spreading over your body at the act. Nothing is making sense anymore but his name feels right on your tongue.

You say it one more time, letting it linger in your mind. There is something inside you trying to claw its way out at the sound. You can feel it now, can feel how wrong it feels, how wrong you feel. There was a growing pressure inside your head. You let go of the glass and watch it vanish into thin air before it has the chance to make contact with the covers.

The sensation that you've forgotten something really important is back. You look up at the male one more time, seeing he has moved closer to you and noting the worry in his gaze. He wasn't supposed to be worried about you, he's a stranger and you had just stabbed him a few hours ago. So why does it feel right for him to care? Tears line your eyelids, your hands shaking slightly at the strange feelings building inside you.

“I don't know you,” you whisper, more to yourself than him, “I feel like I should.”

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[heavenly-fae]

million dollar man

the wizard x reader

warnings | smut (sorry), fem!reader, soft dom!wizard, fingering, praise, age difference, he’s also definitely a bit of a pervert (i’m self indulgent ok)

a/n | last fic of the year so let me go out with a bang. yall i am so so obsessed with the wizard I've gone down the jeff goldblum pipeline i love him so much. he’s so lana del rey coded it’s kinda insane. so i decided to be the first person (?) to write smut for the fuckin wizard of oz (i cant believe i wrote this sentence) so to anyone who also enjoys the wizard who reads this you thank you so much! crossposted on my ao3

“sir! i have a message for you from madam morrible, i believe it's urgent!”

you were the wizard's own personal assistant. one of the very few people who saw who he truly was; an older, but still very handsome, man who operated the magical console that controlled the giant puppet used to control his subjects. in truth, he was very kind and gracious, even silly at times.

“oh! thank you, my dear.” he gracefully strolled over to you in his beautifully elaborate emerald suit and took the letter from your hands and slipped it into his coat pocket, he paused for a moment to look over you. you could feel his honey-colored eyes scanning your frame and felt your heart race, you shifted in place hoping he wouldn’t notice your nervousness. with his endless power, you guessed he already knew.

“it’s—it’s my pleasure, your ozness! is there anything else you require of me?” the wizard lets out a laugh, soft and elegant, just like him you thought. he grabs your hand, his large aged one completely envelops yours as he takes you to his control panel. your face flushes and your hand trembles in his, you pray he doesn’t notice. how embarrassing it would be if the wizard thought you were this easily swayed by just one touch. in actuality, he thought it was adorable.

“you’re still so formal with me hm? but dear, i do need you for just one thing, if you don’t mind that is?” he had this mischievous look in his eyes, his charming smile making the corners of his eyes wrinkle, you couldn’t help the warmth rising more in your cheeks.

you nodded a bit too quickly for your own liking, “yes! um—of course, i don’t mind, sir!”

the wizard smiles, and the butterflies in your stomach flutter rapidly as he turns you to face the control panel as he stands behind you. even though you’re not facing him you tremble as you can feel how close he is to your back, the soft waft of his cologne and his breath upon the back of your neck. oh sweet oz, you felt yourself get impossibly warmer like you could combust at any moment.

“now dear, i just want your opinion on something,” he reached over you, turned, and pulled a few levers on the console, you heard the familiar creaking and mechanics of the puppet he controlled. “you see when i operate this thing, i just feel like there should be a way to hm, be more—how do i put this…less imposing?” the wizard rambles off about how he would like to still use the figure as he feels that his people need it but he doesn’t want to seem as feared anymore, especially in situations when it’s not needed.

you hang on every word, more focused on how his voice graced your ears, how the great and powerful wizard was asking you for advice, how you can feel his every movement behind you, and oh he felt so warm. you shudder as you feel him press his chest against your back as he reaches for a different lever, it seems that he noticed as he paused his ramblings for a second.

“are you alright, my dear?”

you gasp, stumbling over your words as you hear him quietly speak his concern over you. the wizard was worried he made his poor little assistant uncomfortable and he wouldn’t want that. but you eventually manage to tell him that you’re ok, hoping he doesn’t pull away from you.

he knows exactly what he’s doing, he's so keenly aware of what his magnificent presence does to others, especially you. he continues his ramblings, moving different levers and speaking softly into your ear. he knows the effect he has on you, but he revels in how easy it is to make flustered in particular, how cute you look trying to hide yourself reliving the warmth between your thighs.

you feel the wizard bring his large hand to your waist, and you try your hardest not to melt into his touch. but when he speaks in that low tone, his deep honied voice so close to your ear, you shake in his hold, letting go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding. you never would have thought the wizard would ever be this close to you. he has you right in the palm of his hand.

“you’re shaking sweetheart, if you want me to stop you just have to say the word.”

you pause for a moment, your breath leaving your lips shakily. this—this was wrong, you cared very deeply for the wizard maybe more than you should, and you were eternally grateful to work under him. your attention comes back to him as he teasingly squeezes your hips with his hand. he thought you were just too cute to not tease. your thighs press together again trying to relieve the evergrowing pool of heat.

“please—please don’t stop, your ozness—“

“i was hoping you would say that, dearest”

his hand glides over your uniform, and you feel him smile devilishly, even though you don’t dare turn your neck to check. “i’m quite fond of you, you know? you’re such a sweet little assistant and i think you deserve a reward no?” the wizard coos into your ear, his touches pressing insistently deeper, like he’s desperate to feel your skin under your clothes.

your head feels so fuzzy with the attention he’s giving you, you can’t think straight so you nod dumbly at his question. with the way he’s making you feel now, it could certainly be called a reward. people would die to be in your position. his hand trails downward, tugging at the hem of the green pencil skirt you decided to wear today. your heart nearly beats out of your chest.

“i just adore this skirt on you, dear, but it does get in the way of what i’m trying to do here,“ he chuckles, hes so close you can feel his chest rumbling when he laughs. you tremble in his grasp as he pulls your skirt up, exposing your clothed cunt to him and you feel the blood rushing to your cheeks. you knew this was wrong, but you ached for his touch. sweet oz what has gotten into you?

“shh—let me take care of you, sweetheart.”

you could feel your breath begin to quicken and the pulse between your legs grow stronger. this was not good. but you melt into him when he trails his hand up your thigh, pressing yourself closer to his chest. his hand climbs higher up your thigh, you feel him breathe out a laugh at your flustered state once his hand hovers over the heat between your legs.

“tell me you want this, my dear…”

he croons softly into your ear, he hasn’t even touched you yet and you are already blissed out. his facial hair brushes over your skin, tickling your neck as his lips graze the tender skin that lies just beneath your earlobe. you stammer indistinctly, pawing at his other arm now wrapped around your waist while your eyes train towards the ceiling. you felt dizzy.

the wizard's teeth scrape your skin, they sink into the curve of your throat. his elegant fingers press into your panties, stroking down the cloaked hood of your clit, rolling over the bud through thin, sticky cotton. your body jumps, chasing that feeling, and goosebumps rise on your skin as he begins to pull away.

“wait! i-i want it,” you plead, chasing the feeling of his hands with a strained whine. “please—your ozness” you were shocked at the desperation in your own voice. but sensing his lips curl into a smile against your neck you realized he reveled in it.

your hips bucked reaching for his touch again, he shifted just enough to push his fingertips beneath the elastic. he chuckled softly, "would’ve never thought a sweet thing like you would be so needy." he chided. he plunged his hand down and slipped it over your vulva, cupping and pressing against you.

your hips jolted at the pressure and a soft gasp escaped your lips. "is this what you wanted, dearest?" his deep voice was at your ear again, curling around your senses, filling your mind with heavy fog. barely able to make out a response for him you nod dumbly relishing in the pleasure the wizard gave you.

"hm?" a finger slipped down between your folds, "you’re so wet, sweetheart" he purred. his fingers slowly began to stroke down to your entrance and back up to circle your clit in a meticulous pattern. his fingers, wet with your slick, circled your clit just a touch faster. pleasure is coursing through you, as more little moans leave your lips, but you grow embarrassed at the noise coming out of you that you press your lips together.

“no, no we can’t have that honey, let me hear those pretty little noises, hm?”

and you couldn’t help but obey him. soft moans began to slip through your lips. "oh, you’re just so adorable." the wizard sighed. the tension in your limbs slowly melted away until you were a soft and pliant thing for him. pleas slurred off your tongue when he placed more pressure on your clit, stroking tight, precise patterns that had you dripping for him.

you moaned as his fingers moved down to pet at your wetness, two fingers brushing against your entrance but not pressing in. he pressed against your cunt firmly as your hips slowly began to grind down.

"yeah? you want my fingers to make you feel good, hm?" his fingertips probed your entrance, teasing you. a soft cry escaped you, your hips trembling in need. a flurry of pleas escaped you and the wizard shushed you gently, taking pity on your pathetic state. he took his time slipping his fingers inside and pressing them firmly against your walls as they squeezed around him.

"there you go, this is what you needed, hm?" he cooed, almost talking down to you. he began peppering delicate kisses over your ears and neck, slowly pumping his fingers in and out. “does me teasing you always get you this wet?” and you couldn’t help but admit to him, simply nodding. oh, and he just couldn’t help but indulge in your confession. you were nothing like the pretty young things he used to mess around with back in nebraska, you were full of pure devotion just for him.

"feels good doesn’t it?" he began curling his fingers just enough to stimulate your g-spot but not enough to send you keening into mindless pleasure. "or do you need more?" your mouth fell open as breathing became too much for you while you nodded furiously.

"yes—please—" you let your head tip back into him, your hands grabbing at the emerald-clad arm around your waist, a feeble attempt to ground yourself to reality, "sir—" you whined quietly.

your whine morphed into a cry as he curled up his experienced fingers finding that sweet spot of stimulation inside of you and positively abusing it. all you could do was whine and shake in his hands. "look at you," he muttered into your ear. "messy little thing aren’t you, sweetheart?" his fingers quickened in pace as his palm began nudging just right against your abandoned clit.

the wizard's words were lost to you, with your mouth hanging open ever so slightly you nodded and tried your best not to cum too quickly. the obscene sound of his fingers fucking into you and the sound of his palm slapping against your clit echo throughout the control room. that combined with your growing moans and his husky breathing was overloading your senses in the best way possible.

"i’ve been wanting to see you like this for a while," he purred, slowly pressing his palm against your clit a little harder. “since you started wearing these adorably tight skirts." he purposely pulled you tighter against him so you could feel him hard against your lower back, "you feel that? that’s all your fault, honey." his voice sounded strained, all you could sob was his name, begging him to take you right then and there.

the wizard chuckled at your state, and at the feeling of your cunt tightening around his fingers more and more. "that close already, hm?" he pulled away from your neck as your head turned to meet his hazel eyes, yours heavy and glazed as you nodded. "aw dearest," he cooed, "that won't do, i need to hear you” a whimper and buck of your hips was your response.

he tsked, "that won't do." his free hand came up to grab your face and held it there, looking into your eyes. "be good and say 'please' and i’ll let you finish all over my fingers." he had a stern but flushed look to him as he spoke, seeing the wizard flustered pulled your pleasure filled mind out of the haze for a moment of coherency.

"pl—please..." was all you could muster up as the edge he kept you on turned your pleasure into pain. he released your face, grinding his palm hard and slow against your clit. and you swore to oz you almost came right then and there as you cried out. "please—oh-p-please, your ozness let me finish—" you whined and squirmed in his arms as you tried to chase after your own pleasure to no avail.

he pressed his lips against your neck again and you felt him grin devilishly as his fingers pace picked back up. “such a good little assistant.” the wizard began fucking you again with just his two fingers, pulling embarrassing noises from your throat and each thrust of his soaked digits in your cunt. it was obscene the way you writhed in his hold, the way your hips humped into each pull and push of his hand. “so so good for me,” he cooed, pressing soft kisses against your throat, a stark contrast to how his fingers were moving inside of you.

each pass of his fingers over that sensitive patch inside of you produced the most delicious moans from your lips, and with every brush of his palm against your clit your legs shook more and more. “just like that honey,” his lips brushed against your ear. “i’m making you feel good, yeah? your sweet little cunt belongs to me.”

your body jerked with pleasure at the wizard's words, as his free hand pressed down holding you against him, “ah-h–your o-ozness” you cried out. he let out a soft groan against your neck at the way your hips involuntarily bucked with pleasure delightfully pressing against the tent in his pants.

“let go for me.” oh, the deep timbre of his voice had taken hold of your mind and pulled you deeper into a pleasure-filled stupor. you couldn’t think of anything but the pulsing of your walls around his long fingers. with a cry, his hands and voice alone he coaxed your climax out of you, his fingertips abusing your poor g-spot until you couldn’t take anymore. your thighs clamped around on his hand, while your hips jerked with each almost painful throb of your cunt around his fingers.

you could even feel your heartbeat in your now oversensitive clit, your hips involuntarily overstimulating you as they met each stroke of his fingers fucking into you. “oh—oh sir, wait—“ your voice shuddered as his hand slowed.

“pent up weren’t you?” the wizard cooed, retracting his fingers and tracing his thumb from your slick entrance and up to your clit and back down again. mindlessly running his fingers through your slit as you whined, trying to pull away from the overstimulation.

“sorry dearest, you’re just so adorable i couldn’t help myself,” he chuckles against your throat, finally pulling his fingers from your panties. his slick fingers coming up to slip past your lips, your tongue quickly sucking down your own juices, he couldn’t help but marvel at your need and he thought for a moment about how lucky he was to have you.

“honey, do you think you can help me with one more thing?” you’re reminded of his own need pressed against your lower back, and you were more than happy to help your wonderful wizard.

[niwaart]

Niwa when you'll update the See what I can do? I miss reader being menace! 😭

See what I can do

<Part1> <Part2> <Part3> <part4>

It had been a month since Bruce had taken Y/N to Leslie, and Leslie had been sending him reports about Y/N's condition every other day. According to Leslie's reports, Y/N's behavior was getting better day by day, which was good, but there was a new problem in Gotham, and that was Red Hood. Bruce was trying to figure out who Red Hood was, because it was clear that this was not the first time he had met him, he was always one step ahead of Batman, Richard tried to help, Tim was with the Titans now and Batman always needed help.

The problem is how does Red Hood know all of Batman's plans? He didn't understand, he tried to catch him over and over again, but failed, he tried to figure out why Red Hood was targeting certain people and killing them, but there was no common link in this matter, he was dealing with drug dealers, so why did he kill the head of a charity organization? Was it a random target? At one point all his crimes were linked to whether they were criminals or drug dealers, and suddenly he kills someone outside the world of crime, the matter gave Bruce a headache.

"Come on Bruce, you need to get some rest" Richard said as he wheeled the chair around the cave. "I’ll get some rest when I put that criminal in jail" Bruce said in a hoarse, tired voice, he hadn’t slept in over three days trying to catch Red Hood. "You’ll tire yourself out like this, and you won’t be able to catch Red Hood" Richard said as he moved towards Bruce.

Bruce ignored Richard's words and kept watching the security cameras hoping to find out something or notice something, but the night ended in failure and no evidence was found. The next day a shocking message arrived that sent Bruce into another headache, it was from Leslie saying that Y/N was ready to go home. It had been a month or so since Y/N had been out of the house, and the house had been beautifully quiet for Bruce, so her return would mean trouble... but he had no choice. Bruce told Alfred and Richard the news so they could be prepared for any trouble to come.

And indeed Y/N arrived home and everyone was shocked by Y/N's complete change. Upon arriving she hugged Bruce and said "Dad", then hugged Alfred who was so happy that his eyes teared up, then she apologized to Richard who was shocked and moved as well. Can a person change in a month? Bruce couldn't remember seeing Y/N smile so sweetly before. He would have to thank Leslie later.

But just because one problem is gone doesn't mean all is solved. Red Hood is still on the loose, and he has to catch him as soon as possible. So after talking to Y/N who was asking him how he was, which was unexpected for Bruce who was still in shock, he went to the Batcave to gather more evidence.

"Here let me help you carry the bag." Richard said looking at Y/N’s bag. "Oh, thank you, but there’s no need for that and also you and dad look tired, so I don’t want to burden you." Y/N smiled gently at Richard who felt a little embarrassed and said, "Actually I want to apologize to you." Y/N was surprised by Richard’s words and continued, "I still regret what I did to you in the past, it wasn’t nice of me to break your hearing aid, I’m really sorry." Richard lowered his head in embarrassment. "It’s okay Richard I also threw your favorite doll into the fire, so I made a mistake too, I’m sorry too… I think we’re even, right?" Y/N said laughing which made Richard laugh too. "You’re right… By the way, you can call me Dick, since we’re not enemies anymore."

Richard chatted with Y/N ​​as they walked up the stairs to Y/N's room, after Y/N reached her room and said goodbye to Richard then entered her room as soon as she entered and closed the door she sighed in exhaustion. "Damn that bastard, he made me apologize to him twice in a row! Bastards to the fullest." She put her bag in the corner of the room then lay on her bed to rest the she woke up on a knock on her door, Alfred was outside wondering if she wanted to have dinner with them, Y/N sat on the bed and looked at her face in the mirror in front of her then smiled gently and opened the door for Alfred, "Oh, Alfred you didn't have to bother yourself, but I would gladly." Alfred smiled then went downstairs to the dining room and Y/N followed him silently. She sat on the chair she usually sits in, in front of Bruce's seat. Bruce and Richard were already there and had started eating. Y/N greeted them with a smile then thanked Alfred for the food and started eating silently.

After finishing dinner and wishing everyone a good night, Y/N went to her room, opened the window, and sat on her bed with her computer, searching the internet for the latest news in Gotham. Time passed until she heard someone climb the window and whisper her name. Y/N immediately got up from her bed and went to the window excitedly, then she immediately pulled the person into her room... "The security of this place is weaker than I expected." The person said in a muffled voice because of the helmet on his head, then looked at Y/N who said, "Yeah, nice to see you again, Jason."

@crazycaoticsimp @randomlyappearingartist @ninihrtss @lovebug-apple @artistwithcreativeburnout @itsberrydreemurstuff @bellethesleepypotato @hopingtoclearmedschool @eyeless-kun @s4raahi @roseytheteacup @jsprien213 @uu-uuu @devilslittlehelper @trouble-sistar @redkarmakai

[m0chidr3am]

Crow facts to pass the time! ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ🫀ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ Mammon x Reader

Mc was sitting on their bed, sitting cris-cross as they do their assignment. The assignment was due tomorrow, and Mc was putting it off since they gotten it. Why does Devildom even need a school?!

After hours of work, Mc was finally done. Sighing to themselves, they put the assignment on the nightstand, mentally reminding themselves to pick it up before going to school tomorrow morning. Before having a chance to do anything else, Mammon bust into the door with a child-like excitement present on his face.

“Mc! One of the crows find his mate!!” He says, plopping on the bed causing the bed to slightly bounce. “Really? I didn’t know crow find mates.” Mc says, reaching out to play with Mammon’s hair. “How do they exactly find mates?” Mc asks, curious about the answer.

“Like most birds, they sing to their partners, but at close range with more of a softer voice” Mammon responsed, shifting to sit closer to Mc. Mc hums in interest as they continue to play with Mammon’s hair. “Tell me more”

Hearing those words fall from Mc mouth made Mammon more excited than he was when he gets a discount. “Well—crows hold funerals, also can be called wakes, when they find a dead crow. They call out to alert others in the area, they then gather and begin to make a ruckus,” He says, waving his hands around as he talk, “and crows are particularly social and family-oriented birds. Yearling and two-year-old will even give their parents a hand with stuff.” Mammon exclaimed, his voice proving his excitement with his crow facts.

“Don’t crows collect shiny objects ?” Mc asks, wondering if the thing they’ve heard back in the human realm was true. “Well, crows mostly bring valuable items to their owners, like keys or jewelry. However, from what I saw before I befriended my crow is that they don’t really collect shiny objects.” He explains, causing Mc to be shocked. Maybe everything they knew was a lie…

“You know, crows remind me of a special person, who is also social and family-oriented. And sometimes bring valuable gifts to people they love” Mc remarks with a teasing smile on their face. “Who is it?” Mammon asks with a perplexed expression on his face. “Guess you’ll never know” Mc laughs, causing Mammon to starts pestering them about it.

‘Will Mammon figure it out I was talking about him?’ Mc thought to themselves as their laughter came to an end.

Notes: The writing might be bad lol, and sorry, but I can’t nail down Mammon accent. Might have to study how he talks. Hope you enjoy reading it anyways

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Wield It

Fandom: Star Wars - The Acolyte

Pairing: Qimir x GN!Reader

Summary: You start your training with Qimir while also fighting the growing attraction you feel towards him.

Qimir Masterlist

You sit on a hill that overlooks the island. Your eyes are closed and you listen to your surroundings. You hear little critters chirping, waves crashing along the shores, the sound of Qimir breathing.

There's a buzzing sensation that courses through you and you know it's because Qimir draws closer. You feel him reaching out and, with your eyes still closed, you catch his wrist with your hand.

You open your eyes to see him smirking down at you, "Good," he says, staring at you with pride.

You drop his wrist and look away, staring out to the sea, "At the rate I've been going, I'm sure Mae will be much more suited to be your equal than I."

He looks at you curiously, "Does that thought bother you?"

You shrug, "Yes and no," you sigh, "Yes, because it proves to me that I'm not fit for this. No, because I still think Mae would be much more suited to be your equal than me."

"You have the potential. I sense a strong connection to the Force in you. You can have the power, Y/N. You just need to strengthen that connection, let it take over you. Then you can wield and bend it to however you like." He holds out his hand, "Stand up."

You place your hand in yours and he aids you to your feet. You stand there waiting for his next instruction.

"Close your eyes, do the same as before. Deep breaths, listen to your surroundings, but think of a time you were angry. A time that had your blood boiling, to the point you felt like you wanted everything around you to erupt in flames."

Your mind quickly flashes back to various times in your life where you felt angry, but none of them had the feeling that Qimir described. You thought back to your youth and then that's when it came.

You were a teenager. You came back from school to the apothecary your aunt owned. She was the one that took you in, raised you, and taught you how to run her shop. She always greeted you with a loving smile, but this time, she didn't.

You entered the shop to find it in disarray. You called for your aunt, hoping she would respond. But nothing.

Then you saw a pair of feet sticking out from behind the counter. You rushed over to her and she was already dead. You held her crying until the shop owner next door, came to help you.

Bounty hunters that weren't happy with a concoction your aunt gave them. In retaliation, they robbed and killed her.

The anger you felt towards them. The way you wanted to slaughter them after someone pointed them out to you a week later.

Going back to that memory, made your clench your fists and tighten your jaw. Your aunt was the only person who truly cared and loved you. And she was taken from you. Your aunt was taken from you. Rya was taken from you. You've primarily been alone and you were tired of it. You were angry that forces out of your control would take the people you cared about from you.

You wanted to take that control back.

"Amazing," you hear Qimir say and your eyes shoot open. Several rocks and boulders scattered around the hill were all suspended in the air. You feel that buzzing sensation again. It's much stronger this time.

"I told you," Qimir says, now standing behind you, whispering into your ear, "Let it take over you," he grabs your wrist, raising your arm out in front of you, "Wield and bend it."

You punch your fist out and the rocks zoom past you out into a rock pillar standing in the sea. The rocks pummel it, causing it to break and collapse.

You look over your shoulder and become incredibly aware how close Qimir is standing to you. You also feel one of his hands on your hips.

You clear your throat and take a few steps back, "That was...incredible."

"In due time, you'll be able to do much more than lift rocks," he gestures for you to follow him, "Let's eat."

____________________

You're trying to sleep. For the most part, the cave is dark, except for the little corner Qimir sits, working on his helmet.

You toss and turn, trying to find a comfortable position to lay in. But nothing. Your body is pleading to rest, but your mind can't seem to get the hint. Thoughts are racing, questions and worries litter your mind.

You roll over, facing the direction where Qimir sits. He looks up, "Something wrong?"

You sigh, forgoing sleep and slipping out of the bed. You walk over to Qimir's little work station, sitting on the ground beside him, "So what is this?"

"A helmet made out of cortosis. Extremely durable. No lightsaber or blaster can get through it."

"I never knew such a thing existed," you say in awe.

"They use helmets similar to these in the Jedi academy. Help us hone in on using the Force and relying on just the Force," he states as he solders his helmet.

You look up at him in surprise, "You were a Jedi?"

"A long time ago. Things didn't work out," he says with a smirk and you can't help but snort.

"Did you just make a joke?"

He shrugs, "I can be funny sometimes."

"Has Mae seen this funny side of you?"

Qimir's smirk falls to a serious expression, "She only knows me as her Master. She doesn't know that the Qimir she knows out there," he gestures vaguely out, "is the same one here."

You bring your knees to closer to you, arms resting on your knees, "So you really think Mae will be your acolyte?"

"We have similar visions, we want to see the downfall of the Jedi. They talk of peace, but peace is a lie. There has never been and never will be peace. And I want to show them that," he reaches out and rests his hand on yours, "Together, we'll be able to show them that."

You nod, "I'm trying, Qimir. I hope you know that."

"I do. I appreciate you, for being here, for allowing this to happen."

You suddenly find yourself yawning and Qimir gives you a playful look, "Am I boring you?"

You shake your head insistently, "No, no. I just-I think my mind has finally caught up to what my body's been telling it."

Qimir rubs your hand and then pats it, "Rest. Your training continues tomorrow."

"Good night, Qimir," you say as you stand and head back to your bedroll.

"Good night," he murmurs, eyes stuck on you as you slip into bed, rolling over to face away from him. There's a pulling in his chest as he continues to watch you from afar.

He rubs at his chest, trying to soothe the ache. He knows nothing but you will soothe the ache in his chest he's still unsure about.

[morgana-larkin]

No one asked for this but I wrote it anyway because I can. Obviously it’s based off the line “I’d eat her ass.” I decided to dip my toe into something anal, I never thought about writing anything like that because I personally am not into that. Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

On another note: I have 4 other fics on the go including ‘Mine’ and ‘Worth It’! Also I noticed a couple people requested to have a reader that’s taller than Mel in their prompts, so I’m sorry to everyone that’s taller than Lisa. I am not one of those people as I’m 5’1 which is why I usually write a shorter reader.

Something New

Warnings: Smut, sexual teasing, switch reader and Mel, strap ons, ass eating

Words: 3k

“Thank goodness the volunteers get here today.” Janine says as she fixes her cup of coffee then goes to sit down. “It is so weird how we all fall behind after break when we get back.”

“Yeah, not me, I’m good.” Melissa says and you look at her briefly before going back to your lesson plan.

“I’m actually ahead of schedule.” Barb says proudly and with a smile.

“Well I’m behind.” You say and Melissa looks at you.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could help you.” She asks.

“Because I don’t need help, I’m good doing it myself.” You tell her and she tilts her head.

“You’re so stubborn.” She says and you roll your eyes.

“You’re one to talk.” You tell her and she shakes her head at you with a smile.

“I need help with my vents. Some of the seats are too cold, others too hot. It’s a whole Goldilocks sitch.” You hear Jacob say.

“You know if a girl came into my house and ate my porridge, and slept in my bed, I’m eating her ass.” Melissa says randomly and you all look at her with a shocked and confused face. “To be clear, in this hypothetical, I’m a bear.” She says and you all still give her a weird look. “The animal.” She adds and you burst out laughing. “What are you laughing at?” Melissa asks as she turns to look at you.

Before you get a chance to answer, Ava announces that the volunteers have arrived and you all go to greet them. While on the way there, she wraps an arm around your waist and holds you close.

“So what were you laughing about?” She asks again.

“I’ll tell you after.” You say and then reach the volunteers. You all greet them and then Ava gets them to work after a brief encounter. You and Melissa make your way to her classroom and then she slips her glasses on and starts going through paperwork.

“So what were you laughing about earlier?” She asks and you smirk.

“You.” You simply say and she looks at you.

“What about me?” She asks as she gets up and starts handing out a piece of paper to each desk.

“You said you’d eat a girl’s ass.” You bluntly say as she continues handing out the paper.

“And? I was telling the truth.”

“Oh? So you’re interested in eating ass?” You ask her mischievously and she stops to look at you.

“You know I meant that I would eat a girl whole, because I would be a bear.” She says and you smirk.

“So you’d go to town on an ass? You animal.” You say and she scoffs out.

“Go get ready for your class Y/n.” She says with a shake of her head.

“There’s still 5 minutes left.” You tell her after checking the time and you lean against her desk as you face her as she’s handing out papers. She walks up to you after a few seconds and traps you between her and her desk.

“Get to your class hon.” She says and gives you a quick kiss on the lips. You smile at her before nodding your head.

“Alright, don’t miss me too much.” You tell her and then leave and she chuckles slightly at you.

The bells rings for lunch and you bring your class to the caf before you head to the break room.

“Does anybody else think there’s something seriously off about these volunteers?” Gregory asks as you enter the break room.

“Long morning hon?” Melissa asks as you slump down in your seat and you nod.

“Not only is taking care of first graders tiring, but that Dennis guy, the one who doesn’t show his face on camera, keeps asking me out to this gross bar with like 300 one star reviews.” You tell her and everyone looks at you.

“He what?” Melissa asks and you give her a look that says ‘leave it be’. “Wait, a gross bar in south?” Melissa asks as she has a curious look on her face and you nod. “I knew I knew those schulbs.” She says as she packs the lid on her salad and gets up. “Guys come on.” She says and everyone gets up. “You too Y/n.” She adds and helps you up. “Hey, you guys own that Paddy’s Pub, that’s the skeeviest bar I ever been to.” She says and then Dennis goes to leave but she grabs his arm. “And you, stop asking my girlfriend out.” She says and they all look at Melissa. Dennis immediately nods with a look of fear on his face.

“Melissa, let go of his arm.” You tell her and you have to peel her hand off of his arm. Once she lets go of his arm you have to hold her back with an arm around her waist. “You’ve already told him off, honey.” You tell her and she looks at you and calms down.

Melissa wraps an arm around you for the entire conversation to keep you close to her, and to let other people know you’re claimed. After the conversation, you and Melissa walk back to the break room with you holding hands with her.

“So you got a little jealous over there.” You tell her and she groans.

“Well I can’t have people thinking you don’t belong to me, no matter what.” She says and you smile at her.

“Well maybe you can use some of that jealousy tonight?” You tell her.

“Oh ya, and anything specific that you have in mind?” She asks.

“Well how about we try something that you mentioned earlier?” You tell her and she quirks an eyebrow at you.

“And what did I mention earlier?” She asks and you hum.

“Well you mentioned something about eating ass.” You tell her and she whips her head at you.

“I was talking about killing, nothing sexual.”

“I know, still doesn’t mean that my mind didn’t go places.” You say with a smirk and she shakes her head at you.

“You’re really a wonder, you know that?” She says and you giggle as you reach the break room and sit down.

“You haven’t said yes or no.” You tell her and she snorts.

“I’ll think about it.” She says as she continues eating.

“Well, don't take too long.” You tell her and then you take the bite of food off of her fork and she gasps in disbelief.

“Are you always going to take my food?” She asks and you smile.

“I will until you stop me.” You tell her and she sighs.

“Then you’re always going to take my food then.” She says and you smirk.

“So you’re not going to stop me?” You ask and take a tomato and eat it.

“You know I won’t.” She tells you. “I take it as a compliment, you like my food better.” She adds you and she wiggles her eyebrows and you laugh.

“I do like eating something you make better.” You tell her and you hear Barb cough and you see Melissa blushing. You then lean and whisper in her ear. “I love eating all those juices you make.” You pull back and you see her eyes darken. “But yes I do love your food as well.”

“I know, that’s why you always steal my food.” She tells you and then switches her salad with yours. “There, no need to steal it now.” She says and then takes a bite of the food.

“You’re sweet.” You say and then lean in near her ear. “I hope you taste sweet after school.” You say and you hear her breathing hitch before you pull back.

“J-Jacob.” She says and you see Jacob turning around to look at her.

“Ya.” He says and Melissa looks at you before answering him.

“Get lost after school.” She says and Jacob sees you smirking.

“Again? Why can’t you go to Y/n’s place?” He complains with.

“Because I live in an apartment and my neighbours already told me that we were really loud and to keep it down next time.” You tell him and Melissa smiles proudly before taking a bite of your food.

“You can spend the afternoon with me, Jacob.” Janine offers and Jacob nods.

“Thanks.” He says.

You quietly take off a shoe and carefully bring your foot to Melissa’s thigh. Melissa flinches and accidentally hits the leg of the table and you retract your foot immediately as everyone looks.

“You ok Melissa?” Janine asks and Melissa nods before glaring at you, while you just happily eat the salad she gave you, unfazed by her glares anymore.

“I’m fine.” Melissa says. “Just got itchy, moved my leg too far.” She quickly covers and everyone nods before going back to their food.

As you all walk to the caf, she pulls you in close to her. “You played dirty in there.” She tells you and you look at her with a smile.

“No idea what you’re talking about.” You tell her innocently.

“What you do to me at work determines what I do to you in bed.” She says and you blush immediately before reaching the caf. “Alright my little eagles, line up in a straight line.” Melissa tells her class and she then glances at you as you’re helping a student pack up their lunch while the others get in a line.

“Ms. Schemmenti?” One student asks her and she looks at them and nods her head. “Why do you always look at Ms. Y/l/n?” They ask her and Melissa feels heat rise to her cheeks at being caught.

“Just making sure she’s ok as we’re friends.” She tells them and sees you looking over with a smile as you heard the conversation.

“Just making sure I’m ok?” You ask her as she’s right across from you.

“Yes, I do that.” She says and you hum as you watch your class walk in the classroom.

“You know I was thinking about something. How would you feel about doing a combined movie together with our classrooms today?” You ask her and she looks at you.

“Why?”

“Well you want to show your class a movie and I need to catch up on work.” You tell her and she thinks about it.

“Alright, sure. Bring them over in an hour.” She tells you and you nod before going back to your classroom.

In an hour you bring your class over with all their stuff and they all sit on the mat or a free chair in the classroom. You brought your chair over and you sit by Melissa as you start catching up on your work. Melissa finishes all of her work 20 minutes into the movie and then she starts helping you with yours. You go to protest but she stops you before you do.

“Don’t even think about saying no.” She says sternly and then you shut your mouth and let her help you. You and Melissa catch up on your work and then you both watch the last 10 minutes of The Incredibles.

Everyone gets their things ready to leave and you both stand outside her class as the students are getting picked up or they walk to the school bus.

“Ready to go home?” She asks as the last student leaves and you nod. She locks up her classroom and then she grabs your hand as you walk to her car. You both put your bags in the backseat and then you wrap your arms around her waist before she goes to the driver’s seat. “Whatcha doing hon?” She asks and you hum before kissing her.

“I’ve had to wait to do that all day.” You complain and she giggles.

“The torture.” She jokes and you nod.

“It is, specially since I’m right across the hall from you.” You tell her and then kiss her again.

“Get a room you dorks.” Ava says as she passes by you both. You both pull away with a smile before getting in the car and she drives you home.

As soon as you take your shoes and jacket off, she excitedly pulls you to her room and you squeeze her ass on the stairs.

She takes your shirt and bra off before pushing you on the bed. She then takes the rest of your clothes off and she looks at you with a smile, as you’re completely bare on her bed. She gets on her knees and pulls you close to the side of the bed.

She dives down to your pussy and starts licking your entrance as you moan out. She then moves up to your clit and sticks two fingers in your entrance. You reach out and grab the back of her head to keep her there. She hums at that and it vibrates on your clit and you buck your hips. She does some hard sucks on your clit and you gasp out.

After a couple minutes you feel your orgasm building and you start grinding her face and you feel her smile. She lets you keep doing that even though it’s occasionally blocking off her air supply. She starts curling her fingers inside of you and you scream out.

“Melissa, I’m so close!” You scream and she gives your clit hard sucks until you come. While coming down from your high, Melissa gets up and flips you on your stomach. “Melissa, what are you- oh my god!” You get cut off as she goes back down on your knees and starts licking your ass.

Some of your juices dripped down to your ass when you came and she had no problem licking all of that up. She keeps your ass cheeks spread open as she keeps licking the hole over and over again. You moan out as the new sensation feels amazing and wonder why you never thought of this before.

“Does this feel good baby?” She asks.

“Yes, keep going.” You tell her quickly and she dives back down.

“Rub your clit baby.” She tells you and you bring your hand to your clit and start rubbing it. You start moving your hips after about 30 seconds as you feel your orgasm building. She then sticks two fingers in your entrance and you scream out. The pleasure from your clit, entrance and ass is overwhelming and you end up coming hard.

You flip onto your back as Melissa gets up and sees you trying to catch your breath. She sits down beside you and you place your head on her lap as she scratches your scalp to help you calm down.

“Why-why are you sti fully dressed?” You ask her after a few seconds.

“Because no one’s taken them off yet.” She says with a smirk. You then sit up and push her down on the bed and she looks up at you and giggles as you immediately take her shirt off and bra off. “Sometimes I think you love my tits more than me.” She jokes and you laugh.

“Maybe equally.” You play along with and she laughs. You place your mouth around a nipple and start sucking. She gasps out and puts her hands in your hair. You feel her rub her thighs together for friction and you smirk. You switch to her other nipple and you undo the button on her jeans and unzip them. You pull away and then get off the bed and then take her pants and underwear off. You go into the nightstand and pull out the harness and dildo and put it on. You get back on top of her and go down to suck her neck. “Now everyone will know you’re claimed.” You tell her as you pull away.

You get on your knees in between her legs and move her hips up slightly and align the dildo with her entrance. You slid it in slowly and she gasps out at the feeling of it filling her up. You bottom out inside of her and you give her a second before you start moving. She starts gasping and moaning like crazy as you start speeding up more and more. She wraps her legs around you and she starts bucking her hips. You pin her down and then start pounding into her. Her legs drop down to the bed as she couldn’t keep them wrapped around you with the pleasure you’re giving her. You placed the dildo in the exact spot where it can rub your clit and you start gasping out as well. You see her grab one of her boobs with her hand and you smirk.

“Rub your clit.” You tell her, just like she did with you. She obeys immediately and starts rubbing her clit and she gasps out.

“Oh god!” She screams out and you can tell she’s about to come.

“I need you to hold it in.” You tell her and she whines. “Just for a bit as I’m close as well, I want you to come with me.” You tell her. Her legs start moving all around and you can tell she’s having difficulty holding it in.

“I can’t hold it anymore.” She cries out.

“Ok, come for me.” You tell her and she lets go immediately and comes hard. You come a few seconds later with a moan and then pull out of her carefully. You take the strap off and then you curl up beside her and places an arm around you.

“You know, I don’t think I can ever let you go.” She says and you look at her.

“And why’s that?” You ask and she smiles before looking at you.

“Cause you always give me one hell of an orgasm.” She says and smirk before giving her a kiss.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

@imaginesmultifandoms

@idonothingalldays-blog

@sexysapphicshopowner

@dvrkhcld

@lilfartbox1

@ricejucie

@unicorniusfallapatorius

@a-queen-and-her-throne

@sleep-deprived-athlete

@og-kxsh-420

@sasheemo

@midnight-lestrange

@dashbag-art

@morgananyx

@schmentisgf

@cblanchetts

@that-october-night

Let me know if you want to be added!

[jujuscrolled]

husband!satoru

Satoru Gojo has a lot of love in his heart and he refuses to keep it all inside. His preferred method of showing exactly how much love he has to offer? Physical touch.

Even before he knew he loved you, your personal space had quickly become his personal space.

“Say, Gojo, you ever heard of personal space?” You asked one day as satoru pressed his leg up against yours while sitting on the bleachers. The two of you were watching Shoko and Suguru “spar”, though really it was just them doing the least amount of work possible - enough to keep Yaga satisfied but no where near enough for it to actually have any effect on their improvement (“you can only get better with real life experience!” Suguru would say leaning back on his chair slightly. “And i’ve got better things to do than fight this loser anyway.” Shoko nodded to herself , ignoring Suguru and Satoru’s eye rolls.)

“It’s Toru to you, and i’ve heard of it. Why do you ask?” He asked leaning closer to your face making you roll your eyes, “oh, you know, it’s just that usually people like to stay within their own personal space. Not in mine.” You thwacked his forehead causing him to whine dramatically before he threw an arm around your shoulders. “But I like your personal space better than mine, Sweets! Not my fault you have your own gravitational pull and stuff.” He grinned as he watched your cheeks bloom a lovely shade of red.

That being said if he sees anyone invading your personal space he will not hold back. “Hey, you mind backing out of our personal space?” he’d tell anyone who he deemed to be far too close to you before wrapping an arm around you and practically absorbing you into his side.

You’d only roll your eyes, heat filling your cheeks as you pinched his side. “Yeowch!” he’d exclaim dramatically but still never backing away from you.

Satoru Gojo also needs a lot of reassurance. He’s not picky on how he receives it as long as he receives it. He needs it. And if he felt he wasn’t getting enough back you’d definitely be hearing about it.

“I can’t believe we went from being madly in love to being just roommates.” he sighed one day, shaking head before placing the back of his hand over his forehead; imitating a damsel in distress. He was leaning against the bathroom door watching from his peripheral as you rolled your eyes, not moving away from in front of the bathroom mirror and into his arms like he had hoped.

“Neither can I… Because that hasn’t happened.” you sighed finishing your skin care before flicking the bathroom light off and squeezing past him, right under the arm that he had placed specifically to block you from leaving.

His pout deepened as he followed behind you like a lost puppy.

“Hasn’t?! As in it could?!” He whined reaching his arm towards you but narrowly missing the back of your shirt (you had sped up at the last second, already having had anticipated his behavior).

“Gojo.”

“That doesn’t work anymore, I’m not sure if you’re talking about me or you now, so you’ll have to be more specific about who you’re talking about!” he scoffed, finally grabbing onto your body before you were able to flop down onto your bed. You let out a whine, giving up and simply allowing him to maneuver your body however he pleased.

Taking your flimsy body as permission, he turned you around to face him, he wrapped his arms tightly around your torso before biting your cheek softly, coaxing a soft hiss from you.

“That’s exactly my point, Toru. We’re married not roommates… Does that not show how madly in love with you I am?” You couldn’t help but coo at him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He smiled widely at you, pursing his lips before tightening his already brutal grip on your body.

“Dunno… You’ve only kissed me like two times today. Tax getting high on them or what up? I can pay my fees, ya know?” You rolled your eyes again but a small smile pulled at the corners of your lips. You had definitely kissed him way over two times but you knew that when he got this way there was no other way to soothe him than by giving him what he wants.

“They’ll run you about 450… Each. Sure you got it like that?”

“What about the husband discount?”

“Make it 650.”

“Ugh! You’re an evil little gremlin, aren’t you?”

To nobody’s surprise he got his kisses. Several of them and in quick succession resulting in your face being covered in an abhorrent amount of his spit (his full face smooches are always so unnecessarily messy!) Family discount be damned, he’d pay whatever tariff necessary for your love (not that he ever had to!)

[arbitrarykiwi]

I desperately need a thanos version of now streaming 😭 i think I can wait☹️😔 as a matter of fact take your time😁🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

Now Streaming...

Thanos Version

Yalllll I was really trying my best to get this out as fast as I could I PROMISE. idk what it was but I had so many people asking for a Thanos version of my ‘Now Streaming…’ and I wanna give yall what yall wan!

I hope this is up to y’all’s standards! It was admittedly so fucking hard to write w/o making it too similar to the Namgyu one I just did. So I hope I did the request justice💕💕

Warnings: none, sfw, fluff

“Hooooly fuck!!! Thank you for the donation!” Your boyfriend, Choi Su-bong, yells at his computer. “You’re an absolute beast for that!! I guess that means we have to keep this good energy rolling! We can stream for a lil longer guys.”

Despite it being just you and him in his apartment; he’s talking like there’s other people there. In a way, there is. Known as the famous twitch streamer, Thanos, your boyfriend often was doing long streams into the middle of the night.

From music review, to video games, to opening fan mail- he seemed to have a knack for it all. He got most of his following from his streams in which he would produce a whole song live within a time limit. Now that is what the people came to see!! He was talented, he could make catchy songs you would want to hear on your drunkest night out in under 20 minutes. He’d mix the whole song effortlessly all while interacting with the chat and providing commentary. It was no wonder he was famous!!

There was also a clear other reason for his influx of watchers. Thanos, Choi Su-Bong, your boyfriend…was fucking hot.

He was a big man, tall and muscular. The tattoos that accent his arms and hands just add to it. Not to mention the boisterous purple hair with personality to match! He could captivate someone so easily with just a witty sentence or a cocky remark. Even a flash of his smile could have new subscriptions pinging into existence, each being welcomed in with an ecstatic, “Welcome to the Thanos world!”

When you started dating, it was him that practically begged you to come on stream with him. He could respect your need or desire for privacy…but he really wants to show you off!!

He’s been streaming for a while, cultivating this niche group of viewers that he almost viewed as a distant family. The viewers who were there from the beginning of his twitch career watched him grow from nothing-living in his mom���s basement and high out of his mind on a mixture of substances, to living in his own place and producing music for other big rappers while having a successful rap career of his own. So to him…it only makes sense to brag about his next big step- his beautiful girlfriend!

He does monthly Q & A streams that are timed to go with the re-dying of his hair. And who does his hair? You!!!!! He’ll be seated in his gaming chair, towel tucked into his shirt as you work to coat his hair in the purple dye. Red tinged eyes beaming at the chat as new questions keep rolling in.

‘When’s the next song dropping?’

“Uhhhh.” Thanos drags out, eyes looking to the ceiling as he calculates an estimate of a release date. “Prolly next month. Won’t be an album though, unfortunately. Jus’ a single.”

‘What brand of hair dye do you use? Wanna make sure I buy some to have for when we get married’

Thanos’ eyebrows furrow a bit, scoffing at the commentary after the question. Can’t whoever this was see you behind him?! When he reads it out, he only reads the question.

He’s quick to fall back into a rhythm, trying to ghost over the thirsty comment- he doesn’t want to bring it to your attention. “I actually don’t know!” He chirps, reaching behind him to tug at your shirt, pulling you down into the cameras view, “we can ask my girlfriend though! She’s the one that does my hair so she’s in charge of alla that.” He says, turning to look at you.

You laugh, waving to the camera with gloved hands. Despite the gloves being for protection from the hair dye, the majority of your forearm is covered in purple. “I use this one. Works really well! Doesn’t come off when he sweats as much.” You tease, showing off the bottle of purple dye.

Thanos hopes showing you off would make those comments die down. And when flood of comments come in just talking about his single he’s dropping, his grin is widening- this is what he lives for!

Sure back when he wasn’t in a relationship and fucking women left and right he wouldn’t mind them, he’d even play into them. But he’s not been shy about you, about being with you. There’s no need for those comments to boost his ego when he has you doing it. Those comments are boring to him now!!! He wants people critical of his music, giving advice, asking him questions about himself, or giving requests!

One of the things that got Thanos big on twitch before he started to stream his music was his Minecraft videos. He’d force Nam-gyu who was strangely good with making mods, to make mod-packs that he would then add to the game. His Minecraft kick never went away- the dude loved that fucking game. He yearned for the mines. So you often found yourself curled up on the small futon in his office while the dull, muffled thrum of the Minecraft music blasts through Thanos’ headphones.

“Okay chat I think we hafta stay the night in here…” Thanos says chuckling as he blocks himself into a makeshift hole with half a heart left. “When I told ‘Gyu to go all out with this horror mod thing I didn’t think he’d add 30 mod packs into one!!! I can’t do anything without almost dying!!!!” He yells dramatically, spinning his mouse to make his character move erratic in the game. “It’s okay!!! Let’s…uhhhh….whats goin on in the chat! Yeah, what’s up with you guys!?!” Thanos says, shifting slightly to look at his second monitor and watch the chat as he tries to pass the nighttime cycle of Minecraft with whatever he can.

‘Been streaming your song for the whole week! It’s sooo good!’

‘I’ve been waiting for the next Minecraft stream. I’m so glad it’s back.’

‘You been working out?’

The comment makes him chuckle, and he grins proudly. “Fuck yeah I have!” He’s replying pushing up his sleeve and flexing his arm. “It’s really starting to show ain’t it?!” He jokes, beginning to flex for the camera.

As a dutiful girlfriend, you’re watching the stream as always. You have your phone propped up on the vanity across the same room he’s in so you can watch the stream while doing your makeup in a small round mirror. With your back turned to him- you can hear him but you can’t see him- so you prop your phone up in front of you on mute to get the best of both worlds.

You laugh silently, watching him put on a dramatic show for the camera, flexing his arms. Your eyes catch the chat, of course it’s filled with fangirls spamming the chat with various sexually driven compliments. Each one spaced out by other comments which joke around with Thanos and talk about the actual stream.

‘Yes LAWDD!!! Need him to put me in a headlock!!!!’

‘The tattoo going up his arm makes this so much hotter’

‘All muscle but still screams at a Minecraft mod.’

“Hey! Watch it!!!” Thanos yells teasingly, obviously catching the one comment that wasn’t begging for his attention. “When you have 6 jump scare animations play back to back- a man’d gonna scream!!!” He says, hands coming up in a defensive position, “That’s jus’ gonna happen!! I say it would be abnormal to not have a reaction to jump scares…..like ‘Gyu! That man has to be a different breed to not react at all!” He rambles.

If there was one thing he was good at it was interacting with the viewers. He was so in tune with it, even if you put aside the bias of him being your boyfriend, you would have and could have watched him for hours!! He was so entertaining and wildly interactive with viewers allowing for engagement that only made the stream better.

‘I need him so bad’

‘Play the game that I’ve been requesting!! Please!!’

‘I wonder if you have any tattoos we can’t see.’

Your eyes narrow, you pause your makeup and turn fully to the phone. You can see on the small screen that Thanos reacts, scoffing a little as he now sees the influx of horny messages that ensue after his flexing. He mentally scolds himself, he really didn’t mean to do it! He can’t help he looks so good!! Trying to deflect and calm the fangirls down he responds.

“Uhh… yep. Got a lot of em.” He says with a grin and a nod. “The one on my arm connects to a large one on my back that’s far too big to show…” he says, immediately putting down the notion of showing that one off. You let a breath you didn’t know you were holding, the thought of the chat of horny women seeing your boyfriends sculpted back makes you sick.

“…I got a few on my legs, I’d show those but I’m wearing sweatpants…oh!! Annnd~” his voice trails off into a sing-song tone, hand coming up to grip at the collar of his shirt, “got my baby’s name on my collarbone.”

A smile spreads across your face as he shows off the tattoo of your name in elegant script across his collarbone. He had done it a couple months ago- without you knowing- but after he came back home and showed you oh-so excited, you couldn’t help but adore it!

Thanos hopes that him showing the viewers that he literally has his girlfriend’s name tattooed that it would make the sexual or flirty comments die down. He knows it comes with the job, but he is also painfully aware of how those comments could make you feel- he’s had more than a few conversations with you about this.

Yes, they’re from people he doesn’t know and will never meet. Yes, he only has eyes for you and only loves you. You know that- he knows that. But it doesn’t make it easier when you’re forced to see thousands of women thirst after your boyfriend in ways that seem far too explicit to comment on a live twitch stream.

The stream continues, Thanos going back to playing the modded Minecraft world he had made. You had gone back to finishing up your makeup. You two were going out on a date after his stream wrapped up after all!

“Okay chat, what wood should I use for the base? Oak or Spruce?” Thanos’ voice echos through the room. He turns his head to the chat, watching as the choices get picked- trying to see which one wins out the majority.

‘It’s such a shame he’s not single…like she’s literally not even here to support him lolz’

The comment takes him off guard. It’s bold, not something someone should say to a random streamer they watch. It also pisses him off that it accuses you of not supporting him. You, out of all the viewers, were Thanos’ biggest supporter. He wouldn’t be here without you.

“I’m seein a lot of oak…oak it is!” Thanos then clears his throat, “Me n my señorita are going out after the stream, so I think I’ll probably finish the base and call it a night..”

Your head snaps to the phone you have his stream on and then to your watch, he has at least 2 hours before your reservation- he doesn’t need to get off…

You turn back towards his set up, looking over at him confused. He looks up from his monitor towards you, a smile beaming on his face as he sees your completed makeup look.

“In fact…C’mere.”

You furrow your eyebrows and stare at him blankly. He waves you over. It only takes a couple strides before you’re next to where he sits in his gaming chair.

Thanos pulls you down, throwing you over his lap before you have time to react. “Chat, look at her! Fuckin’ beautiful thing!” He boast, moving the camera to get a good view of your face.

A tattooed hand is coming up and squishing your cheeks together, bringing you closer to the camera and turning your head each way. “Seee~ ohhhhh look how good that liner is….and the blending?!!”

You’re giggling now, knowing truly he has no idea what good blending was or even how your eyeliner gets put on. His makeup knowledge is 0 to none. But boy howdy is he gonna show you off!!!

“Fuckin’ perfect!” He comments, like he’s marveling at a 5 star dish that was plated in front of him, “just look at her!! She was over there watching while she got ready.” Thanos coos, placing an obnoxious kiss to your cheek as if he’s trying to drive it in that it is not a shame he is not single- because he has such a great girlfriend like you.

“I jus’ needed to show you off…” he mumbles against your cheek before helping you stand back up. He looks up at you, proud smile on his face. Laughing, you nod, hand caressing his cheek before you return to the vanity to work on your hair.

“She’s been in the room the whole fucking time watching the stream by the way, moron.” He says, glaring into the camera before banning the commenter, smirk widening as he watches the chat now flood with comments on how hot you were.

I hope you guys enjoyed this one! This one was an odd lil struggle for me but I did enjoy the challenge!

Also I’ve been thinkin’ that some anons are returning anons and if you are…I just wanna say that I don’t have any emoji anons 😗😗😗😗so if you wanna claim one so I can recognize ya 😗😗😗😗 let möther know who ya are 😏😏😏 it’s just a think 🤭

I have a couple other requests and stand alone fics in the works! I promise I’m getting through them even though I don’t upload everyday. Love yew alllllll 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️ - <3 kiwi

[plaidos]

Still the anon from the trans men male privilege thing. I don’t think we’re going to agree but alas, i’m going to give my last thoughts on this. No, I don’t think trans men are the same of any other marginalized kind of men, because they are a different sex (or sex at birth based on how far along their transition is) and sex and gender are the basis on which the patriarchy works. It does not recognize trans men as men, imo. It recognizes any other kind of man as a man, because they are male, and that is a requisite. If it wasn’t, a lot of misogynistic laws wouldn’t be based on sex. I don’t see how you can be directly targeted by a system, and also be the person the system is made for. It doesn’t happen for any other group of people, and imo, it doesn’t happen to trans men, either. Who you truly are and your identity doesn’t matter to the patriarchy, or we wouldn’t live in a transphobic world. Being a man under the patriarchy requires being male and having been born male (and also obviously fulfilling that social role which trans women don’t do). No other men is suffering from misogyny every day, and will until they die, no matter the marginalization. The notion that the world and especially the patriarchy does not see trans people as the gender they identify as is commonly understood, so how is it that there is the assumption that trans men are just like any other man under the patriarchy? Aren’t those two beliefs in direct contradiction of one another? The difference in sex is incredibly important when it comes to understanding how trans men are treated under this system, because the system cares about it a lot, to the point where it’s based on it (not just on it, to be clear).

I’m not saying the exact opposite thing happens to trans women, I see and hear how horribly you girls are treated, and I’m not going to explain why because obviously you already know. Trans experiences aren’t the opposites of one another. No trans bodies are treated well under the patriarchy, period. And it doesn’t benefit any trans people at all, because no trans people fulfill all the requisites to have male privilege, only cis men do.

Either way, disagreement is not the end of the world. Thank you for your time and I hope you have a nice day.

i just need you to know that the conclusions you are reaching are the opinions of terfs. you can’t just add “and gender” to the phrase “sex is what the patriarchy is based around” and strip it of the terf stuff: that’s not true, and trying to define it this way will only necessarily exclude trans women.

furthermore, if you think that somebody has to be “recognised as a man” to receive any kind of male privilege, i’m sorry, but you must be white to think that, right? because that isn’t how men of color are treated. non white men are in fact pretty much NOT considered “real men” in a way very analogous to how society sees trans men. disabled men are also not seen as “full men” — that doesn’t mean they aren’t men.

and like i’ve said a dozen times now and you keep ignoring — no. trans men are not recognised to be “exactly like other men” but that doesn’t matter: the patriarchy fundamentally values trans men higher than trans women. you’re totally reaching your conclusions backwards by DECIDING what the patriarchy thinks based on vibes rather than actually comparing the material conditions of these two groups. (spoiler alert: the gap between trans men & trans women‘a housing/employment security is reflective of the men/women of other marginalised groups too, wow, it’s almost as if trans men are men.)

you need to stop taking transphobes at face value. every time you say something like “well trans men are just seen as female so they don’t get any of the benefits of the patriarchy” what you’re implying is “and trans women are seen as male and therefore they do” — it doesn’t matter if you actually even think that or not because that’s fundamentally what you are saying whether you mean it or not.

every single one of your arguments comes back to “well trans men are basically just seen as female exclusively and thus reap no benefits of the patriarchy” and it’s just totally totally detached from any kind of reality in a way that makes me think you don’t know many trans men who are actually transitioning IRL?? what you’re describing here is basically not true on any level.

And, finally, I need you to know that the things we are disagreeing on here are not a “small deal”. If I met somebody who was saying what you are saying in real life, I would avoid them, and tell other trans women to avoid them too, because you are fundamentally parroting a TERF analysis of gendered oppression. you literally even outline “sex based oppression” as the basis of the patriarchy and that is the fundamental lie at the centre of the gender critical movement. these are not small “agree to disagree” things, I do not think trans women IRL are going to feel safe around a trans guy repeating terf talking points to prove why he doesn’t have privilege over trans women.

[kingchroma]

comfort.

࿇ summary. gun is not that good at comforting people. ࿇ pairing. gun x reader

࿇ word count. almost 1k ࿇ author's note. this is my first time posting one of my lookism drafts. i'm sorry if it's a bit ooc, i was just really writing for myself until i decided to share it with everyone. hope you enjoy! feel free to request as well on my ask box.

Gun is unsure how to comfort people.

The notion of comforting people is a foreign concept to him because all his life, the only mode of survival he knew was that the only person that he should take care of is himself. Was it selfish? Maybe, but given the way he was born and raised—how he had lived his life up to now—it was something that he had been used to. It had been second nature to him.

So when you tearfully say your woes in his arms, he’s speechless.

He's speechless in a way that he wants to tell you that it's okay to let things out—that he will wrangle those who've hurt you with his bare hands, because how dare they hurt the love of his life—that it's okay and you're not being stupid for crying in his arms, but he can't. The words, no matter how much Gun pushes them out, are lodged in his throat. And no matter what, all he can do was hum in acknowledgement and answer in grunts.

It's a bit pitiful, he thinks. He's your boyfriend, for fuck's sake! He's your lover and he wants you to feel heard because he IS hearing you out, listening to you as you sniffle, but because of his own incompetence in handling emotions and feelings—he's stuck in this position where he can't even comfort you verbally.

He loves you so much. So, so much that looking at you crying is making his heart break into several pieces. He loves you so much that even if all he can do is offer his silence, he will be there for you.

Though, Gun still thinks that he's a shit boyfriend for not being better—for not doing a greater job at comforting you.

"It's okay," you say, sniffles being heard as you look up at him, responding as if you've heard every single one of his thoughts. "You don't have to say anything, I just need you to listen."

Gun thinks his heart breaks even more because did you also think that he's incompetent in giving comfort? It's not like you thought about it in the first place—he's just overthinking because it's like a sickness that eh can't get rid of.

"I am," he says quietly, a brief response as he leans in to press a tender kiss on your hair, hand soothing your back as an attempt to calm you down. "Sorry if I can't offer much," he adds, apologetic.

Gun does feel bad. He feels like a shitty boyfriend.

Surprised at his response, you look at him, eyes slowly becoming wide. "What?" you ask. "That's not what I even wanted from you," you start before speaking again. "I just wanted to be held by you and for you to listen," you tell him. "You're doing a spectacular job at it, my love."

Gun stares at you, because how come you’re the one that’s comforting him? It’s supposed to be the other way around.

He holds you tighter. "I just feel like I can do more, but I'm having trouble with it," he clarifies, letting you know that he wants nothing more than to comfort you properly. He feels like a goddamn rock. But a hand reaches out to wipe the tears away from you cheek. "Don't comfort me, you're the one who's crying," he adds.

You chuckle, a light sniffle coming out from you. "I'm just reassuring you," you say, adjusting your position so you can look at him better. "Because I know you're going to beat yourself up. for it."

“I’m not here to cry for comfort. I just need you to hold me and listen,” you remind him again while staring into his eyes. “What are you even thinking?”

What is he even thinking? A lot of things—his mind was going through a downward spiral because: a) Why are you comforting him? b) He was supposed to be doing the comforting. And Gun wants to look away at your question, but you know—even he knows—that you have way too much power over him, that you will force him to look at you if needed be.

If it were other people who dared to touch his face, he will immediately slap their hands away—but not you, never you.

“That you might be thinking I’m not good at comforting people,” he says somberly, a bit apologetic. “That I don’t understand what you’re going through.”

“But you do,” you tell him, and he nods. “I know you do. But you’re not great at words and that’s okay with me, because your actions make up for it, my love,” you add.

“I don’t think you realize it, but the fact that you paused your tv show for me to hold me and listen to me was more than enough,” you say, giving him a small smile, irises still holding a sheen of tears. “I love you. You did a great job comforting me.”

I love you, the words repeat in his head, and Gun thinks that you're adorable even if you still have a few tears left to cry. In his head, the situation is a little dire because how on earth are you comforting him instead? You've always been so patient with him.

“I love you,” he replies quietly, holding you close as he wraps his arms tighter around you. “Jus’ wanna do my best for you. Show how much I care for you.”

You chuckle, nuzzling your head in the crook of his neck. “You already do. Your actions speak way louder than your words.”

“You mean that?” he asks, rubbing your arm lightly.

He thinks you’re perfect in his arms.

That you fit perfectly in his life. His precious angel.

“Mhm,” you hum. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t taken care of well.”

He chuckles, kissing your forehead this time. “Good. I intend on taking care of you for a long time.”

[xazse]

AFAB!GOJO X MALE!READER

Hello this is just a shitpost before I go to sleep I’ll edit everything in the morning! Enjoy

NASTYYY SMUT!!!! AND VERY MEAN READER! AND CAR SEX I HOPE YOU GUYS GET THE PICTURE OF THE POSITION I SWEAR ILL EDIT IT TM!

Satoru sleeps with his fair share of women and men, even going as far as to spend the night to satisfy their need for something romantic, but by morning he’s out the door, not caring what happens to said person, he let it be known from the start all he wanted was a quick fuck. Not his fault they confused it for something else.

People around campus who have slept with Gojo can say the night is full of bliss but the morning they’re left with an empty feeling, he really is the best and the worst thing to happen.

So why does Satoru find himself infatuated with you? You who treats him like he’s nothing but an eyesore, it drives him crazy when you deny his advances, no one’s ever denied him: he’s just too pretty for that! You’d have to be crazy to not want to lay with him! Borderline insane! But you, you spark something within him, a primal lust.

When he finally does get you to come around you’re mean, extremely mean: parking behind an abandoned building and position satoru to where the back seat door is open with you standing outside and him laying against the seat with his lower body out the door, it’s super cold out tonight and he regrets wearing the thinnest shorts with no underwear underneath, but all the better to feel the thick outline of your cock as you press yourself against his folds.

“No panties? You’re so gross Toru.” You grumble out whilst looking at his already wet cunt, your fingers dip in and he groans, he likes the thickness of your fingers it makes stretching him out to be so much easier, one fingers turns into two then that turns into three. When you deem him good enough for you, he hears your belt clinking and a loud sigh departing from your lips.

You pull his hair and angle his head back: “You’re average at best Toru, you should be happy I even gave someone as desperate as you a chance, remember I’m only doing this out of pity” you grunt out, Satoru has no feelings for you but he feels his heart clench and disperse at your words. You let him go to focus on lining your fat cock up with his hole, the stretch stings to him, what you “lack” in length you really make up for thickness, most likely the thickest he’s ever taken, you don’t offer him any reassurance when your cock pushes deeper and deeper.

Till you finally bottom out inside, you take a quick pause to admire him, you can’t see his face but already you knew his lips are bitten red, most likely on the verge of crying, you’re so incredibly mean.

You begin to move your hips, starting off slowly, you make sure to pull all the way out and slide right back in, eventually you start slamming into him roughly, uncaring of his startled gasps as he struggles to adjust, your cock feels so good, hitting so deeply inside of him, it’s really a different story when you find his sweet spot and press the tip of your cock against it.

His legs lock inwards, breathing hard into the seat, “This it Satoru?” He can hear the devilish smirk hidden in your voice, you continue to slam your hips against him angling downwards. “so..good” he had managed to slur out. He finds himself trying to paw away from his impending orgasm, he knows it’s gonna ache, knows it’s gonna also feel blissful, your hands grip his waist tighter, meaning to leave ugly bruises later. Pounding into him deep strokes makes him crazy, to add fuel to the fire your hands reach down and circle his clit rough, this action pushes Satoru over the edge and his pussy spasms around you.

He damn near screams, fingers digging deep into your seat, you fuck him through his orgasm, not long after you follow right after him, not even bothering to pull out, he doesn’t ask you to either.

Satoru slumps against your seat, panting and trying his hardest not to fall asleep, he feels your fingers spreading his pussy to admire your work of art.

“Your friend? What’s his name…? You know the pretty one with the long black hair?” Satoru feels his heart drop.