#there were two ‘so’s but that sounded too desperate even for me

[leaawrites]

I like you, because you're you

Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: in which, she likes him for who he is, not because of how he looks.

Warnings: insecurities (Lando), some mocking (?) (unintentional),

Wordcount: 0.7k

Masterlist

She had a type, there was no use in denying that. It looked almost like a pattern when you looked at her exes. It was almost scary how similar some of them looked.

And she may have dated one or two of them because she wasn’t over about the one before them, but those were exceptions. Those were the ones she met in a club a week after a new break up and was in desperate need to replace the heartbreak with something familiar, even when it was only a face filled with nostalgia of another for her.

It was never a serious problem for her when her friends joked about them looking like a family tree when put together, because it wasn’t totally exaggerated. It was never a problem until they started doing it at dinner with her new boyfriend. Saying how he looked like someone they knew, but couldn’t right place who it was he reminded them of. It wasn’t a problem until one said, “oh, yeah, you look like y/n’s last boyfriend. Same hair, same face structure. That must be it.” And all of them hummed in agreement. Laughing afterwards and waving it off as a joke he shouldn’t take too serious.

But Y/n knew Lando, and she knew that he thought about it. More than he should. She could see it in his eyes when they looked in hers - if they even did that evening. She knew by the way he tapped his fingers anxiously against his leg or the table. She knew from the way he chewed on his lip and how he sat in silence for most of the remaining night.

She knew and she didn’t say anything about it until they got to his apartment again, the door slamming behind him and her not even flinching because she saw it coming. Lando didn’t get angry often, he only got frustrated and closed off. Most times it was too late to make him open up when you noticed, but she knew that you just had to ask enough times to make him break.

“Lando,” she approached him, putting her lips on his shoulder and trying to catch his gaze, but Lando was focused on the skyline outside the window.

Monaco at night, a kind of peaceful you didn’t want to disturb but she knew she had to now.

“Lando, please talk to me,” she pushed a bit further, interlacing their fingers and laying her head against his back. Her thumb rubbing over his skin.

“What they said wasn’t appropriate and they shouldn’t have done it. And I know it’s a shitty perspective from you, but please talk to me. Yell or do whatever, just please talk to me,” she continued, almost sounding like she was begging. And if necessary, she would.

“Do you like me because I look like him?” He finally said, his voice shaking and quiet. It broke her heart, seeing her love so fragile. The clouds covering her sunshine. Him.

“I like you, because you’re you,” she quickly said, stepping around him and taking his head in her hands to make him look at her. She could see tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. She could see them threaten to spill over and spill out. “I could never not like you, no matter how you look. You’re so funny and charming and loving, it’s breaking me to see you so down.”

“You promise?” Lando asked, putting his hands on her waist.

“I promise,” she answered. “Forever and always.”

He pulled her closer, closing any remaining space between them. With her head against his chest, she could feel his heart beating against his ribcage. Furiously trying to break free. She kissed the place where it was at, trying to calm it down, trying to not make it worry. Lando put his head on top of hers, kissing her hair and letting his tears fall down on her.

[mapis-putellas]

𝑪𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x reader

Words: 1400

Warnings: none

Summary: you find out Alexia is ticklish

It all started with something small—barely even noticeable at first. You were still early into your relationship with Alexia, who, despite being one of the most sought-after footballers in the world, managed to keep her calm, collected, and sometimes intimidating presence off the pitch. But she had a softer side you loved seeing—the sweet, gentle Alexia who, in private moments, let her guard down just for you.

You'd noticed it one evening when the two of you were out, casually strolling through the city, your arm wrapped around her waist. It was a simple gesture, one you often made, but this time, you noticed her body tense up, just for a split second, as your hand brushed her side. You glanced at her, brows raised.

"Are you okay?" you asked, genuinely curious.

She blinked, a blush dusting her cheeks as she looked at you with a sheepish smile. "Ah, sí, sí. Just... you startled me," she mumbled in her thick Spanish accent, waving it off with a soft laugh.

You let it slide, convinced it was just a fluke. But then it happened again.

This time, the two of you were lounging on the couch, her head resting on your shoulder as you lazily ran a hand up and down her back under her shirt. Alexia's eyes were closed, her breathing calm, and you loved feeling her lean so fully into you, completely at ease. But when your fingers grazed her side, she jerked ever so slightly, biting her lip to keep from reacting. You couldn't help but notice.

"Ale..." you began, a smile creeping onto your face, "Are you... ticklish?"

She looked up at you, her cheeks tinged with red, shaking her head quickly. "No, no," she insisted, her voice wavering just enough for you to pick up on. "Just... you surprised me.”

"Oh really?" you said with a teasing grin, storing away this valuable information for later.

You had no idea how you'd missed it. Alexia Putellas, the fierce captain, was ticklish. But clearly, she wasn't ready to admit it. Not yet.

The next morning, you decided to test out your theory.

Alexia was standing in the kitchen, humming softly as she flipped pancakes on the stove. She was focused, oblivious to your approach. Her back was turned to you, the morning sunlight streaming in through the windows and casting a gentle glow on her relaxed form. You stepped forward, wrapping your arms around her waist, placing a light kiss on her shoulder.

"Good morning, mi vida," you murmured, tightening your grip slightly.

She laughed softly, her hands moving from the pan to rest on top of yours. "Good morning," she replied, leaning into your embrace.

You kissed the side of her neck, watching as her face softened, completely lulled into a false sense of security. Then, while she was relaxed and distracted, you gave her a quick, gentle poke on her side.

She yelped, her body flinching as she let out a sound that neither of you were expecting—a snort. Immediately, her cheeks flushed, and she clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes widening in embarrassment.

You blinked in surprise before bursting out laughing. "Oh my god," you teased, eyes sparkling with mischief, "did Alexia Putellas just snort?"

She turned a deeper shade of red, biting her lip as she looked at you with a mix of indignation and embarrassment. "No... no, I did not," she mumbled, though the flustered look on her face only confirmed the truth.

"Oh, you so did!" you laughed, delighting in her reaction. "I didn't know the mighty Alexia Putellas could snort!"

Before she could defend herself, you seized the opportunity, tickling her sides with quick, playful jabs. The reaction was immediate—she burst into laughter, her usual composure shattered as she squirmed in your grip, desperately trying to push your hands away.

"Y/N, no!" she managed to gasp, her voice high-pitched and breathless as she tried to wriggle free. "Stop... por favor!"

But you were having too much fun to stop now. "Oh, no way," you teased, your fingers dancing over her stomach, her sides, even her neck as you discovered each of her most ticklish spots.

Her laughter was contagious, loud and full of pure, unrestrained joy that echoed through the kitchen. She was helpless, her body twisting and turning as she tried to escape, but every time she moved, you just found a new spot to tickle. Tears of laughter began to gather in her eyes, and her cheeks were bright red, her breaths coming in gasps as she tried to catch her breath.

"Please!" she managed to gasp between giggles, her voice breaking as she leaned back against you, her strength almost entirely spent. "No more... no more!"

You grinned, giving her a small break as you pulled her close, wrapping her breathless, flushed form in your arms. She leaned against you, still giggling softly as she tried to catch her breath, her head resting against your shoulder.

"You are too cute," you murmured, rocking her back and forth gently as you brushed a hand over her hair. "I had no idea you were this ticklish."

She pouted, crossing her arms as she pretended to glare at you, though her smile betrayed her. "You are... a menace," she muttered, her voice playful as she nudged you gently.

You chuckled, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I'm sorry," you said, though your grin told her you were anything but. "But come on, Ale, you can't deny it—you're adorable when you laugh.”

She huffed, pretending to be mad, but after a few moments, her shoulders relaxed, and she melted into your embrace, her body soft and warm against yours.

"You are... lucky I love you," she muttered, her accent thicker in her embarrassment, though there was a smile tugging at her lips.

You grinned, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Oh, I know. And I love you too, Ale. Even when you're a ticklish mess."

She groaned, hiding her face in your shoulder as she mumbled something under her breath, clearly too flustered to argue further. You just held her close, rocking her gently as you savored the feeling of her in your arms, grateful for the little moments like these that reminded you just how lucky you were.

After a few moments, she looked up at you, her cheeks still pink but her eyes filled with warmth. "You... will not tell anyone, sí?" she asked, her tone half-joking but also tinged with genuine concern.

You laughed, pulling her even closer. "Your secret's safe with me, mi amor. I wouldn't dare ruin the Captain's reputation."

She smiled, clearly relieved, before giving you a playful shove. "Good. Because I will... get my revenge."

"Oh?" you replied, raising an eyebrow as you smirked at her. "And how exactly are you going to do that?"

She grinned, her eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint. "You... will find out."

You couldn't help but laugh, wrapping your arms around her as you kissed her softly, savoring the warmth and closeness. "I'll look forward to it," you murmured, brushing your thumb over her cheek.

For a few moments, you just stood there, holding each other in the soft morning light, the world outside fading away as you enjoyed the quiet intimacy. But soon, Alexia pulled back slightly, glancing at the stove with a small, sheepish smile.

"We... should finish breakfast," she murmured, her cheeks still slightly flushed as she moved to flip the pancakes.

You chuckled, nodding as you followed her lead, helping her finish cooking as you moved around the kitchen together. And every so often, you'd sneak a quick poke at her sides, just to see her flinch and flash you a quick glare, her eyes sparkling with unspoken laughter.

Once the food was ready, the two of you sat down at the table, enjoying your breakfast as you exchanged soft smiles and quiet laughter, your hearts full and content. And as you reached across the table to take her hand, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the little moments like these—moments filled with laughter, love, and the beautiful, unexpected joy of discovering each other.

After breakfast, as you both cleaned up the dishes, Alexia glanced at you, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I... will remember this," she warned, though her voice was filled with warmth.

You laughed, pulling her into a quick hug. "Good," you said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

**

Tags:

@silentwolfsstuff @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @ceesimz @marysfics @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan

[feroluce]

HOW DID RAPPA AND BOOTHILL END UP BEING SO SWEET???

Before 2.6 even dropped, they were being cute! In Rappa's Keeping Up With Star Rail, Boothill describes Rappa's creations as "high-tech ninjutsu" rather than equipment, or machines, or anything else that someone would have normally defaulted to. This is something Rappa is very proud of and insistent about in her work, and he respects that!

Even with those party join lines, he refers to her not as a Galaxy Ranger, but by her chosen title!

Rappa seems to get a lot of shit for how she talks, too, with people throughout the patch accusing her of playing around or not taking anything seriously. Boothill though is swift to correct that, that even if it sounds like nonsense, Rappa is someone to be respected and a force to be reckoned with. He seems to really admire her resolve, and especially her intellect! He has nothing but praise for her, it's so so sweet.

And the way she talks about him, too! Like there are. A lot of things you can say about a man like Boothill fjkdlsajk but she always speaks so admirably of him?

There's also the difference in nicknames- Rappa refers to every other person as "Ninja." And most of them are descriptions that you can pick up at a glance, or without knowing a person too deeply. Singer for Robin is obvious, everyone knows who she is. Gama for Reca means "toad," which is a reference to the assistant director he always has with him. Baseball Bat for the trailblazer is also obvious. Ruri for March 7th means "lapis lazuli" which is probably a reference to her Six Phase Ice, or even her appearance since she looks like if a Stellar Jade became human. Hiryu for Dan Heng is actually "flying dragon" but it's also a famous video game reference so I'm only willing to put so much stock into that one fjkdsjakd and besides, she could have easily heard about March 7th and Dan Heng from Boothill, since he talks about the dango trio to Rappa, too.

But Boothill! Rappa refers to Boothill as "Silvergun Shura," with Shura being a reference to Asura, a demigod of war. It's a name used to describe someone fighting a relentless, inhumane war and desperately seeking victory. It also refers to a level of hell, governed by anger and pain. Both interpretations suit him strongly. It's not really a title you could give just looking at someone. It's something you'd have to know them at least a little more deeply for.

Boothill also very distinctly lacks the common ninja title- instead, in the EN translation, Rappa calls him Lord. It's a highly respectable title even in the original Chinese, apparently akin to addressing reigning royalty.

She just. Seems to respect and admire him so much? It's so so sweet?

And despite how often it's stated that Galaxy Rangers tend to work and travel alone, it seems these two are at least fairly familiar with each other, which makes me really happy! In an instance of beautiful timing, just today Hoyo released a new text convo, and! When she wants someone to hang out with, Boothill was one of the first people Rappa thought of!

Rappa knew Dan Heng because Boothill talked about him. She knew about Clockwork. Boothill has spoken with her often enough and long enough to know how deeply her hatred ran, and to be upset for her when Primon got away.

They both speak so positively of each other, even when one is out of of earshot. They openly show a ton of respect and admiration for one another, and the way they talk about each other is more than just two people who happen to be part of the same faction. They know each other more closely than that. Boothill is only in Penacony at all because of Rappa, and Rappa trusted Boothill enough to seek him out for this.

My favorite, though? The part I considered the cutest?

Rappa literally went all the way to the Luofu just to watch Boothill fight in the Luminary Wardance.

[eupheme]

mean wade or just him playfully making fun of you as he makes you cum consecutive times until you squirt? I'm so down bad for this man it's worrying 😭

Ohh I am 👀💖 anon! I went with a smug/teasing Wade for this (and also a sort-of follow-up to this fwb!wade drabble), I hope that is ok!! Thanks so much for sending this to me!

flood it | wade wilson x f!reader

800 words | multiple orgasms, fwb!wade, piv, squirting

It’s white against pink, as his lips stretch wide. Parting teeth as he pants, a stripe of red across his nose where his mask has been tugged up.

His scarred chin glossy. Smeared by the back of a hand, not more than ten minutes after he slipped through your bedroom window.

All too eager to answer your text. Still in his suit, grime worked into the creases as he laid you out on the floor of your room, unable to make it to your bed.

Your sleeping shorts had still been on, then - panties tugged to the side so his tongue could slip against your slit in greeting.

Record time, before your thighs were clamping around his ears, hips lifting into the air - hand stifling your cry.

The scarred tip of his cock rutting against your core, as your other hand clung to his wrist.

“Turned you a horny little monster, didn’t I?” He coos, “You still need it that bad?”

The sound of annoyance you make turns high, as he notches himself at your entrance - fitting every inch inside.

“S’okay.” It’s murmured out - just as he draws back, before hilting himself again, “I like that you can’t get enough.”

Another cry pulled from you, with the pump of his hips, the swirl of his fingers. Pleased - his lips meeting yours, halting the filth that pours from them.

He tastes like you, as you open for him, and that does more to you than it should. You can never resist him, that ache of want that lingers beneath your skin. Him and his mouth, and every inch of those six foot two inches, as he curves over you.

A hand splayed across the ankle that’s hooked against his shoulder. Near bending you in half, intent on finding the exact spot that has your nails sinking into the woven rug.

“There we fucking go. Bet you can give me another.” His hum low, when he finds it, “Bet I can make you gush all over my cock.”

You’re still not used to his enthusiasm. A late-night message sent in desperation that he was too eager to answer. Still intent on making up for all your supposed ‘lost time’.

Intent on making sure that your experiences with him eclipse all others.

“Can’t, Wade.” It’s sighed out - but even as his hips move, that dull twinge of overstimulation bleeds into pleasure, “Haven’t-“

But he only groans - the words husked out as eyes dip down to where you’re joined.

“You will for me.”

A greedy moment - his tone low. Possessive, for a flicker of a second, before he’s grinning.

“It was the request, after all,” He winks, his tongue peeking out, tasting you against his lips, “And I’m always happy to prove you wrong. Again, I might add.”

And maybe you want him too. Maybe it’s in the look you give him - heavy-lidded eyes, your hips lifting into the sharp snap of his.

A moan, at the slick way you grip him. Capturing your hand that slips down to help - pinning your wrists above your head.

“Uh uh.” Wade’s head shakes, “This is gonna be all me.”

The steady pound of his cock sending you higher, that deep pressure inside you building swiftly towards another peak.

“When your toes are cold because you ruined this rug by gushing all over it, you’re gonna be thinking about this.”

It makes you moan. This thing between you had gotten messy - deeper feelings caught somewhere between that first kiss to now. Don’t know how to tell him that he’s all you think about.

Not sure how to name the flip inside your belly - a tight, twisting ball of pleasure - so close to coming from just his cock. Your eyes wide as it begins to swell - his name whimpered out as you squirm on the floor beneath him.

“Fuck. Yes.” He pants, “Want you to fucking flood it, come on.”

Your gaze on his, when you do. Seeing how the white eyes of his mask widen - curving with his smile when your head tilts back.

Crying out, as he makes you come hard. As he fucks you through it, the sound filthy with the clap of his hips against yours. Leaking with each flutter of your cunt around his cock, dropping down to dampen the coarse hairs at the base of his cock.

Wade’s rhythm going sloppy as his ego soars - your foot slipping from his shoulder, wrapping around his waist just as his mouth presses to yours again.

Slick still leaking down his cock, the red leather at his groin glistening when he throbs inside you. Spilling with a rough groan, fingers pinching at your hips as he holds you flush.

Only then, does his other hand leave your wrists. Fingers entwining with yours instead, still keeping you pinned. A smirk, as he catches his breath.

“So.”

It’s huffed out, as the rock of his hips pushes another messy drip out of your cunt. His release and yours mixing together, just as it should.

“What else do you think you can’t do?”

[hearts4hughes]

otherworldly - tate langdon x fem!reader

A/N: some of this gives ‘kissing in the copy room, shower sex?! friends my bawlsssss’. I LOVE EVAN PETERS!!!

no warnings :)

it was so enticing to confess every single emotion tate had ever felt for you in that exact moment. every tear shed, every blushed cheek, every breath you’d taken away from him; everything.

the joint sat between your slim fingers as you spun around to the sweet sounds of kurt cobain. a toothy grin tugged at your lips as you danced in your backyard, only the moonlight illuminating your figure. your eyes were closed but you could feel his warm gaze on you.

“going to join me, stalker boy?” you ask with a giggle, holding your hand out to him. he blushed, shaking his head no.

stalker boy, the nickname you’d given him when you saw him creeping around your room after an appointment with your father. when you confronted him he was a flushed mess, stumbling over every single word. you were amused at his anxiety and became friends with him. it soon turned into routine to hang out with tate after his friday appointments.

the first time tate saw you he swore he started believing in angels. there was no way you were real, everything about you was otherworldly. you were ethereal.

“c’mon don’t be boring, tate.” you teased, putting the joint to your lips and inhaling.

“not a good dancer.” he mumbled, pulling the sleeves of his sweater to cover his hands. “keep dancing, you look better without me.”

you smirked and sat down next to him. your fingers grazed each other as you passed him the rolled up paper. a chill went down his spine and a blush crept onto his cheeks. “you blush a lot, you know that?”

“it’s just cold.” he feigned innocence, turning his head and avoiding direct eye contact. you chuckled under your breath. he met your unconvinced gaze, “what? it is!”

“okay, okay, i believe you.” you smiled. a beat of silence passed and you look at your watch. “it’s kinda late, i should probably go back inside.”

his face dropped with disappointment, but he nodded. “yeah, i should get going too.” he smiled but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“bye, tate.” you leaned over, pressing a kiss to his unusually warm cheek. his breath hitched. “i’ll call you tomorrow.” you said so casually, yet it made his heart skip a beat.

you stood up and got a whole four steps before he said. “y/n, stop.” you turned on your heels with furrowed brows.

“what’s wrong?”

“everything.” the crease on your forehead only thickened with his words. “well, not everything. you’re perfect, like usual. but-” he cut himself short as he huffed. he only rambled when he was nervous, which was most the time with you. “just, what are we doing, y/n? hanging out everyday, kissing my cheek, holding hands in record stores?”

your eyes were wide as his words set in. you swallowed harshly, looking at your feet. “i’m sorry, i didn’t know you didn’t like that stuff.” you didn’t look up to meet his gaze.

“no, that’s not what i’m saying.” he was getting frustrated, not at you, but at his ability to speak his mind. “i like you… i have ever since i met you. i’m just confused because we, we act like a couple, but we aren’t one.”

your silence weighs heavy on his shoulders. his breathing speeds up and his fingers begin to fidget.

“say something, please.” it’s not a command, it’s a plea. he’s desperate for you to speak. to say anything, even if it’s rejecting him.

“i love you.” your voice is barely above a whisper. you can’t put your feelings for him into any other words besides that. before he has time to respond, you walk towards him, crashing your lips against his.

it isn’t long before his hands find your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him. the kiss is passionate with months of pent up emotions. every ounce of love, lust, and desperation pours into that one connection of your lips.

you pull away breathlessly and the air has a shift in it. no more tension or pressure weighing on the two of you. it’s just you and tate with nothing else in the way.

[sundew199]

I'll love you forever

tags: zoro x reader, no p/n's used, heavy angst, mentions of blood, death?

A quiver in his lip so violent that he couldn’t stop it, the small sucks of air doing nothing to stop the heavy burning tears to breach past his eye, blood dripping from his palm. But it wasn’t his blood, and what Zoro wouldn’t give in this moment to change that, make it his and not yours.

How had he let this happen?

How had he been so careless to not keep his senses alert for you.

It was a battle yes, and you could hold your own as well as he could but he couldn’t lose you. And yet he hadn't done enough to keep that from happening.

“Zoro…”

The rapid beating of his heart froze at the sound of his name leaving your throat so weakly, the shaky smile you gave him as you used the last of your strength to barely cup the side of his face.

“You’re gonna be okay, just don’t move so much, okay?”

Swallowing the heavy lump in his throat, somehow managing a smile to reassure you, but what would that do as he watched the life begin to fade from your eyes. But you nodded, fingers slipping from his cheek and his hand instantly grabbing yours to keep it there, selfishly absorb whatever warmth was left in your touch.

“Zoro…I'm tired.”

He frowned and finally let the tears fall, refusing to hide the sobs breaking the top of his throat trying to answer you back, bottom lip quivering even harder now.

“I know, I am too sweetheart, but you gotta stay awake for me, okay? I’ve got Sanji getting Chopper, just - hold on.”

For me.

You smiled so weakly and he knew why. You always found it so sweet when he referred to the arrogant cook by his real name, instead of whatever nickname he came up with and Zoro felt something inside him break further, shatter into tinier pieces. He couldn’t lose you.

He couldn’t lose you.

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair.

“Zoro, I love you…so much…you’re the best thing that’s happened to me.”

All he could do was nod and squeeze his one good eye shut, pressing your fading warm hand harder on his cheek, barely turning to kiss the inside of your wrist, a tear from his eye landing on your cold skin. This couldn’t be happening, he’s lost so much already, why did the world feel the need to take more from him? What sins had he not atoned for to have the source of his comfort and future ripped away from him.

“And you’re the best thing that’s happened to me, I’m going to get you out of here, I promise.” Breaking into the smallest smile, mouth trembling with the realization that his words might be in vain.

The serenity that occupied your face quickly washed away hearing his words, letting out a sniffle. Zoro opened his eye to see you crying with a less happy looking smile on your face; the one he was unfortunately so familiar with.

“It’s okay, I’m so thankful for you Zoro-“

“Stop talking like that!” Hissing back at you through a sob, clenching your smaller hand in his desperately, the entirety of his body shaking as he looped his other arm underneath from where you lay across his thighs, to you to hold you closer. The tears flowed faster down both of your cheeks, the sickening realization setting in, turning inescapable.

“I’m not losing you, I’m not! Just hold on, for me, please.” Pleading with you through the violent tears and sobs that were so hushed but harsh, pressing a kiss to your blood stained forehead and staining the black bandana still tightly tied around his head as it dipped to press against your forehead briefly.

A choking cough ripped through your throat, a trickle of blood running down the corner of your mouth, suddenly so much paler, fastening the pace of his beating heart as he looked down at you.

“Thank you...I’ll love you forever Roronoa Zoro,” managing to thumb over his bottom lip that momentarily stopped trembling, caressing the part of his face that you used to idly when laying in bed with him, something that was so routine between the two of you, something that Zoro feared in this very moment he took for granted. You gave him one finally smile, going limp in his arms.

“Stop, don't do that! I told you to hold on, FUCK!” Shaking you to get your attention, rapidly breathing and refusing to acknowledge the total lack of light in your face and eyes, squeezing the hand he hadn’t let go of and pressing his forehead to yours, pressing his trembling lips to yours, a futile effort in hopes that his touch would bring you back to him.

You were lifeless, limp and useless and Zoro couldn’t take it, wouldn't accept it. He sobbed like he did when he was child after loosing Kuina, slowly rocking back and forth on his knees, cradling your body to him even though he knew you were gone.

"I'm sorry."

[emeritusemeritus]

if you’re taking requests can you do fred x artist!reader maybe? it’s okay if not though! (:

Hi love! Let me start by saying I’m sorry that this completely took on a life of its own. I started writing and I couldn’t stop, too engrossed in the story. I wasn’t sure what kind of art you wanted to include so I made the reader a painter/ designer and an all round creative. I’ve sobbed writing this and I’ve even had to split it into two parts because I’ve fallen down a hole and written over 8 thousand words, not joking.

I hope you enjoy! I shall now go and rest 😂🖤

Part 2 will be posted HERE once it is uploaded.

Warnings: ANGST. Sadness, breakups, illusions to cheating, breakup references. Happy ending I promise! Talks of marriage, proposals, Hagrid and his creatures, Fang being the goodest boy. Lots of tears and sadness but it gets better! Not beta read nor spellchecked, apologies for any mistakes. Timeline is a little wonky (picturing it OOTP just before the twins departure but there’s no war/no Umbridge)

Word count: 4.9k [Part 1&2= 8.2k] 😬

The Artist and the Entrepreneur part 1

You walked into your dorm in an exhausted slump, trying desperately not to sigh too loudly of our sheer exhaustion in order to not wake your dorm mates. It was nearly 11:30pm by the time you had made it back to the dorms, having to wake and then calm down the fat lady who was not willing to listen to your explanation of why you were out so late. You needed to bathe and get to sleep, ready for classes the next morning but you could barely function, trying desperately to summon the energy to undress and make your way to the bathrooms. It was a necessary evil but it had to be done and so you dragged your near-lifeless body to the bathroom and began running a bath, which thankfully filled up quickly with almost perfect temperature water. You grimaced as you peeled the uniform away from your body, wincing at a particularly nasty wound on your right forearm which you would attempt to heal after you'd bathed. Your hands were covered in paint, mud and whatever else had made their way under your nails, arms littered with paint splatters and other vague marks.

Sinking down into the water, you forced yourself to stay awake feeling suddenly soothed by the warm water, both physically and mentally. It had been a hard couple of weeks, stretched beyond your means as your timetable suddenly doubled. You were tired, exhausted and still there was another week to go of this madness, but it would all worth it on the end.

You dried quickly, assisting yourself with a flick of your wand and dressed into your pyjamas, hardly managing to scoop up your dirty uniform on your way back to bed.

5am came much quicker than you'd have liked. It was almost as if you'd closed your eyes and opened them again only a minute later. You crawled out of bed trying again to stay silent and reached for the clean set of uniform and robes on the chair beside your bed, kicking the lump of dirty uniform under your bed to deal with later. You slipped into the bathrooms to dress so that you wouldn't wake anyone and slipped down to the common room, pray in that you didn't see anyone on the way. You cast a glance at the boys dormitory staircase and felt a stab of sorrow thinking of Fred and how you'd barely seen him in the past two weeks. You were often gone before breakfast and not back until well past curfew, not that either of the twins ever abided by the rules.

"Oh shush," you said to the fat lady who had begun her usual spiel of sounding the alarm due to you being out of bed out of hours, not listening nor remembering the speech you'd given everyday for the past two weeks as you attempted to sneak out. You couldn't afford to be discovered by the prefects nor any teachers roaming the corridors, as above board as your mission was- you couldn't risk Fred finding out what you were doing.

Sunlight shone through the windows as you made your way around the castle, holding back a shiver at the coldness of the castle in the late March morning, your robes doing very little to shield you from the chill. You crept out of the castle and marvelled at the beautiful first rays of daylight peaking through the trees of the forbidden forest. You looked ahead and saw that smoke was billowing from the chimney of Hagrid's hut, the only sign of life against the otherwise serene backdrop of the forbidden forest. You made your way slowly, enjoying the peaceful walk down to the hut, hoping that Hagrid had put the kettle on in anticipation of your arrival.

"Morning y/n!" Hagrid says with a wide smile, bustling around in the small hut, much too awake for this time in the morning. Fang in stark contrast lay slumped in his bed and half asleep, continuously disturbed by Hagrid's banging. A steaming cup of tea lay waiting for you on the table and you thank him graciously, taking a soothing sip of the hot liquid. You look at the clock on the wall beside the window as see that it's nearly half 5 now, the sun rising in the sky and greeting an almost ethereal light across the magnificent castle, a sight that still amazed you even seven years later.

"Beautiful isn't it?" Hagrid asks, noticing you gazing up at the castle and you share a smile for a moment, the tiredness having faded now thanks to the alarmingly strong cup of tea that you'd now become accustomed to.

"Ready to get to work now?" He asks, watching you drain the last of the tea from the large mug. You try to hide your disappointment from being dragged out once again to the edge of the forest, knowing that you'd signed up for this. You nod with a smile, navigating around the large table as you move towards to door behind Hagrid. You shoot a look towards Fang, wanting to give him a parting stroke but you notice quickly that he's fallen back to sleep and so you leave him alone to snooze, wishing that you could too.

It was nearly half 8 when you walked into the great hall, taking a brief detour to the bathrooms as you washed your hands and to hide any evidence of your morning. Your early start was already catching up to you and you hid a yawn behind the sleeve of your robe as you walked through the doors of the great hall. You checked your robe one last time for any signs of evidence but thankfully you were clear, noticing only a moment later when you took you'll place at the table that there was a great dollop of pint upon your shoe.

"Here she is," George says from across the table, nodding his head towards you as you climbed onto the bench beside Ron in the gap between him and Neville.

"Switch with Y/n Ronald," Fred says from beside him without a hint of a please. Knowing he won't get any manners out of his older brother, Ron complies and shifts up to allow you to sit beside your boyfriend.

"Thanks Ron," you say, trying to hold off the yawn that was threatening to break free at any moment.

"Morning beautiful, you're late," Fred says, his hand slipping across your back as you pour yourself a large glass of pumpkin juice. He frowns at the coldness of your robes beneath his fingers but doesn't say anything. "You overlay again?"

"Yeah," you lie, feeling immediately guilty about the fact. "Snape's set us a load of work, took me ages to figure it out last night. Didn't get a lot of sleep." As if to prove your point, the yawn you'd been suppressing finally escapes with so much force that it makes your eyes water.

You manage to force down some toast, staying quiet as the conversation continues around you. The first bell rings and you barely hold back a sigh, detesting the fact that you'd have to get up again.

"I can walk you to potions?" Fred says, holding his hand out to help you off the bench. You're quick to conceal the paint on your shoe and if he notices, he doesn't say anything.

"And have you late for charms again?" You counter, raising an eyebrow at your boyfriend who just shrugs completely unfazed.

"Haven't seen you much lately, thought you'd been avoiding me."

His words feel like a stab directly to your heart, knowing that you were guilty of avoiding him, though it wasn't in a negative way. Your craved the time with him, of mischief in the late hours and spontaneous moments in hidden corridors and empty classrooms.

"I promise I'm not," you say with a smile, trying to vanquish his idea completely as you lean up to press a kiss to his full lips. His arms immediately grab your waist as he pulls you in for a deeper kiss that borders on inappropriate but you relent, unable to resist after not seeing him properly for so long.

"So, potions?" Fred smirks, pulling away. You chuckle, placing your hands on his chest.

"For me? Yes. For you? No, get to charms," you order playfully, leaning up to give him one last peck on the lips before turning away. "See you at lunch!"

You can hear his boyish chuckle as you walk away down the corridor in the opposite direction of him, praying that he would be entirely too focused on the swishing of your behind and that the paint on your shoe would go entirely unseen.

By lunch you were completely exhausted, too tired to even notice the suspicious side-eyes from the identical twins as they watched you poke around at your food and down a second cup of very strong tea, having outwardly complained that the first one was too weak. Uncharacteristically for them, they said nothing and continued to chatter amongst themselves, keeping the conversation open for you though you didn't give much imput.

"Fancy the black lake tonight, after hours?" Fred whispers in your ear, knowing even without looking that a smirk would be tugging at his lips. You inwardly grimaced, cursing your ridiculous secret plan as you wished more than anything that you could join him. You were running out of excuses now, finding it hard to keep track with what you'd already lied about.

"I can't tonight, got an essay for snape in the morning I've still not finished," you say with a guilty expression, almost wincing as the words too-effortlessly tumble out of your mouth. "Friday night I promise?"

He seems put out almost instantly, never one to be able to conceal his emotions well. He looks frustrated, confused and rejected within seconds of each other and gives a halfhearted nod at your counter offer of Friday instead.

The bell rings signalling the end of lunch and you hope for a kiss before parting but lose all hope when you feel his lips briefly brush your hairline and he runs off to catch up with George and Angelina.

You avoided the common room after classes, choosing instead to sneak down to Hagrid's a little early, thankful for Thursday evening Quidditch practice which meant that you wouldn't cross paths with Fred.

"Y/n, I'm nipping out tomorrow on dumbledores orders, think you could nip down and check in everything while I'm gone?" Hagrid says as you out dutifully complete your given task, hoping to get it done quickly so you could try and salvage a bit of time tonight for Fred. His questions throws you off for long enough that you feel a hot gust of fire breezing past your right ear, followed by a burning sensation in the same spot. He's quick to act and gets you out of harms way before any more damage is done whilst you remain slightly frozen in both fear and contemplation. You knew you couldn't say no, in debt to his generosity and so you simply nodded, already dreading the implications of your acceptance.

It's late once again when you arrive at the common room, only half an hour til curfew, and despite your attempts at hiding your tiredness and attempting to appear happy and neutral, you can't help but feel the guilt swirling in your gut when you see Fred and George pedalling their products to the younger students with wide smiles on their faces and still dressed in their quidditch uniforms. You sneak up to Fred once he's done with a sale and slip behind him, placing your hand on his shoulder to alert him to your presence. 

Only, when he turns around his smile slowly fades upon realisation that it's you and your heart immediately begins to break, knowing that it was the other way round. He doesn't instantly reach out for you with his big grabby hands like usual nor does he attempt to kiss you. You try and salvage the situation, putting more effort in, trying to be as normal as possible but he seems to see right through the act.

"Wanna sneak out? I hear the black lake is beautiful this time of night." You say with a smirk, trying desperately to mask your tiredness and to hold it together. He doesn't jump at the chance as you hoped and instead casts a cursory glance to George before turning back to you.

"Can't tonight, got to restock the snack boxes with George," he says, briefly touching your hand before a third year calls his name, hand outstretched ready to buy one of his creations. Your stomach sinks, knowing that it's a lie and the irony of the situation only seems to hurt you more as you feel your eyes well up with fresh tears. You excuse yourself immediately, not even greeting your friends who you can tell are watching the tense exchange and you hope more than anything that no one follows you. You're completely depleted with exhaustion, running on hardly any sleep and completely overworked by your own doing. Suddenly the outcome didn't seem worth it and you regretted ever starting, finding your idea foolish.

You let your tears flow as you shower, passively washing away the fresh marks from the day off your arms, the clear gel and the colourful spatters draining away down the plug hole with your tears. You wince in pain when the water falls directly onto the freshly wounded skin behind your ear and your neck, execrating yourself for missing that spot despite Hagrid's warnings.

Too tired and upset to face going back down to the common room, you give up and reward yourself with an early night, though you feel anything but rewarded.

5am came around once more and more than ever you begrudgingly pulled yourself from the warm bed and slipped into the bathroom, the reminder of Fred's rejection playing on your mind from the second your eyes opened. Had you dreamt about it? Either way his reaction was firmly imprinted on your mind and you couldn't get away from how desperately painful it was to have him reject you like that. You slipped out of the common room on autopilot, closing the door with a little too much force already anticipating the fat lady's usual ranting and slumped off towards Hagrid's hut. The skies looked as sombre and sorrowful as you felt, covering the sky in a dull grey hue that seemed to dull the normally beautiful sunrise. You were quiet this morning, not rude or impolite but simply quiet as you worked alongside Hagrid, consumed by your foreboding thoughts knowing that you would still have to cancel Fred tonight, if he even cared anymore.

Once your morning jobs were complete, you decline any further invite to stay and decide instead to sneak back into the castle for breakfast, hoping you could join your friends and boyfriend like usual. Breakfast had only just begun when you walked into the great hall, having made your usual stop off at the girls bathrooms on the way and you're not surprised when the only person sat at the table is Hermione who's already got her head down in a book. She lifts her head up to greet you happily as you sit opposite her at the table, beginning to place her bookmark on the page she's on but you tell her not to, to enjoy the peace whilst she can. She shoots you a grateful smile and you sit enjoying your second cup of tea in peace, thankful you could make this happen today. You knew it was at the expense of your other jobs and you'd most certainly pay for it in the long run but having half of the morning to reset still felt good.

"Morning," Angelina says as a sits down at the table next to Hermione who this time only says a passive greeting, much too engrossed in her book. Angelina reached immediately for a glass of pumpkin juice before rubbing her eyes and yawning at the early hour.

"Not been sleeping well?" You ask with relative concern for your friend, watching her yawn for a second time within seconds. "Staying up late trying to find a loophole in quidditch rules again?" You joke with a smile, watching as she shoots you a mock glare even though it was most probably true, only to be interrupted by her third yawn.

"I wish! Still never finished reading that rule book," she snorts. "I know there's something there I've missed." She takes a sip of her pumpkin juice and you watch as she swallows down another yawn. "I was at the black lake with the twins last night, didn't get back til late."

It's amazing that you don't choke on your own pumpkin juice as the words glide out of her mouth, your stomach sinking like a stone at the implications. You knew Angelina and there was no malice nor hidden meaning behind her words but it still stings more than getting caught in the path of a Ukrainian Ironbelly. Fred had openly lied to you, had rejected you and had invited Angelina in your place. You're frozen in place by the revelation but Angelina doesn't notice, now heartily tucking into her breakfast, though you do notice hermione peeking over her book to look at you. Tears begin to prickle your eyes as the sinking feeling in your gut consumes you, your thoughts spiralling out of control. He didn't want you anymore, you'd pushed him too far to come back from, all with him in mind.

You barely noticed when Ron, Ginny and Harry appeared at the table but you noticed immediately when you heard two very familiar voices echoing as Fred and George walked into the great hall. You had to leave, you had to get out before then took their places. A part of you, wether it was self-punishment or morbid curiosity wanted to stay and see if Fred would chose to sit next to you, to see if he'd interact with you or be cold and distant but you couldn't do it, knowing that the latter would kill you. You stood up so quickly that you bumped your knee on the bottom of the table with a resounding thud that seemed to draw everyone's attention to you but you didn't stick around to shrivel under their curious gazes. There was no way you could avoid Fred now as he made his way to the table but you couldn't do anything about that. Placing your hand over your mouth, you feigned queasiness and ran out of the hall, straight past Fred and George.

Climbing up the spiralling staircase from potions, your stomach sank when you saw a familiar form resting against one of the pillars in the corridor, his shining red hair leaving no doubt as to who it was. You waited for your fellow classmates to disperse, signalling for Alicia to go ahead with the others, leaving you and Fred alone. You half hoped for the first time ever that you'd gotten the twins mixed up

And that it was actually George that was waiting for you but as you walked over with a faux smile on your face, there was no doubt in your mind that it was Fred.

"Hi," you said, sounding awkward even to your own ears. He gives you a look, apparently having noticed your unusually formal greeting too and reaches out for you as if nothing was wrong. His touch feels wrong, the lies feeling like an impenetrable barrier between you and you don't sink into his touch as you usually did, nor do you make any attempt to reach out for him in return.

"Still want to go to the black lake tonight?" He says, reaching out to play with a strand of your hair from the haphazardly thrown up ponytail. His words feel like a knife, like a taunt of what you missed out in last night. Did he know that you knew about his jaunts last night or was he planning on denying the entire thing and acting like nothing was wrong?

You couldn't bite your tongue any longer, the unyielding sleep deprivation affecting your ability to regulate your emotions and you pulled yourself back out of his reach with a venomous look in your eyes.

"Thought you'd have seen enough of it with Angelina last night,' you spit out, the quickly fading logical part of your brain hardly believing that you were having this conversation with Fred, the downfall of your relationship taking you completely by surprise as it's ungodly pace. He blanches, face flushing pale as his ears turn more and more pink upon hearing your words. His eyes widen momentarily and the sickness in your gut increases as you note how panicked he looks, your fears confirmed that he was intending on not telling you anything.

"Princess," he says, trying to bounce back from his momentary shock as he reaches out for you but you avoid his hand entirely, blocking him by slightly turning your body to the right, away from him.

"My name is y/n," you counter, uncaring for his term of endearment. His brown creases but in a flash it's gone, his gaze now focused on your ear. You watch as his eyes harden, no longer looking guilty as his eyes set into a hard stare that grazes across your face until he finally looks into your eyes, somehow in competition with you for how angry you can gaze at eachother.

"It's not my whereabouts that need questioning though is it?" He says through partially gritted teeth, unrelenting eyes staring into your soul.

"What are you talking about?" You counter, trying desperately to hold onto your anger but it's quickly draining from you under his suspicious scrutiny.

"Seems you forgot to hide that one," he spits, pointing to the mark behind your ear. Your gaze softens immediately as you realise what he's pointing to- the pink mark on your neck. In your haste to not set your hair on fire in potions, you'd quickly tied up your hair and had completely forgotten that the mark on your neck would now be visible.

"Fred," you say, the tables turning on you now as you cower under his powerful gaze.

"Thought it was odd that you kept disappearing," he says with a grumble, his voice sounding so cold and distant that you barely recognise it. "Who is he?"

"What?" You ask suddenly, quietly, completely floored by his accusation, your mouth agape as you look upon the heated gaze of your boyfriend, though you quickly realise it may be the last time you can call him that. Never had you thought that he would have accused you of cheating. Finding out your secret maybe but this? Never.

"You heard me, who is it? Bet it's Towler isn't it," he sneers, almost spitting as he says Kenneth Towler's name to taunt you. "Reckon he's long overdue for a second dose of bulbadox powder."

You're frozen in disbelief at the furthering accusations he's spouting, his mind already wandering back to Kenneth Towler who's skin had erupted into boils during your fifth year thanks to Fred putting Bulbadox powder in his pyjamas when he'd come on to you a bit too strongly during a mid-season Quidditch game. Fred had been so distracted upon seeing Towler attempt to drape his arm around you that it caused him to miss an oncoming bludger that caught the tail end of Wood's broom, throwing him off balance and equating in a deciding goal that had given Ravenclaw the lead, that then resulted in their victory over Gryffindor. Fred had been furious, not at you naturally but at Towler who he'd declared had lost them the whole game and had vowed a form of revenge by adding the bulbadox.

"It is isn't it?" He prods, taking your silence as confirmation.

"No!" You say with vengeance, wanting to shoot down that accusation straight away. "There's no one," you add. He huffs out a humourless laugh that makes your entire body fill with dread.

"Well someone's giving you those marks and it's certainly not me!" He argues, "haven't let me anywhere near you for weeks, which is funny because you're usually up for it whenever."

Your blood runs cold at his words and you resist the instinctual urge to slap him right across his stupid face. It's like the four years of your relationship have been nothing to him; pulled apart and mocked by one single comment that now made you question everything. Was that all it was to him? Were you just easy and available? You felt physically sick by the thought and you were certain that nothing had ever hurt you so deeply before. The boy you'd fallen so helplessly in love for, the one with the fire red hair and the cheeky grin that only ever seemed to have eyes for you had changed so quickly right before your eyes. The very boy that had supported all of your creative dreams, encouraging you to keep painting and keep creating even when you doubted yourself or lacked inspiration. Merlin, most of the time he was your inspiration.

You realise that there's nothing left to say, that any further attempt to defend yourself will only fall on deaf ears and by his last comment, you weren't sure it was worth trying to salvage the joke that had been your relationship. You thought of the secret you'd be hiding, of the real reason you had been sneaking away and lying to him, so far away from his assumption that it was almost laughable- but now completely void of any importance. There was no coming back from this. What you assumed to have been love for the past four years had completely disappeared from his eyes and you knew from this moment onwards that all you would ever see when he gazed upon you would be pure disdain.

It feels like every bone is breaking in your body simultaneously as you walk away, like your heart is directly under the cruciatus curse with the sheer volume of anguish within your body. You've never felt pain like it, completely unable to distinguish exactly where it hurts or why. You let vision is blurred and your body physically hurts, your ears ringing from the screams of pain that resonate around your head but are trapped inside your mind. You don't look at Fred, you can't, nor can you bear to listen for him calling out to you as you walk away, the last glimmer of hope gone. 

You consider returning to your dorm and locking yourself away for the foreseeable future, skipping all of your classes and sobbing until you can't anymore as you body screams for you to do but you can't. You can't let anyone see you like that, nor would you be able to answer anyone's questions or deal with their stares. And so, you run to the one place you knew you'd be safe.

Fang greets you enthusiastically the second you push through the door to the empty hut and collapse against the door with a roaring cry. The anguish in your cries is one that you'd never heard emitted from yourself or any other human and you no longer fight back the floods of tears that fall down your face like an unstoppable river that had broken the dam. Fang, sensing your distress, walks over to you and calmly sits beside you, placing his huge head in your lap as you cry. You hold on to the lovable boarhound like an oversized teddy bear as the tears flow, uncaring about the inevitable puddle of drool that he'll leave in your lap, the comfort of the sweet dog more needed than ever.

You don't know how long you sit there crying with your pal by your side for every moment but eventually the tears begin to slow, your breath finally evening out though your heart still pounds, much like your head. Fang lifts his head slightly, his big eyes peering into yours and you give him a thankful smile through the tears, even if he doesn't know exactly what you're trying to convey. He gives your arm a little nudge and in your near delusional state, you assume that it's a reply to your thankfulness. You chuckle, giving him a good scratch of appreciation on his wrinkled forehead at the absurdity of the situation, but you'd be forever thankful that of all things, Fang was the only one that had held you together in your darkest moment.

[whumpninja]

WOW this one was fun. Once I finally got meself off me duff and started writing it, anyway. This piece features OCs from my story The Angel of Death, and is set a few days before the main story.

The Angel of Death taglist:@i-eat-worlds @softvampirewhump @scoundrelwithboba @rainbowsandwhumperflies @octopus-reactivated @whumperfultime @pigeonwhumps @handsinmotion @starfields08000 @fleur-a-whump @worstcasescenariolullaby

Prompt used: AI-less Whumptober, removing body parts and “Don’t break down on me yet.”

Featuring: forced to fight, cage match, vampire whump, blood, gore, dismembering, THIS ONE IS GRAPHIC PLEASE WATCH YOUR STEP

Whumptober Day Fifteen: Break A Leg

Not a seat was occupied even though they had all been sold. The whole crowd was on their feet, roaring. Down at the betting boxes, money changed hands faster than any Las Vegas casino.

Mr. Moody leaned back in his chair and smiled. Business is good.

In the arena, just in front of him, two vampires fought viciously. One was using strategy, manuevering their opponent into facing the floodlights, hurling sawdust in his eyes, jumping and ducking and dodging. At one point they'd managed to scramble up the cage fencing surrounding the arena, out of reach of the other combatant. Mr. Moody had let that trick play out only a few moments before he'd sent Ronnie down with a stun cane to shock them back off and into the fight. Memo to me: electrify that fence. It was a good move, and had gotten the audience excited. But he wanted a fight, not an escape.

The other vampire had no thought for trickery or stratagem. He hurled himself at his enemy, over and over again, finding the scent and charging at them with no regard for the danger. It had been a long battle, nearly eight minutes already. Brute strength could only last so long.

"Come on, Angel," Mr. Moody muttered. "Show 'em what you've got."

He'd gone heavier than usual on the drugs. There had been complaints that it was always over too quickly when it was the champion versus one of the regular fighters. He'd decided that a heavier dose would help- it would make Angel slower, clumsier, more unsteady.

It would not make him less dangerous. And it would not save his opponent.

Angel charged again, claws catching at the meat of his enemy's side. The other vampire howled with pain and turned, driving an elbow into Angel's chest. The impact knocked him back hard. He fell, snarling and shaking his head. The second vampire crouched, tensed to strike.

Angel didn't let him. He rebounded up from the arena floor, pouncing on his enemy- his prey. An inhuman cry of agony set the stadium ringing, followed by a sharp crack as the second vampire kneed Angel in the face. The champion of the Colosseum Club stumbled back, bleeding from his nose.

The other vampire retreated, too, bleeding from much worse. Their hand clutched uselessly at where their arm had once been, thick blood trickling between their fingers.

"Finish it, Angel," Mr. Moody said under his breath.

As if he heard his master, Angel went in for the kill.

They tumbled down together, grappling with each other- the other vampire was on defense now, desperately trying to keep themselves away from the vicious claws. Angel wouldn't let up, maddened with pain now as well as the smell of blood. The crowd was electric. It had been a good fight, but they wanted to see it end, and end bloody.

Angel obliged. The other vampire managed to pin him, and Angel tore an arm free and sank claws deep into his enemy's neck. The vampire's gurgling scream ended abruptly as Angel ripped their throat out, the sounds of tearing flesh and seeping blood lost in the frenzy of the crowd.

They were so excited that they didn't notice what happened next.

Mr. Moody did. He always noticed when something went wrong.

The blood of his victim doing nothing to sate him, Angel dropped the shredded corpse. He shook his head, dazed, confused- almost seeming frightened, if a creature like him could be frightened.

Then he crawled away from the body, leaving smears of blood in the sand. He swayed, collapsed, and lay still.

Mr. Moody bolted out of his chair, fumbling for the walkie-talkie at his belt. "Get someone down there. Now. I'm on my way."

He took the stairs down underneath the arena two at a time.

Two of the security guys had gotten Angel out by now, although they'd dispensed with most of the usual restraints. They'd cuffed his hands, but not done anything else.

Mr. Moody saw the problem immediately. "How the hell does he have a broken leg?" he roared.

"That vamp put up a good fight, must have done it during that last clash," one of the guards suggested.

"When that one regenerates, stake it," Mr. Moody ordered. "It was too smart anyway. And get that fence electrified." He crouched down beside his wounded vampire, feeling clumsily along the bone. Angel thrashed wildly and tried to bite him through the wires that held his fangs, his eyes wide with panic and pain. "All right, all right, calm down." Mr. Moody snapped his fingers at the guards. "Get a tranquilizer and get him put away for the night. Keep him off that leg. I'm gonna make some calls in the morning, see if I can find a vet that'll help."

The guards ran off to do his bidding. Mr. Moody rummaged around until he found the bag of blood on the shelf- he let Angel have more than usual, hoping it might help. "You did good, boy, real good. We'll get that leg fixed up and you'll be right back to it, huh?"

Angel ignored him, entirely focused on the food. His leg was at a bad angle, and Mr. Moody knew it was going to need attention sooner rather than later. "Come on," he muttered. "Don't break down on me yet, champ. I still need you."

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Part 31

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 30 🟣 Part 32

A reverse harem vampire AU ft. Mikey, Marshall, August, Sherlock, Charles, Melot and Napoleon

Series summary: Somehow, you've managed to live with your boyfriend and his roommates for months before finding out they're vampires, but the real shock first comes when they find out you have a special quality. A quality the guys would love to make use of...

Warnings: ongoing vampire shenanigans, Melot's ongoing identity crisis gets worse (courtesy of Mikey), lore (buckle up)

Word count: 2.9k

A/N: Alright, as promised! Major thank you to @geralts-yenn (as usual) and @wa-ni for putting these babies back in my brain. I hope they're there for the long run because OH BOY did I dream up some filth that I'm desperate to share with everyone...

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @ellethespaceunicorn @summersong69 @mis-lil-red

@sillyrabbit81 @livisss @itsrubberbisquit @ktficworld @proud-aroace-beastie

@plaidcat4815 @wa-ni @lovemusicpart2 @lizzystuffsthings @manysecrets2020

@sarcasmoverlordxo @mysweetlittledesire

Melot didn’t show up for dinner. He’d kicked you out of the room too, seconds after Mike had left, and now you were sitting at the dinner table, opposite questioning looks from the others.

“He wants to be alone,” Mike said. It was easier to get everyone to believe stuff like that when Mike said it. After all, the man knew what he was talking about.

It came as no surprise, then, that everyone dropped the subject. You ate dinner, mostly in silence, with ‘pass me the salt’ being virtually the only exception. It was hell.

Then, a flick of a switch. Off, on. Off again, and back on. Fast as lightning, and it sure as hell wasn’t the light. The feeling had come from somewhere inside you…

“You found him.” Marshall nodded approvingly from across the table, casting a few quick glances between you and Sherlock.

“Sherlock?” you asked. He looked at you with raised eyebrows and hummed by means of a reply. “Do that again, please.”

A smile spread across his handsome face at a glacial pace while a sigh of relief escaped you.

“As much as I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t mind you couldn’t find me, I must admit I am quite glad that you did manage,” he confessed.

“Where did you go?”

“I brought Melot a plate,” he explained. “Whatever Mike did — Mike, don’t bother — it shouldn’t keep Melot from August’s exquisite risotto.”

Dessert was the richest, creamiest and probably only homemade chocolate mousse you’d ever encountered in your life so far. It didn’t taste anywhere near as good as it should have.

“We should go talk to him,” Mike said. He'd practically inhaled his own dessert. You slid what was left of yours — about half — over to him. He made quick work of that, too, and then got up.

“I thought he wanted to be alone,” you said.

“He does,” Mike responded indifferently. “But just because he wants the sky to be green and the grass purple, doesn’t mean it’s going to happen.”

“He’s already working himself into a frenzy,” August added.

“Being alone is not good for Melot.” You were surprised that Charles even cared enough to weigh in on the situation, but you kept your mouth shut. Seemed like the smart thing to do.

“Absolutely correct.” Marshall threw a knowing smile your way.

Mike dragged you out of the kitchen, picking you up without asking to rush you to Melot’s room. He didn’t bother to knock.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Melot was lying on his bed, curled up in a ball, knees tucked tightly into his chest. His shoulders moved, although he didn’t make a sound. As soon as Mike spoke, Melot was on his feet, and in a split second the two were standing toe-to-toe with each other.

“You,” Melot snapped. “What did you do to me?”

Mike burst out in laughter. “What did I— you’re joking, right?”

A sharp smacking sound, Mike reaching for his cheek… Your eyes opened wide at the sight. Before Melot could strike again, Mike grabbed both of his wrists.

“I know you’re not seriously accusing me of what I think you just tried to accuse me of,” Mike snarled, baring his teeth. “It’s fine that you’re not sure how to handle this, but this” — he made a general gesture with his arms, dragging Melot’s along like he was a puppet  — “is not it.” He let go, his eyes suspicious.

“This is not who I am,” Melot stammered, his voice tired and broken.

“Oh, but it is, Melmel,” Mike said with a taunting grin. “You like boys.”

He what? You hadn’t seen that coming, that’s for sure. Okay, maybe a little, but you’d written off your interpretation of that strange, tense moment between the guys as a projection of a kind of fantasy you never even knew you’d had. Only it hadn’t been a fantasy. You’d simply seen that for what it was.

“I don’t—” Melot started, but Mike put a finger on his lips to shut him up.

“It’s the twenty-first century, baby!” He pulled his hand back again, draping his arms loosely around Melot’s neck. “Say it. I promise you’ll feel better.”

“I guess I’m… not gay, I mean, but maybe—”

“You’ll have plenty of time for the whole identity crisis later,” Mike said. “Just acknowledge what you know you’re feeling right now. It helps, trust me.”

“I like…” Melot’s voice faltered, and he cleared his throat. “I like at least one boy.” As soon as the words left his mouth, a sense of calm washed over him: he let his breath out on a dramatic sigh that turned into an exasperated chuckle, his shoulders dropped half a mile, and he leaned his forehead against Mike’s.

You’d watched the whole thing in silence, with an open mouth, and afraid to breathe or do anything to draw attention to yourself, but when Mike leaned forward and pressed the softest kiss on Melot’s lips…

“Aww.” Christ on a bike, what an award-winning response…

The boys turned their heads towards you. Mike raised an eyebrow, Melot looked shocked — as if he’d completely forgotten you were even there to begin with.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “But you two are surprisingly cute together.”

They both glared at you — Mike’s face morphing into a grin well before Melot’s did.

“Do they know?” Melot asked, his voice soft and brittle.

“Who? The mind-reading bunch of vampires, most of whom you’ve been living with for multiple centuries?” Mike raised his eyebrows and rolled his eyes. It looked so silly that you couldn’t help but laugh.

The whole situation felt strangely comfortable, yet at the same time you felt incredibly out of place in it. Should you leave them to it? There was clearly a lot to unpack here, still, and you weren’t sure if you had any business being there to begin with.

“Don’t leave,” Mike said, once again grinning like a fool. “As badly as he wants me, he wants you more.”

Melot let out a frustrated cry before launching himself onto his bed in the most dramatic way. It was adorable. He scrambled to get under the covers, and hid his face in a pillow.

“Too bad those aren’t going to keep me away,” Mike said as he slowly stalked towards the bed.  “Come on, sweetcheeks. He needs cuddles!”

You hesitantly walked over to the side Mike hadn’t claimed, and looked at Melot. He pulled the covers back, inviting you into the bed. A wave of relief rushed through you as you got into bed with the guys.

It was quiet for a long time, in which Melot kept looking back and forth between you and Mike, unsure what to do, what to say… “How can I want you both?” he finally whispered on an exhale.

“Sexually, the answer is easy,” Mike said. “We’re both smoking hot, and you like that, so—”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Melot muttered, his cheeks slowly coloring pink. “Okay, for her, sure — no offense. But you…”

“None taken?” you half-said, half-asked carefully. Mike chuckled.

“You’ve never been attracted to me, actually,” he said casually. “Not until last week, anyway. You were always so distant, so… high above all of us. Why?”

“I was the eldest — in a way. I had a responsibility,” Melot explained. “It always felt unnatural” — he considered his words for a moment — “well, not always. It’s complicated. I felt incredibly out of place in the old, authoritarian coven I was a part of before Charles and Sherlock… And when I turned them, I was able to finally break those bonds, but it left me with this strange power over them.” He sighed and closed his eyes. “I took care to use that power as little as possible. Charles fought me for the position more than once.”

“But, why?” you asked. The story didn’t exactly provide great publicity for Charles… Not that that surprised you.

“He thought I lacked experience,” Melot said. “He wasn’t wrong, per se. Charles and Sherlock both managed to hold onto their positions at court, even shortly after they were turned. I was constantly plagued by my visions, starting to discover my healing ability… Ancient vampires are widely known for having the impulse-control of a toddler on crack.”

Mike coughed — a poor attempt to cover up his laughter. Melot glared at him and continued: “I had spent five centuries staying out of everyone’s way, living in a large coven, away from human society.”

“Why did you leave?” you wondered.

“Remember what I said before? About you making me kneel by your feet like a dog?” Yeah. You remembered. “I didn’t make that up. Catharine — the Queen of that coven — kept me as one of her personal pets. I was her prized possession. Or rather: my gift was. She’d seek my counsel, and proceed to ignore it, punishing me when things invariably went completely sideways. I’m sure she cursed herself for training us and our gifts so well, when I finally ran. It allowed me to stay out of her hands for nearly two centuries before I was finally able to sever the bond with the help of Charles and Sherlock — mostly Charles.”

“How did you do it?” You snuggled closer to him — Mike did the same on his other side.

“I’m not proud of it,” Melot said, tears forming in his eyes. “She came after me once again, sweet at first, begging me to come back, pulling the strings with all her might. I thought she’d pull my heart right out of my chest. I’d only ever been able to resist her pull and run, but with Charles and Sherlock behind me, helping me… When I refused, the bond snapped. That’s when she attacked me. Charles took her out — he almost died doing it… If she’d come around a decade sooner, I wouldn’t have been able to save him. I owe him my life, in more ways than one.”

“That still doesn’t explain the high and mighty attitude from before,” Mike joked — was it a joke? Not completely…

“We agreed on a fairly democratic structure. It became more difficult when Sherlock created Marshall, and August somehow found his way back to the coven. You can’t imagine the amount of fighting I had to shut down between Charles and August.”

No, actually you could imagine that perfectly well.

Mike laughed. “You really can’t. They’ve been very civil since you got here.”

“And they’re more afraid of Sherlock than they ever were of me,” Melot added, finally smiling again. “I can’t say I mourn my involuntary resignation. I finally have the opportunity to see who I am, and who I want to be, and what I want to do.”

“And two of the things you want to do are in your bed right now,” Mike said, pressing his lips to Melot’s shoulder.

He shrugged him off. “Don’t make it sound so lewd,” he snapped. You ran a finger down his cheek, hoping to calm him as well as get his attention. It worked; he turned his head to you.

“Don’t listen to Mikey, you know he means well. He can’t help it he’s such a mess,” you said softly. Melot chuckled — it turned into full-blown laughter when he saw the adorable frown on Mikey’s face. “What do you want to do?”

Melot stared up at the ceiling. “I think I want to go to college,” he said slowly, chewing on every word.

“Hell yeah! You could probably start next semester,” Mike immediately chimed in cheerfully, a grin stretching across his face. “I mean, it’s too late to get a dorm but we can be roommates, and—”

“Mike!” you said, reaching over Melot to put a hand over his mouth. “Don’t scare him!”

“Why would I want to live in a dorm to begin with?” Melot asked, surprised.

“For the experience,” Mike explained.

You virtually begged for an explanation. What experience could he possibly mean? Constant noise, people everywhere, having a tiny bed in a tiny — and shared — room that always smelled of microwaved whatever?

“Yes! That experience!” He rolled his eyes at you when you pointed out he himself hadn’t been staying in a dorm last semester, either. “Sweetcheeks, this is my third degree.”

What? As it turned out, Mike had degrees in journalism and computer science. You stared at him when he told you, trying with all your might to keep your face in check.

“I'm not as much of a clown as you think, Sweetcheeks. Just mostly.” He grinned at you before nuzzling Melot’s neck. “I think you should talk to the others, Mel.”

“What if they think it’s a bad idea?” he said softly, pulling you closer. “What if they think I shouldn’t leave this place? That I'm not ready?”

“Just apply to a few schools. Enroll in a few community college classes, even. You can always cancel if you really don’t feel ready by the end of summer!” Mike was clearly excited about the idea of Melot going to college. “Talk to Sherlock first, if you want to be certain of support! There’s no way he won’t let you go!”

“Quick question,” you interjected before Mike or Melot could start another monologue you wouldn’t be able to break in to. “Why wouldn’t you be ready?”

“Think back to ‘follow the teeth’ for a moment,” Melot explained. “They’re always on the lookout for human blood. I’m an incredibly powerful vampire who has been shielded from humanity for an incredibly long time. To set me loose in an environment packed with humans — a school, for example — would be…”

“A choice,” Mike finished. “And a particularly poor one, too.”

“But with you around…” Melot smiled apologetically. “Please don’t think you’re no more than food for me, I… It’s not fair to ask this of you already. Any of it. I’m so incredibly sorry.” He tried to turn away from you, but Mike pushed him back.

“Melot, when I offered to let you feed earlier, I was not planning on that being a one time thing,” you said, stroking his cheek. “We may not know each other well yet, but I’d love to change that. Let’s take some time to hang out this summer, and you can feed with the same freedom as the others… And we’ll see how it goes. But please, at least keep your options open when it comes to college.”

Melot nodded slowly before pulling you in for a hug that Mike joined in on as soon as he could. “Thank you. Both of you.”

You cuddled in silence for a while. It was amazing — Melot finally felt warm, Mike let out a chorus of happy humming sounds, sometimes interrupted by adorably disgruntled ones as you and Mel both kept reprimanding him every time he tried to get handsy.

“Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to be in bed with two people and knowing they both want to fuck you, and to then just… get nothing?” he finally grumbled.

Melot almost jumped out of bed listening to Mike’s complaint. “What? I never said— I don’t… I—”

 “It’s okay, Mel,” you said. “Sometimes” — you glared at Mike — “our brain needs a little time to catch up to whatever carnal desire Mike already picks up on. And that’s okay.” You hissed those last words specifically at Mike.

“I promise that I am trying my very best to behave!” Mike huffed. “I really am! But he’s reacting to visions he’s having of things that will probably happen and it’s driving me insane! Mel is really making this hard for me — interpret ‘this’ either way.”

“How do you know they’re visions I’m reacting to?” Melot wondered.

“There’s a difference between a simple desire and anticipation,” Mike said like it was supposed to explain anything. One look at your — and Melot’s — confused face made him roll his eyes. “It’s like… We always want blood, right? Well, that desire feels differently when we’re about to sink our teeth into someone. It becomes more present, heightened…”

“That doesn’t explain how you know he’s reacting to visions — which, by the way, you told me weren’t actually visions, Melot?” you noted.

“Call them visions for simplicity, I really couldn’t explain it. You’ll see for yourself, at some point.” Melot’s confidence when it came to this statement was haunting. “Back to the question: Mike… how?”

“You react in a similar way to immediate anticipation,” Mike explained. “It’s subtler — duller, almost — but it’s distinct.”

You both looked at him in awe. “How is your gift stronger and more sophisticated after four decades than mine are after fourteen centuries?” Melot exclaimed dramatically.

“I use this gift all the time,” Mike explained with a big, goofy smile. “It’s not like seeing the future, which isn’t a stable gift to begin with — yeah, I pay attention to the things Sherlock says sometimes — or the healing, which you literally just admitted to not practicing for the first few centuries of your existence. Bet you could get into med school with that…”

“I don’t want to,” Mel whispered.

“See? You can’t complain about not developing a gift you refuse to use.” Mike saying something that smart and logical was a phenomenon that just never got old. “Right now, what we should be developing, anyway, is your ability to function around humans.”

You just so happened to have an idea on how to do that…

[hyperfixat]

one kiss pls angel man please olease please sunday i want u so bad

[bmpmp3]

the really beautiful landscape/skyscape animation in makoto shinkai's works tends to be the big thing i see focused on and that is understandable and deserved like the weather and lighting effects are unREAL but i do think we should also appreciate how absolute insane the plotlines of his original movies get. at least two movies with in universe catastrophes with major ecological implications. the guns and explosions. theres that one movie i havent seen yet with the guy who turns into a chair (?)

[nejackdaw]

Thinking about that time in our first campaign my character's dad (adoptive, a very important baron) almost died.

Apparently, he was supposed to. He was not supposed to survive contact with the lich. Don't even ask me how or why we got to the lich, genuinely all I remember is panicking because all of a sudden he had like five hit points and as the party schemer I had two thoughts that erased my awareness of everything else: (1) MY FUCKING DAD (2) THIS LICH IS GOING TO KILL US.

See, my job is finding ways to get us out of things, and as a wizard, I was well equipped to handle that. Except thought one, "MY FUCKING DAD," took priority over EVERYTHING ELSE. My little wizard was orphaned and down his only brother. This guy was all he had. His whole world. World's #1 dad.

... And the lich almost one shot him. He was collapsed on the ground and struggling for breath. This did not register as a cinematic moment to me because I was PANICKING. We roll initiative.

The lich rolls highest. I'm frantically looking through my notes to see what's available to me. Tries to kill me, too. Counterspell.

My turn. Throwing ALL CAUTION to the wind, plan only vaguely half formed, I run up to the baron and tell the DM I'm going to drag him back to the party.

"Your speed is halved from carrying him. You can't make it in 15 feet."

There's dead silence. Everyone is waiting for my response. Seconds of silence. "What are you going to do?" (DM speak for "please hurry up.")

"... I'm a tabaxi. I can make it in 30."

I double my movement speed and drag him back there anyway, to the confused relief of the party. Our sponsor (MY FUCKING DAD) is safe for right this second, but how are we going to fight a LICH?

"Anything else?"

"... I have a scroll of teleport in my bag. And I'm within 10 feet of everyone." Most importantly, I'd DUCKED BEHIND A WALL OF BARRELS AND CRATES so the motherfucker couldn't see me to counterspell.

There's dead silence for a few moments. The voice chat proceeds to blast my eardrums with excited cheering and laughing. The DM and I both pull up the spell. "Roll for it. Where are you going?"

"Home."

I roll a 99. We vanish from the lich's lair and are deposited, battered, bleeding, without guidance, in the charred, crumbled ruins of what had been the baron and I's residence. (It had not been that way until very recently. It was news to me.) There's relieved silence. There's an emotional reunion in what remains of our living room. I cast Tiny Hut in a defensible corner of the ruins after we all chat and we get what sleep we can.

(The DM would later confess that the baron wasn't supposed to survive and he had to change his plans now lol. We were supposed to be cut off from all resources at that point. My dad showed up in the final fight since he'd survived TWO murder attempts [ig the BBEG was the third lmao] and, well. I schemed then, too.)

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

Anon with the "GW not bad for Faerghus" ask. I couldn't read your full response bc your other blog is private but yes, there are people who say that the Kingdom is not in a bad position. Mostly those who think Claude's "scheme" will force Edelgard to end the war bc he could ally with the "still strong" Kingdom to crush her if she didn't, and that GW is some kind of "golden ending" for the three nations. Some even argue that Claude freed Faerghus/Dimitri from the Church's chains - or whatever.

I don't know if you saw my post where I mentioned you should be able to read it now, but if you didn't you should still be able to. I think I switched off the setting for that because I didn't realize it would prevent you from seeing the whole ask. :o

That's wild to hear though that people think the Kingdom isn’t in a bad position. They've lost a lot of military power regardless of whether or not they lose influence. Like I mentioned in the previous ask, it's basically up to Claude whether or not they retain their influence (regardless of what Petra wants in GW or what she thinks she knows about Fodlan lol). If they do, they still have no military might. If Sreng invades they're fucked if Claude doesn't treat them like a vassal state of Leicester and help them under the pretext that Faerghus is now part of Leicester.

In other words, they’re at best a vassal state and otherwise left alone, and at worst they’re left to rot.

Technically, Claude could try to get them to help him fight against the Empire, sure, but they won’t have the military might to help him very much, and like I mentioned in the last ask, the chances of it working are slim. Gautier won’t help and I can say that with pretty much full certainty, and if Gautier won’t help then Fraldarius probably won’t either (remember, it’s Felix who makes the final decisions now and not Rodrigue, so if Felix sees Sylvain is still upset about his father and won’t help the Alliance because of what they did, Felix won’t help them either. Felix is extremely emotional about his friends - especially his childhood friends. If you fuck with them then he’s going to fuck with you).

So now, Claude can either decide to try to force them to help, which would invoke another fight between him and Faerghus and cause more deaths, or he’ll just have to accept that he’s not getting help/a lot of help from Faerghus (I detailed it more in the other ask, so hopefully you can access the rest of it now!).

Post GW, Faerghus won’t be helping anyone in a war, I can tell you that. It’d take everything they had to keep Sreng out and to fix any damages from the Alliance’s attack. Even if Claude called on them, they just... couldn’t help.

Unfortunately even in GW they imply that Dimitri is “freed” of the Church, so of course most people take that at face value and don’t look any deeper than what’s told to them. Dimitri isn’t really free or not free of the Church. He was never in a situation where he was being controlled by them. They’re on friendly terms, but that’s really it. Rhea doesn’t tell Dimitri what to do or how to run Faerghus. It’s just that the people there are very devout because of their good relations with the Church and because Rhea helps Faerghus when they need help. It’s give and take for them just like any political situation. Faerghus isn’t in a bad position because they’re around. They’ve only really benefitted from the Church if anything, because Rhea doesn’t personally involve herself with their political decisions.

The whole “we have to free Dimitri from them” thing sounded more to me like Claude needing to find something “good” to hang onto to excuse himself for making those choices. As it was he was grasping at straws to justify their invasion to begin with. He already didn’t have a good pretext for attacking them. Saying “we’re freeing you” is like... his lowkey way of saying he needs to make himself feel better about it, because Dimitri didn’t need his or anyone’s help to begin with. If they were left alone, Faerghus would’ve been fine. Edelgard in GW is struggling on both sides of the war, so if Faerghus hadn’t been attacked by the Alliance, I can guarantee the Empire would’ve just lost.

Really, if Claude teamed up with the Kingdom in the first place and took down the Empire, they would’ve spared themselves more lives and bloodshed in the long run. Claude caused even more battles to happen and got more innocent people killed. I think by the end of the game he did figure out that he made the wrong decisions, but by then it was too late and he couldn’t take back what he did so he needed to find ways to justify all of it to himself.

I just wish they actually came out and said that though instead of running around it in circles while trying to make us believe he actually believes that the Kingdom was just better off without the Church. They weren’t doing badly with the Church involved or not involved. It was the invasion that hurt them. If Claude skipped around Fhirdiad and killed Rhea, regardless of plot or context or anything, just like, imagine he didn’t invade Faerghus and they just passed through and killed Rhea, then Faerghus’ situation might get a little more complicated for inheritance, but I think just with Dimitri’s temperament that they’d be able to stave off any legitimacy issues pretty quick. That is, people liked him in power so the populace would still be in favor of having him as king whether the Church was there or not. Rodrigue was well liked, so he’d be a perfect public figure to calm down any potential anxiety and worry with the loss of the Church. They could’ve actually made it without the Church, but it was mostly the invasion that really hurt the country and dug them into a hole for the future.

[tonycries]

Unmistakably Yours - G.S.

Synopsis. In which the strongest bends space and time - literally - after coming back from deatḣ, to do what he’s always wanted to do - you.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, best friends to lovers, Satoru goes a little (very) INSANE, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, manga spoilers, use of jujutsu powers, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, féral Satoru, heinous things, happy ending, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.5k

A/N. Yeahhh that poll was cooking up something devious heheh. Gege give me back my man.

Gojo Satoru was going to kill someone.

He was going to kill someone and it didn’t matter who. It didn’t matter how. It didn’t even matter if he had to haul his broken body - scarred and barely-healed - out of this stiff infirmary bed, because the great Gojo Satoru awoke and the world shook.

Because you weren’t here.

“Ah. The oh-so deadest one, I see you’re awake.” Satoru flinches at the sharp, exhausted drawl from his left. 

Slowly, he blinks away the haze in his aching eyes, desperately trying to adjust to the cold room. Shoko’s voice was too loud. The lights too bright. His waiting arms too empty - where were you? 

With a low hiss, Satoru’s body is moving before his mind, sitting up like a man possessed. Goosebumps prickle his skin as the thin blanket falls off his shoulders. Temples throbbing because the world was spinning and spinning and you-

“Calm down, Satoru.” Shoko sounds almost panicked now - as much as she could, anyway. Uselessly trying to push him back onto the mattress. “I don’t care if you’re the ‘strongest’. Sukuna did a number on you and you have to rest-”

“Where is she?”

---

It was the final nail on your coffin - that slight, steady rumble beneath your feet. So fleeting that you’d written it off as your weary brain, too goddamn tired from today. Heaving out a sigh, you rub your eyes in frustration, so fucking alone in this too-large penthouse. 

Fingers jittery, you rifle through your best friend’s closet for his box of blindfolds, because you knew he’d be complaining about the sensory overload at the infirmary if- when he woke up. Though, you think that was more an excuse for Shoko to send your wrecked self away than anything. 

Grabbing a few more than necessary, your heart lurches as you eye that dusty framed photo by his bedside. A much younger Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, and you - probably the last time any of you smiled so carelessly. 

One dead and the other just on the cusp of it.

He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’s the strongest, right?

Swallowing heavily, you try to put your mind to something - anything - other than the memory of that battlefield and the blood. So much blood. Everywhere. 

God, you should’ve stayed. What if Satoru-

That was when you felt it. 

The tight, uncomfortable feeling of atoms standing at attention all around you. The air was so stagnant and heavy that it was almost hard to breathe. 

You don’t know how you realize what it is - but you don’t get the chance to wonder about it either. Because the thought has barely even crossed your mind before everything else is thrown at the window at those two words. 

Hoarse, and whispered, voice ever-so-slightly cracking at the end. One you recognized, one you knew you always would.

“My love?”

Satoru.

It was a miracle that you didn’t get whiplash from how fast you whirled around to face the doorway - and it was an even bigger miracle that you didn’t trip at how your legs were carrying you to that tall, familiar flash of white hair without a second thought. 

Hell, you don’t think you’ve ever run this fast in your life, and it still wasn’t quick enough when Satoru engulfed you in his arms. Letting out a soft sigh as he hugs you tight enough that it hurt, like he never wanted to let go. 

All familiar warmth and a rapid heartbeat that matched your own. 

A shiver runs down your spine at that scent of the infirmary, tinged with something so dangerously metallic, miles away from the usual hints of pine and candy. But you only pull Satoru closer - not even realizing the tears staining his snug t-shirt, nails digging into his sculpted back. 

“S-Satoru?” you murmur wetly, as if you still couldn’t believe it - even when you were in his strong arms. 

It killed you to pull away, and Satoru wasn’t any better, pulling you firmly to his heated body with a guttural grunt as soon as you showed any signs of shifting away. Grip almost bruising, fingers tight on your hips. But you didn’t mind, why would you? 

Because the strongest was nothing under your will - he always was. And it’s only once you break the embrace just a fraction of an inch that you confirm that this actually was Satoru - your Satoru. 

“You’re here.” you breathe out unsteadily, not knowing where to look first - his heaving chest, as if he’d run all the way here, or those faint scars along his exposed skin. Jagged, running down his pale skin like he was too impatient - too distracted - to let them heal properly. Satoru’s face was scarily blank, pretty lips set in a tight grimace like every second you weren’t locked in his arms killed him. 

He doesn’t answer - like he didn’t know himself. Nervously, you raise your eyes to meet his and-

Oh, Satoru, he was here. Alive.

Looking like he was ready to make sure that no one else was.

You just wondered where they’d pile all the casualties. Too many to bury at Jujutsu High if those tiny blue flickers of lightning at the corners of Satoru’s eyes were anything to go by. 

Gaze hooded, pupils blown, he didn’t look at you with that usual warmth. No, he looked at you like a man that had crawled back from death just to rip you apart. And you had half the mind to wonder whether this was some special grade curse that had just come disguised as your best friend. 

“Are you okay?” you try again, raising a hand to cup his cheek. “Toru?”

Oh, you might as well have just signed your own will, because no sooner are the words out of your mouth before Satoru’s jolting. Like the mere sound of that stupid little nickname from high school was enough to shock him to his very core. 

Electrify him just enough to finally look at you like it was the first time. Like he was seeing you after a thousand years. “My love.”

There it was again, that quiet, strained little mantra. 

Followed very closely by the deafening slam! of the door behind him, so hard that you spy one of the hinges rattling off. Startled, you look over Satoru’s broad shoulders just to catch a glimpse of the single, large handprint charred into the wood, slight steam wafting from his hand.

Shit. He’s lost it.

Almost like the strongest has forgotten his restraint - or didn’t care about it either way. Heated, you wondered what this boded for you. 

Will you be lucky number one on his kill list? You wonder, as Satoru presses his mouth right above your pulse. Racing. Dangerous. Feeling the rapid thump! thump! thump! under his lips.

Breathing you in, dragging his nose up, up, up- He mutters into your skin, “Y’can kill me if you don’t want this.” Will you go down - if there’s anyone left to remember, that is - as the casualty that surely and officially signaled the honored one’s descent into madness? Only the second best friend he had to kill?

Or, Satoru pulls away slowly from his little haven, breath ghosting your lips as he gasps out a shaky, “No God can take me away without doing this.” Will it be something else entirely?

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. 

Because fuck, how could you not? This is Satoru, and this is all you’ve ever wanted since those late night convenience store runs in high school, hand-in-hand and teleporting away from a furious Yaga.

The same Satoru that had cockily winked at you goodbye before facing Sukuna - leaving you crying with nothing to hold onto but those cold, cold hands and wishes that you’d have just fucking kissed him before. Maybe even put aside your pride to just tell him.

But none of that mattered now, because Satoru was so desperate - drinking you in like you were the last breath of air on Earth. Like it hurt more to part with your lips than it was to be cleaved in half.

Such a mess of teeth and saliva, and you were addicted. Drunk off his sweet taste - like candy, almost, and those cheap mochi he always got from downtown - and the electricity pricking at you each time your skin grazed against his.

It almost hurt - but it hurt so good.

Gasping, you pull away for air - impossible with the way Satoru was like a madman, kissing your swollen lips again and again and-

“Toru!” you squeal, muffled through his lips. “Aren’t you-” His mouth drops into a soft oh! at the delicate strings of saliva snapping in the non-existent space between you two. Surging forward like he couldn’t help himself. “Battlefield- mmpf- now?”

With a pained grunt, Satoru finally halts, just a hair’s breadth from your lips. And if you were in any better state of mind, maybe you’d have noticed the brief flicker of blue lightning all over his body. The way the lights flicker. 

“Special curtain.” he pants against your open mouth, a muscled thigh shoving between your weakening legs. “Time barely passes in here.”

You don’t know what your head is reeling more from his words or his hands - hands that kill - caressing you like a lover everywhere. Unable to decide between your hips, to your ass, to your pretty pretty face. Kiss-bitten lips uttering, “Everyone’s waiting for you.”

“So?” Satoru lets out a humorless laugh. About an octave higher than usual, like he was at the end of his rope now. Eyes hazy and glowing, looking as if it took everything in him to not just tear off that uniform and take you right now. 

“But-”

“Shut up and let me ruin you, my love.”

Your back is hitting the mattress before you can even start to wonder what the fuck is happening. One second standing at the doorway and the other all sprawled out on Satoru’s bed.

Besides yourself, you blurt out, trying to make sense of the situation to both of you two. “Did- did you just teleport us?”

“Don’t know.” he answers. And Satoru sounded like he genuinely didn’t know, as bewildered as you were. Powers acting before him - way, way before he can think - as he fists your shirt in his hands. “Don’t care.”

And you half wondered whether Satoru was even aware of what he was doing as he pulls, down, down down. 

Rip!

It tears through the air - both the sound, and the way he’s just pulling your shirt to shreds. All depravity and no repentance as Satoru throws it behind God-knows-where. Buttons hitting the floor at a maddening little rhythm to which he was slowly losing his sanity. 

He was kissing you like he was angry - taking it out on your poor clothes. Because before you know it, he’s pulling your bra off. Fingers searing on your skin, skirt just tatters on the floor. 

“Waited too long.” he groans, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. “Always wanted to do this.” And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into the valley of your breasts, “Ever since I first saw you and oh-”

That was it - only one look at your panties, all flimsy and drenched - and you’re back to wondering what Satoru’s kill count would be. You shudder as his eyes widen, letting out a strangled gasp from some deep, primal part of himself. Voice so broken and starved as he muses, “-can’t believe I waited this long.”

Shit. You weren’t making it out alive.

Immediately, Satoru’s dropping further down the mattress, easily pushing your knees up all the way till they were at your breasts. 

And it was so unfair. 

Unhair how he was still fully clothed, while you were spread so shamefully. Unfair how he was sliding his underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Up and down, up and down up and- Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertips before pulling, marveling at how sinfully soaked they were. 

And it was like something snapped - maybe his whatever restraint he had left, probably you by the end of this. Because just a split-second later, Satoru’s tearing right through your panties. Not even taking a second to breathe before burying his pretty face into your dripping cunt. 

Unfair how you were liking it so dangerously. Being so used. 

And Satoru knows - he thinks, with whatever rationality he has left intact - that he wants to admire your pretty lil’ cunt. To finally drink in what he’s been dreaming about for years all these lonely nights. But, no, that’s for later - for a different Satoru, one that didn’t feel like he was going to fucking die if he didn’t taste you right now. 

“Ah! Hngh- T-Toru-” you arch into his hot tongue, as he licks erratically up your folds, long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Lapping at your juices like he couldn’t stop.

“Tha’s right.” words muffled into your cunt. Throwing your legs over his sculpted shoulders. “Gimme more, use me. Use me- fuck fuck fuck- yeah.”

He sounded as delirious as you were already, flinching with each word spat into your sensitive cunt. Drunk off your pussy and so messy, like he was well and fully intent on ruining you. 

And it’s all you can do to sob so needily as he swirls his tongue around your sensitive clit. Seemingly unable to decide between sucking on it harshly and dipping into your sloppy hole. In and out. Wanting everything. Anything. 

“Fuck. S’too deep. Sh-shit.”

“Oh yeah?” he’s grinning, a cruel, cold little grin. You can feel it as he rolls his tongue against your clit over and over. “S’not deep enough.”

You pathetically try to close your legs around his head in shock, as the tips of his long fingers spread open your pussy further, teasing your entrance. 

But who were you against the strongest? The one that got everything handed to him on a silver platter since birth? Except you - until now, that is.

Because Satoru’s swatting thighs back open like it was a mere inconvenience, and feel your cunt clench in- fear? Anticipation? as you realize how gently he was throwing you around like a ragdoll, in comparison to that door from earlier. 

“No.” he sounds absolutely wrecked, babbling around your throbbing clit. “Need this- need you.”

And then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, so greedily that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Drinking in your pretty gasps of his name as he roams for that one spot he knows will have you seeing stars - only the best for his girl, right? The only thing on his mind right now, like a predator starved.

You can only tug on his hair and buck wildly underneath him, inching Satoru closer to where he was desperately searching for. Close - so close. 

“Toru-” you moan, like a prayer. 

But it wasn’t fast enough. 

Not for Satoru, at least.

Even through the haze in your eyes, you could make out that brief flash of electric blue in-between your legs, eyes widening as ah-

That cheat. 

You wondered if he even knew he was using his powers right now. Or whether Satoru was too far gone at this point. Way too smug with the way he hits that one spot. Hard. 

Ah, you quiver as something so dark sparks in his eyes. Looking like a man starved, that had finally come across his favorite meal. Moving with frightening accuracy as he pumps his fingers in and out, hitting it each and every time. 

“Shit, ngh-” you let out a shrill moan, “It’s too good. You’re so fucking-” 

One hand was so messy toying with your dripping entrance - the other digging into your hips. Dragging your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. 

Hard enough that you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. If you even made it that long, that is, if the tiny shocks of electricity at his fingertips told you anything. 

Desperate. Violent, even.

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same. “Fuck- m’cumming m’cumming, fuck fuck fuck-” You’re shaking as you cum, crying out Satoru’s name and delirious little moans that you’d otherwise be embarrassed of. 

And he doesn’t stop. Not when you’re blinking your vision back. Not when you’re shying away from his tongue, the stars behind your eyes too much with each flick of his tongue. 

“S’too much- too- fuck, sensitive, Toru.” you whine, big fat tears clinging to your lashes. 

Ah, there it was again. Just when Satoru was beginning to think that he might just be veering into a state of mind that could be considered sane - you have to call him that goddamn nickname again. And it’s only driving him wild. 

Well, he muses, fumbling with the hem of his t-shirt, it’s really on you then. 

You let out a fucked-out little whine as Satoru finally takes his shirt off, revealing such milky, toned skin. All sharp curves and dips like he was sculpted so meticulously, going down, down, down and- Your breath hitches at the large, pink scar standing out of his torso, so uneven and fresh that you feel a fresh wave of tears - different ones, this time. 

You take a steadying breath, eyes unmoving from the injury. “Satoru-”

“No.” Satoru’s tone is firm, so different from the metallic tinkling of his belt. He was moving now, shifting in between your legs to kiss those tears away. “Need this. Need you. Need you need you need you so bad-”

“But your…” you trail off. The words catch in your throat as he finally unbuckles his belt, pulling down his pants just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, soaked in precum. 

He was so…massive. Now, you expected your best friend to have a big dick, but this was ridiculous. He was so intimidatingly long, thick enough that you could feel the slick beading out of your sloppy hole already.

Yeah, you definitely weren’t making it out alive. 

Satoru sees it too, of course, because his cock twitches furiously. A low hiss leaving those pretty pink lips before he’s spitting on your quivering cunt. Once. Twice. 

And you know that if this shameless bastard could use six eyes to find your g-spot, then he could’ve done the same for this. But, no, he lets some of it miss, splattering against your inner thigh, smearing all over as Satoru thumbs in his saliva with your slick. 

God, he was treating you like some object. Wordlessly throwing your legs over his shoulders, dragging his weeping tip down your swollen folds. So fucking filthy. 

And then you feel like you’re been split apart - because Gojo Satoru was unforgiving. As was his aching cock. He’s barely even pressing through the first ring of muscle, and you already feel like he’s pushing all the way into your lungs. 

“T-Toru.” you yelp, glancing down at the way your pussy was stretched so lewdly around his thick cock. Quivering as he keeps pushing and pushing and- no mercy. Absolutely none at all. “Can feel you so deep inside ngh- I don’t think I can…” 

“No no no no no-” he’s panting into your open mouth. Fucking into your heavenly cunt in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to squeeze deeper inside. “Need this. Want this. Always did. God, fuck fuck fuck, you can do it-”

“But-”

God, Satoru can’t help but kiss you - to shut those cute lil’ whines up more than anything, he’s sure he’ll cum right there and right now if he didn’t. 

Because Satoru wasn’t any better. Body bowing into yours, eyes rolling to the back of his head, mouth falling into a delirious oh! as he finally bottoms out. Balls smacking your ass too hard, your pussy too tight, you too beautiful underneath him. 

Blindly, he reaches for the headboard - white-knuckling it so hard that it’s a wonder it doesn’t break. 

It does - and later you’ll find a pile of splinters behind the bed. It’s just that neither of you notice. Too high off the feeling of Satoru’s cock pushing inside you. You’re clawing at his back now, gasping for air. Letting him fold you in half to filthily lick away the tears pooling at your cheeks. 

“Shit- y’got this, my love. You gotta- ah- Breathe-” he can’t even speak properly, sharp tongue so heavy. Eyes glowing with such insanity as he rocks his hips harder into yours.

He was right - you needed to breathe. To finally wrap your head around the fact that this was Satoru - your best friend - the same one that binge-watches sappy rom-coms with you after every breakup. Every. Single. One. Somehow, you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Both of you were barely-lucid at this point. And he was out of control now.

Funny, how in all his dreams when you were screaming his name - Satoru was always suave, methodical, playing with your pretty pussy like a fine instrument. Right now, he was anything but. Sloppy - like he didn’t have enough time, never would, even in this room where time slowed.

“Don’t you run away.” he grunts at the way you’re so adorably torn between running away from his cock and bucking for more more more- “Waited twelve fucking years for this. N’ m’gonna take it.”

You almost sob at the pressure as he laces his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper. Down, down, down. “S’too good, Toru. Wan’ more-”

“More.” Satoru breathes, more to himself than anything. Eyes widening almost comically, a fucked-out smile spreading all over his face. “Y’want more even when you’re filled to-” He traces an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “Here?”

“Yes.” you gasp as he reaches down to toy with your throbbing clit, drawing tight, frenzied little circles. Balls smacking your ass so painfully, thumb pressing down right where his tip was hitting your cervix - as if he used six eyes to see. “Always wanted more. Always have, Toru.”

And you swear you could see something physically snap inside Satoru. Because his eyes glaze over, grin dropping instantly from his face. 

If you weren’t so cockdrunk maybe you’d have caught the way the bedroom lights flicker, the one down the hallway bursting. 

“Always, huh?” he’s muttering, grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Wanted more like me?” Rocking into you so sloppily, cock twitching so painfully as he speeds up. Fingers just as desperate - as depraved as his hips.

And this time, he doesn’t even have to use six eyes to find that one spot. Knowing your body well enough to hit it over and over until you were sobbing. “More more more more- fuckin’ take it then.”

At this point you didn’t know whether Satoru was always this ruthless in bed or you’d just broken him. It felt so good that it was almost scary. And your delirious mind wandered into the thought that maybe the bed would break - and your bones to follow. 

Well, they would have if Satoru hadn’t been using reversed cursed technique. But you didn’t need to know that just yet. 

“Satoru-” you squeal as he only gets more erratic.  “I’m…”

“Close?” Satoru’s grunting, smacking his lips against your own.

It’s laughable, really, that muffled question - because Satoru knew you were close. Losing his fucking mind, actually, at how you were squeezing so hard around him. Balls squeezing so painfully right now, but he wanted you to cum first - needed you to cum first.

“Yeah, so close. Wan’ cum- Ah! Please-”

“Then cum. Fucking cum, wan’ed this so bad.” he’s babbling deliriously. Little sparks of lightning visible even to your glassy eyes, fingers humming with a dangerous little energy that stimulated you so good. “Yeah, yeah yeah yeah fucking cum, wanna hngh-”

And then you are. So sudden and hard that you don’t even realize it at first. Just that you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. Rocking your hips into Satoru’s like such a slut. 

Oh, if heaven was really then the part of Satoru that can still form coherent thoughts thinks this just might be it. 

Because only the sight of you creaming all around his swollen cock and he’s cumming and cumming so hard that it hurts. Thick, hot ropes of cum that he can’t seem to stop. Doesn’t want to stop, and God he thinks he could cum until you beg and beg and beg it’s too much. Until you’re yelling for-

“Mercy!” you moan, head spinning with how fucking overfilled your pussy was. “Please, Toru-”

Satoru lets out a slight gasp, “Mercy?” Chuckling so cruelly at your dazed nod, “No mercy, my love. None at all.”

And God, it was so fucking hard to look at him too - eyes half-lidded and miles away, flushed and looking like he was anywhere but laid out on a hospital bed just a few minutes ago. In fact, Satoru looked like he was in heaven on Earth as he only milked his painfully hard cock on your snug pussy.

Pretty. Always so fucking pretty. 

And he kept whispering that, over and over in your ear as you both ride out your highs. Oh how he loved you.

Your eyes fly open, and Satoru knew he’d said that out loud. Shit. But, well, with the way you were immediately pulling him to collapse into your arms, he thinks he really doesn’t mind.

“Love you, love you. Love you so much. Always did, always wanted to love you- to fuck you.” You barely even notice him marking down your neck, sharp canines digging into the flesh like he wanted to break something. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood. “To ruin you.”

It was oozing out of you, both Satoru’s cum - dribbling down your legs in thick globs, pooling on the overpriced sheets below - and his power. Jolts of electricity running down all the way from your poor, abused cunt to your hazy mind. 

“So do it.” The air was crackling - crackling with intensity and the smell of jujutsu. It was in your veins, in your words as you whisper, “Ruin me. You’re the- ngh- only- one f’me, Toru. Always was.”

The lights go out. All of them - all across Tokyo, in fact. Shining so bright that it was blinding, until they burst. The last thing you see are his eyes - electrified with blue lightning, burning into your brain. 

And then it’s black. 

---

“I’ll be back before ya know it, my love.” he whispers against your forehead, cooing at the way you stir sleepily. “Gotta pest to take care of.”

Taking down that curtain wasn’t the hard part, the hard part was actually fucking regaining his senses enough to do so. 

And now, all cleaned up and fucked to sleep on his bed, you were looking so unbearably delectable that it made some part of Satoru just want to stay behind this curtain. To forget the waiting sorcerers on the battlefield. Saving the world be damned.

Well, no matter, Satoru had time. He was the strongest, right? After all, how could he give you the world if there was no world to give?

“N’ when I’m back, m’gonna kiss ya to death till you go out with me. Till everyone knows you’re unmistakably mine.”

A/N. GET IT - that unmistakable bit from the panel? 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[chuluoyi]

✎ baby to the rescue

- gojo satoru x reader

in which gojo recruits your baby son to “save” you from a credit card salesman

genre: immense fluff !! baby gojo and dad!gojo shenanigans~

note: based on this and this reel. with this i hereby declare that anything past chapter 235 is null and void HAHA anyway, i truly want to post remarried empress au by this week but since 261 leaks hurt me so much, i need more fluff so have to postpone it to next week :') tagging @karikari19hikariiii <3

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Your husband Gojo Satoru... is handsome as hell, which means your baby son is also undeniably good-looking.

"Why do you pout at me?" Satoru poked his squirming baby's cheek while pursing his lips too. "C'mon, smile! That auntie is smiling at you!"

Everyone who passed by them in Shinjuku shopping district turned heads to admire him and his pumpkin just a little longer, and Satoru visibly enjoyed the attention. He smiled back at them, occasionally winking even.

If only they knew how pretty his wife was too...

Wait, no! On second thought, if they know how hot you are, there will be problems!

You had left him to go to the nearest pharmacy to restock some things, while Satoru decided to entertain his baby in the toy section. He basked in the starry-eyed looks people were giving him... until he heard some strange sounds and turned to his baby boy—

—who was chewing the beak of a duck toy with all his might. Satoru was mortified.

"—! Let that go! Your mama will beat me if she sees you eating this!"

Your baby paid him no mind though, desperately pushing the duck into his mouth. Satoru sat him on one of the empty racks and began the tug of war—

"Let go!" he reprimanded. "You're so naughty, gods—!"

Some people were now openly giggling at both of them. His son tried to resist by rolling, and Satoru clicked his tongue. He then yanked the toy away until his baby finally let it go, sniffling sadly that his papa wouldn't let him have the duck.

"Oh, you..." he picked him up again and consoled the pumpkin. "You can't do that, you hear? First, it's not clean. Second, mama will grow two heads to chew you and me both, understand?"

No, your son totally didn't understand a thing. Satoru sighed, seeing his little blue eyes welling up with tears. He ruffled his head and pulled him close. "There, there... I'll get you ice cream, okay? Now let's go."

Satoru was determined to turn his son back into a smiling, happy baby. But just as he was about to head towards the ice cream parlor, he encountered the most unbelievable sight—

"Miss! I guarantee you'll love this credit card features!"

You. That was clearly you, and a salesman (or a bozo, in Satoru's eyes) was trying to bother you.

You raised an eyebrow. "Uh, no— thank you—"

Yet the bozo was still persistent, like the pesky fly he was. "You can use it to pay for your monthly beauty treatments! Someone as pretty as you..." He eyed you from head to toe, blinking suggestively. "Oh my! Your skin is flawless! You have to maintain it this way! I can also give you recommendations for—"

You were wearing a flare dress that made you look so young and petite, and obviously, Satoru too was lusting after you. And true, your skin was smooth like a soft serve of mochi, but still!

You are meant for him and his eyes only! Oho, this bozo would get heavenly punishment.

He had to get to you somehow, but this was public space and if he cooked up some sort of shenanigan, you would put him in sex ban. I can't have that! so Satoru wracked his brain to think of another way...

Once again, his gaze fell on his now calm baby, who was also looking at his mama over there with utter curiosity. And an idea immediately popped up in his mind.

"Hey, kiddo, look at that, a bad man is trying to take your mama," Satoru nudged him as if trying to egg him on. "We can't let that happen. Will you help me to save her, hmm?"

"Mama..." your baby looked back at him so innocently before smiling. "Mamaaa!"

"Good boy." Gods, his baby was so adorable, he almost felt bad for doing this but...

Swallowing his guilt, thinking he would make it up later, he pinched his son's butt a little too firmly—

"WAAAA!" and suddenly, the little boy burst into tears, and even Satoru was surprised by the sheer volume of his wail.

The sudden inconsolable sound of your baby sent you scrambling in panic, your eyes wildly searching for him, completely disregarding the credit card man. "My baby!"

"Eh?" the credit card man was visibly surprised. "Oh... so, you're married...?"

You immediately made your way towards Satoru and snatched your baby from him, hugging him tightly. "Oh, there, there... What happened to you?" you shot your husband a distaste look as your son kept wailing. "Satoru, why is he crying?"

He nonchalantly shrugged. "Maybe missing his mama? Dunno~"

By now, you had completely forgotten the credit card bozo, but he still looked at the three of you in mild surprise. Satoru took this chance to approach him and whisper in his ear:

"You see, my wife doesn't need your credit card," he whistled. "My cards or lumpsum money will do more than enough."

After seeing how pale the bozo looked, Satoru chuckled darkly... before leading you and your son away from the crowd, with one arm possessively around your waist.

Epilogue

"I'm sorry— I'm sorry, okay!?"

Satoru looked down at his son in utter hopelessness, as the little boy refused to be held by him, looking at him with teary, resentful eyes, and backing away from him in his playpen.

Can babies hold a grudge? Satoru didn't know, but his son definitely was not happy with him, and he couldn't think of any other explanation other than his sin against him back this afternoon.

"I've bought you mochi ice cream!" he opened his palm to reveal the treat. "Don't you want some? Papa will give you some, yeah?"

Baby looked skeptical now, and at that moment, he resembled you so much—accusing eyes, pursed lips, exactly like the expression you would pull when you were unsure of what Satoru might do next. He almost chuckled at the resemblance, feeling giddy.

"C'mon, forgive me, yeah?" he patted his son's little beanie and offered his hand for him to take, eyes crinkling in fondness. "Now, here comes your treat, come closer?"

Your baby crawled closer, seemingly accepting him, and Satoru was all smiles, until—

Whack!

It happened in a flash. He could have avoided it, but he was too taken aback. The pain exploded in his jaw, so intense that he grunted loudly.

"What the—?! You... you—! You kicked me— in the face!"

[lady-lauren]

❥ KATSUKI BAKUGOU X FEM! READER

❥ WORD COUNT: 2.3k

❥ WARNINGS/TAGS: a/b/o dynamics (alpha Katsuki/omega reader), knotting, age-gap (Katsuki is in his grumpy 40s, you're in college), he calls you "kid", fucking in a pool, some mention of sex toys, degradation, creampie

→ Kinktober Masterlist ←

God, he’s too fucking old for this shit. Too god damn tired of the animal that kicks against his ribs whenever the slick smell of a willing cunt passes his nose. 

“ ‘m sorry,” you whisper, rolling your hips to suck his cock deeper in your drooling pussy. He grinds his molars at the too-tight feeling. 

“Fucking brat,” he hisses and clamps his hands to your doughy ass, jerking you up and down his cock. “Knew you were trouble. Fucking told you to stay away from me.” 

Katsuki knew he would end up fucking the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed college girl the day you moved in next door. He tried to stop it, he really did, showing you his teeth and growling any time the sweet stink of your omega scent greeted him. 

Yet he’s the one who couldn’t help himself. Humid summer air brought your pathetic smell right to him, had him peeking over the fence that separated his house from yours like a fucking perv.

The sight of you in your little pool, desperate to cool your too-hot skin, bikini bottoms floating next to you as you shoved a dildo into your aching hole was his breaking point. 

And now here you are, stuffed full of throbbing, thick alpha cock. Because you begged him, all fat tears and plump pouts as your heat clawed at your insides. 

He might be too old for this, but he’ll never get tired of how fucking stupid omegas get for dick. 

“The t-toys just weren’t…weren’t good enough.” 

You’re pinned between him and the pool wall, lips of your cunt dragging along his length over and over again as you try to find release. 

Copious amounts of slick gush from you, making his thrusting easier. Pearly strings of your cream float around the pool, lost to splash of him fucking into you. 

But even still, he’s so engorged with blood and hormones ready to knot that his fat cock struggles against your gummy walls. You hiss, not from pain, but from relief, so happy to be full that no amount of stretching will detract from your pleasure.

“You’re fucking pitiful.” 

Shame briefly shines in your blown-out eyes, a bit of humanity peeking through the haze of animal instincts. Shit. This is why he hates this, why he’s tried to avoid all the breeding nonsense. Omegas are so emotionally squishy. 

Not that he’s any better. One pout from you as you locked eyes with him across the yard made him jump a fucking fence and plunge his cock into your weeping hole at two in the afternoon. 

“Just can’t help it, can you, kid?” 

Red eyes trace over the body he’s been trying so hard not to imagine. The triangle fabric of your swimsuit is peeled away from your tits, your nipples puffy from how hard you were tugging on them before he got his hands on you. 

A little mhmmmm-mhmmmm sounds from lips pressed too tightly together, your head lolling back as you keep bucking against him with your eager, exposed pussy. 

You’re a mess, all swollen and gooey and desperate. 

“Such a dumb omega,” he groans and wraps his arms around your back, pressing your soft body all the way against his, “fucking yourself out in the open. Wanted me to find you? Wanted the old man next door to fuck you stupid.”

“N-no,” you lie so easily. “Too hot, was too hot and couldn’t get off and—”

“Bullshit. You started splashin’ around out here just praying I’d catch your scent.” 

“C-can’t help it, pr-promise. You just always smell so fucking good, alpha.”

Makes sense now why you always seem to be out on a walk when he gets home from work, and why you always seem to need something from him. He was a nice neighbor and gave you his number when you moved in all on your own, a little omega lost in a big college town. You would message him for help around your place at least once a week—changing light bulbs, fixing a leaky faucet, even opening a goddamn jar a few nights ago. 

He told you several times to stop bothering him, yet you never could catch the hint that fooling around with an alpha was going to get you bitten. 

Relentlessly he pounds his hips, the buoyancy of the water making it effortless to hold you and fuck in deep. His thighs barely feel any strain, his back muscles rolling like a true predator as he starts to use his arms to pull you up and down. 

Katsuki slides his fat cock until it’s barely in your pussy, mushroom tip caught by the suctioning ring of muscle inside of you. Then he bottoms out, balls connecting with your ass under the water with a muted thump. 

“God, fuck, that’s good, so good,” you’re fucking loud, “feel so fucking good in my pussy.” 

“Christ, you wanna let the whole neighborhood knowing I’m fucking you?”

​​The fuck-drunk little smile on your face tells him that maybe you do. 

And he thought he was the perv. 

“You’re such a fucking slut,” he whispers furiously, kissing you with so much force it makes your back arch in his strangle hold. 

A thick hand wraps around your throat. He doesn’t squeeze, just leaves it there possessively as his tongue forces its way between your lips. You unconsciously moan, your own tongue meeting his, but he presses it down, not wanting it in the way. You give in, letting him encircle your tongue with his own so he can taste you. He pulls back to suck your bottom lip into his mouth, teeth roughly dragging against it.

“Like feeling my cock spread you apart, hm? Maybe I’ll get you a dildo my size for next time you wanna put on a little show.” 

You purr and it makes him want to scratch you to pieces. 

The burning stretch of your omega cunt is bliss. The smell of sex and chlorine sting his nose, make him lose it a bit and press so hard inside of you that his cock nearly meets the resistance of your cervix. Not that you seem to mind it—your nails are sinking into his wet shoulders, holding on for dear life as he fucks you in the heat of a summer afternoon. 

When Katsuki shifts his hips down, heavy cock sliding out of your tight hole, you bare your teeth and growl at a man nearly double your age.  

“Easy, tiger,” he tuts and drops you in the warming water, “turn around and let me hit it from the back.”

He loves that your instincts are to obey.

You turn your back to him with an indignant little huff, bending over the edge of the pool and waiting. Katsuki locks his arms around your thighs, pushing up and letting the water do the work. Your legs float open easily, spreading wide as he spears his way back into your slutty hole. 

“Ever been knotted before, kid?”

Looking over your shoulder, you shake your head, hiccuping as he works his shaft in and out of you. 

“Please, please, ah, knot me. Wa-wanna know what it feels like.”

He’s toying with an ancient fire, he knows that. One fat knot from an alpha and you might be begging to move in with him, but it’s worth it. Your pussy feels too goddamn good and he’s too worked up not to plug you full. 

Katsuki works you into an absolute frenzy, waves of water splashing onto the edges of the pool as you mewl and focus on how effortlessly he fucks you. Your walls meld to him, each thrust hasty and claiming, scented sweat steaming from the heat of your body and the blistering of the sun. His dick curves just perfectly inside you, cockhead purposefully brushing against the most sensitive, spongy spots within your depths. 

“Surprised none of your stupid boyfriends knotted this tight cunt before.”

“Wouldn’t,” your fingers are gripping the edge of the pool for dear life, like you’re gonna drown any second, “wouldn’t let them.” 

“And you’re gonna let me? Just a slut for older men?” 

“Slut for you,” you correct him with a bounce of your ass against his pelvis, “love a big, strong alpha.” 

He rolls his eyes at the shameless flattery, yet still the ego inside him flares to life. 

“Young, stupid omegas always think they can get whatever they want,” he growls, all while keeping a rough pace inside your body, watching how the water parts for the two of you grinding into one another. 

You give him a knowing gaze over your shoulder, sultry and coy. 

You are getting exactly what you want. All you had to do was get his attention, pry at his most basic instincts and now here he is losing his mind over the tight squeeze of your omega cunt. 

Maybe you aren’t so stupid after all.

But he’ll fuck you stupid, he’s sure of that. 

“I’m too old for silly games, kid. You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

He proves his point by pawing at your belly under the water, pressing in until you can both feel how deep he is in your guts. The realization makes you whine, pushing hard back against him. 

“You think I’m just some toy to use during your heat?” Katsuki tuts, licking at one of his canines. “Just wait until I knot this stupid cunt and you beg me to keep coming back.”

A symphony of sex is ringing in your backyard, sounds of primal grunts, shrill little screams, balls slapping against your ass, water gurgling and splashing.

Any animal nearby knows what’s happening, that nature is running its course and you’re both nothing but senseless bodies looking for the simplest relief.

Katsuki slides the hand on your stomach lower, pinching your aching clit before he starts swirling it under the pads of experienced fingers. You start thrashing, cunt sucking so tightly he’s sure you’re hurting with the need to cum. 

“Pleasepleaseplease oh god please!” 

You shatter and his pride nearly bursts with you. Your cunt clenches, so pleased to cum around a thick alpha cock. You babble absolute nonsense, beg for his knot and a string of thanks yous and pleases and alpha alpha alpha dripping from your mouth into the wake of the pool.

The way your pussy squeezes him tells him you’ve been looking for this orgasm for hours, walls so swollen and pulsing. You must’ve been fucking yourself with useless toys since morning and finally got desperate enough to make a scene and get him to fuck you the way you needed. 

“Poor thing,” he coos, watching your cream float to the surface of the water. 

You’re totally mindless now as he continues to fuck you, body sloshing in the pool as he manhandles you to take what he wants. 

“Don’t even know if you can handle a knot, kid. You’re too tight.” 

That stirs you, makes you flatten your hands against the edge of the pool and push back to meet his rhythm. Over and over, you keep up with him, so fucking fraught to finally feel an alpha swell in your guts.

“Please don’t stop, please. Need to feel it, been in heat for d-days.”

“Oh omega, have you been fucking yourself silly with all the wrong toys, hm? Been stuffing yourself all alone in your room? Should’ve, ah, just asked me to come fix it.”

“You told me to stop b-bothering you…” 

“You’ll annoy me when your sink’s leakin’ but not when your pussy is? So fucking stupid.”

Only he’s starting to go dumb at the wrap of your cunt around him. The beast in his belly is raging, alpha instincts boiling in the summer sun. 

“C’mon, slut, milk my cock,” he pants and slams into you, lost in the way the water reflects around your curves and how your thighs are locked around his waist. He swears your body listens, some reflexive instinct that has your pussy clamping around his shaft until he can feel the veins of his cock squishing into your walls. 

The orgasmic build starts rushing up his spine, inflating the base of his cock inch by inch. 

“Holy shit, fuck~” you whimper at the first stretch of his knot. “Kat–Katsuki, ‘m so fucking full!” 

Finally he bursts, knot bulging into your gumminess until you’re plugged with him. His cum spills into your tight channel, filling you whole. 

Your sweet, stupid omega brain can barely comprehend the stretch. Another orgasm wrecks your body, has you falling face first into the pool. Katsuki scrambles to grab you, hoist you up and into his arms as you gasp and crest and cum all over him again. 

He can’t help but chuckle, easily maneuvering his back to the pool’s edge. He lets you calm down in his hold, your head falling against his shoulder as you try to breathe. 

“Get what you wanted, brat?” 

Katsuki pats your bloated belly, making you squeal as he rubs the heel of his hand against his knot. 

You nod dumbly, eyes closing to focus on the feel of him. He smirks realizing you’ll never forget him, your first knot. Omegas really are so emotional. 

Yet he’s taunted by the stupid bikini bottoms still floating in the water, mocking just how easy it was for you to boil him down to his base instincts. 

He’s too old for this shit. Especially as you start grinding down against his knot, cooing, reminding him you’ll be fucking him until your heat decides it’s done with him.