#welp he does things right in his eyes. and by his ways

[wickedsmille]

broken and still breaking

uhhhh, this is a little fic technically titled Angsty McAngst Pants Angst in my notes because Jason goes to his Re-Welcoming/It's A(n Alive) Boy! gala then gets triggered into a PTSD episode of dying which Tim helps him through. It was SUPPOSED to be gen but then they started flirting and bantering so. Welp.

Buyer beware cause I haven't beta'ed this, aforementioned PTSD episode, mild depictions of blood and injuries and what nots.

Alright then *thigh slap*

If it weren’t for the overwhelming feeling of being settled in his own skin, Jason would’ve told Bruce to fuck a cactus for offering to make Jason Peter Todd a real boy again. On principle alone he nearly said no. Besides, creating aliases is fun. James Austen, John Red and, to be nothing if not a mature adult with refined tastes, Dick Dickins. So many others, too. He could get the utilities at a new safehouse hooked up under Stephen Wolfe’s name then turn right around and renew Emmerson Bronte’s license at the downtown DMV.  

See? Being legally dead has allowed him room to express himself creatively in a way that has nothing to do with experimental ammunitions and testing the limits of the human body. One might even say it’s a healthy passtime. Sort of. Relatively speaking, okay. He’s not a perfect person, wouldn’t even dream of entertaining the thought. Not when he’s had so much practice turning the inside of someone’s skull into a modern day Picasso. 

But he’s been trying. Is trying. 

So, rather than testing the integrity of Bruce’s dental implants, Jason bit his cheek so hard it bled, swallowed back every bitter, snide remark dancing along his tongue and nodded tightly. He can’t think about the way Bruce deflated after. How his eyes went soft and the weight of the cape and cowl fully slipped off to reveal an infinitely exhausted but relieved Bruce Wayne, Failed Father Extraordinaire. If Jason does, he might ask himself what it was all for anyway and if any of it really ever mattered. Those kinds of thoughts lead to nothing but self-imposed isolation and self-destruction. 

He’s definitely regretting his decision as his gaze scans over the crowded ballroom of the Grand Hotel in downtown Gotham. A sea of opulence swims below the upper landing he has stalled out on. Men and women stand around in circles, chatting one another with plastic smiles etched into their faces. The sound of faked laughter grates, making his jaw clench and his teeth grind together. Wouldn’t it be just his luck that the food tables are all the across the room.

“Ha, ha, ha. Oh my, this little thing?” a woman simpers loudly at the bottom of the stairs. “Why, it was my mother’s.” She fingers the delicate gold chain around her neck. On the end is a diamond large enough it could feed a family of four in the Alley for a couple years.

A man across from her, entrenched in his own conversation partners, tips his head back and holds his belly as he chortles. “Mr. Campbell, you’re in luck! I have a penthouse in uptown and a condo on the westside and they’re alright but, if you’re looking for a sound investment, I suggest getting a cabin or three in the Northwest. Best decision I ever made!” he says blithely like there aren’t families and children sleeping in their cars because every apartment building is leased up and the list for voucher programs are thousands long.

Jesus fuck, he did not miss this.

Being a Wayne again means he gets the horrific honor of taking a half-step into the limelight. At first, Bruce wanted to do a full spread. Interviews and press conferences, staged sightings by the paparazzi and several welcoming events. Jason promptly shut him down by threatening to find every copy of his adoption papers and burning them. He’d rather chew off his own arm and beat Bruce with the appendage than do any of that. The compromise? A single gala as a re-introduction then Jason could fade into the background once more. 

So long as you don’t cause a scene, Bruce had said sardonically, knowingly. Bastard.

With the implied threat to his privacy, Jason has smartly decided to be on his best behavior. Even though the simple, black suit he’s wearing feels too tight and too hot. Though his hair is stiff from all the product in it. Despite the shiny leather shoes pinching his toes. No matter the way he feels like everyone is staring at him even if they’re not. 

Sure, quite a few of the guests are surreptitiously staring, thinking they’re oh so clever with the way they side-eye him before quickly looking away. They’re subtle, or so they think. It’s not like everyone is facing him, gazes boring into him. He almost thinks that would be better. At least he’d have a good reason to sneer and dip out scot free. Would it really be a scene if he were to loudly trip coming down the stairs? He’ll feign embarrassment at drawing attention to himself if it means he can back out. 

An elbow bumps into his side, making him jolt. Jason’s head whips around, intending to give whoever has invaded his personal space a thorough tongue lashing until he sees Tim. Calm, cool, collected Tim holding two champagne flutes, one held towards Jason. He’s smiling softly with his head tipped to the side in an unspoken question. The gold and white of his corset vest contrast well with the black of the rest of his suit and make the blue-gray of his eyes pop without washing him out. Tim would look right at home if he were down on the floor swimming with the other sharks. Goddamn him for fitting in so well.

“I’ll back you if you want to leave,” Tim tells him. “Due to your violent bout of diarrhea and uncontrollable gas.”

Snatching the offered glass out of Tim’s hand, Jason drains the entire thing in one go. “I hate you,” he murmurs miserably, only partly meaning it. Then he snags Tim’s own glass and downs that as well. 

A thoughtful frown makes its way onto Tim’s face. “I’d be careful. Getting tipsy won’t actually make this any easier to navigate.”

“Stop talking like you know me.”

Tim shrugs amiably. “I might not know you as well as I’d like to but I know them.” 

He inclines his head towards the dodos guffawing over their latest insider trading power plays and gossiping on whose husband is sleeping with which of the help. Or lamenting on how finicky children can be, not realizing their kids aren’t really the problem because they’re capacity for introspection matches the frigidity of their hearts somewhere below absolute zero. Jason tries very hard to not bite and snarl at Tim since he’s one of the blue bloods. Born and bred for the hoity-toity bullshit with a silver spoon shoved so far down his throat he must’ve been gagging on it. 

Tim isn’t like that and never has been, he reminds himself. In fact, for all the ways Jason had to show Tim how to effectively coupon stack and explain why he microwaves his sponges, Tim is as far removed from the vultures and roaches and leeches they’re surrounded with as he could be given his upbringing. For one, Tim isn’t a total douchebag. Unthinking at times and eccentric, but not outright malicious. He can be surprisingly sweet like when he requests Alfred make one of Jason’s favorite foods when he knows Jason will be coming over for dinner or upgrading Jason’s helmet when his own tech know-how fails him without Jason ever needing to ask. 

The guy is a squishy ball of good intentions wrapped in a deceptively tiny package which has never, not once, held him back from putting dusty, crusty board members and hardened, violent crooks in their place. Once he’d had a chance to actually get to know Tim, Jason found himself feeling grateful. Bruce didn’t concede to just anyone stepping into Jason’s pixie boots. At least he went for the best. 

“If you knew me any better you’d have a key to my apartment and a drawer in my dresser,” Jason drawls, steering the conversation away from the swarm of jewels and silks he wants to pretend doesn’t exist.

“I already have a key to your apartment,” Tim points out. 

Rolling his eyes, Jason stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, but you come over so I can make you buy pizza and kick your ass in Mortal Kombat. Not fucking you into the mattress and making you breakfast in bed after.”

“You never asked, did you?” Tim asks him slyly.

Just about every coherent thought in Jason’s mind fucks off into some deep, dark hole. Leaving him a flustered mess with vague recollections of waking up sticky and wanting. So his witty, top of the line comeback is, “Nope.”

“Eloquent as always,” Tim laughs, patting Jason lightly on the shoulder like he didn’t just break Jason’s brain. “We should get down there before they start chattering about how egregiously anti-social we are.”

All the clamboring what if’s and could be’s get ruthlessly, shamelessly smothered and die a quick and violent end so he can get himself back on task. “I don’t want to,” Jason says petulantly to drive the conversation back to safer, calmer waters.

Now it’s Tim’s turn to roll his eyes. Huffing, he points at Damian to the far left where he’s leaned against a pillar with his arms crossed tightly. “Suck it up. If he can do it, so can you. Now come on.” 

Tim holds out his elbow which Jason bats away with a scowl. He can make his own way down the stairs, thanks. Telling Tim as much, Jason nearly trips over himself when Tim challenges him to put his money where his mouth is. There’s a reason Tim is his favorite because it’s just the thing he needs to unstick his feet and get him moving despite the way his skin prickles the closer they get to the main floor. Although Tim had been joking when he volunteered to escort Jason down, he finds himself wishing he’d taken Tim up on it if only for the grounding comfort of a familiar touch as the smooth soles of his shoes land on the polished floors. 

Graciously, Tim does see him through the crowd to the food tables Jason had been eyeing up. As a kid, they were an oasis. It’s hard for others to talk to you when you’re stuffing your face as fast as you can while chewing as slowly as possible to delay and discourage conversation. Plus, it’s good. A little bland because the chefs have to cater to the tastes of so many, watering down their usual Michelin star flair to a point that probably pains them. But still good in spite of it being pretentious.

Once satisfied Jason can be his own keeper no longer in need of a handler, Tim drifts off. He switches over from the insufferable geek Jason has come to like to the smoothed, glacial veneer of a corporate socialite. The totality of the shift leaves Jason reeling. One thing he’s never understood, no matter how much he puzzled through it and tried to emulate it, is how Bruce and Tim can switch between the two extremes so flawlessly. It’s like trading out coats for them. A flick and a swish then, poof, like magic they’re entirely new people. What that says about their psyches and the inherent fault in their neural wiring is something he shies away from.

Jason tucks in with gusto when an older woman in an inappropriately low cut halter dress and coiffed hair sets her sights on him and starts striding over. With nimble fingers, he loads up the plate his grabs and shoves whatever in his mouth, hoping the age-old trick still works despite being over a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier. 

Score because it totally does. She wrinkles her nose at his puffed out cheeks and actually sniffs haughtily when he chews purposefully with his mouth open. He even smiles, masticated mush on full display, and waves cheekily. The woman redirects her steps to take her closer to where Dick is holding court about twenty yards out. She joins the gaggle of women and men magnetically drawn in by Dick’s natural charm. He doesn't quite fit like Tim and Bruce do but he has his natural personality to make up the difference.

Unlike Jason. Which he has no problem with. He’ll take himself, authentically cynical and caustic and brutally honest, over being a fake fuck any day. 

The bacon wrapped, maple seared figs don’t settle well as more people attempt to approach him. Even for him, there’s only so much he can eat. Rapidly, he’s reaching his limit. The twisting viper pit turning his stomach inside out isn’t helping his appetite either. So far he’s been successful in warding people off but his stomach flips, signaling his need to find a new method to avoid unwanted advances and carelessly hurtful words. 

Setting his plate aside, Jason casts his gaze out across the crowd once more. Being tall does have its advantages. Like being able to pinpoint where exactly the rest of the family is and relatively what they’re up to. Dick is wholly unaccessible with the amount of attention he’s getting. He can keep the center stage, Jason is trying to move behind the curtains. Bruce is similarly front and center with his own gathered horde so that’s a no go even if he thought he could handle it without fisting Bruce’s collar and dunking him into the champagne fountain in the corner. 

Damian is somewhere. It’s a toss up whether Jason just can’t see the shrimp or he’s faded into the shadows to either eerily stare out at the crowd from a corner or making his way towards a Bat bothole to go on an ill-advised patrol. As helpful as it would be to have Cass, she’s no better handling these things than Jason so Stephanie has been guiding her. Her attempts at bumbling but Stephanie is nothing if not determined and relentless. It’s why Jason likes her even though he hates those qualities, a reflection of his own, weaponized against him. Duke, the lucky duck, got to skip.

Then, there’s Tim. He’s making amiable small talk with a couple to Jason’s left. They’re too far for Jason to make out the words but close enough Jason feels comfortable weaving between bodies to reach him. So what if it makes him needy or weak. Everyone has to take a knee from time to time and he doesn’t need anything more than a temporary crutch to get him through the next hour or two before he can leave without causing a fuss. Tim is crutch-shaped. It makes sense. 

Saddling up to Tim’s side, Jason inserts himself into the conversation. The man speaking stutters, words petering out as he looks up, up, up at Jason. Jason flashes what he hopes passes as a polite smile. He’s not sure it works when the guy recoils minutely. The woman, his wife Jason assumes if the three-figure rock on her finger is anything to go by, gives him a flat grimace he assumes is supposed to be a smile.

“Jason, it’s good to see you. Enjoying the party so far?” Tim asks him, voice level and almost serene.

“It’s a blast,” Jason deadpans, bumping his hip into Tim’s as he shifts his weight from foot to foot.

“It is a fabulous venue,” the woman says. “We were delighted to get the invitation and haven’t been disappointed yet.”

Yet. Goddamn. He forgot just how snippy these people could be. 

“I’ll be sure to pass your praise along to our event planner,” Tim replies so Jason doesn’t immediately make an ass of himself. “By the way, Jason, this is John Anders and Mary Ann Anders. They’re the founders and CEOs of Anders Packaging. Wayne Enterprises is lucky to call them partners.”

“Jason Wayne,” Jason introduces himself. He holds out his hand which John hesitates to take but social norms win out. Jason makes sure to squeeze on the side of too tight and doesn’t stop till John winces. He goes easier on Mary Ann though, maybe he shouldn’t have because she digs her nails into the skin of his hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

When Tim’s hip bumps into him, Jason reads it as the warning it is so he backs off. Tim takes back the reins of the conversation to steer them away from Jason himself. The transition back to dull, unassuming chatter is easy when Tim is the one leading. The tension from John drains away as he falls under Tim’s spell. Jason does feel some small amount of respect for Mary Ann as he notes she isn’t as enamored with Tim’s performance as her husband is. She gives Jason a shrewd look as if to say I see you both, I’m watching you and, yeah, he kind of likes her and hates that he does. But she probably hates him right back since she has to like him. Or pretend to.

Jason rises to Mary Ann’s challenge when she narrows her eyes at him. It becomes a game where they both adopt an air of cordial confidence whenever Tim and John are looking. Then they cast it aside for suspicion and mutual distaste when the other two aren’t. It’s kind of fun. If Mary Ann doesn’t think so, sucks to suck. Jason has had an entire lifetime of pissing people off by doing nothing but existing to hone his craft of being a nuisance without lifting a finger.

Tim looks at him askance, drawing Jason away from his silent feud with Mary Ann and back to the conversation. 

“I thought it would be fun,” John laments ruefully.

“You’re adventurous,” Mary Ann says as she pats his arm. 

“I suppose so,” John replies, giving her a small, genuine smile. “I certainly have a better appreciation for remodelers! Doing the kitchen in our summer house? Never again! I was trying to knock out the cabinets with a hammer for ages until Mary Ann grabbed me a crowbar.”

Jason’s blood runs cold. He abandons the game with Mary Ann in favor of racking his mind for a graceful, or graceless if necessary, way to leave. 

The mention of a crowbar sinks its hooks into his mind, making it run syrupy slow. Too slow to slink away before John keeps going. 

“Now that did the trick! It still took me an hour but, whoo, let me tell you. That is a workout,” John laughs. The arm he has around Mary Ann’s waist unwinds and he takes a step back to give himself some more room. Then he’s miming swinging his arm back and forth. High above his shoulder then down and across, grunting from the effort and smiling from the humor of it all. “You have to throw your shoulder into it. Really get into it. It was fun!”

John laughs again but it’s not John. Not to Jason. It’s too high, too loud. The sound echoes in his head and amplifies with every reverberation. He would cover his ears if he knew it would do any good but it’s all in his head. Now would be a good time to leave, decorum be damned. But his feet feel rooted to the spot and every muscle is coiled so tight he’s shaking with it and immobile. Jason's hands start trembling as John keeps going. On and on and on about his skill with a crowbar. Proud of himself for it. 

In horror, Jason watches as John’s smile keeps curving and twisting into a rictus grin so wide it should be splitting his face but it isn’t. The white straight line of his teeth shift and dull to a pale yellow while all the color of his skin drains away to an unnatural white. The charcoal gray of his suit bursts into color Purple and green and red. So much red. John’s hand isn’t empty anymore either. Now he’s swinging a real crowbar with the end of the metal dented from where he used it to shatter Jason’s femur and tailbone. 

Jason watches as John as the Joker pummels Jason as Robin right there on the ballroom floor. A deep dark red spreads out across the ground. Jason as Robin screams and pleads. Snot and blood and a broken jaw making it difficult to form words but he knows what he said. He was calling out for Bruce. But Bruce never came and the pool of blood has spread far enough he’s standing in it and Jason can’t do this anymore - 

He’s off like a shot. All the restless, animalistic panic inside him zips through his veins. His chest heaves with the effort to suck in as much air as possible but it’s never enough. There’s nothing but the jagged, wet sound of him breathing and the pounding beat of his pulse in his temples. Maybe someone is yelling his name, too, but it’s muffled like someone is holding his head underwater. The elite, esteemed guests gawk at him as he flies by and he doesn’t understand why they aren’t in a tizzy about the dirty warehouse they’re in. 

When he reaches the door, it isn’t locked with a winding length of chain. His hands scramble to clutch the knob of the door but it opens easily under his hands. Over the din of the crowd behind him, Jason can hear the tick, tick, ticking of the bomb. But the door leads to another warehouse so he sprints to the next door, hopping over the puddle of blood on the concrete. The next door opens without issue but it leads into a small, black hole. Yawning and bottomless and hungry.

“Get out!” someone commands from close behind him.

On instinct, he lashes out but whoever it is isn’t having it. Their arm smacks into his wrist, redirecting his punch. Then there’s hands on his chest, shoving him back and into the void. He expects to be falling endlessly but his ass crashes into the ground, arms buckling from the way he catches himself to keep from toppling over completely. He hasn’t even completely settled on the floor before the darkness is chased away by a bright cascade of light from above. Shadows lurk in the corners, wriggling and writhing like a mass of worms and maggots. 

“Jason, Jason,” someone says urgently. They try again gently, “Jay.”

“I need you to breathe with me,” they say, tone brooking no argument. It’s all a serious, low tone Jason can hear clearly over the he ha, ha, HA in his head. “You need to follow me. Fuck. Okay, okay. Can I touch you?”

He wants to understand who it is crouching next to him but the black spots dancing across his vision, the blurry edges of it, keep him from piecing it together. A hand encircles his wrist and he tries to twist away from it. They’re strong though. Stronger than he thought they’d be. His hand is planted firmly on a plane of smooth, warm fabric. The fingers around his wrist pop lose and disappear completely so he moves his head up until the pads of his fingers brush against skin. 

Then he latches on and squeezes with his teeth bared and all the higher thinking of a cornered wolf spurring him on. 

“J-Jay,” they choke out. “Alright then. Feel that?” 

They draw in a comically large breath around the pressure Jason is putting on their windpipe. The pulse beneath his fingers is thumping hard and quick but controlled. Up and down their throat presses against his hand. Unconsciously, he finds himself mimicking the movement. His focus narrows down to the rhythmic movement of their throat and the stuttering attempts his chest is making to imitate it. 

“Jay,” they say faintly. 

Jason becomes aware of two things immediately. He’s in a spacious store room. It smells like a hodgepodge of herbs and spices co-mingling into something overpoweringly herbaceous. The smell is enough to tickle his nose. Several overhead lights are shining down on the packed shelves of nonperishables and Jason and Tim. Because Tim is there with him, on his knees in front of Jason with his pants rucked up and jacket rumpled. With Jason’s hand around his throat and the pale skin of his face a worrying shade of red.

Like he’s been burned, Jason’s arm snaps back. The dimples from Jason’s fingers fade, leaving red indents sure to turn a nasty purple later. Tim gasps loudly and pitches forward onto his hands. He coughs and sputters, rubs at the tender skin of his throat. Checking for any cartilage damage, Jason realizes.

He did that.

The thought has Jason leaning to the side and emptying the contents of his stomach. It’s disgusting. Everything he ate earlier comes up for an encore but its decidedly less appetizing this time around. The bitter taste on his tongue makes him gag even after he’s done. All he can smell is bile as shame wells up, threatening to muscle everything else out because he was choking Tim. Fuck the food. They can get more food. If he seriously hurt Tim, they can’t get a new Tim. 

“Why didn’t you stop me,” Jason rasps, clearing his throat and spitting it out onto the rest of the mess. Not like it's salvageable anyway. “Why didn’t you stop me?”

Tim looks up at him sharply. He pushes himself back onto his haunches. Defiance draws his shoulders up and back. Out of them all, Tim has never let him get away with shit. The kid spat in his face even after Jason beat him to a pulp. Never once has Tim backed down from Jason’s misdirected anger or shown fear the times they’ve needed to play fight for the villains intent on pitting them against one another. Dick lets his guilt bleed through too much and lets him be lenient with Jason. In contrast, Bruce is as immovable as Tim but where Tim is kind and even sweet at times, Bruce is a complete and utter asshole.

“It worked, didn’t it?” Tim snarks. 

Jason really hates how little Tim values himself sometimes. Especially given Jason’s own high regard of Tim. 

“Never do that again,” Jason orders, whole body quaking with the aftershocks of his episode. PTSD, one doctor had told him. A normal side-effect of The Life, Jason had privately corrected him.  

“LIke to see you try and stop me,” Tim says, cheeky and sharp with a half cocked grin to match. 

This fucking guy.

“Can I hug you now?” Tim asks with a hint of hostility hiding in his tone. 

Jason can appreciate Tim’s innate ability to understand him and all the ways Jason would outright reject him if he were nicer about it. The contrast to Dick’s antsy need to use touch as a comfort is stark and wonderful. Grumbling, Jason nods his head at the nasty puddle of ick next to him. 

Tim rolls his eyes so hard Jason’s surprised they don’t pop right out of his skull. “Oh, yeah, like I don’t deal with worse on a nightly basis.”

“Touche,” Jason mutters. 

He scoots closer to Tim and away from the gross. His palms stay flat on the ground but Tim shuffles to fit himself against Jason, molding them together as he winds his arms around Jason’s neck. One hand buries itself in Jason’s hair. The nails scratching at his scalp break apart the gel in his hair. It kind of hurts but it keeps him present and helps chase away the jittery feeling in his limbs. The other hand splays across the broad expanse of his shoulders. This close, he has no choice but to follow the rise and fall of Tim’s chest so the quickened pace of his breathing slows to normal. 

Jason’s gut says to push Tim away and maybe even kick him in the jaw for daring to touch him. The impulse dies a quick death as warmth spreads out from his center. It’s soft and sweet and gentle. He presses his face hard into the curve of Tim’s neck and breaths in Tim’s overpriced cologne. Although he’s bigger than Tim, he feels protected like nothing can touch him in this bubble of fragility they’ve created. Finally, finally his mind goes blessedly silent and he settles back into his own skin, not the phantom corpse of a boy who lost more than he ever gained and was cut down before he ever really had a chance. 

Shifting, Jason moves so he can wrap his arms around Tim’s torso and cling tightly to the back of his suit jacket. The ribs of the corset vest flex under his hold. Aside from a quiet grunt, Tim doesn’t say anything. To be a shit, Jason makes them flex again. A warning rumble reverberates from Tim’s chest straight down into Jason’s bones, shaking out the cobwebs of memory and making him puff out a breath through his nose in a parody of a laugh. 

“How do you breathe in this thing?” Jason mumbles into the damp skin of Tim’s neck.

“Force of will and spite,” Tim tells him succinctly. 

“Anything for fashion.”

“More like anything to make Mr. Williams as horrendously uncomfortable as possible after he let slip a couple choice words to me at the last gala.”

“Your commitment to pettiness is unrivaled.”

“Have you met yourself?” Tim accuses him incredulously. 

“I don’t have a commitment to pettiness. I am pettiness.”

The sound of Tim’s easy laughter washes over Jason. He can’t help but to join in even if his own is weak and half hearted at best. Things feel less heavy than they did, less inevitable and better. So much better. Tim still hasn’t let him go and he has no intentions of releasing Tim either. 

With the silence comes the realization of what happened and how it must have looked to everyone else. Jason curls into himself, arms tightening around Tim. In an uncharacteristically small voice, he gives life to his uncertainty and shame. “Everyone saw, didn’t they?” he asks. 

Tim shrugs as much as he can in the vice of Jason’s arms. “You were more subtle than you think you were. Nothing a quick cover of explosive diarrhea won’t fix,” Tim tells him lightly. The callback and absurdity of the idea forces a bark of laughter from Jason. More subdued and serious, Tim adds, “Besides, it doesn’t matter. To hell with them. What matters is that you’re okay and everything else we can fix.”

“Trying to say I can’t be fixed?”

Making an irritated noise, Tim bops his head into Jason’s in chastisement. “I’m saying you don’t need to be fixed. You are who you are and we wouldn’t have it any other way. If it means you need more support, we’re happy to give it but you don’t need to be fixed, Jason.”

“Cool it on the soliloquy, Timberly,” Jason teases so he doesn’t start tearing up. “Ain’t nobody wants to hear your bleeding heart.”

“Charming as always,” Tim sighs, resigned, but he still hasn’t let Jason go.

So Jason smothers the poisonous voice in the back of his head whispering about Tim backing away to leave him cold and bereft, mocking him then relaxes entirely in the safe space Tim carved out for Jason between his arms.

[sanjisblackasswife]

JJK Men with a GF with a Fat Ass (NSFW-ISH)

…I’m taking a small break from drawing and I missed doing HCs. Shaddap.

Ft. Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Choso

Black ! Fem Reader in Mind

CW: Twt Links!, mentions of sex, men are a bit OOC

Gojo

Gojo definitely does this to you anytime you lay on his lap. And if he finds out you’re not wearing any panties under it…welp..all plans are now cancelled

He’s a pervert and it’s your fault.

He’s never really seen women of your stature often so when you both were younger he was so BLUNT with his thoughts about your body.

“You have a very voluptuous—“

“Imma stop you right there….VO-WHO?”

“You don’t know what the word vo—-“

“No, I know. I’m confused as to why you are using that word when talking about my ass.”

Gojo is 6’6-7” , he’s a big nigga, but can he handle a big behind?

No.

No he cannot.

He constantly uses his blindfolded eyes to shamelessly watch the way your walk across the room in public. His poker face is actually impressive, but if you couldn’t see how tight his fist were in his pockets it’d prove otherwise.

He’s so got damn childish he does this shit sometimes because he thinks your ass is perfect for playing on

“CAN YOU STOP.”

“Whhhyyyyuuuhhhhhh.”

When you wear moomoo’s or a big shirt it is his favorite

Yup.

Moomoo.

Your ass is free to move and shake to its desire and he just watches in awe. He loves you bad.

Another thing he loves doing is napping on your butt, he doesn’t sleep often, unfortunately, but he can attest that the best nap he has ever taken was in between your plush thighs and ass.

He blames his pretty little girlfriend as to why he is now an ass man when he initially was a boob guy.

Geto

He takes these kinda pictures with you which sometimes leads to him pulling down your underpants and massaging it with his bare hands to then licking or kissing it to then…eating…you…out…while you’re standing.

He loves watching you put on clothes.

Having to shake, jump, and wiggle yourself into some pants is actually so sexy to him.

If your butt is anything like mine and is HEAVY. He LOVES it even more , watching the way the movement in your butt and thighs to match is something Geto finds so so mesmerizing.

One thing about Geto he’s very sneaky, he’ll come up behind you to help pull up your bottoms you clearly need no help putting on, and everytime he does you can feel a slight pressure on your ass that is a verrrryyy familiar feel to a bulge.

He can’t help it, your ass is so pretty.

Sitting on his lap is a must, whether he is talking with someone in public or doing some work he needs to feel your weight on him.

The first time you sat on his lap you swore you heard a groan. When you turned to ask him if he was okay, his cheeks were very pink.

He denies it to this day, but even if he did it’s your fault because why does your ass feel so good against his pelvis?

Showers with Geto are so insufferable in the best way because once you finish cleaning yourself your long haired boyfriend can’t wait to practically grind and hump against you into the cool shower wall.

He definitely loves hugging you from behind, swaying you back and forth. To others it’s a cute gesture seeing such a big man hold you so close, practically dwarfing you , only you and him know the real intention behind it was just him whispering how good you look in that dress and how badly he wants you.

Geto is such a sensual person next to nanami. Even after sex and you’re laying with him in a bliss he finds his way to continue his love by kissing and licking you down and praises of how beautiful and sexy you are even after such activities. He calls it “Cleaning you up”…little perv.

“‘Was wrong?… Embarrassed?”

“YES.”

“Good, now c’mere.”

Toji

Ass eater.🫵🏾

That’s an ass eater he eat ass🫵🏾.

Toji “Ass Eater” Fushiguro

You thought gojo was shameless? Toji is WORSE

As an ass connoisseur he prides himself on always reminding you how fine you are to him.

“You like my dress?”

“Hell yes, mama. Turn around for me.”

SWAT to the ass just to see it recoil

He definitely slaps and GRABS. It’s kinda hot though because he’ll do it anytime anywhere

For example you went with him to some horse racing game for him to make bets and got hungry so you headed to grab a few drinks and snacks. Before walking past him, his legs were spread, tooth pick in his mouth and just like clock work you feel a firm hit to your Jean covered behind.

“OOWWUH!”

“Sssh, Baby im watchin the game….what? Your ass was all in my face what else could I do?”

Whether you are a chunky girl or a skinny girl with a larger butt he don’t care he quite actually is your biggest fan.

Toji is your new seat btw.

Not just his pretty face but his lap too.

He’s a big strong man so don’t EVER think or assume you’re too heavy for him. It ACTUALLY wounds his ego more than you think.

Of course Toji being the ass eater he is almost every other night is spent just like this or sitting on his face. He never seen himself as a pleasure dom kinda guy. With his one night stands he only had sex for himself, but with you of course being the first woman he finally got to love after MamaGuro he takes his time with you. It’s a slutty sight but he knows it’s exactly what can get you off before him

Nanami

This man here.

A KING.

Freaky king but a king none the less.

He loves every part of you.

Which is what he does say and prove everytime you both are together but he does have a small little quirk about him that you aren’t sure whether or not to point it out in fear he may stop out of embarrassment or awareness.

Most men guide their woman by putting their hand on their lower back

Nanami however does this

ESPECIALLY on date night.

Just like Geto he loves to watch you dress, but also dresses you himself

“Wear this, yes? It compliments your skin beautifully.”

“You sure it’s not, because it’s a bit tighter below the waist?”

And now hes blushing.

He’ll admit. Whenever you come and visit him during lunch to feed him a home cooked meal he hates to see you go but LOVES to watch you leave.

Especially with that sundress you wear during the spring.

Nanami definitely is another man that will practically BEG for you to sit on his face.

“It’s okay, baby, honest. Use my face.”

“Kentoooo—!??”

One of his favorite ways to eat you out is like this. It was actually so embarrassing for you at first only because of his SLUTTY MOANS. Which was something you wouldn’t expect from a man like him, but you wasn’t complaining!He whined and whimpered so shamelessly inside you, you couldn’t even make eyes contact after cumming on his tongue.

Choso

Lord bless him.

He is very….confused to say the least.

He never understood the attraction of women’s parts.

Of course he found YOU attractive, but that was all over until he seen your shape.

“Oh.”

“…oh?”

“You—“

You usually wore baggy clothing like him. You decided to change really quickly at his new apartment and he was watching you.

Who knew you had a BODY LIKE THAT under all of those clothes!

“You’re sex—cute…”

Choso isn’t necessarily a shy man, but more hesitant when it comes to touching and complimenting you…

You’ve told him time and time again he is free to touch you when he wants but you sometimes have to guide him.

Usually when he wants to grab your ass he walks DANGEROUSLY close behind you.

So a few times you take his hand and place it on your cheek. For a moment he just rubs his hand across the soft skin and then SQUEEZE.

Choso loves to kneed and rub on your ass while he licks you so usually it’s 69 or you laid to your side.

Another things he actually loves seeing you in are sweats with a small top. Your lower body being heavier than the top is so attractive and you look so squeezable he can’t help but to hug you from behind

Please. Please PUH LEASE wear thigh high socks around him the ones that go RIGHT UNDER the cup of your ass and shake it JUST A LIL in front of him.

Moans at the sight everytime

No like literally MOANS by just looking at your ass jiggle.

He doesn’t think he’s a pervert but from how he grinds and hump against your ass while you sleep says otherwise.

If yall are wondering why I didn’t really speak on backshots it js because ALL OF THEM GO FERAL DOING IT.

[xmoriartea]

SVSSS!Sibling Transmigration AU

Based so very loosely on this glorious art by @nibbelraz

Airplane transmigrates into the youngest infant son of the Shang family (and God damn he deserves better than this System he is their god!! Daddy Airplane?? Heard of him?? These people should not be changing his damn diaper hello??)

Shang Qinghua is already a young disciple when he visits home and meets his little brother for the first time and does no one else see there is something... off about this kid?

He makes regular trips home afterwards, eventually using An Ding logistics to find reasons to be near his hometown more frequently (and really does no one else see this kid is weird?)

Bby!Airplane is just too smart. SQH is convinced he saw the kid make eye contact with him once when he caught him stealing a dumpling behind their mother's back and it was like looking into the eyes of a demon who'd gut him if he snitched and not a human toddler

It doesn't get better as Airplane gets older and SQH hears him muttering about 1. things he shouldn't know at all regarding the sect when he thinks SQH isn't listening and 2. absolute nonsense (what System has done you so wrong didi?? you are four??)

Before Airplane is old enough to reasonably join the sect, SQH brings him back to the mountain anyway. He is fairly certain his brother is a seer and if that's the case, he's keeping the little welp close at hand

Airplane infinitely regrets how much bullshit he made An Ding deal with to ""hand wave lazy writing"" (shut up peerless cucumber!! he was writing porn not project management!!) but even just watching SQH run himself ragged over the peak has bby him exhausted (no wonder he ratted y'all out to the king yeesh)

He spends his early years as a disciple just following SQH and sometimes nudging his gege into record shattering discoveries because SQH will pat his head when he realizes and take him down the mountain for noodles afterwards (gg easy)

Airplane is a proper disciple in his own right in his teens when his notes and his story get jumbled in a way that has him tripping into one of his shixiongs when he hears the rumors - Head Disciple SJ returned to the mountain with a little brother (record screech glass shattering huh???)

Meanwhile, Shen Yuan transmigrated into Shen Jiu's unnamed younger half-brother After finding stability at the sect, Shen Jiu looks into his birth mother, knowing she sold him off when he was a child What he finds in Airplane's unwritten notes is a Fantine-Cosette backstory where his mother, a courtesan, gave him away to a good family after he was born. She sent them regular payments to ensure his care, but only found out when she was pregnant with SY that they had sold SJ off and were pocketing her money Unable to find SJ and unwilling to risk SY, she and the other courtesans raised SY within the brothel SY transmigrates into the body of a child at his sick mother's bedside with a twisted sense of deja vu having just vacated his own deathbed He doesn't know where he is, but if the orphan protagonist can make it to the sect, so can he right? (Transmigrator Halo? System? System why are you laughing??) He's barely into his second teens when SJ finds him. It takes no time at all after learning the truth for SJ to demand SY's guardianship and whisk him back to Qing Ding (See System? He DOES have a Transmigrator Halo, even if it is attached to the scum villain) SY is honestly shocked by how concerned(?) SJ is when packing his meager possessions. (No Jiu-ge (ew) no one has ever harmed him or touched him wtf would make you think they had?? He's baby??) It takes some time for glaciers to melt and for SJ to let SY in, but SY was raised around kind jiejies who taught him to be better than their worst clients and SJ feels safe around this little brat in a way he can't explain (SJ has had SY for five minutes but if anything happens to him SJ is taking out the entire mountain and then himself) YQY has NO idea how to react when SJ first returns with his brother, but he doesn't hesitate to smooth the way for SY's discipleship and watches from afar as SJ begins to finally let someone in, even if it's not him

SQH keeps telling Airplane he needs to work on his muttering to himself, that it's going to get him in trouble (bro you don't even know) but for once it's in his favor because SY overhears him just enough while YQY is sorting his shit out on arrival and suddenly they're just two spidermen pointing at each other on the peak

Cue the shenanigans of two hometown boys who have no bearing on the plot at all and are just along for the ride while their siblings handle the peaks. Anytime Qing Ding and An Ding need to work together on missions, these two volunteer and confuse the hell out of their martial siblings every step of the way

SJ does not trust the little logistics rat anywhere near his didi and glowers like an alley cat anytime Airplane is around (SQH is right, ofc. His brother IS weird and SJ does not trust it)

SQH meanwhile takes note of his weird didi's sudden and first friendship with SY and immediately starts keeping tabs on this kid because clearly Airplane's seerhood has steered him to SY for a reason, must keep note

The first time LQG makes any sort of fuss about SJ going to a brothel, SY forgets everything he's learned at the sect as Little Brother Mode™ activates to defend not only SJ but his jiejies too. (Fists are thrown. Hair is pulled. He might have bitten his shixiong, he can't say. He sort of blacked out for a minute there) Needless to say there isn't a second time and LQG has an hour long argument with his shizun about trying to poach SY for Bai Zhan peak while nursing a black eye (Airplane just side eying the GREMLIN that transmigrated here like bro wtf)

Before LBH even steps foot on the mountain, both their Systems ping about the incoming protagonist and it's not that they, you know, forgot about the story but they were distracted. Between finding each other and actually weirdly coming to care for these NPCs they... lost track of time

But the System pings and LBH enters the scene and SY refuses to let Airplane's work repeat itself (we're making your notes canon bro stfu and follow my lead. (what lead??? what plan??) I'm working on it!!)

It's a 50/50 crap shoot if SYs favoritism of bby!Binghe endears him to SJ or spikes up the resentment, but SY refuses to let harm come to LBH or for SJ to become the scum villain (someone is yelling, it might be SJ, it might be SY, it might be Binghe who doesn't want Shizun and Shixiong fighting over him)

On the other side of the plot, SQH is still a little snitch, even with his didi's visions guiding him to unprecedented success - but it's more than betraying the sect, more than wanting power and recognition. Seers are insanely powerful, highly sought after. Bringing Airplane to the sect protected him for awhile but SQH can't let him become a target. So when the OG meets MBJ, all his calculations come to a single unfortunate answer: throw your lot in with the biggest fish to protect Airplane (no one else can understand how weird his brother is because if they do his brother will end up dead)

Flash forward to when Airplane is squinting at his brother wearing fur collars year round, always running a little bit chilly for unknown reasons but refusing to see MQF about it. Airplane insists on SQH letting him check his meridians if he won't see MQF and SQH relents, puts his wrist in Airplane's hand, and squawks like a goddamn chicken when Airplane yanks his arm and tugs down his collar to reveal the mark of MBJ on his collarbone and SQH is once again met with that dead eyed 'bro do not fuck with me' stare

SQH does not question how Airplane knows, he just insists on Airplane staying far far away from MBJ (he might work for the demon, but he certainly does not trust him)

Of course Airplane defies all reason and knows the exact secret rendezvous point SQH uses (he did not suffer puberty twice to be denied seeing his most precious creation in the flesh, gege) and is spotted spying on the spy almost instantly by MBJ who is just holding him by his scruff and looking between a wide eyed Airplane and a barely-restrained-panicked peak lord like 'why oh why are there two of them'

Cue a full stand off between a demon and peak lord, ice knives at SQH's throat, a blade hovering at MBJ's heart, and Airplane just held like a kitten between them like fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck that SOMEHOW ends with MBJ rationalizing 'ah this weird mouse is important to my viper of a spy - if I want to keep the viper loyal, I will protect this mouse'

Which throws the Sheng brothers into a mess that neither of them know how to deal with. SQH thinks he needs to continue to be excessively useful to keep Airplane safe. Airplane can't let MBJ know he's his brother's best source or the demon might cut out the middle man. (Meanwhile somewhere MBJ just out here planning to court this weird little mouse to tie SQH's loyalties to him)

Whatever circumstances causes the Abyss plotline to trigger, SY 500% throws himself in after Binghe leaving SJ partially feral because his didi is in danger, Airplane CONCERNED, and SQH just casually like 'oh that's why my brother was interested in him, interesting' not at all realizing no, SY is likely just about to become his boss(-brother-in-law)'s boss's consort - whoops! whoops! whoops!

[jaewritesfic]

Everlasting Trio DP x DC Nobody Knows Au Pt 6

Part 5

Warning for very brief flashback implying vivisection

It is highly amusing to float to Red Robin's rooftop and see up close how intensely vigilant he's being. He looks like if a pigeon took off halfway across the city he'd fucking notice, but the ghost standing next to him and trying not to snicker goes undetected.

Poor guy. He really seems like the type to drive himself up a wall over a mystery - he's certainly been driving himself up a wall over Danny.

Danny has to force himself not to tickle the back of the guy's neck just to watch him flail.

He likes Red Robin, he really does. He didn't set out to torture the poor guy - Red did that all by himself, all Danny has been trying to do is help. 

They can't pursue him the way they have been and expect him not to try and get some entertainment out of it. It tempers the annoyance, making their obsession with finding him a game.

Danny considers the box in Red's lap.

He's been doing the same thing with each box they leave him from the beginning: grab box, open pocket dimension, yeet.

Not even Bat trackers can transmit from an entirely different plane of existence, it would seem.

And the thing Danny has discovered about having died when an entirely different plane of existence opened on top of him and merged with his DNA?

He is a pocket dimension, in a way. 

In other words, no need to expend energy to tear the fabric of reality to deposit his loot - all he needs to do is phase things into himself.

So Red will definitely notice when the box disappears from his lap and seemingly blinks out of existence, but at least he won't be seeing any neon green tears in reality open up in front of him.

That seems like a good deal to Danny.

He steps forward and reaches for the box-

NA NA NA NA NA NANA

Danny and Red Robin both curse and flail as the Ghostbusters theme rings out across the rooftop.

Red Robin nearly falls out of his lawn chair launching himself away from the sudden sound, almost dropping the lockbox in the process.

Danny frantically searches his pockets for his goddamn phone, pulls it out, has the fear of God struck into him at the idea of hanging up on Sam Manson and thus shoves it into his chest to go to voicemail somewhere where nobody can hear it ring.

In the dead silence that follows, Danny finds himself in something like a startled cowboy standoff where only one of the participants is actually visible.

Red Robin stands with feet braced shoulder width apart, lockbox in one hand and bo staff in the other. He is visibly bewildered and ready to throw hands.

He's staring at the space a little to the left of Danny's head, so at least he hadn't dropped his invisibility in panic.

Welp. No use trying to change plans now.

Danny lunges forward and grabs the lockbox, relishing in the squawk of shock and indignance Red Robin makes as it abruptly leaves his hand and blinks out of sight.

He doesn't anticipate how fast Red Robin will recover or move.

A hand wraps tightly around his wrist and jerks him back in an impressive estimation of where Danny might be occupying space.

Danny almost goes ghost right there. Not because he wants to, but because for a moment there are restraints around his wrists and ectoplasm on the table and bright lights and sharp blades and pain-

He swallows the growl that wants to well up in his throat as he turns and looks at Red Robin, teeth feeling a little too large and sharp in his mouth before he forces himself to calm down.

Red is staring him straight in the eyes despite Danny being able to see he's still invisible. Red’s hand looks to be wrapped around nothing.

“You're not going anywhere,” Red Robin says, voice low and slightly feral with the high of perceived victory. That, paired with the crooked smirk on his lips is kind of, uh- well. Hoo boy, that's all Danny has to say about that.

Well, he does have one other thing to say.

“Bet.”

The way Red Robin's face falls in disbelief when Danny phases out of his grip is nothing short of glorious. Danny's already floating off the roof and out of grabbing distance before Red finishes buffering.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Danny cackles, tossing him a salute he can't even see.

“Better luck next time, Angry Bird!”

“Son of a bitch!”

Masterpost

[trippinsorrows]

without you + three

authors note: welp. the ball is, gradually, rolling.

do not read this story if you haven’t read ’with me’. it won’t work as a standalone.

warnings: none

song inspo: be without you by mary j. blige

one + two

words: 4k

“I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s never a good thing.” Removing your eyes from the book in hand, you glare and flip your soon to be ex-fiance off if he keeps playing with you like this. 

Of course, he simply laughs as you shove on Joe’s shoulder.. “I’m serious.”

His hand moves to your stomach, rubbing a circle as he beckons, “tell me.”

Using the bookmark on the comforter, you stick it in the page you’re on and lay it against the side of you. “I think we should take Callie back so she can have her graduation.”

Joe looks over at you, brows furrowed. “I thought we were just going to do something here?”

“I know, and I think we still can, but I don’t want to take that from her. She was really excited about graduating.” It’s something you’ve been thinking about a lot, both as a teacher and a mom. It’s so important for children to feel and be able to celebrate their accomplishments. Sure, it’s only preschool, but it’s still a big deal for her.

You want her to be able to celebrate with her ‘classmates.’

And you express as such.

“She should be able to celebrate with the other kids. Plus, and I know right now, she’s still excited about them, but I don’t know, something tells me she’s going to struggle with some form of jealousy when the babies get here.”

Joe nods, not necessarily disagreeing with you. “But, that’s not entirely abnormal, right?”

“No, doesn’t mean it’ll be any easier to deal with though.” Frowning, it’s only now you also think about how that might be for you as well. For almost five years, you’ve been able to devote all of your time and attention onto one child. 

Now, it’s about to be four.

“Hey.” Joe, forever adept at reading you, brings his hand to your chin, forcing your gaze to land on him. “We’ll handle it together, alright?”

His words, as per usual, comfort you greatly. “You’re right.” His thumb flicks your chin, as you chuckle. “It’s probably good her little spoiled self is spending all this time with you now. Before she has to share you.”

His scowl makes you snort as he drops his hand back to your ever growing belly. “She’s not spoiled.”

“Joe, as the kids say, be so fucking for real.”

“What?”

Ignoring the fact that this man literally probably still has an AOL email with out of touch he is, you continue with your very valid point. “That little girl is spoiled rotten. You give her whatever she wants.”

“She doesn’t ask for much.”

“Not you being in straight up denial.” He’s so down bad for Callie Bear. It’s not even funny. “Need I remind you of her little tantrum two weeks ago? Baby, the way you folded so quickly should have been recorded. Tribal Chief, my ass. Got taken down by a four year old.”

Joe shoves you gently. “Shut up.”

Laughing, you continue, “just admit it, she has you wrapped around her lil’ finger, and she knows it. That’s why she tried you the way she did, but I mean it, next time it happens, and it will, set her little butt straight. She can take it.”

Joe’s frown doesn’t make it any easier for you to hold in your laughter. “I don’t like being mean to her.”

“It’s not being mean, baby. It’s being a parent. As much as she loves to play with you like you’re one of her little friends, you’re not. You’re her dad. She needs to respect you as such.”

“She does,” he defends, and you sigh, knowing this is probably just a battle you won’t win. Quieting down, you decide to switch topics to something you’ve been thinking more about as you prepare for the arrival of your children.

“I’m gonna tell her, you know. When she gets older, that I’m the reason you weren’t there the first few years of her life.”

Joe sits up in the bed, removing his hand from your stomach, concern evident all over his handsome face. “Y/N—”

You lift your hand to silence him. “No, she’s going to eventually ask, and I’m not going to lie to her. Whatever anger she feels would be justified, and I’ll handle it.” 

You’ve thought about this more and more as you progress with your pregnancy. The fact that these babies will get to experience Joe from day one when Callie didn’t. There’s undeniable unfairness, and should she ever want to know just why Joe was MIA at the beginning, you will be honest with her.

You’ll make sure she knows that it was you who decided to keep her a secret from her father. How specific you’ll get will depend on her age, but you’re not a fan of lying to and holding secrets from kids when it directly impacts them.

You know firsthand how thinking your dad didn’t want to be around can fuck with someone’s mental.

You won’t let that be the case with Callie.

Joe looks just as bothered, like he doesn’t want you doing anything that could impact how Callie sees you. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Oh, but I do and will, baby.” You place your hand to his cheek, his beard a little more outgrown and slightly unkempt as he truly relaxes in the embrace of vacation. “Because that’s one thing I never did and would never do. I never let anyone say any disrespectful shit about you not being in Callie’s life. Amir would try it a lot, and I shot him down every time.”

The mention of Amir brings a scowl to Joe’s handsome face. It’s a bit of a distraction technique you’re grateful worked. This will also be a revisited topic over the years, clearly. “I don’t know what the fuck you saw in him.”

Small smile on your face, you shrug, “he’s not ugly, and his dick was decent.” And before he can say anything smug and smart, “yours is better, duh. Why you think I’m giving you all these kids, huh?” He smiles and shakes his head. “You gotta have God tier dick for me to push out not one but gonna be four of your big headed ass children. Boy, I wish you would try to leave me. You gon be wrestling into your eighties with how much I’ll come for you in child support.”

He rolls his eyes and kisses your temple, “you know I’m not going anywhere and neither are you.”

“Of course not, who the hell is gonna want me with all these damn kids?” The topic at hand reminds you of the book on the side of your bed, the previous reason you two were taking a break from figuring out your approach for letting friends and family know about the courthouse wedding. “Now, we really need to start deciding on names. I’m almost five months.” Pretty soon you’ll be finding out the sexes of the babies. It’s crazy to you how quickly this pregnancy is passing by, most likely due to the happiness you feel. 

Time flies when life is good. 

“Did you get Callie’s list?” 

He curses. “Shit, I forgot.”

You wave him off. “No worries.” Sitting further up in bed, you shout out, “Callie Bear! Bring us your list for baby names!” 

She doesn’t say anything, and you start to try again when she comes running into the room, Disney notebook in one hand and her American Doll in the other. She doesn’t hesitate to climb onto the bed and sit on her knees at the end, “here you go, mommy!”

You accept her notebook that’s already opened to her list of potential baby names that she came up with. “Thank you, baby.” Callie switches to sitting with her legs crossed, her doll that looks just like her, courtesy of her rich ass daddy, smack dab in the middle. “Let’s see.”

A smile falls on your face as you share the notebook with Joe, pointing out the first name that he also smiles at. 

“Moana.” Predictable. So predictable. “Maui. Hei Hei. Tamatoa.” Joe coughs beside you to clearly hold in his laugh. “Baby….are these all names from Moana?”

Callie nods happily. “And Toy Story and Encanto and The Little Mermaid,” she essentially continues to sing-song list off damn near every Disney movie ever created. “The babies have to like Disney too, mommy! Like me, you, and Grandma.”

“You’re so right.” To be fair, you really shouldn’t have expected too much more. She is one Disney loving kid, through and through. “Well, thank you so much for the list, Callie Bear.”

“Daddy, did you make a list?” She asks, head tilted as she gently caresses the top of her doll’s head.

“Not yet, baby. Mommy and I are gonna make one together.” 

“I like baby Moana.” 

He chuckles. “But you’re our little Moana.”

She pouts and corrects, “no, I’m Callie.” Her sass makes you laugh. Joe wasn’t entirely wrong. She really is a lot like you sometimes. “I want a baby sister named Moana.”

“What if they’re all boys?”

You and Callie have similar reactions. It’s just that yours is one of horror and hers is more of shock.

“Noooo, I want a little sister.” 

Adding onto Callie’s vehement protest, you make your own strong thoughts and feelings known. “And I am not pushing out three boys at once, Joe. You done lost your god—”

“What do you want for your birthday, Callie Bear?” You’re partially thankful for the save but also irritated he’s asking this question he already knows is gonna generate a wild ass answer.

“A puppy!”

See.

You do your best to use the perfect combination of understanding yet assertiveness. “Baby, we done had this conversation before, we are not getting a puppy until you’re at least ten.”

“But, I’ll be old!”

“Exactly, old enough to take care of a puppy.” One look at Joe, and you can see he’s about to open his mouth and probably find some reason to ‘agree’ with or at least defend Callie’s request. “Absolutely not. No dog until she’s older, and that’s final.”

Callie, understandably, does not agree nor like this rule, and it’s evident in her deep pout and the way she crosses her arms over her little body. “Not fair.”

“Life ain’t fair, buttercup.” You retort, quickly reminding her as you take in her appearance. “Speaking of, it’s almost time for your wash day….”

The infamous, dreaded day of nonstop hair washing and styling is enough to wipe her smile away and award her a brand new reason to start whining, “I don’t want to.”

The feeling is mutual. “Neither does mommy, but we gotta do it eventually, Callie Bear.” Looking over at Joe, you inform him, “and you will be present for this ordeal, sir, so you can learn how to do her hair for me.”

He looks confused, nose turned up. A chuckle is withheld at how much he and his daughter mimic each other in this situation. “Baby, I don’t know how to do hair.”

Sucking your teeth, you smartly point out, “you do your own!”

“I barely do anything with my hair. You know this.” 

Damn. He’s right. Lucky ass. “Regardless, when I get too big to be bending over the sink like that, someone’s gonna have to do it.”

Of course, Joe’s smartass just decides to throw out something that should probably be discussed before saying around Callie, “I’ll take her to your mom.”

Callie’s eyes light up a bit. “Grandma!”

“Joe.” Lord, this man got too much money or something. “You seriously are going to fly our daughter out to my hometown so my mama can do her hair?”

He shrugs, clearly not seeing an issue with what’s being proposed. “Yeah.”

Rolling your eyes and shaking your head, you lean further back in the pillows of the bed. “You are too—” However, you’re cut short mid-sentence, face and chest dropping simultaneously, the change in your disposition enough to catch Joe’s attention. 

“What’s wrong?” He’s sitting up even more, expertly masking the concern that’s growing by the second. Recognizing this, you will that small smile to start forming on your face, shaking your head as you motion for him and Callie to move closer.

“Mommy?” Callie is just as confused as you reach for both her and Joe’s hands, placing them on your belly, trying to find the spot of origin. “What—”

This time, she’s the one to stop mid-sentence as she feels it, the sensation you last felt when you were pregnant with her. Callie’s face is still set with understandable confusion, but your gaze on Joe reveals minimal concern and an abundance of amazement. 

“What is that, mommy?” Callie finally asks. The emotion in your throat takes you back a bit. You’re not typically a super emotional person, but there’s something about this moment, about feeling your babies kick for the first time and being able to share it with your fiance and child that does something to you. Knocks at those pillars that hold up your resolve. 

“That’s the babies. They’re kicking.” You explain, smiling a bit as Callie looks at you in horror.

“Why are they hurting you?”

“They’re not, sweetie. That’s what babies do. As they get bigger and grow, they need to move around and sometimes kick. You did the same thing to me.” Adding some playfulness into your voice, there’s a level of relief to see she appears less concerned. 

Your attention, however, is brought back to Joe as he kisses your temple, hand still planted on your stomach, clearly soaking up every bit of this precious, cherished moment. 

“I love you,” he murmurs against your temple. It’s such a simple statement, a little three letter sentence that means more than anyone could ever understand. Moving your hand to the side of his face, you both laugh as Callie moves her face to your stomach. 

“Don’t kick mommy too much, okay, little babies?” The determination on her face should be captured and locked away for safekeeping for the rest of time. “She’s the bestest mommy ever and pretty and smart and—”

“—and still not getting you a puppy.” While your daughter is undoubtedly one of the sweetest kids you’ve ever come across, she’s also intelligent as hell. And you know her like the back of your hand. Enough to know where she’s headed with this. 

And, you’re proven correct when she rolls her eyes again, making a ‘hmmph’ sound that has Joe chuckling next to you. She then sets her little plotting sights on Joe as she takes her hand from your stomach and moves to crawl into his lap.

You have to keep yourself from rolling your own eyes as she pulls out that sickeningly sweet voice and holds onto his shirt. “Daddy?”

Joe doesn’t hesitate to answer right away. “Yes, baby?” One look at him, and you already know what the answer is going to be. This man is so weak for this little girl. It’s not even funny. 

“Hallie wants a friend…..” Joe’s eyebrows cave in confusion as he looks over at you. 

Gesturing to her American Girl doll on the edge of the bed, you fill him in, “that’s what she named the doll.” 

He chuckles, clearly amused by the name that rhymes with hers. “She does?”

Callie nods, that excitement building back up. “Two friends!”

Mouth dropping, you prepare to put this child in her place when Daddy Warbucks beats you to it, living up to his reputation.

“Well, then we need to get her two friends.”

“Yay!” Callie celebrates, hugging Joe who ignores your look of disapproval. “Can I make her friends too?” 

And once again, the first living, breathing bank to ever exist is quick to fold. “Of course, Callie Bear.”

“Yay!” She cheers yet again for another way too easy battle. It’s not even a battle at this point. Battle would mean that both parties have somewhat of a chance, and Joe is clearly putty for his little girl. “Thank you, daddy.” She seals the deal with a hug and kiss on his cheek before climbing off the bed, grabbing Hallie as she shares, “I’m gonna make them now!”

With her tablet, clearly. The tablet you’d bet any money Joe once again disabled the time limits on. 

Lord, you’re about to have five damn children to take care of at this point. 

It’s only when Callie is out of the room and on her way to celebrate yet another successful day of finessing her daddy that you punch this man in his big ass arm. 

“What?” It’s him having the audacity to sound and look confused that has you ready to kick him out of the room. 

“What do you mean what?” Angling your body more toward him, you explain, “Joe, why are you buying her more dolls? American Girl dolls, at that. I know you must have paid at least $300 for the first one you got her. I saw all them accessories.” He rolls his eyes but doesn’t deny it, because he can’t. Callie had always asked you for one, and while you could have scraped some money together to make it happen, you couldn’t come to grips with just how many other more useful things one could do with that money. “She doesn’t need them dolls, babe.”

“You gon’ let her get a puppy now?”

An easy ass answer. “Hell no.”

He has the nerve to catch a slight attitude with you as he affirms, “then she’s getting the dolls.”

Rubbing your temples, you realize this isn’t a ‘fight’ you’re not going to win. “You know what, whatever. You do what you want, but I’m telling you right now, these—” You bring his hand back to your belly. “—babies are not going to be spoiled like their big sister. They gon be like Oliver Twist and grateful for a bowl of soup.”

He moves his hand around, probably trying to see if he can feel any more movement. “Callie is grateful.”

“For now.” Not really wanting to have this circular dialogue with him, you grab your phone to see a couple missed texts but open the one from your mom first, instantly rolling your eyes. “Not this again.”

The shift in your voice catches Joe’s attention. “What?”

Shaking your head, you show him the thread, thumb right next to the link for an article on ‘melanin maternal mental health’. 

Talk about fucking alliteration. 

“I don’t know what’s been up with her lately, but she’s been sending me all these links for articles and like motivational photos about mental health and motherhood.” You explain to him, going to heart the message and send a quick response to at least show some appreciation. Because there is a little there. That your mom cares about you so much. But the concern isn’t necessarily valid or needed..

This is the happiest you’ve been in some time. A long time. If ever.

Nothing is going to change that.

Especially being a mother to three more children. 

Placing your phone back on the nightstand, a glance at Joe reveals he’s debating something. “What?”

He moves closer to you, hand pushing back some of your coils. “Been thinking about that movie thing…..”

The smile on your face grows as you move closer, eyes twinkling with all the curiosity in the world. “What did you decide?”

—------

Megan is having a wonderful day.

One of the best she’s had in a while.

Not only did she manage to wake up on time, but the coffee she ordered from this cute little cafe she found while on a business trip in Denver a couple months ago awaited her on the outside of her apartment door when she got back from her pilates class the night before.

And there’s few things she loves more than a delicious cup of morning Joe.

A smirk falls on her face as she hums “Here Comes the Bride” while engaging in her extensive shower routine, admiring the expert work of her wax lady. Body hair has always been an absolute no. But, it’s when she moves the loofah across the weight of her heavy breast that Megan imagines hands and not her loofah. Big hands that would cup her boobs roughly as he forces her to turn around, slams her up against the shower wall and fucks her hard from behind, her moans and shouts of pleasure dancing across the tile, alerting everyone of just who owns this pussy.

Hand gliding down her wet, nude body, she keeps the vision going, slender thighs clenching together at the thought of him forcing her on her knees, his dick down the back of her throat, eyes watering as he mouth fucks her.

“Joe….” Thin fingers slip past wet folds as she realizes she’s going to be a couple minutes late for work.

So worth it though. 

Because Megan hasn’t come like that in years. Her legs are practically wobbly as she finally exits the shower, bathroom mirror completely fogged to where she has to grab a towel to clear up a section so she can see herself.

The pink tinge of her cheek brings a sly smile to her face. 

“I can’t wait until we can be together, my love…” A sweep of sadness comes over her as she grabs her phone, admiring his handsome face on her lock screen and opens Apple Music to play his entrance music, selecting the repeat button before she continues with her routine. 

It takes her about the usual time.

And soon enough, Megan is out the door, having finished her delicious coffee and opted to just have a banana for breakfast. There’s no time for unnecessary caloric intake.

She has to start preparing for the wedding. 

Walking into the office, right away, she can detect the almost sullen atmosphere and does her best to match the vibe.

To play along. 

And before she can go to her office bestie, Paige, to “find out” why everything feels so off, the team is pulled in for a mandatory meeting.

Luke’s quiet demeanor does take her a bit back. He’s never quiet. She’s not complaining though. Not at all.

As soon as everyone is seated, he starts off with the general pleasantries that are weighed by the sadness in his voice. And then he gets into it. “I know some of you have heard, but for those who haven’t, I—uh—I got some bad news.” He takes a deep breath, shaking his head. “There’s uh—no way to say this, but Susan Jackson was found dead this morning.”

As an array of gasps and shocked countenances fill the room, Megan does her best to blend in, to play along with the genuine surprise of all of her coworkers.

Paige leans over to whisper to Megan, eyes also watery, “they say she killed herself. That she was found her on the sidewalk in front of her apartment building. Window was open and everything.”

Megan expertly fakes a horrified expression. “Oh my god, how heartbreaking.” She even manages to crank out some tears that don’t shed but get the job done. “I can’t believe she’s gone….”

“Megan.” She lifts her head, eyebrows also raising. “I know you worked close with Susan on a couple of clients, and you also know she was set to assist Roman Reigns on his debut film, but with Susan gone….”

Megan shakes her head, pulling out a few sniffles. “It’s okay. I’ll….I’ll do it. I’ll take Reigns as my client.”

And my husband.

Luke gives her a nod of appreciation, wiping at his eyes as he clears his throat and continues to address the room.

It takes almost everything in her not to roll her eyes. The woman was fucking fifty for crying out loud. 

She lived long enough. 

He says something about grief counseling, the suicide hotline, blah blah blah.

Megan does her best to listen but mostly tunes out the rest of the meeting. It’s irrelevant. She has what she wants. Now, it’s time to go after who she wants, the thought alone creating such an intense, euphoric feeling inside of her stomach as she casually traces the brand new tiny letter ‘J’ she now has tattooed on her ring finger.

[projectbluearcadia]

Cream-Flavored Whore

NSFW Lucifer x F!MC Spice Rating: 4/4 ; BDSM Rating: 3/3 Condescending

[ Premise - Lucifer is really in a mood. He doesn't want you to leave his bedroom, nor does he want you to waste a single drop of his semen. It's going in you one way or the other, and you'd better be begging him for it. ]

CW: Orgasm denial; breeding kink; overstimulation; slight dubcon; degradation kink; hair-pulling; restraint (wrists only)

Welp, I'm not sure if it's what I was originally aiming for, but hopefully this will give some satisfaction to the readers who (like me) want to be Lucifer's cute little cocksleeve.

Wordcount: 2260

smutty notes (consult if you haven’t read my smut before.)

“Hey.” 

The singular, deep-voiced word resonates against your eardrum, making you jump back into Lucifer’s body as you drop the dish you’re currently scrubbing. He wraps his arms around your midsection, keeping you where you are. He bites the shell of your ear softly, and this should’ve been your first hint.  

“Are you that happy to see me that you had to startle the crap out of me?” you ask, a little annoyed as you turn your head towards him, only for him to lick your neck like he’s trying to figure out how you taste before he eats you (though he already knows that answer very well).

“Among other things, yes,” he murmurs, your earlobe practically in his mouth. “I’ve had a very… very long day. Can’t I come and surprise my special someone?” 

“Well, I am doing the dishes right now… since it’s my turn,” you reply, wriggling in his grip, but he shows no signs of letting you out of his arms any time soon. “You know, you’re the one who made these rules.” 

“I did,” he acquiesces. 

“So, are you going to… let me finish that?” 

“No,” he replies against your shoulder. “Someone else can do that. Unless you think you can still do the dishes while you’re bent over the sink taking every inch of my cock.” 

“L-Lucifer!” you scold, even as he drags one hand down between your legs, rubbing your inner thigh. Feeling your body start to warm up just from his fingers tracing up and down, teasing you. “You can’t just…”

“Is that a ‘no’ I hear?” he murmurs. “Let me make this clearer for you.” Lucifer manages to find your clit through your pants, pressing down on it and stroking it as he leans closer, now actively pressing you between the sink and himself. “You’re coming with me, right now, to my bedroom, and so help me if I have to wait another damn second, I’m going to fuck you right here where anyone can walk in and see what a slut you are for me.” 

You swallow thickly, arousal pounding through your veins, spreading like wildfire as it warms you up from the inside out, and not just because his hard-on is digging into your lower back. There’s a naughty part of you that’s even tempted to just tell him to expose you, and the embarrassment of having such a thought in the first place is…

“Yes sir,” you reply meekly, and Lucifer teleports with you still attached to him, straight into his bedroom. The door audibly locks with a solid click without him even touching it, and you’re left with the sound of eerie silence. 

That silence is broken and filled with the echo of wet kisses as Lucifer yanks your shirt off, barely giving you the time to throw your arms up. You let out a soft yelp in the time Lucifer releases your lips as he forces your wrists together, soundly binding them with your shirt. The tie, off. The coat, off. Then it’s your bra, and his hands are wrapped around and squeezing your breasts as he returns to dominating your tongue. 

Lucifer’s breath shudders, his eyes seeming to give off a predatory gleam as he toys with your nipples, ignoring your sweet cries of protest as he offers them merciless flicks and pinches. Your insides feel like they’re sitting on a hot stove, bubbling up, waiting to boil over, but the temperature isn’t quite hot enough yet. 

“Lucifer,” you mewl out, and all of his attention fixes on your face instead of your chest before he suddenly drags his lips down, kissing your neck slowly before he opens his mouth and bites you, sucking the skin as he shoves your pants down your legs together with your underwear. You gasp at the sudden intrusion of cold air, your senses starting to overload as he drags one hand down, sliding his middle finger between your labia, then withdrawing. Checking if you’re ready for him. 

He lets out a soft laugh as he grabs a bruisingly tight hold of your thigh, a cold trail of your lubrication making itself known. And, dragging his lips back up the other side of your neck to bite your ear, he says:

“I didn’t even do anything, you dirty whore.” 

“Ah?!” you gasp out as he picks you up, in bridal fashion, walking over to his bed and unceremoniously dumping you onto it. Your face smashes into his pillow, briefly filling your nose with the scent of his shampoo. By the time you’ve straightened yourself out, working yourself onto your elbows and knees, Lucifer’s clothes are all on the floor, revealing his body in every fascinating centimeter of its pallid glory. 

And you watch, spellbound, as his horns curl out of his head, his Stygian wings bursting out of his back and a few of his feathers gently floating to the floor. Then there’s that cute little rhombus on his forehead that you used to think one of his little brothers painted on him (it was a birthmark, apparently). And oh, good and sweet Diavolo his genitals, which might very well have doubled in size, were flushed and seemed to be eagerly pointing at your exposed and vulnerable entrance. 

“Do you know why,” Lucifer softly rasps as he leans over you, his wings casting pretty shadows onto the bed. You feel his fingers wrap around one forearm, tightly. “I even bothered to wait until you were in my bed?” Even as he’s saying that, he’s spreading you wide, his hot, eager length pressing, pressing deep inside, inch by inch. You hiccup as you feel him bottom out, his breath burning your ear as he bites it again. 

“N-No?” you whisper, almost scared to break the reverent silence of him enjoying your walls clenching down hard on him, his entire body shivering for a blissful moment. For a few seconds, you think he’ll orgasm just from being inside you, and the thought nearly drives you insane. 

Lucifer lets out a short, scornful laugh before he jerks your arms out from under you, your shoulders thrusted backwards as he tugs on the bond holding your wrists together, your face returning back into his pillow. 

“I should have known that your empty brain is too dumb to realize that I’m being nice to you,” he softly purrs, even as his hips start to move. Pulling in and out. Agonizingly slowly. “How about I put it in plain terms for you? I’m going to fill you like a cream puff until you can’t fit anymore and fall apart. Even if I have to tie you down, take breaks for myself, or start filling up a different hole, I’m going to breed you until nothing is left of you except a drooling, screaming fucking mess.” 

Lucifer digs the fingers of his other hand into your hair, pulling at the scalp and forcing your head up, back away from the pillow. His hips work harder now, starting to slap audibly into your wanting flesh and prying several cries out of you in the process. “And you’re going to take every drop I give you without a shred of complaint, understand? Be a good whore, or I’ll get the belt.” Lucifer’s voice lowers, his grip tightening. “And you don’t want me to use the belt, now do you? I expect an answer when I ask you a question.”

“N-No, sir, I don’t want the belt,” you whine, your vision starting to feel foggy as he keeps going at you. Is this how he’ll be… the entire night? The thought alone leaves you trembling with arousal. “I’ll be a good little cumslut for you.” You gasp as his hips snap forward, your lower body trembling. “Please, I need it. I need you.” 

“That’s not how you ask me for a favor,” he growls, pulling hard on both your hands and even harder on your scalp, making you yelp. You just know he’s relishing in the tears pricking your eyes. “You know better.” 

“Pl-Please,” you moan desperately. “Cum inside me, Lucifer.” 

The reaction is instant. He lets your head fall back into the pillow and grabs two full handfuls of your hips, his short nails certainly making impressions in your supple flesh as he releases the first of many loads, painting your vaginal wall with white. 

And, barely skipping a beat, he keeps thrusting away, never sparing you a moment of rest as he uses you for his pleasure. Your head is fuzzy with the bliss his cock provides as it hits the deepest parts of you, but he won’t touch your neglected little pearl. It’s your g-spot, or nothing; he won’t help you. 

“That’s right; clench just like that,” Lucifer rumbles. “Beg for it with that naughty pussy of yours. Seems like it’s smarter than you.”  

“Ugh, hnng, mmmf…” you groan out as your face rubs against the bed with his every thrust, overcome with the way he’s using your body. “Please… please,” you beg softly as he pounds at you, creaming you again, his voice strained as he groans, fixing a rough bite into your back. 

“Please what?” he growls, pulling out of you with a dirty noise, making you shake your arse at him as the loss of his member leaves you painfully unstretched. It makes you feel a little better having his semen warming you up, making sure your pussy isn’t lonely. 

“M-Make me cum,” you whimper. “I want to cum too.” 

That smirk. Oh no. 

“You dirty little slut; what makes you think you deserve it?” Lucifer purrs, condescendingly stroking your head before he pushes back into you, making you gasp in surprise. Wasn’t he taking a break?! Isn’t he overstimulated?! “If you can’t cum with just my cock inside you, I don’t think you should.” 

“Lucifer!” you gasp out, stars flickering in your eyes as he starts pounding at you again, your skin noisily slapping together with the undertones of your squelching cunt, as if trying to override any sort of complaint you have. You’re left whining, gasping, desperately trying to match his pace with zero success as he lets out pleased grunts and rewarding groans with every dutiful thrust. 

And he suddenly turns you on your side, jerking your leg up over his shoulder and pressing against your cervix, giving you the slightest rest as he slows down a little. You finally see his face, how fucking crazy his eyes are. He shows his teeth as he leans closer, his fingers slipping down your leg to press into your lower stomach, smirking as you gasp, twitching and shaking as he stimulates your walls from both sides. Your lower belly feels tight as you jerk your hips up towards him, forcing him to stroke your walls harder in the process. 

“I’m going to ruin you,” he purrs sweetly against your neck before he pulls back up from his position, roughly turning you over the rest of the way, onto your back with your legs raised onto his shoulders. Breed me! Breed me! Your mind screams at this point, beyond the point of being eager and straight into desperation. Fill me! Use me! 

And as if reading your dirty thoughts, his earlier pace resumes without any further ado, eliciting borderline screams out of you in the process. He holds you steady for his frenzy, tightening up that knot inside you, further and further until the point of no return. Until you can do nothing else but release.

Your orgasm is almost violent as it races through you, and Lucifer is left gasping and chuckling in his own pleasure as he slams into your convulsing, abused little hole, not seeming to mind that you’ve kicked his shoulders twice as he keeps your thighs open for you. 

And not only does his seed fill you yet again, before you’ve even finished coming back down from your high, he’s brutalizing your neglected clit and somehow still hard inside you.

“That’s my whore,” he growls, though you don’t know how you can hear him over your caterwauling. “Come on; keep cumming for me. Cry, scream all you want, but I’m not going to fucking stop.” He chuckles as he continues, slapping your bud several times like it wasn’t already stuck between wildly competing pain and pleasure. And he’s sliding his cock in and out again, and you can faintly see through the tears in your eyes that the warm wetness on your thighs is just as white as the sticky mess on his flushed and sensitive member. “Now… tell me what you want… Clearly and loudly so that I know exactly what kind of slut you are.” That’s…(lewd, fuck) tall order (can’t!) considering the thoughts… fragments. 

“Fuck me!” you shout in your hoarse, broken voice, and Lucifer presses his thumb—covered in his cum—on your lips.

“Clearly,” he reminds, and you lick his thumb desperately, making him smirk as he suddenly takes it away from you. That wasn’t clear enough?!?! “You’ll be getting plenty of that later, after I’m done.” 

“Use me like a sexdoll! Put a baby in me!” you beg desperately as drool starts to spill out of your mouth. Fuck coherent thoughts; you’re aching to forget that your brain even exists. “I’ll take it anywhere, do anything, just please! Stuff me full with your seed!” 

That’s exactly the response Lucifer was looking for. 

“See? Just a dirty cumslut,” he rumbles against your ear. “You’re in luck. Because I’m not anywhere near being tired yet.” 

[jeonghantis]

✧ — NO INHIBITIONS, STRANGE CONDITIONS.

PAIRING ⇝ kim mingyu x reader.

SUMMARY ⇝

road safety could not hold you back from wanting your boyfriend despite how stupid of a idea it is. kim mingyu was just as stupid.

TAGS ⇝ established relationship, smut, pwp.

WARNINGS ⇝ language, gn!reader but with female parts & wears skirts, distracted driving (DRIVE SAFELY PLEASE), explicit sexual content (MINORS, DNI!).

WORD COUNT ⇝ 3.7k words.

note: welp. LOL! mingyu driving drove me mad. this is 2 of 2 fics in celebration of mingyu month. a complete 180 from the first one i fink! oops! and yes i'm aware it's may now and i apologize deeply. but celebrating mingyu should be an all-time thing. the title is taken from the song leaving me feeling confident by the driver era. don't think the song would go specifically with the fic, i just liked the wording. this is completely self-indulgent so as always, not proofread hehe. not as good as i hoped it would be but i hope you enjoy regardless.

reblog for kim mingyu. thats it. (and to support me).

smut tags under the cut.

SMUT TAGS ⇝ ROAD HEAD! (dick sucking while driving), dom/sub dynamics, switch!mingyu, switch!reader, mingyu is kinda sub until he's not, reader is dom until they're not, size kink (reader is smaller than mingyu), use of the petname "darling" "baby" & "angel", dirty talk, praise (reader gets called "pretty"), degradation (whore, slut), hairpulling, mild begging, groping, oral (m), fingering (f), gagging, throatfucking, cunt slapping (once), cum eating, mingyu is ROUGH (man does not know his own strength but is caring afterwards), reader being used as a toy, cockdumb and cock hungry reader, reader probably got major oral fixation, big dick!mingyu like Big Big (could imagine mingyu being ridiculously big or reader just has small hands).

Wandering hands had become quite a shared habit, how natural it was for their fingers to gravitate towards each other. It was always welcomed, of course, when it acted as a need of comfort from the other. When there was not one moment where they were not craving for each other.

But this was a problem. Several problems. Two very conflicting problems.

First, not only is your hand caressing him at the moment, it’s artfully roving over to his crotch. And Mingyu truly loved your bold actions and might have appreciated it if it had been within the confines of their apartment. But it was in the confines of his car, in the middle of a highway.

Second, the problem to the first problem, was that this was his wet dream come true.

It’s a no-brainer what should be deemed more urgent. Mingyu didn’t want to careen their vehicle over the edge and risk their very lives for the sake of getting his dick wet. 

But. 

But the danger, although he knows it should, doesn’t entirely frighten him. It was a wet dream for a reason.

But Mingyu should be smart about this. He has to be smart about this.

Meanwhile, you’re thinking you may be utterly stupid about this. 

Most times, you would consider yourself a cautious person—someone who would always second-guess every decision, and hell, maybe third or even fourth-guessed. Truly, you were an overthinker. Sometimes, you wished you could just stop thinking altogether.

And that time has come now. There was absolutely no question of your decision, not even a single thought process done, when you reached to palm your boyfriend’s clothed dick. You only knew that you were being ridiculous, but it was because Mingyu looked ridiculously hot right now driving the way he does, glancing at you and smiling the way he does. What the hell were you supposed to do?

What you’re saying next is entirely pulled out of the shallowest part of your brain riddled with unbridled lust. And it challenges Mingyu’s logic and worsens his agony.

“Can I put it in my mouth?” you ask innocently, peering at him with big, curious eyes. 

“I might kill us both, babe,” Mingyu said, pearly canines bared when he wore a strenuous smile. He spares an urgent glance at how your hand sits perfectly atop his growing erection, nails dragging on denim. His grip on the steering wheel tightens.

“I trust that you won’t. You’re a good driver,” you claim, smiling sharply as you give him a tilt of your head. “Is that a no?”

There was no immediate response from him, his eyes fixed stubbornly on the road that lay ahead. Yet, you still caught the clench of his jaw under the flash of a streetlamp, the whitening of his knuckles. It was insanely unfair how Mingyu could still look so gorgeous when frustration twisted his features—or was it you who simply loved seeing his frustrations?

Mingyu weighed his options. Their apartment was still many ways away, he doesn’t know if he could tough it out for that long. He’s thankful the highway is nearly void of other cars, but is utterly bitter over how it stretches on seemingly forever, leaving him no room to pull over at all. He had to maintain focus on the winding paths. He tried not to think of the deft work of your hand on him. He tried not to think of how your mouth would soon replace it. But his pleasure-ridden body betrays him miserably—his hips lifting itself into a slow rut right against your hand.

“Endangering our lives just so you could fill your slut of a mouth,” Mingyu spelled out slowly, each word sharp. “Is that what you really want?”

“Yeah,” you chirp, entirely unaffected by his tone and he could practically hear the smirk in yours. “You could say no.”

He looks at you. “I could.”

“So, say it.”

A sliver of a smile as he turns away again. “I don’t think I will.”

“Oh?” The flutter deep in your stomach intensified, the anticipation having you on the edge seat almost quite literally as you’re leaning closer, adding a little more weight on his crotch. “Why not?”

“Because I dreamt of this,” he divulges, an airy sigh slipping from his lips. “Dreamt of your pretty lips wrapped around my cock in the middle of traffic, of your frustration when I’m unable to help you force my entire length down your throat.” 

“How filthy,” you jest, a shit-eating grin pulling your lips wider.

A pointed gaze. “You literally just offered to suck my dick in the first place.”

A shrug. “Fair.” 

Mingyu’s right hand reached for yours. The largeness of his palm fully encompasses your own as he presses down on it, applying enough delightful friction on himself for a strangled moan to get caught in his throat. 

“Just do it,” he exhales, his breathing ragged. “My dick is about to explode.”

“What a poet,” You snicker and give his dick a playful squeeze which only earns more of his choked noises. But thankfully, you’re merciful as you are excited and reckless. He hears the rustle against leather as you’re maneuvering yourself, folding your legs under you. His heart beats a little loudly against his chest, thrumming up to his ears and down to his dick, as lithe, dainty fingers make quick work on his belt and the button of his jeans. 

“Keep your eyes on the road for me, baby,” you say as your hand dives in to finally, finally, bring his awaiting cock out. “We both don’t want to be dead so soon before I give you the best orgasm of your life.”

“Then hurry up,” Mingyu seethes through gritted teeth.

He’s nearly at full length, and though you’ve held him countless times, you’re still marveling at the sheer size of him, how he sits heavily on your palm, throbbing thickly. Your fingers just barely come into a circle when you start to stroke him with an unhurried and leisurely pace, feeling the full extent of him.

“This hard just from me groping you?” you coo, tone a honeyed venom, as you run a thumb over his slit. “Trying to act all cool with me when you’re just as desperate to fill my slut of a mouth.” 

“Baby,” Mingyu said with heavy breaths that taper off into croaked groans. “Please don’t tease.”

“Don’t be so impatient,” you tut. “I promise I’ll make you feel good, but you have to be good and keep driving. Can you do that for me?” 

Mingyu swallows hard, the lump on his throat bobbing, and gives an obedient nod of his head before adjusting himself with a straightened back which might’ve been the umpteenth time he’s done so since you’ve offered your sinful proposal. 

“Good,” you hum, preening at his easy compliance, and dip your head down.

Mingyu bites down on his bottom lip hard when you take one small, tentative lick at his weeping slit. A ditzy giggle bubbles up your throat when he throbs almost immediately in response and your hand squeezes at the base of his cock in return. You continue with a few more teasing flicks, lapping up the bitter taste of him on your tongue, and only when you feel Mingyu’s thighs flex and strain to jerk up into your mouth do you ultimately indulge him.

“Oh fuck,” the poor man cusses out when you down him as much as you could, your mouth a luscious wet warmth as it envelopes around him. “Holy fuck, baby, that’s so good.” 

You hum appreciatively around his unbelievable girth, sending vibrations coursing down the just as unbelievable length that only has Mingyu whimpering praises more. A hand makes up for the rest of him that your mouth couldn’t quite reach just yet; it works in perfect tandem with your slackened jaw as your head begins to bob up and down on him.

Mingyu does not dare steal a glance in total fear of losing all sense of himself at what is most definitely the most lecherous view of his fantasies coming to life. His head stays firmly pinned against the leather-clad headrest, twitching eyes hell-bent on the road. But he could still hear the obscenity of it, all the wet glugs and sucks as your cheeks hollow out for him, and it does all but aid his concentration, gradually winding a burning hot coil deeply set in the pit of his stomach. The wandering habit presented itself as his right hand began to move (thanking the high heavens for making him left-handed), and glided over your back and all the way down under the impossibly short skirt you wore.

“That’s it, angel,” Mingyu drawls out in encouragement, his hand grabbing at the supple flesh of your ass. “You’re taking me so well.”

Hearing his praise and feeling his straying hand only spurs you to dip your head lower, attempting to swallow down more of him. There’s a sense of satisfaction when he bumps the back of your throat and you find that you have been able to take more than half of him in your mouth. But it’s fleeting when the latter half of Mingyu’s dream comes to light sooner than anticipated—that frustration, a consuming greed, of wanting to take him whole. And like he alluded to, you knew it wasn’t possible if he wasn’t fucking your mouth open, which is entirely out of the question. You’re still trying for some form of compensation—a hand wringing at the base, tongue lapping hungrily at the sides of his cock with lewd slurps—and it all comes out good when jerking out moans from Mingyu, but it’s short in appeasing you. It’s desperation now that’s having you creep further along his length, and it’s so so messy with the obscene amount of saliva cascading down his shaft, coating him with a wet sheen. You resist the urge to gag every time he hits the back of your throat and try to veer your focus on breathing through flared nostrils, eyes fluttering shut in concentration. 

It’s laughable how easily that focus is broken when prying fingers begin to pull your flimsy underwear. 

“I couldn’t help myself,” Mingyu averred, flashing a sly smile your way, before he’s gliding a calloused digit over your folds, gathering at the wetness trickling out.

Your mewls are broken and garbled, a new surge of spit gushing down, dripping on his lap. Instinctively, your hips swivel back hungrily in search of more blissful friction, as you peer up at him through wet lashes, a stray tear flowing down your cheek. 

Mingyu catches it when he casts a quick glance again. He notes the utter desperation contorting your expression, the glistening cheeks a sign of your eminent passion, and something deep inside him both inflames and melts at the same time. His eyes are assessing the road when it flickers back up, and there—the greatest silver lining known to man (just Mingyu) kissing the dusky sky—is the end of the highway. He doesn’t speed for it, no, instead he forgoes it, just the slightest bit as his foot eases off the pedal. He forgoes it for the sake of securing the vehicle, for the sake of slipping his a finger inside your wet channel as a reward for the glorious way you worship his cock. 

The surprised, choked-out groan you exude goes straight to his dick, quite literally. And he’s echoing it, staggered but loud enough to drown out the music flowing from the speakers. 

“I’ll pull over soon,” Mingyu imparts, gently hooking the digit and stroking your walls. “Just a little longer, baby, then I’ll fuck your throat. You’d like that too, won’t you?”

You pull off him with a satisfying pop, a string of spit threading between his cock and your glistening lips that’s quickly broken when both hands replace where your mouth’s been, stroking hard and fast. You glance up at him with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth, holding back your moans as your hips sway back into his finger. 

“Be quick,” you whisper, eyelids flickering, and you lean back down to trace the veins along his cock with your tongue. “I want all of you in my mouth. I want you to bury your fingers in me. I want you to abuse me until I'm a mess of spit and tears.”

Fuck. 

Mingyu slams on the acceleration. He’s still commandeering the vehicle securely with one hand, but the finger inside you goes still, letting you use it as you please with shallow rocks of your hips and clenches of your walls. He takes a right when the road opens up and pulls up in a relatively empty parking lot very swiftly with the practiced ease of the seasoned driver he was.

Up until then, you were suckling on his tip, coaxing thick, pearly rivulets out of him onto your tastebuds. If it had been possible to be drunk off of precum, you certainly appeared to be buzzed out of your mind with how much you were giggling and lapping at him for more. You were impossibly gone in the pleasure of giving your boyfriend pleasure that you weren't given enough time to prepare yourself for the absolute reckless and barbaric nature that would be forced upon you.

Safely parked, Mingyu ignored the garbled whines when he pulled his finger away from your clenching walls as he goes to quickly undo his seatbelt. Mingyu reached for two firm fistfuls of your hair, used it as a rein to properly align your mouth for him to shove his way inside promptly without so much of a warning. Gone was his usual gentle nature, he’s completely ruthless. The power of his thrusts is terrifyingly inhumane, his sac slapping up against your chin with ease now that he waives your own comfort. He’s focused on gaining his pleasure and his alone.

“Better?” Mingyu laughs darkly. “Were you struggling all this time? Is your mouth filled up enough now? C’mon, pretty baby. Let me hear those gags.”

You do let him hear it, all the gurgles and violent retches made around him. You fucking know this’ll leave you voiceless the next day—hell, maybe for the next few days if you continue moaning against the repeated force—and yet you’re still indulging him, conceding your entire being to him almost too easily, almost too enthusiastically. 

Like the sick person you were, the brutality has you practically soaking wet through the fabric of your underwear. If you weren’t in such a rough position, you might’ve reached back to relieve yourself of the incessant throbbing of your core. And Mingyu held the mantle now, your authority beaten right out of you, so you weren’t so sure if he would appreciate you doing anything else other than being his cocksleeve.

So instead, with tears a steady stream down your face and lips red and swollen, you let him abuse you, narrowing your focus on the sliding weight of his dick on your tongue, your head laxed for him to fully control with no restraints or complaints. A perfect little toy.

Your pleasurable suffering wouldn’t last for long. Mingyu was close to breaking himself. You feel his thighs tense from where you gripped him for balance, his panted moans rising in volume against your ears. 

“You’re going to swallow everything I give you, you got that?” Mingyu drawled. “Every single bit. You wanted your mouth filled, yeah? You take it all, darling.”  

Your responding, muddled moans are a warm wet ring around him. If you could see him, you’d find how pleasure cruelly contorts his features. It takes a couple more messy, stuttered strokes then the burning coil inside him that wound so tightly snapped so violently. A surge of warmth overwhelms Mingyu, his muscles tensing and seizing, and a long, broken noise is ripped right out of his chest, as he comes in thick ropes of white right into your mouth.

The salty, warm cum of him glides down your throat like melted cream. You do try to guzzle it all down as told, but he always comes in such heavy loads. Coughs threaten to tear your throat but you’re suppressing them with the greatest effort until hot tears streak down your cheeks, your chest heaving wildly. 

“So good,” Mingyu exhales, his grip on you loosened as he takes to petting your hair with such affection as he rides out the remainders of his high. “You’re so good for me, angel.”

Satisfied after gulping down the last spurt of him, you finally let up with a small whimper, your frame quivering as you sat yourself back on your folded legs, your eyes eager when it found him. Mingyu still looked unbelievably good sweaty and flushed. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what you might have looked like with your hair strewn about and swollen lips.

Mingyu didn’t seem to care. He was smiling at you with great fondness as if he had not just abused your mouth like a mere plaything. He reached to wipe some excess cum on your chin with a thumb before immediately shoving past your swollen lips. Still quite pliant, you lick it up earnestly, giving another wanton moan around him.

“Fuck,” Mingyu starts, huffing out a breathy laugh. “You’re my wet dream come true.”

“You’re welcome,” you try to lilt, but it comes out raspy and painful. 

Mingyu notices the wince in your expression and frowns, a hand immediately moving to cradle the side of your throat tenderly. “Does it hurt?”

“Well, you were not exactly gentle, Gyu,” you pointed out humorously, but caught sight of the slight concern lining his face and you quickly followed up with, “But I loved it a lot. It was hot. You were hot.”

Mingyu still looked concerned but at least the corners of his lips twitched at your addition. “I could tell you loved it. You took me really well, angel.”

“And I’d do it again and again,” you said, grinning. “Even though I’m pretty sure my windpipe is bruised.”

His hand lifts to hold the side of your face, a thumb smoothing over your cheek, as he looks over you for a moment. There’s a strange little glint in his eyes, and in your recovering state, you couldn’t quite place what it was, but it has your stomach churning again.

“I should make it up to you, shouldn’t I?” Mingyu murmurs, head cocked to the side as he smiles.

“Could you?” you ask in turn, voice soft. “Please?”

“I’ll take care of you,” he croons, raising his hand up to brush your hair back, his fingers threading through your hair. “Don’t worry your pretty little head.”

Mingyu reaches over you, promptly maneuvering your seat backwards. He eases you until you’re laying flat on your back, and his hands move to grip at your thighs, lifting them and spreading them wide. The breeze that hits your cunt has you trembling and you feel absolutely exposed when Mingyu only watches your tiny frame unfold before him, eyes drinking in the sight with an insatiable hunger. He brushes a knuckle over your soaked folds, tentative, before pressing it roughly against your throbbing clit. You’re whining, arching your back off the seat as a rush of searing pleasure courses up your veins.

You’re whining even louder when Mingyu draws back. You try to reach for his arm but it’s useless when it’s thickly corded with so much power.

“Looks like I didn’t ruin your throat enough if you’re this fucking whiny,” Mingyu remarked sharply with a laugh. He does reach a hand back but your excitement quickly fizzles out just as it spikes when a slap lands quick and sharp on your cunt and you’re jerking in your seat. “Sit still and wait quietly.”

You press your quivering lips into a thin line and nod your head obediently.

With a pleased smile, he pulls back once again. He fixes himself, shoving his dick back into his underwear, followed by sweeping his long hair back and away from his face. He takes his sweet time and doesn’t spare you a single glance as if you weren’t there at all, all the while you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him, the anticipation simmering sickly in your stomach. Then, he’s suddenly reaching for the gear shift, setting the car in reverse, and pulling out of the parking lot.

“W-Where are we going?” you asked urgently.

“Home,” Mingyu replied casually, turning the wheel adeptly with one hand. “Where else?”

You looked down at yourself, at the compromising position he forced you in and forced you to hold. “But - ?”

As if to answer your question, his right hand roves over to you and between your legs. He starts with a press on your clit, then caresses the roughened pad of his finger down to where you leak, before bringing it right back up to start again, and again, and again.

“I promise I’ll make you feel good, baby” Mingyu echoes your words, a vicious smile pulling his lips. “But you have to be good and hold yourself up like that. Can you do that for me?”

“Are you getting back at me?” You meant for your words to come out as an aggravated hiss, but it came out pathetically as a soft whimper.

“Yes,” he responded, not wasting a beat, and peers at you, a dark glimmer in his eyes. “And because this is another wet dream of mine.”

“How lucky,” you start, taking in a shaky breath when Mingyu rubs short, tight circles on your sensitive nub. “How lucky you get to fulfill two of your dreams today.”

“It’s all because of you,” Mingyu grins and, without warning, slides two thick fingers inside you. “Now, answer the question.”

“Yes,” you gasp out immediately, the sudden breach stinging so sharply, but your walls gave a sickly delighted spasm around him anyway. Your arms come up and hook themselves around your knees, bringing it up to your heaving chest. “Yes, I can.”

“Good,” he hums, curling the digits and pressing it roughly against the sweet nerves inside you. “Tough it out because this time, I will not be pulling over.”

© circlesol. all rights reserved. do not re-publish, translate, plagiarise, edit any of my work on any other platform.

[lurkingshan]

Japanese QL Corner

Another show just wrapped up, but a new one takes its place next week. Takara and Mitsuya have really become the bright spots for me in this current run of shows; they make excellent bookends for the week in jql. Of the five shows airing now, four are streaming weekly on Gaga and the other is available via fansub.

Takara's Treasure

What a fantastic episode of a show that continues to get better and better. The way this story has slowly built our understanding of these characters, and their understanding of each other, is masterful and so rewarding. I really loved the direct conversation they had about Takara's post-graduation plans and what it means for them, as well as Taishin getting to the heart of things and reassuring Takara that his desire is welcome. I'm excited to get a peek at Taishin's family next week and see how they navigate whatever challenges they bring.

Cosmetic Playlover

Farewell to this very pretty show whose story did not make much of an impression on me in the end. It never found a coherent relationship arc or gave us any foundation for this romance to hang onto, and it didn't live up to the dark and sexy tone of its original promotion. But it gave us a lot of beautiful visuals!

I Hear the Sunspot

We've now spent an entire month on repetitive side plots designed to separate and cause insecurity for Kohei and Taichi, and I am over it. I understand that the show is faithfully adapting the manga, but this is the thing about adaptations: when you switch to a new medium you have to adapt the work to fit the new format. When you read a manga you can speed through side plots designed to stretch out the story, but you can't do that in a weekly airing drama. And yes, I have seen the arguments that this is primarily a coming of age story about finding yourself, but it's not doing that well, either. This job falling out of the sky for Taichi and his boss—who we are meant to read as someone with good intentions—encouraging him to drop out of school immediately to work full-time is a strange development. That it once again set off a spiral of Kohei and Taichi feeling insecure about their friendship and misunderstanding each other only makes it worse. I understand the intention: we are supposed to be getting that Taichi is embarrassed about this job because it's tied to his still ill-defined feelings for Kohei. But they haven’t unpacked his hang ups with admitting (or understanding?) that he likes Kohei back enough for that to land. We've spent so much time sitting with Taichi's broody confusion without gaining any deeper insight into its source or seeing him grow, which makes all of this just feel like stalling instead of important character work.

Mr. Mitsuya's Planned Feeding

gif by @my-rose-tinted-glasses

*sobs* Welp, the penultimate angst has definitely arrived. They distracted me with the possibility of dog death (Frito lives! THANK GOD) before sucker punching me with Mitsuya pre-emptively rejecting Ishida before their relationship could go further. And while I often roll my eyes at this kind of noble idiocy in the penultimate chapter of a romance, I think it's well-grounded in this story. Mitsuya has been worried about whether a relationship between them is right since he learned about Ishida's feelings, and on the heels of this blow about Frito's health and his sense that he burdened Ishida with this problem, he is feeling his age and his melancholy more than ever. He sees Ishida as a bright and beautiful young person that he would only drag down, and he does not yet understand that it was meeting him that brought this out in Ishida in the first place. The way he apologized and berated himself for asking Ishida to stay then hugged himself for that whole horrible conversation said it all. This also sets us up nicely for Ishida to finally make himself clear and do a classic jbl run next week (this show is ending too soon, I'm going to miss it so much). Thanks as always to @isaksbestpillow for providing her wonderful subs so we can all enjoy this beautiful drama. You can find the ep here.

Tagging @bengiyo to add this week's anime update.

[snail-squasher]

Good Luck, Babe!

‘your head in your hands, youre nothing more than his wife’ - chappell roan

word ct. - 5571

warnings - fem!reader, cheating!!!, bathroom make-out gets heated, angst to fluff

“What do you mean you're ‘leaving’?” The wobble in her voice says it all. “Why?” The look on your face tells her everything she needs to know, “you know how my family is, Sho.” You reach for her left hand before she rips it away from you. “No. No. You don’t get to just say that I ‘know how it is’ because I don’t; okay? I don’t understand what is stopping you for sticking up for yourself! I left… everything behind for you, and you're leaving?” You messed it up. you knew this wasn't going to go how you wanted, you knew you should've said something to your parents, you knew and knew and knew. Why is it so easy to know something but not do something?

“Sho, I’m sorry okay? I can’t just have them cut me off, I’m not going to have a career like you and you know that,” obvious confusion washes over Ieiri’s face, “Then let me take care of you; that was the plan from the beginning!” Tear stains splotching onto her (your) t-shirt. “They already have a guy set up for me.”

The small laugh was the only response Ieiri could muster, “You have to be fucking joking. Tell me this is a sick fucking joke,” the pacing starts, then the cussing, and next thing you know all you hear is, “Fuck you and you're stupid shirt,” now discarded into your lap, “Sho wait-” “No. Don’t.” She puts on her own clothes and leaves. “I can’t fucking believe you.” 

The next few days felt unreal. You hadn’t heard from Shoko (obviously) and Gojo and Geto couldn’t even look at you normally. The goodbyes you uttered were to no one. You packed and left; a few days later meeting your suitor.

Meeting all of your old classmates feels wrong. You feel like you shouldn’t be here; you left after all - everyone avoiding eye contact solidifies it. You can see her - more like hear, since you’re too scared to actually look her way. 

“Is that the one and only!” Gojo. Satoru Gojo. The most annoying guy you knew in high school; given you only knew about 7. “I haven’t seen you since graduation. Well this is awkward, the laugh you let out proves it, “Yep it is. Didn’t expect you to actually show up, you never used to at least.”

“What can I say I’m a changed man,” this was worse than making eye contact across the room with her.

“So how’s it been? You still with what’s his face?” Why did he bring him up, this is so embarrassing, “Yeah, a little over 3 years now,” it must be the tight lip smile that gave it away. Satoru leans in, “Listen. I know, and I know that you know that I know. And I also know that she is single and probably will be until you do something.” Oh god. Your boyfriend is at the bar across the room grabbing you a drink and this is what he wants to talk about? 

“I know it’s just… I saw a ring in a drawer,” you say quietly. “I can’t just leave knowing that,” the desperation in your voice has never been this bad. “Well… that does… complicate things… but! Shoko was obviously waiting to see you again! You know, she stopped smoking months before this - and i think it’s to impress you, but you didn’t here me say that.” He says with a wink leaning back away from you. “Welp! I’ll be going now, I’ll make sure to Shoko a little hint for you, it was nice seeing you again though!” 

You leave a small smile in his direction zoning out before a arm around the back of your chair startles you, “Oh! Sorry I was zoned out,” you say looking at your boyfriend, he chuckles a little, “No problem, weird how you were zoned out looking at him though.” He’s starting again. He does this every time a guy is around - he probably forgot this was arranged in the 1st place. “Please don’t start that right now,” he shrugs and leans into his own chair more, “Just odd how you zone out a lot when another guys is around but no other time,” you glance in Shoko’s direction and everything stops. She holds eye contact like no one else. She licks her lips like no one else. She is unlike anyone else. 

Without breaking eye contact she turns towards the group of friends before saying something, “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” That’s it. That’s all it takes. Shifting towards the guy on your right you parrot her before speed walking to the bathroom. 

“Hey, didn’t expect you to be he-” she’s cut off. The force of your body makes her stumble back into a stall. She doesn't break the kiss. She deepens it. Turning her head to the side, you follow her lead; you always seemed to follow. 

“God I missed you,” she mumbles into your lips before gliding her hands down, “Touch me Sho, please?” God. What are you doing? What are you saying? Does this count as cheating? Even if you don’t want to be with your boyfriend? 

Before you can continue to question everything, Ieiri slides a hand between your legs, making you pull her head closer to you, if anyone walked in they'd know exactly what’s happening. The heavy breathing, the noises, the slightly wet sounds echoing between the walls, and the taste of cigarettes- wait. 

“I thought you quit smoking,” you pull away confused, “You're kissing someone else while the man who has a ring in his pocket for you is waiting, and you're worried about me smoking?” While you want to be upset at the harsh words Shoko used, it’s true. You’ve been dating the same guy for over 3 years and yet the only worry you have right now is the lungs in front of you. 

“You could put it a little nicer, how do you know that anyways?” you whisper, “Gojo told me, also why should I be nice to you? You disappeared after graduation and then show up to the reunion with a boyfriend.” Why’d she have to bring this up right now? You two were just having a heated make-out and now something else was getting heated. “I’m stupid, I know! I’ve been planning on breaking it off anyways, but I just feel so bad knowing that he’s gonna propose.” 

Everything would be so much simpler if you didn’t snoop around your shared apartment trying to find a shirt to sleep in; instead you found a velvet box with a handwritten speech. 

“Do you wanna be one of those anonymous users talking about how you regret marrying your husband? Or do you want to be free? You have to decide, and when you do, the left side of my bed is always a little chilly,” that stupid fucking smirk. The same smirk you used to see after sneaking off to ‘go to the bathroom’ in high school. Why’d you ever leave?

“Can we just finish what we started in here and then go? I’ll figure out some plan to break it off, I promise.” The next thing you hear is a sigh and then a small ‘fine’ before you tasted cigarettes again. 

The small knock at the door gets increasingly more aggressive when Ieiri ignores it. “Sho, please,” it was faint but there. The spot on the couch immediately abandoned, her front door almost flies off the hinges when she opens it. 

“So you did it finally?” you nod, with water eyes and shaky hands, “Is the left side of your bed still cold?” Shoko giggles a little, “Cold is an understatement. Wanna help me warm it up?”

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!! I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!!

this is the longest fic i've ever written. save me.

[starxanemone]

꩜ⴰ ࣪˖ YOUR FLOOR'S BETTER THAN MY BED

reo mikage x gender neutral!reader — oneshot.

humor. implied romance. slight tension (if you squint). more of a character exploration.

you and reo mikage were two sides of the same coin—two people living entirely different lives within the same planes of this globe.

— aka, you're a broke mf, surviving on a scholarship, and you find it fun bothering the rich kid in school.

note. wrote this bc i'm actually so broke right now lmfao. i ain't eating breaky and lunch tomorrow hahaha life is so great as a broke college student! 10/10 would not recommend : )

When you hear the name “Mikage” the only thing that comes to mind is money. Call it a stereotypical mindset, but it doesn’t matter because everyone thinks of the same thing as you anyway. You don’t even bother to alter the way you perceive the name either.

Fuck being unique and all that, but really, who can blame you when you’re lacking in that department. The thing that makes the world go round and makes the eyes of people go green whether with envy or whether they’re on the greener side of the grass. Doesn’t matter. It’s the thing that keeps your life at the edge of being “fine” and falling off a steep, brittle cliff to poverty.

Money.

You wonder what it’s like to have an excess amount of it.

“Yo, Mikage,” You wink, sending him finger guns as you pass by his usual seat in the near-empty library.

The infamous Mikage Reo that always had an accommodating smile on his face catches a glimpse of you, and instantly, his lilac irises dulls.

“Oh. Hey.”

“Why so glum?” You cock your head to the side, taking the seat right beside him, legs spread wide and elbow leaning against the backrest of the seat.

You lack the air of dignity that most students inhale in this place like crack. It fogs their senses all the same anyway, and clouding their ability to judge. They get caught up in the image too much that they forget that pictures aren’t alive nor do they breathe. And maybe that’s why they don’t like you. “They” including Mikage.

“You’re probably here to shamelessly ask for money again. And I’m already saying this: no.” He grumbles, pressing his cheek against his palm, gazing into your eyes flatly.

Welp. It’s not like you put in the effort to be likable anyway. Understandable.

“Aw,” You pretend to pout in disappointment. “Worth a shot.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Hah?” You raise your brow at his question.

“Have you gone deaf? I said, ‘don’t you have anything better to do?’” He repeats, narrowing his eyes at you.

Truthfully, you heard him the first time. It was just funny to see him annoyed. No picture-perfect genius Reo Mikage. No giant nepo-baby Mikage. He’s just an annoyed Reo.

“I always got better things to do.” You shrug before eyeing him with a raised brow, grinning lazily. “Unlike you.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?!” He stands up from his chair.

Surprisingly, he has a very short fuse for someone who can handle everyone's bullshit.

“Hey, hey, kid,” You raise your hand up in surrender, speaking to him as if he wasn’t the same age or probably even a year older than you. “Relax, I was joking. Sit down.”

With a sigh, he takes a seat again, although the glare was still intact on his face. He grumbles quietly, but it was surely meant to be heard by you with the way he eyes you as he does so. “Don’t ‘kid’ me. At least I don’t waste my time asking people for money.”

“I’m always kidding, Mikage.” You snort at his words, waving your hand dismissively. “Even if you gave me money, I still wouldn’t accept it. What makes you think I’d take stuff from your hands?”

You wrinkle your nose, pretending to eye his hands with distaste. From the corner of your eyes you see him look offended once again and you hold back the urge to cackle.

Being born loved and admired by the people around him—repeatedly hearing songs of praises like he’s some sort of messiah—made him clueless towards teasing and jabs.

“I’m very clean, thank you very much! I’ll have you know that I wash my hands with only the best antibacterial hand wash imported from Italy. What about you?!” He blurts out angrily, bumping the side of his fist against his table.

“Exactly.” You shrug.

You see the anger melt away from his features before it is replaced with confusion.

“You and I,” You lean closer to him and you know he can smell the cheap fruity cologne wafting off the fabric of your imitation uniform. Hakuho was expensive even for scholarship students. “We’re from different worlds, Mikage. And it’s not your fault nor is it mine, because that’s just how it is.”

He turns quiet at this, seemingly mulling your words over inside his head as he eyes the floor blankly.

You tilt your head, releasing a short and awkward laugh. Think you might have made the air too serious. It must be your lunch, or, well, lack thereof. You don’t usually bring the topic (of your lack of money) up with other people, but his question provided you with the opportunity to do so. You took it all too eagerly (carelessly) and it in turn killed the typical playful nature of your not-so-friendship.

“Uh, sorry ‘bout that. For killin’ the mood.” You laugh awkwardly, patting his shoulder. “Uh…”

“What’s it like?” He turns to you suddenly, tilting his head.

“Uh, what’s what like?” You furrow your brows.

“Having no money.”

“Woah, woah, ya didn’t have to phrase it like that!” You joke, crossing your arms and leaning back against your chair with huff.

“N-No, I didn’t mean it like—” He began, glaring at nothing in defense before you cut him off.

“Kidding.” You wave your hand. “You gotta learn how to remove that stick up your ass. I promise you, it feels great.”

He wrinkles his nose in disgust at your choice of words. He’s probably thinking that you lack tact or class.

“You lack class.” He states in distaste.

Knew it.

“Yeah, anyways.” You think over his question for a bit. “Well, I can’t really explain it.”

His lilac eyes dulls as he stares at you flatly once again. “Hah. What a waste of time asking, then.”

“I got an idea though.” You lean closer, grinning lazily as you prop your elbow on top of his side of the table and pressing your cheek against your palm. His face engulfs your perceptions and you can see the non-existent pores on his skin.

Fuck him, his money, and his skin care routine.

“What.” He leans back slightly, raising his brow.

“Come with me later after class. Let’s eat dinner.”

A puff of air escapes his lips as he laughs at your suggestion. A few seconds later, it transforms into full-blown laughing. Each laugh that escapes his lips comes from deep within his diaphragm.

You stare at him expectantly and a little creeped out. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him laugh like that with anyone in your entire life in Hakuho.

“What?” You ask, still spooked.

“Didn’t know you liked me like that,” He smirks, leaning his face closer, breath brushing against your cheek. “If you wanted to ask me to dinner, you could’ve just said so.”

You could smell the slight mint and it tells you that he had just brushed. Figures. Of course he’d bring a toothbrush to school. Of course he actually brushes his teeth during breaks and not spend it fucking around doing nothing unlike you.

“Stop being delusional.” Your face turns blank at his words and you sit properly again. “Anyways, you said you wanted to know what it’s like, right? Come with me later then. We’ll eat what I usually eat for dinner.”

His face turns intrigued. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll know.”

“What is this place?” You hear Reo raise his voice over the surging crowd of people. He had a black mask over his face to hide it from the people because, yeah, he was actually kind of like a celebrity. An A-list individual among A-lists, coming just below his parents and it clearly shows with the Gucci bag he’s sporting.

Now that you think about it…

You eye his bag. “Flip your bag over, Mikage.”

“Huh? Why?”

You point to the pockets of his bag exposed out. “You’ll get unknowingly robbed that way. Flip your bag— okay, yep, nice. Very good.”

He rolls his eyes at your childish praise as he removes his bag to flip it, the pockets now hidden from the public’s view.

“Oh, yeah, we’re eating street food.” You point to the row of street vendors covering the sidewalks. Each stand glows yellow from the string of lights attached onto their walls and the strong smell of varieties of food mixes together in an almost unbearable manner.

You eye the rich kid beside you. He seems to shift a little, standing awkwardly and a little out of place.

You reach out to hold onto the side of his arm. “You good?”

He glances at you and looks back at the stalls as well as the crowd of people he mostly towered over. He doesn't shove away your hand. “Yeah. It’s just my first time in this sort of place.”

You blink at this, intrigued. “What? Really? Well, we gotta eat a lot, then. Your treat.”

He doesn’t protest when you begin tugging him towards the nearest Takoyaki stall.

“Ten pieces, please.” You tell the street vendor, beginning to pull out your wallet. A larger hand stops you from doing so and you glance at Reo to see him already pulling out his wallet.

“How much?” Reo asks.

The vendor eyes your classmate for a few seconds and then the Gucci bag. You hold back a groan. Ugh, you already know where this is going.

“1000 yen.” The vendor answers him, his face seemingly unsure.

Just before Reo could unknowingly pay the tricky vendor, you hold onto his hand, preventing him from taking out his cash.

“What are you—”

“That’s overpriced.” You cut in, eyeing the vendor flatly, feeling disappointed at his shitty attempt to scam people. “I ate here yesterday and it was only 500 yen for ten pieces. You mean to say that you’re charging double now? Do inflation rates shoot up that high in a span of one day?”

At least the vendor looks ashamed. He brings a hand up to the back of his neck awkwardly before bowing. “Sorry. Money’s tight and I thought it was worth a shot.”

You chuckle at this, handing the vendor the sufficient amount. “Been there, done that. To him too. But don’t go scamming other people, ‘kay? Now gimme our order.”

Once you take the order, you tug Reo away from the stall to head over to somewhere with less people. You lean back against the wall and open the container filled with Takoyaki and raise it up to his face.

“Smells good, right?” You watch as he takes the container from your hands and inspects the food curiously. He brings it up close to his face, gazing at the array of colors from the bonito flakes, to the mayo, to the sauce, and to the golden brown Takoyaki.

“It doesn’t look that different from the gourmet Takoyaki I’ve eaten.” He comments, taking a pair of chopsticks before eating an entire ball. As he chews, you see his eyes widen and he immediately begins to devour another Takoyaki just as he had swallowed the previous one.

“Good, right?” You grin cheekily.

He ignores you in exchange for devouring another large piece.

“Hey, leave me some too!”

You took him to different stalls after that, and by the time 8PM rolled around, both of you were already stuffed full with different kinds of food. You can’t remember the last time you had ever eaten to the point where you felt like your pants were going to burst open at the seams.

You eye the empty paper plates and containers laying haphazardly on the plastic table you both found. There were a little less people now. You draw in a breath, the air now lacking the sharp scent it previously held as you had submerged yourself in its presence.

It was nice. You also can’t remember the last time you’ve eaten a meal with someone like this. Having deadbeat parents that spent more time smoking crack out where you don’t know ultimately meant that meals were eaten alone. And, you admit, sharing meals wasn’t bad at all.

Reo heaves out a deep sigh, rubbing his stomach after releasing a quiet (and somehow dignified) burp. “I ate too much. Too much unhealthy food. My diet is ruined.”

You snort at this. “Relax, princess. I promise you’re still pretty.”

He glares at you. “Not what I meant.”

“Uhuh, whatever you say.” You chuckle before trailing off, watching him for a few seconds. You can see him shifting in place again at the length of your stare, seemingly burning holes into the side of your face.

“If you have something to say just say it.” He grumbles out, crossing his arms with a raise of his brow.

“Well, did it answer your question?” You ask curiously.

He looks up at the dark sky for a second before glancing back at you. “Well, the food was good. And cheaper.”

You shake your head at his obliviousness and chuckle. “Uhuh, but the food we ate today? That’s typically how much I eat in a span of one week. You get it now?”

He blinks and goes silent for a few seconds again.

“Don’t you get hungry, though?” He asks after a short while.

You shrug. “You get used to it.”

“It’s not sustainable though. How are you still alive?” He cockshis head, now looking at you with a slight furrow on his brows. If he was worried, then you were flattered.

“Not sure.” You shake your head. “I still do try to get my vegetables in but fresh produce is expensive. Healthy food is expensive. Some people just don’t have a choice, you know?”

“Oh.”

You don’t think it has sunken inside his brain yet. You can’t and won’t blame him. He’s lived his life that he’s used to just like you're living yours. You were two sides of a single coin—two people living entirely different lives within the same planes of this globe. Both built differently and built to handle different things.

“But I’m also curious now, too.” You hum after a while, eyeing him in slight interest.

“About what?”

“What does it feel like to live yours?” You cock your head.

You see him grin and your eyes squints a little at this.

"Maybe we can go to my place next."

[roo-bii]

ᴋɪꜱꜱ ᴍᴇ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ !

⋯

^᪲ ⁞ ᵖᵃʳⁱⁿᵍˢ﹕ ᵃˡᵃˢᵗᵒʳ ⊹ ˡᵘᶜⁱᶠᵉʳ ⊹ ᵛᵒˣ ˣ ⁽ ⁿᵃᵐᵉ ⁾

ꔫ ⁞ ᵍᵉⁿʳᵉ﹕ ᶠˡᵘᶠᶠ

୨୧ ⁞ ᶜᵃᵘᵗⁱᵒⁿ﹕ ᵍⁿ ﹗ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ , ᵉˢᵗᵃᵇˡⁱˢʰᵉᵈ ʳᵉˡᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢʰⁱᵖ , ᵖᵒˢˢᵉˢˢⁱᵛᵉ ᵇᵉʰᵃᵛⁱᵒʳ ⁽ ˢʰᵒʷⁿ ᵇʸ ᵃˡᵃˢᵗᵒʳ ⁾ , ⁽ ⁿᵃᵐᵉ ⁾ ⁱˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰⁱˢ ᵒⁿᵉˢʰᵒᵗ.

❜୧ ⁞ ᵃⁿᵃˡʸˢⁱˢ﹕ ʳᵃⁿᵈᵒᵐ ʰᵉᵃᵈᶜᵃⁿⁿᵒⁿˢ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʷᵃʸˢ ʰʰ ᶜʰᵃʳᵃᶜᵗᵉʳˢ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ˢʰᵒʷ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ᵃᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ﹗

Alastor, being the gentleman he is, mainly shows his form of affection towards you in the form of complements and random acts of service, usually not being a fan of PDA. He makes sure to give you compliments no matter what the two of you are doing. It can either be when you're helping around the hotel or just in general, always making sure to have a keen eye on you.

It doesn't matter if it's getting something from onto of a shelf or just needing help with something. Alastor is literally always there to help you with whatever you need, keeping one of his shadows on you. Though, the charming devil makes sure to think that this is his way of.. claiming you, marking his territory, even. You know, with being a powerful, sadistic overlord and such.

Expect gifts galore with Lucifer, especially duck shaped ones. That stash of ducks can't just be for himself, right? He even gets you a small plush version of him as a duck, with him having the duck version of you. Brushing the duck themed gifts, I could see him showing affection by physical touch. This could either be through hugs or kisses.

This man will literally wrap those big ol' wings around you, could literally be in the middle of the street, and begin to talk about how much he loves you. Being honest, he doesn't know if his need for physical contact had gotten stronger due to the fact his wife left or what. Possibly even putting his depression at fault... Welp, He still has you and his daughter !

As silly as it sounds to him, Vox really has a thing for spending time with you. He doesn't know if it's because he's usually busy or if it's the feeling of having someone you love near you. Unsurprisingly, Vox makes sure to make your relationship completely public, literally not giving a damn about it either. He will have you have you wrapped around his finger with a blue bow if he really wanted to.

( Don't forget to put ' VoxTech ™ ' on it )

He does make sure to give you a lot of compliments both on and off air, mainly about your appearance, possibly even teasing you while at it. Unlike Lucifer, Vox gives you gifts that are more to your liking. They are definitely more - bougie than what you are used to, even going as far to get gem - bedazzled versions of your usual necessities. Who knows, maybe the TV demon has a little thing for spoiling you.

[bloody-peach]

Eat Me, Drink Me (Hazbin Hotel: Vox x F!Reader smut fic)

(Gif made by me, original image found on google images)

~~~♡♡♡~~~

Now Playing: Muse - Sing for Absolution, Marilyn Manson - Blood Honey

Goodie bag: vaginal sex, drugs (aphrodisiac), vaginal fingering, clit rubbing, drinking, dom Vox, bottom Y/N, vanilla stuff around the end [let me know if i missed anything!]

A/N: Yep, had to make some smut with Vox now, didn't I? Welp, here ya go! I would recommend listening to the recommended songs while reading this, to get into the atmosphere. Headphones required, just for added experience. ENJOY!!

Taglist: @omniuravity @fatgumsurpremacy-remastered @neonvehk

~~~♡♡♡~~~

You left the Hotel, exhausted. You had to deal with Niffty trying to kill new guests, Angel Dust’s bullshit with Cherri Bomb, and Husk drinking his life away on top of all the other duties you had there. But the worst of the worst was Alastor, he always loved to torment you and make you suffer or feel scared. Even now as you walk further away from the building, you could still hear his laugh deep in your mind. At least you were able to leave for the night, but you always felt like someone was watching you. Someone....much more powerful than you.

Vox, the TV Demon, has had his eye on you for some time, ever since he caught you on the hotel’s TV commercial. He remembers pausing the clip when it froze on you and he’d jack off, just imagining of what he could do to you. He was obsessed. And he decided that tonight was the night.

You kept walking when you heard electricity buzzing. You looked and it was just a broken neon sign, but it still left you uncomfortable. You kept walking, but the buzzing came back. You started to quicken your pace to try to escape the noise or the potential source of it, but it just kept following you, even when you started to run. You then run into a brick wall, realizing you must’ve turned a wrong way while you ran. You just turned with your back against the wall, unable to escape. You saw a glowing blue square in the dark along with small blue zaps of electricity spreading through the area. Soon, the thing came closer to reveal it was Vox, the overlord that controlled the masses through the visual media. You had never met him before, but you felt a sense of dread, thinking this was another guy just like Alastor. Once he came close to you, he said, “It’s nice to finally meet you, darlin'.” You sigh in mild annoyance and say, “Look, I just...Alastor already torments me. If you just want to make my life a living hell like he does, then don’t bother. I don’t need another demon doing it too.” You didn’t have anything against him in particular, you were just too stressed out to deal with another demon who wanted to watch you suffer.

Vox’s red eyes flickered with a mix of confusion, then it turned to deep-seated rage. “Alastor...” he snarled. He controlled himself and then looked at you, with a slightly annoyed look in his face. “Is that why you were running? Because of that radio trash?” He put his hands behind his back, and said, “You know I’m not like him, right? I ain’t the type to get off to torturing folks. Well, not much at least. But you’re different.” He smiled as he placed his hand on your shoulder, “I don’t want to see you suffer, Y/N. I...well, i’m not entirely sure what I want with you.” He looked a little sheepish, an emotion you didn’t expect from him, but he quickly fixed himself and played with a strand of your hair. “But I do know I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I don’t plan on hurting you.”

You wondered why he knew your name, but then another thought came to mind. “Wait...you know Alastor?” He then chuckled, saying, “Do I know him? I wish I didn’t. That motherfucker and I go way back. Can’t stand him, frankly. He’s all about radio and all that outdated shit, but me? I’m all for anything new, as you can see.” He then petted your head. “Has he been giving you a hard time? Of course he would, he always enjoys that kind of shit. You poor thing.” His gaze softened as you put your head down, your expression full of fear and sadness, due to those traumatic memories. Vox gently grabbed your chin and brought your head up to look at him, saying with an unusual tenderness, “I promise you, Y/N, I ain’t like that. I can be...different. If you’d let me.”

You got the sense that he seemed to care for your struggles, but you’ve been in Hell for a long time. Very rarely have you encountered a person who actually cared about anyone. The only ones you knew of were Charlie and Vaggie, and out of all of Hell, that’s saying something. How can you trust what this man was saying? How can you be sure he isn’t out to hurt you or take advantage of you?

You look away from him, your face still holding that sad expression. “I want to believe you, but...how do I know you’re not just manipulating me? This is Hell, after all. Hard to find a genuine soul around here.” Vox sighed, the sound of static echoing through the alleyway. His eyes held a look of understanding, a flash of empathy. “Can’t say I blame ya for thinkin’ that way,” he admitted. “This place isn’t exactly known for its honesty.” He petted your head again, this time almost touching his forehead on yours, his voice going soft. “I don't know if I can promise you heaven, Y/N. But what I can promise you is that I ain’t here to make your life more miserable than it already is.” He then extended his hand, a smile on his face, “How about we try something? No tricks, no manipulation. Just you and I. See where it goes.”

You think about it. Well, he did seem pretty convincing, and whatever he had to offer had to be much better than what you have to deal with on a day-to-day basis.

You sigh and say as you shake his hand, “Ok.” Vox’s screen lit up with a cheerful grin as he felt your hand in his, the cool electricity sparking between your fingers. “That’s more like it, Y/N!” He said as he shook your hand. He let go of your hand and stepped back with a flourish. “Now let’s get outta this dump. If we’re gonna be...whatever we are, we might as well do it in style.” He then had an idea, his eyes glowing with excitement. “How about we head to my place? The entertainment district ain’t much, but it beats this shithole any day.” His usual cocky smile returned, the light of his screen casting a glow around the alley. “Besides, I’ve got the best view in Hell. You won’t be disappointed, I can assure you.” You smile, liking the idea. “Ok, that sounds real nice.”

You end up following him to his place and you’re amazed at how luxurious it was. Expensive furniture, so clean you could eat off of the floor, and a couch in front of a large window, showing the hellish night sky. You look out the window and he could see your eyes sparkle with delight as you marveled his abode. “Wow...you can see all of Hell from up here!” He chuckled as he crossed his arms, finding your joy adorable. He could get used to making you this happy. “Told ya, didn’t I? Best view in Hell.” He strode over to join you by the window, his eyes looking down at the fiery grounds below. “You get a good look at this place, you realize it ain’t all that bad. Got its charms, don’t it?” You turn to him and you nod. He turns to look at you, a genuine smile lighting up his screen. “Glad you like it, Y/N. Hopefully it makes your whole...situation a bit more bearable.” His gaze lingered on you for a few moments longer before he turned away to the bar, his screen showing an unclear emotion. “Now, how ‘bout a drink? I got a stash of the finest bourbon in all of Hell. Helps take the edge off.” “A drink sounds great. Thanks.”

He smiles to himself, knowing that you were slowly starting to warm up to him. “One helluva drink, coming right up!” As he grabs the bottle of bourbon, he then had a thought. He sat the bourbon down and dug out a small vial from the inside of his tux. It was a bottle of Valentino and Velvette’s ‘Love Potion’, an aphrodisiac they were collaborating on. Val gave him a bottle as a gift, but he never thought of using it. But knowing what Y/N had been going though day by day, dealing with that radio fucker’s bullshit all the time, he figured that maybe you needed a little something to help you relax, to feel pleasure and bliss instead of pain and fear. It’s not a betrayal of your trust if there’s good intentions behind it, right?

He pours the potion into the bourbon and mixed it, making sure Y/N wasn’t looking. “This stuff’s got a kick like a mule, but it’s smooth. Just like me.” He chuckles at his own joke, and he hears her giggle along with it. Oh, how he adored that laugh and how he hoped that once his plan worked, he would hear more of it, along with other lovely sounds. Once he poured a glass for himself, he brought the glasses to the couch, giving you the tainted drink and offering you to sit on the couch with him. You couldn’t help but blush a tiny bit from how he looked, the way he was sitting, offering you to join him in a moment to yourselves. You sat next to him, a bit shy, but soon relaxing in the couch. Vox raised his glass, the light from his screen reflecting from the swirling liquor. “To new beginnings, Y/N. May they be as interesting as the journey here.” With that, you both clinked your glasses together, the sound echoing through the room as you both take a long sip, his eyes never leaving you. Luckily, you didn’t notice his gaze as you downed the drink completely.

You could handle bourbon pretty well, that’s pretty much what Husk served at the bar usually, but never as high quality as this. “Man, this stuff is really good. Sweeter than any other bourbon I’ve had.” ‘Yeah, that’s the love potion that’s doing that,’ Vox thought in his head. He smirks, watching you enjoy the drink. His heart pounded in his chest, light flicks of static on his screen due to anticipation. “Glad ya like it, Y/N. It’s a special brand, adds a bit of sweetness to the usual burn. Perfect for those wanting to unwind.” He couldn’t deny the thrill he felt, seeing you this relaxed and comfortable in his presence, even if it was artificially manufactured. He knew it must’ve been a rare sight, one he’d yearned to see for a while now.

He finishes his drink, sitting his empty glass on the coffee table. “Feeling better, sweetheart?” He asks, a tinge of genuine concern in his voice. As he asked that, you started to feel a change in your body. You started to feel way more relaxed, your mind beginning to feel a bit hazy. You weren’t sure why; maybe the bourbon was that good. Your body started to feel hot and you could feel a throbbing feeling between your legs. “I...I’m not sure...I...I feel kinda funny...” you say, your voice slightly slurred. Vox’s smirk widened, his eyes glowing with a devilish delight. “Oh, it’s just the effects of the bourbon, darlin’. Besides, you’ve been so stressed out, you haven’t had any time to just sit and relax.” He moved closer, his hand lightly tracing a line up your arm, causing you to shiver. “Just relax and enjoy the ride, Y/N. I promise it’ll be one hell of a time.” His voice drops to a sultry whisper, his breath sending shivers down your spine. “You trust me, don’t you?” You feel your face grow even warmer as he started to pull you closer to him, his face so close to yours. “I..I guess so... You are a lot nicer than Alastor..” Vox chuckled, the sound low and rich in his throat. “Well, that’s the highest praise i’ve ever heard.” His hand rested on the small of your back, his fingers tracing small circles against your shirt. “I told ya, didn’t I? I ain’t like him. Not one bit.” He tilted his screen down, his glowing eyes meeting your slightly dilated ones. “Just relax, my dear. Let ol’ Vox take care of ya. You won’t regret it.” With that, he leaned in, pressing his lips against your forehead softly, something you were confused on how that worked, but that thought flew away like all the others. “Just trust me, Y/N. I won’t let ya down.”

In what your mind could come up with, as you stared at him and as he spoke with you, the thought of letting him take the wheel was starting to sound really good and you figured that it was better to trust him than anyone else in Hell. At least for now. “Ok..” Vox’s screen lit up with a triumphant grin, his red eyes glowing with delight. “That’s my girl,” he purred, his hand tightening around your waist. He leaned in, pressing his lips against yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. He whispered against your lips, “You're so cute, Y/N. Just keep relaxing. There’s no need to fight it.” His other hand started explore, trailing down your body to rest on your thigh. His fingers squeezed gently, a small spark of electricity coursing through your body, causing you to moan. He knew your body was growing more sensitive by the minute. He pulled back, his screen displaying a smug smirk. “That’s it, baby. Enjoy the good feelings. Don’t be afraid, darlin’. I’ll take good care of you.”

His hand continued its exploration, trailing up your thigh to rest on your hip. He dug his fingers into your flesh, pulling you even closer against him. His screen returned to your face, his eyes locking onto yours. “You’re so responsive, sweetheart. It’s...intoxicating.” He leans in to your ear, his screen barely touching it. “I’m here. There’s no need to be scared.” His touch felt so good, all you wanted in that moment was for him to touch you more. “Ok,” you said. Vox chuckled, his eyes glowing with anticipation. “That’s what I like to hear, Y/N.” His hand slid up from your hip, tracing a path up your side and under your shirt. His fingers curled around your breast, squeezing gently, causing a soft gasp to escape your lips. “You’re so sensitive, darlin’. It’s so sweet.” His other hand slid down, resting on your thigh once more. He pulls your leg around him, positioning himself between your legs. He then starts to slowly strip you of your clothes. You were getting really hot, so it was a relief to get all those clothes off. Soon, you were completely nude before him, on full display. Vox’s eyes roamed your naked form, a low buzz rumbing from his chest. “Damn, Y/N. You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.” His hands traced over your body, exploring every inch of your skin. He savored every moan and gasp, his touch sparking bits of static wherever he touched. He leaned in, his lips against your neck. “I'll make you feel all kinds of good, baby...”

His hand slid down, tracing a path down your body to rest between your thighs. His fingers teased your folds, a spark of static making you gasp. “That’s it, Y/N, just enjoy it,” he murmured, his voice a soft whisper in your ear. He then moved his face to you and kissed you deeply. You kissed back just as deep, moaning in his mouth as you felt his fingers slowly slip into your pussy. Vox groaned into the kiss, his fingers going deeper into you. He savored your moans, the taste of you on his screen intoxicating. He pulled back, a devilish smirk on his face. “You’re so wet, baby. All for me.” His fingers curled inside you, hitting that sweet spot that made you gasp. His other hand was busy teasing your nipple, pinching and twisting it until you were writhing in his arms. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart. I'm so proud of you...”

With that, he picked up the pace, his fingers pumping in and out of you with a fervor that left you breathless. You moaned more, the pleasure growing in intensity, “Ahh..mm..ohh..” Vox grinned and moved his fingers faster, his thumb rubbing circles around your clit. The combination of him working on your pussy and playing with your breast had you crying out, your body trembling in his arms. “You’re so close, I can feel it. Go ahead and cum for me, baby girl.” It’s not too long until you cum, covering his hand in your juices as your body tensed up.

Vox growled, his eyes glowing with satisfaction as he felt you release all over his hand. His fingers slowed, gently stroking you through your orgasm. He slowly removed his hand and marveled at the wetness on it, licking it up until his hand was clean. “You taste so good, darlin’. So good..” His hand moved up, gently brushing a stray hair from your face. “You alright, Y/N?” You were there, still somewhat dazed from your orgasm. But there was one thought going through your head. “I...I...more...I need more...please...” Vox chuckled, “Needy little girl, aren’t you? Don’t worry, baby. I’m far from done with ya.” With that, he gently laid you down on the couch, his screen and his body hovering over you. “You ready for more, Y/N?” “Yes...please...I need it...” Vox’s eyes glowed with excitement. “Good girl, ” he purred. You see him take his jacket and pants off, revealing his hard and erect cock. You just sat there, amazed by its size. Could an overlord have a cock that big? Vox smiled, saying, “You like what you see?” He gave his cock a few strokes, pre-cum leaking from the tip. “It’s all for you, baby girl.”

With that, he lined himself up with your entrance, his hands holding your thighs gently. He slowly pushed himself inside you, groaning at the tightness that enveloped him. “Fuuck...that’s it, baby... take it in deep..” Once he was fully inside you, he started to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate. You gasp and moan in pleasure as he thrusts into you, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting the pleasure consume you. Vox felt a wave of pleasure hit him as he felt your arms go around him. “That’s it, baby. Let it all out.” His thrusts picked up in pace, each one hitting that sweet spot inside you. His hand moved down, his fingers slowly rubbing your clit. “You’re so tight, darlin’. So fucking good..” With that, he picked up the pace, his cock pumping in and out of you. “Ahh..ohh..V..Vox...i..it feels so good...” you moaned, causing Vox to grin. “That’s what I like to hear, baby.” He continued his assault on your pussy, pounding into you so much that you were seeing stars. You weren’t sure how many times you came, but you didn’t care. You just wanted Vox to keep fucking you.

“Gahh, fuck yeah...gotta get even deeper...” He then stopped his thrusts and pulled out of you, flipped you onto your belly, and grabbed your hips. “Hold on tight, Y/N. It’s gonna be a wild ride.” He lined himself up with your entrance once more, pushing inside you with a single thrust. He quickly sped up his thrusts, making you a moaning mess. “Ahh..oohh..yes...yes..I...I love it... I love your cock...!” Vox grinned a prideful smile, proud of the fact he was causing you to lose yourself just from his dick. “You’re such a dirty girl, baby. I fucking love it.” It’s not too long til he could feel his climax coming, and he felt your walls flutter, meaning yours was coming too. “Cum for me again, Y/N. Let it out.” “Ahh..mm..V..Vox..! Please cum in me..! Please..! Fill me up with your cum! I can’t take it anymore..!” Vox growled, your pleas of ecstasy driving him further over the edge. “You ready, baby girl? Ready for me to fill you up? I’ll do it, but only on one condition. You belong to me from now on. You like that?” “I..I’ll do it! I’ll only belong to you, Vox! Please, fuck me!” Vox smiled, thrusting even more. “Alright, darlin’. Here it comes...!” With one final, powerful thrust, Vox released inside you, his cock pulsing as he filled you with his cum. “That’s it, baby..Take it...take it all..” You cum at the same time he does, feeling his cum filling up your womb. You cry out in pure pleasure, your body riddled with pleasure. It was the best orgasm you’ve ever had. Vox kept thrusting, but he started to slow down, letting you both ride your orgasms for as long as possible.

Once everything was done, he pulled out of you and marveled at the cum-covered mess your pussy had become. He smiled, and pulled you into his arms, holding you close. “You did amazing, baby.” He brushed a strand of hair away and he looked at you, a bit concerned since you were so quiet, “You okay, Y/N? Do you need anything?” You turned to him and he was amazed at how beautiful you looked. Your eyes looked so full of joy and bliss, and your smile was so warm and genuine. You could almost cry if you saw it for yourself. He felt his heart flutter when he saw that. Yeah, he made the right choice.

You hug him and rest your head on his chest. “I love you so much...”

Time stood still for a moment for Vox when he heard those words. He hoped that he would hear those words come out of your lips towards him, and seeing and hearing it now, it filled his heart with joy. He slowly wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. He let out a quiet chuckle, his screen pressing against the top of your head. “Well you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you? I feel exactly the same, baby girl.” He gently waves his hand and summons a wisp of smoke around your neck and along his hand, it soon turning into a collar with a chain leash, him gently gripping onto the chain. You now belonged to him, permanently. And he wasn’t gonna let just anyone touch you like he just did.

He held you close, his hand gently stroking your back in a soothing rhythm. “Just rest now, Y/N. Vox has got you.” You let yourself drift off to sleep in his arms, forgetting about the world and any worries you had. Vox cleaned you up and carried you to his bed, laying you on it then entering it himself. He pulls you close, letting the sound of your breathing and the beating of your heart lull him to sleep.

~~~♡♡♡~~~

[haruka-norikoyo]

Monoma x reader who is Mirio’s sibling Part 4

Welp, this ended up as a long one. Enjoy!

Other parts:

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Part 4/?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ When you had gotten back to class after running after your brother, you were met with a barrage of questions from your friends. Things such as “what happened?” “who died?” and “are you okay?”

You’d just brushed it off, saying you were feeling silly. “What do you mean you were feeling silly!?” Kaminari gawks at you, unconvinced.

You shrug, smiling mysteriously. “Turns out it was a false alarm.”

“You said ‘he’s gonna kill him!’ and begged Aizawa sensei to let you leave— what false alarm could it possibly be?”

“A false one.”

Sero groans. “You really are a smartass sometimes…”

“Ehe.”

“Don’t you ‘ehe’ me!”

***

>> “wanna hang out in my dorm after school?”

You raised your brow at Neito’s message, looking over at his table. He’s usually more discreet than texting you while eating lunch with his friends. Then you remember that 1-B now knows about your relationship with him thanks to this morning’s incident. There’s no need to be secretive now. >> “<3”

>> “i’ll take that as a yes then”

>> “😘”

>> “😘”

***

You stand in front of 1-B’s dorm building, staring at the door with growing apprehension. Sure, you’d been there before. Several late night conversations with your boyfriend, but only ever through the window of their common room. You’d never actually been inside to meet with him. Your palms are getting sweaty, so you rub them on your pants.

I wonder what his classmates think of me… That’s the biggest thing in your mind. You feel like you know them through Neito, always talking fondly of them. Not the bragging he usually does with your classmates. The thoughtful— sincere, side of him shines through when he shares his experience with his class with you. You reckon he’s nervous too. Two of what he loves having a formal meeting. You must’ve been been standing there a while, because someone catches sight of you from the window and hurriedly runs to the door.

“Togata-san, you’re here for Monoma, right?” a boy with a braid, whom you recognize as Rin opens the door. He smiles politely at you, which you return immediately.

“Yeah,” you nod. That sounded a lot more curt than you hoped, so you spluttered to say more. “Ah— um..! Thanks for getting the door. Rin-san, right? Neito talks a lot about you and your classmates so I know a lot about you guys— w-wait, not like in a creepy way I mean— a good way? Um…” I wanna ask Honenuki-san to bury me in the earth… Rin blinks. He chuckles softly, waving his hand. “Ah, yeah, I get it. Please come in.”

You shut your mouth, only muttering a small, “thank you” while you look down in embarrassment. Rin just smiles and leads you into the dorm. Class 1-B’s building isn’t so different from 1-A’s. It’s the same interior and layout, which you were expecting.

“Togata-san’s here, where’s Monoma?” Rin asks as you enter the lounge area. On the couch were Kaibara, Kamakiri, Tsubaraba, and Tetsutetsu.

“Last time I checked, he’s in his room,” Kaibara shrugs, looking over the couch. He makes eye contact with you. “Hey Togata, welcome to 1-B dorm.”

You smile and wave at the boys peeking over the couch, gulping down your nervousness.

Tetsutetsu sat up and cups his hand over his mouth in the direction of the staircase. “Lover boy..! Togata’s here!!! Like— your Togata, not the scary upperclassman.”

“Oh! Togata’s here?” Turning around, you see Tokage and Kodai approaching you. “Kendo’s not here right now, so in her stead I’ll say this— make yourself at home! You’re welcome over here.”

“Thank you,” you scratch your cheek, which is heating up from everyone’s eyes on you. “I’m happy to be here.”

The girls sit down over at the other couch, Tokage patting the spot beside her. “C’mon, have a seat!”

Hm, Neito seems to be talking a while, so… “Sure.” You set down the small bag you brought on the floor in front of you as you sit down. It was filled with snacks Neito and you both like, as well as your water bottle. Tokage looks at you and grins. “Mind if we ask stuff about you and Monoma? We’re curious.”

“We tried asking him earlier, but was too embarrassed to say anything. He was red..!” Kaibara says with a snicker. “Oh, well, I don’t mind answering,” you shrug.

“Well, if that’s the case, how long have you and Monoma have been together?” Rin asks.

You hum, looking up in thought. “Oh, since near the end of middle school.”

“Before the year even started!” Tsubaraba says in mock offense. “He never said anything!”

You chuckle, feeling your shoulders start to loosen up as you converse. “Well, he says he didn’t get the chance to mention it. Then after the stuff in the sports festival, well…” That’s mostly when his vendetta against your class started. The surrounding 1-B seems to have figured much as well, letting out a collective “Ah”.

“Makes sense, makes sense.”

“You don’t mind him tearing into your class daily?” Kamakiri asks. “From what I’ve seen, you’re fairly close with your classmates.”

“Well, none of them seem hurt by his remarks, and I know he doesn’t mean the stuff he says against them. Plus, Kendo-san’s always there to stop him if he says anything too far.”

“Yeah! Kendo’s amazing ain’t she?”

“Mhm! She really is.” You nod over at Tetsutetsu. “But Neito does stop mentioning things when I ask him to.” Ahem, that one time with Iida and the Stain incident.

“You’re pretty amazing yourself for that, Togata…” Kamakiri says, grimacing at the amount of times Kendo had told Neito not to try and provoke class 1-A. “It’s favoritism! He’s so cheesy!” Tsubaraba laughs, then looks at you. “Is he like, the super romantic type? Oh please tell us!” Everyone else leans closer in anticipation, eager to tease Neito with whatever new information you reveal. Aw, they really do love him! You were happy to oblige despite the high chance that your boyfriend will complain about it. “Oh he’s the sweetest..!” you gush. You’d take any opportunity to humble brag about your Neito. “He kisses my wrist every time he sees me. He’s so thoughtful. He knows what kind of date I might be in the mood for. Like one time it was raining, he took me to this manga cafe with a super comfy atmosphere. He’s sooo supportive and reliable too! He helps me train with my quirk by copying it and giving pointers. And and—”

You hear clamoring upstairs and stop your rambling in confusion.

Just then, Neito rushes down. “(Y/n)! Sorry, I was… uh, busy.”

Honenuki peeks his head out from the top of the stairs. “He was franticly cleaning his room because he wants to impress Togata. Kehehe.”

“S-Shut up Honenuki! I wasn’t!” Neito looks back, but the skull faced boy was already out of sight. He just grumbles and continues descending the stairs. “About time lover boy arrived!”

“Stop calling me that Tetsu!”

“What? It’s not a wrong description from what Togata’s been telling us,” Togake grins, patting you on the shoulder. Neito looks at you, aghast, like this is the ultimate betrayal. “(Y/n), what did you tell them?!”

You smile sheepishly, “I just told them how good of a boyfriend you are…”

“Urgh…” Neito averts his eyes. He could never be truly upset with you. “Well, if that’s all you’ve told them…”

“So there’s embarrassing stories they could tell us!? Togata, spill!”

“Nuh uh! We’re going to my room!” Neito picks up your bag from the floor and ushers you out of the lounge area with his other hand on your back.

“Aw! You’re no fun lover boy!”

Neito grumbles as you round the steps, running into Shiozaki who was heading out of her room.

“Do care not to do anything the lord would not condone while you’re in there,” she says.

“We’re not!” By this point, Neito’s face is flushed red. He quickens his pace as he leads you to his room, slamming the door once you’re both in. He takes a deep breath.

“Well that went lovely,” you grin. Looking around the room, everything is tidy. Not that Neito is a particularly messy person, but his dresser seems suspiciously packed as if he’d just shoved any clutter in there.

Neito groans, falling back on his bed with your bag in hand. Instead of dignifying your remark with a response, he waves the strap of your bag, “You got the snacks in here?”

“Of course I do. Scooch over,” you sit down as he rolled to his side to make room for you. “Not really much though. Just two small bags cause my allowance is low. Got any drinks? I want something cold.”

He huffs, stretching his arm for his laptop on his desk. He was adamant on staying laid out on the bed, so you reached for it instead. “There’s soda in the kitchen, which I could get, but that means, well…”

“I could go down there myself if you don’t wanna be teased by your friends,” you were already beginning stand up when Neito wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you back down.

“Oh but how could I make my lovely partner run errands?”

You laugh as he dumps you on the bed, one arm still around you. His other one grabs his bedsheets. Soon, you were wrapped up like a cocoon.

“Besides, you’re gonna reveal something embarrassing about me while I don’t have my eye on you,” he murmurs, sending you a mock glare. He kisses your forehead, getting up.

“Aww, you’re really gonna subject yourself to teasing for me?” Neito rolls his eyes. Before heading out the door, he says, “There’s ice cream too. Want some?”

“Ooh, sure. What kind?”

“Just vanilla. But I think we still have syrups and other toppings left. I’m sure they won’t mind if we hog the class stash for our little date,” he leaves you with a wink, gently shutting the door behind him. You smile and shake your head, scrolling through the movie options in his laptop on your shared Netflix account.

Full of caution, Neito sneaks down the stairs. Everyone you’d left in the lounge area are still there, chatting. He shuffles away from them silently and slips into the kitchen.

He got the soda, two glasses, the ice cream he’ll get last, and looking at the cupboards, barely anything let alone sprinkles or syrup. Damn it, I forgot it’s restock day. I should’ve checked the pantry before inviting (y/n) over. Neito’s surprised that he’d be so hasty to invite you over. He basically almost perished by the hands of your brother if you hadn’t been found out or arrived on time, and his first thought was to go on a little movie date with you now that his class is aware of your relationship. He realizes that he misses you a lot more than he realizes. It’s petulant. It’s not as if you’re long distance. But that’s how he feels being unable to be by your side for a proper date after the dorm system got implemented. (Y/n) already brought snacks so… it should be fine? He can’t help but lament the less than perfect scenario. It isn’t a big deal but he isn’t the type to settle—

“What’re you standing in thought for?”

Neito nearly jumps, only now noticing that Kendo, Bondo, Komori, and Kuroiro are back. In their hands are several plastic bags from the grocery store. “Perfect timing, Kendo!”

She raises a brow at him as she sets down the bags she’s holding, “That’s suspicious. Usually you’re trying to shake me off in order to berate class A.”

He scoffs, but holds back his smartass retorts. “Did you guys buy sprinkles and syrup?”

“Yeah, I think it was in that bag.”

Neito quickly rummages through the bag Kuroiro pointed him to. “Needless to say, I’ll reimburse in the jar.” Ergo, the jar the class each contributes their allowances to for groceries. Bondo glances at the two cups and two bowls, and like a puzzle piece being glued— heh— he remembers the events of this morning. “Ah, these are for Togata-san.”

“Uh huh,” Neito absentmindedly says, heading over to the freezer and finding less that a third of ice cream in the final tub. “Shoot.”

“We bought more.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, turning back to the bags.

“Wait, if it’s for your date, my parents sent me creampuffs. You should take them with you,” Kinoko says, moving to retrieve them from the pantry.

“Really? Are you sure? You just said that they’re from your parents.”

Kinoko waves it off. “They’re just leftovers from one of my relative’s store. I get them all the time. You can just get a couple if you don’t wanna take all of them.”

“Hm, I do have a box of microwave popcorn in my room… are you doing a movie date?” Kuroiro asks.

“Yeah, but…”

Somehow, his classmates ended up giving their own contributions, which ended up in Neito pushing a tray cart filled with snacks up the stairs. The trays of which are lent by Shoda and the cart itself by Tsunotori.

Is it like when there’s only one child to spoil in a family? Neito wonders. You are the singular couple in the first year hero course. Maybe that’s a part of it. He disregards the high probability that they’re hoping that he’d be somewhat cordial with your class while he’s dating you. Little do they know you quite like it when he gets a tad insane. Behind him, he’s dragging a wagon behind him piled with blankets and clothes pins because Honenuki suggested making a fort with you. They very much hijacked your date, but he’s still grateful about it, whatever their reason may be for helping.

He carries the wagon and cart up the stairs, having copied Yanagi’s quirk. Reaching the top, he’s faced with Mirio’s head peeking out from the floor in the middle of the hallway.

Neito stares. Mirio stares back.

“Hello.”

“Hello to you too, onii-san. Are you here to kill me?”

“Haha, no. (Y/n) will never forgive me,” he says, sticking his arm out of the floor to rub his head.

Neito shifts in place. What’s he here for then? A drop of sweat trickles down from his forehead as he waited for Mirio to reiterate what he’s here for.

“I’m here because I’d like to make an offer to you. Think of it as an olive branch being extended.”

Neito raises a brow. A peace offering? “I’m listening…”

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

S/O who is always nice, polite, calm, and never angry. One day, skeleton accidentally pisses then off and are met with a murderous glare. Like if looks could kill, they'd be vaporised.

Main 10 pls

Undertale Sans - Oh. Ok, he calms down now. He looks down awkwardly, unsure what to say anymore to calm you down. He also quickly changes the subject and goes back to normal a few seconds after, trying to deflect the tension.

Undertale Papyrus - He's sure this is probably fine and continues talking, slowly panicking. He tries to keep a straight face but he's talking very fast now, and messing up his words, and playing with his hands... Everything is screaming anxiety honestly.

Underswap Sans - He's not impressed and simply smirks at your expression. Blue will learn the hard way when you suddenly throw pillow after pillow in his face, preventing him from sitting up.

Underswap Papyrus - Uh oh. Welp, uh, he's going to see Asgore now, or something. As long as he lives in the house to give you some space, he's fine. He's anxious you're mad at him, and he hates to find himself in these situations. Maybe come to fetch him when you're calmer, he's cowarding right now.

Underfell Sans - Uh oh. He knocks it off for a few hours and even (tries to) cook for you to calm you down. Ok, it's completely burned and it tastes nothing, but he tried? He looks like a kicked puppy, please forgive him. He knows he messed up :(

Underfell Papyrus - He doesn't look down. Two can play this game you know. You'll be the one to look down, he's not even sorry. Apologize first. He's not sure about why but apologizes. He did nothing wrong in his life.

Horrortale Sans - Oh look at that! He magically completely forgot what you were talking about! That has to mean everything is forgotten and that he deserves cuddles now, right? He headbutts you, purring like a tractor, and insists so much that you end up giving up and forgiving him. He's very proud of himself.

Horrortale Papyrus - He takes a step back, nervous. He decides to retreat and leave you alone. You find him later working hard in the field to the point of hurting himself to punish himself :( Willow really doesn't like that.

Swapfell Sans - He stays eyes in eyes, not impressed. You think you're scaring him? He gives you one of HIS death stares, which actually scares you a little. See? You're not scaring anyone. Cut the bullshit. He's not impressed and even a little mad now.

Swapfell Papyrus - You didn't explode yet so unfortunately, he didn't get the message and continues to push to see how far he can go. Unless you physically makes him understand he's too much by punching him in the face, he won't stop lol.

Fellswap Gold Sans - He smirks at your face, then casually draws two angry eyebrows above his eye sockets. See? You two are matching now. You're not impressed with his impersonation. But does Wine really care in the first place?

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He looks miserable and just retreats in his closet in shame for the rest of the day. Fortunately, when he'll get out, things will have magically became better! He feels safer hiding for now.

[xxkiller-muffinxx]

That's my girl

John Dory x reader part 2/2

Summary: John Dory shows up out of nowhere (again), but with that he brings trouble, the trouble of the mind and the heart.

Words: 2582

Warnings: too much fluff, it hurts- also still no color coding cuz I'm lazy and when I'm writing this its almost midnight.

A/N: welp, this is longer than my usual. Yeah this is part 2 to a thing that honestly wasn't supposed to be in parts, but new years was banging so you know I had to. Little Thing, if the caterpillar snail confuses you, imagine a motor bike, I tried to word it better: but some things are just not made to make sense. Aso don't judge the gif choice man, desperate times come for desperate measures. I forgot to add tags again 😔

Previous

➷➹➷

For a while, you kept your distance again. Wondering how this all happened. How everything went downhill for you so fast. Now that you have the house to yourself you now have a lot of dead air to think about. (Your dad’s not dead, he just wanted to seek a path in white water rafting. Whatever that means.)

You silently read an old scrapbook, it was your favorite genre and you loved just sitting down and getting to the end. Especially on rainy days like these. Right as you got to the climax there was a knock on the door. Admittedly you aggressively rolled your eyes.

You closed the book and set it aside, who's knocking at this hour? Right before midnight? Your book needs reading! your fish needs walking! You don’t have a fish, you're just irritated, you can’t read your book. As you closed in on the door you stopped. What if it’s an intruder? Or worse, a monster who suddenly gained the sentience to knock! You would never know until-

“Buttercup?” John Dory’s voice shakes through the door, There’s faster knocking. “It's cold out here!”

You've never opened a door so fast in your life.

As soon as John made it inside you glared hard at him. You wanted to scold him but your silent anger was getting nowhere. He was too busy admiring the inside of your home. Then his eyes landed on you.

You breathed heavily, walking over to grab your book and then walking back to him. He gave you the same dumb, doe-eyed look he always does when he's gotten himself in a bit of trouble. You gently slapped the book on his stomach then walked to put it on the shelf. His quiet shocked laugh brought you back to the center.

You pointed for him to sit and quickly made him some hot cocoa perfect for the season. You walked over and sat next to him. Handing him the glass. “Thanks Buttercup. You mean the world to me.” He chugged the hot cocoa, just fast enough to not catch the break in your calmness traded for bashfulness.

When you calm back down, you cross your arms. Your nose flaring and your lip pouting. John looks you in the eyes, his lips pursing as he thought about a good response. “Can you blame me? You have me wrapped around your finger.” He says playfully.

Your eyebrow raises. You don’t flinch or retreat. You narrow your eyes at him. His grin falls as he catches your unwavering worry. “I uh. I just missed you. It’s been a week and I wanted to see you. At least once.” When you didn’t accept that as an answer he got a little frustrated. “I know that isn't a good excuse but what do you want from me? To let the one person I've had close in years just drop out like that?”

Your other eyebrow raised, silently asking if he was okay. Then in a moment you caught his cockiness slip. That's when you knew something was wrong. You leaned forward and looked into his eyes ruffling his hair to gain his attention. His eyes met yours and it didn't take him long to pull out a vinyl. “It's the only way I could talk about my feelings to you without being a coward.” he blushed deeply. You cock your eyebrow again then roll your eyes. You stood up and went to put it on your record player.

(feel free to listen then move on or not listen at all)

As the song plays, you listen to the lyrics, your back to John as you listen to the words. His soft voice played on the track and you could almost hear the sweat dripping from his forehead. You were too focused on the lyrics to even look at him.

Your skin, oh, yeah, your skin and bones.

Turn into something beautiful

You know, you know I love you so

You know I love you so.

Then it clicked. This wasn't him just showing you a brozone song. No, no heaven knows you listened to Brozone’s music and it's nothing like this. This is gentle and soft. Not throw yourself into a dance song, but that's what you wanted to do. Take his hand and gently dance with him.

However, when you realize that's wanted, the song is already over. You took a while to realize it, but what had transpired wasn't platonic. Not anymore. It was the bridge that led two ways. You just had to figure out which was which.

“Yeah-” John’s voice cuts you free from your mind. “It's not much, it's kind of rushed. Is that weird? That you were gone for a week and I realized I…I can't even say it out loud. I'm…interested. In you. I wanted to see if you wanted to see where this was going.”

You turn around finally, your hand covering your mouth and your otheraying across your stomach. You wondered how you probably looked crazy, but you didn't care. At least not until he pointed out what should have been obvious. You were crying.

“Buttercup! I didn't mean, oh shoot I didn't think that I'd- I'm sorry I take it back!” He gently began panicking. The pacing panic. You wiped your face and looked at your hands, sure enough you were crying. You shook your head, unsure how to tell him that you were okay, just moved by the fact he'd write a song for you.

He took that as rejection and frowned. “Yeah. Yeah. I get it. It's okay. I understand.” he was about to turn around when you grabbed his arm. Damning your inability to speak. You looked around for a piece of pen and paper. However, there was nothing. (you were not writing in your precious book.)

You were scrambling, trying to communicate, but you were only tearing up and crying more. You grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly. Your eyes watery and your nose red and puffy. He looked away then looked at you. “I am so confused right now.” JD squeezed your hand in return.

You did the unexpected. In a fit of confused, misguided, and intolerant anger. You grabbed his face and kissed him. Right then and there. When you pulled away your eyes were wide and so were his. You were about to move away when he just pulled you back in for another kiss.

The second kiss is more sweet and dedicated than the first, your hands moving to gently press into his chest. His hands gently held your head and waist as if you were to fall. It made you feel safe.

Then you both pulled away relaxing into your spots across from each other and your face turned beet red again. How dare he need that good of a kisser? you were just proving a point and now you're the one wrapped around his finger. You try to look away but with his hand snugly holding your head, you couldn't physically do so.

In silence, John Dory’s smile grew from a smirk to a dopey grin. You felt a wave of embarrassment pass through you. “Sweet mother of all things Trolly! You never cease to surprise me Buttercup!” he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you up, spinning you around as you giggled very softly again. He then pulled you in for a hug. “I'm glad you feel the same. You don't know how much it means to me.”

You guys stayed in a hug for a while. He was holding you so tight that it felt like he'd never let go, ever. Then you got an idea. You pulled away first, and that admittedly made him confused. You walked to the record player and played his song again. Offering him your hand.

He laughed, grabbing your hand and pulling you in for a dance. Not a fast dance, just a slow dance, A comfortable dance. Youve never felt so warm and cozy in your life. Maybe your book can wait for a few more hours. You're not in a rush.

⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠

For the next few years you would have a casual relationship. To the point where no one inherently knew you were dating until John would make some sweet comment about you with your back turned.

As you rode gently into your 30s John was right there beside you. Celebrating each birthday, bigger than the last. You were grateful you got stuck with a guy like John, every day was like a gossip story and he'd tell you every fact about Brozone there ever was. You soon became the team’s number-one fan.

That was, until the unexpected happened. John Dory received a message from his brother that he was in danger. Locked in a diamond prison that only the perfect family harmony could save him from.

“So I have to find my brothers, then save Floyd.” He’d proclaim to you. You raised an eyebrow as you picked up his mess in the bus, he'd probably be taking it and if there were any guests you'd want them to be comfortable. “You know…” he turned around to greet you, walking to throw the trash in the bin outside.

You gave him a look, you knew what he was going to say. “You could come with me, meet my brothers? Join in on the adventure?” he’d ask before you shook your head. You gestured outside and then walked up to him to gently kiss his cheek. “Yeah, I get it, but you're still meeting my brothers, I don't know what I'll have to do for that to happen but you will.” he kissed your forehead and got behind the wheel. You let him know you love him then walk out of his bus to not wait any longer.

You walk to the front of the bus and pet the armadillo before stepping back, and waving goodbye. As he left a pit rolled up in your stomach. A worry pit. You felt like you should've gone with him, but you'd only slow him down. So you went inside. Deciding its a good time to catch up on some reading.

⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠

You learned to live with the pit after a while, you used a small messenger creature to send little I love you notes, but you haven't gotten anything in return. It made it worse, and then right as it neared sundown on the second day he was gone, you had had enough. You walked outside. Going to the corner to pull something out of your sleeve that he’d never expect.

⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠⏡⏠

After the show, John was laughing backstage at something Clay said, holding his stomach as him and his brothers all laughed in unison. He was the first to stop laughing, and when he did. He saw his entire family. Laughing together as if it were the holidays. Which is around a troll’s happiest time.

All that was missing was…

JD’s eyes shot up and he placed a hand on your forehead. “Oh shoot, Buttercup! Oh geez-” he looked up dusting himself and pulling his jacket more clothed and preparing to leave when Bruce chimes in.

“Where are you headed, John?” He’d ask. His voice laced with familiar suspicion. The entire room looks at him, as if awaiting the incredible response he'd spew out now. John stuttered quietly. Then leaned on a wall next to him.

“I have a misses I have to get home to thank you very much.”

There was silent, for a whole minute straight until laughter amongst the brothers (except Floyd honestly) rang out. Everyone's eyes briefly snapped to them. Viva slapped Clay’s arm and he went quiet for a second only to start dying laughing again. Branch wiped a tear and crossed his arms. “You? You have a “misses”? you're just full of surprises.”

JD laughs softly, confused, his brothers are laughing “I'm serious, they're perfect. I want you all to meet them so badly, but they stayed to take care of things there.” He crosses his arms tight over his chest, deciding to just smile through the pain.

JD ignored all the mindless snorts and chuckles after that comment, or tried to anyway. He shook his head “ you'll see, I'll introduce them to you guys and I'm gonna be laughing at you guys!” He walks out to the stage to head home that way.

He grumbled slightly, angry that his brothers would doubt him, but could you blame them? They are brothers after all. he's not grumbling for long because the sound of a growling animal snaps him out of his thoughts. Within an instant, something shoots from the dark, surrounding him in a dirt cloud and the sound of a creature going “meeeeeeeeh” like a motorcycle.

John screamed, a comically loud scream. That attracted everyone inside. They all rushed out only to see the scene unfolding before them. “Hey!” Branch was the first to yell. “Leave our brother alone!” the others banded together and got into fighting poses until everything stopped.

The loud noises, fast movements, and it was just silence for ten seconds until emerging from the cloud was a figure with bucket helmet, and sunglasses over the front. The creature they were riding on was some sort of caterpillar snail, similar to a motorbike.

John looked up at the figure and grinned awkwardly. When the person takes off their mask he gasps louder than he's ever gasped before “BUTTERCUP!” He shoots up. Wrapping you in his arms and lifting you high into the air.

You giggle and wrap your arms around his head until he puts you down. You take off your shades and swing your hair a little bit to get rid of the helmet shape. He was so excited to see you he could explode. “You gave me a good scare, I'm sorry I didn't go home right after saving Floyd I just had to catch up with everyone and do a show with them one last time, you had to see the show, in fact, I think someone recorded it, I'll get that to you as fast as possible!”

“Who is that?” Clay asked, a bit too accusingly. You blush and hide behind JD in fear. He crackles and pushes you forward.

He holds you tight as he introduces you by name. “They are my buttercup, my everything. The one who kept me afloat during all my turmoil. The one who-” You slap him in his arm, causing him to laugh. You bow your head to greet them.

Then you all gather around to talk, enjoying meeting the brothers for the first time. Branch is just the definition of sweet and sour, his girlfriend is the whole package everything you'd want in a party planner honestly. Floyd was the perfect sweetheart and Clay was fun to watch with his small misadventures with Viva. Bruce was definitely the one who talked to you the most, asking you genuine questions about why the hell John dory of all people. You answered as modestly as possible, not having an answer at that moment.

Then you caught sight of John wallflowering. You frowned and walked over, leaning on the same wall he was. He smiled at you, his gaze lingering oh yours for a minute before he kissed your cheek gently. You raised a brow. He laughed softly. “That's my girl.” he’d say before wrapping an arm around you lovingly.

End

[stolasdearest]

hi! how are u? hope you're doing great <3

can i request separate headcanons with Alastor and Vox x Male reader who is sweet and kind but has anger issues? or just gets frustrated easily

Vox x Reader ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

+

Alastor x Reader˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Reader is Male!

Not Proofread

♪ He sees your anger issues and short temper troublesome but chooses to work with it for you, because he loves you :3

♪ He also sees your niceness and kind heart as a hindrance, Often you just take peoples abuse and cruel words. He does however revel in watching you snap if they push too far

♪ the others quickly learn he tiptoes around your short temper, learning what angers you and using it against you in a funny way whenever he wants

♪ if you wanna date Alastor with a short temper learn to not take his banter seriously, If you react he'll just continue

♪ Does step back if he notices you're actually about to fly off the wall in anger. He knows he could easily subdue you but where's the fun in that?

♪ often enjoys how sweet you are, towards him at least; don't get too friendly with anyone else now.

♪ was honestly a bit perplexed in your mood switch the first time but Swiftly played along with it

♪ if you get too carried away he just places his hand on your head and pushes you down, grounding you as he shushes you

♪ often finds you getting frustrated over small things fun, The food isn't tasting right? Your pants got caught in the door? Some fucks are talking too loud? His eyes always snap to you to see your reaction to things, a Static-y laugh being heard a few seconds laugh

♪ like Alastor he finds your lack of anger management troublesome, infuriating even. He's hesitant to bring you outside with him In case you blow up on someone..or something

♪ however in private he finds your stomping and tantrums endearing, when they aren't directed at him.

♪ NEVER let him catch one of his employees pissing you off, they are Dead immediately because he's had a long day and You've already broken a few things also he just cares about you but he won't tell you that

♪ he deals with Val, he deals with you. He too can get flared up but he stays pretty cool if there's someone else losing their shit

♪ part of him thinks you Naive and dumb, why are letting that guy speak to you in that way? And why are your knuckles turning white from holding your glas- oh welp there you go..

♪ puts his hands on your shoulders or hips if you "act out of turn" in public

"Doll, Time to relax"

♪ still not afraid to show you off, He's very big on PDA and making a good image for you

"this is my boyfriend, Y/N"

Is always one of the first things he says to new people he meets, you in toe; holding his hand

♪ is quite thankful for your sweetness sometimes because you step in when he's met his "nice business man" quota for the day

A/N AHHH FIRST MALE READER THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST ANON!!!! :3