#which he does seem to be sort of getting slightly better at but it's still just like. yeah man! i don't know what to tell you.

[cranberrymoons]

.

[fingertipsmp3]

I’m not even gonna lie, a lot of my opinions about people are based on dreams I’ve had about them

[mischievousmoony]

hello !! it is again almost 3am where i am but i cannot stop thinking at nerdy james before he gets buff from quidditch.

headcanon time; first or second year, before he knew his friends, he was like this wimpy little kid that got bullied a whole lot (especially by slytherin kids) and that's why he plays pranks on people.

but but! a request maybe of reader liking james before he got popular, but they never made it known because they're the quiet type. but as james became popular, reader stayed the same and they never really really crossed paths again. but there was a time where reader did something small for james back then which he remembered all those years and then they kiss kiss fall in love.

you can you whatever pronouns you want again for reader !!

- 🌱

took the liberty of making the reader a gryffindor hope thats ok

𝚒 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞

⟢ james potter x reader ⊹ 2.8k ⟢ warnings/tags: intoxication (not reader or james), unsolicited flirting from random guy, james is taller than r, gryffindor!reader, introvert!reader, no specific pronouns for reader used

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Secluded in a quiet corner is where you feel most comfortable at parties. Your fellow Gryffindors are a boisterous bunch, and that's never been your style, making it much easier to watch events like these from the sidelines.

This doesn't make you the most popular student in your house. It's not as though people don't like you, but they don't really know you. If they had to, the vocabulary they would use to describe you would be limited to quiet, nice, and… quiet.

You’ve always wondered if you would've fit in better in another house. Ravenclaw always seemed appealing. Or Hufflepuff maybe. But for reasons you don't understand, the sorting hat put you here. With the daring, self-assured, unreserved students that you couldn't be anymore like. But, you never really minded. As different as they are, at least they're nice.

For the most part.

"Hey, baby," one of your housemates drawls, emerging from the lively crowd and invading your corner. You can't say you remember his name as he cozies up next to you, unceremoniously situating himself against the wall. His shoulder crashes against it roughly as he says, "You look lonely over here."

His warm, beer-scented breath invades your senses and you scrunch your nose in discomfort, veering away from him as you reply, "I'm fine."

"Want some company?" he presses, surging forward to make up for the space you created and then some.

"No, thank you." It's almost annoying that your instinct is to be polite as this guy invades your personal space.

"Cos I could make for some real nice company," he adds, a sinister smirk working its way onto his face as you cringe away from him.

You're wracking your brain for a way out of this situation, when a familiar voice sounds from behind you, saving you the trouble.

"Hey, ready to head out?" James Potter says, and you have no idea what he's talking about, but at least it makes the other guy back away from you slightly.

"James," you blurt, rather dumbly, surprised at his sudden closeness.

Truthfully, you have been eyeing him from your corner; admiring the boy from afar as you have for years. Most of Gryffindor fancies him, and you're no exception. But who wouldn't have a thing for Gryffindor's valiant captain and ever confident head boy? Especially when that boy looks the way James does: standing over six feet tall with a chiseled, muscular physique (thank you, Quidditch). He seems to know it too, the way he carries himself with confidence.

His most captivating feature, though, is his bright, infectious smile. It's always been your favorite thing about him, even when it was still the shy, hesitant grin of a boy who wasn’t yet confident in himself.

"It's about time for us to get out of here, don't you think?" James smiles, baring all of his pearly whites, and he looks like something out of a dream. His eyes flick from you to the boy to your left. "Oh, hey Callaghan, didn't see you there."

"Potter," Callaghan nods in greeting. "You, uh, you know..." he trails off, gesturing aimlessly to you. You're not surprised that he doesn't know your name.

"Y/N? Course I do," James says, stepping closer to you.

But that. That's a surprise.

James towers over both of you, making Callaghan take another step back in intimidation. You're too busy being surprised to feel relieved over the space. James knows your name?

Callaghan gestures between the two of you, trying the gauge your relationship. "And you two are...?"

"Leaving," James says, offering you his hand, “Right?”

You stare at his hand, momentarily dumbfounded, before you take it, “Right.”

You feel kind of hazy as you let James lead you away from Callaghan, away from the lively party, and out into the corridor. The situation is so surreal that you wouldn't be surprised if you suddenly woke up to find it was all a dream. When was the last time you even spoke to James Potter?

"You alright?" James' voice cuts through the silence of Hogwarts' halls. Your eyes meet his concerned ones as he leans against the stone wall, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"Yeah, I'm alright," you say, still a little muddled. You snap out of it with a shake of your head, remembering your manners, "Thank you, by the way."

"Psh," he waves his hand through the air, brushing it off, "You don't need to thank me. Any person with eyes could see Callaghan was being... off putting." James scrunches his nose in judgement, pausing as if to bite his tongue, like has more to say about Callaghan but better not. "Any decent person would've stepped in. No thank you necessary."

"Well I'm thankful anyway," you say quietly, the corner of your mouth tugging upward into a small smile.

James' eyes dart to your lips, your gesture conjuring a wide smile on James' own lips. You're momentarily distracted as his tongue runs across his teeth, barely hearing him as he says, "Well, I may be reluctant to accept your gratitude because I may have had some selfish reasons behind my method."

Your lips part, twitching into the shape of various words that never leave your lips. You feel very warm all of a sudden.

James does a rubbish job of hiding the amusement in his eyes, but he is kind enough to put you out of your misery with an explanation, "I need a walking buddy. Was hoping you'd like to join me?"

You're not any less dumfounded but you manage to get the words out this time. "You want me to go on a walk with you?"

"Yeah," James says, like it's not strange at all.

"Why didn't you ask one of your friends to go?"

"You are my friend," James insists, and you cock and eyebrow.

"I was surprised that you even knew my name."

"Of course I know you! We're friends," he emphasizes.

You look at him skeptically, not sure what you did to make a friend out of him. Not that you wouldn't like to be his friend, but friends usually talk to each other. The last time James spoke to you was last year to ask if you had an extra roll of parchment. And he was more so asking the entire class, you just so happened to be the one with the parchment.

"Do you not want to be my friend?" He asks in a teasing tone, having let you stare in silent skepticism for long enough.

He's not being serious, but you panic anyway. "What!? No! I mean no I don't not want to be friends!"

He chuckles as he pushes himself up from wall. "Then walk with me, would'ya?" He nods his head off in the same direction he starts walking, expecting that you'll follow.

You do, your feet moving faster than your brain can overthink your way into a no. But as you walk next to him your thoughts catch up with you.

What are you supposed to talk about? What do you know about him? Quidditch. What do you know about Quidditch? You know lots about Quidditch. Quick, say something about Quidditch before this silence gets awkward. Why do you suddenly not know anything about Quidditch?

The effects of your racing mind are written across face, your features contorted in worry and a lasting skepticism as you glance up at James every so often.

James is glancing at you too, finding every little crease and contour from your worried look endearing as silent laughter bubbles in his chest.

"Alright, what's that face?" James finally asks, his tone as gentle as possible as not to make you uncomfortable.

Your expression softens into sheepishness. James looks at you with such kindness that you find yourself voicing your concerns.

"We're friends?" you ask in a small, hesitant voice.

James is quick to defend his claim, "I've known you since we were kids!"

"We haven't spoken since we were kids," you say.

He seems to deflate at your words, faltering as he experiences a moment of speechlessness.

"Besides," you go on, a hint of smugness creeping up on you, "we've known everyone at this school since we were kids. Does that make us friends with everyone?"

James is quick to shake his head. "Not everyone was as kind as you back then."

Any trace of smugness has been quickly expunged and replaced by a fluttering in your stomach as his eyes fill with what you would call admiration if you didn't know any better.

"And you were exceptionally kind," he adds on, not helping ease the butterflies in your stomach. "Though you're right. I should've talked to you. I don't know why I didn't talk to you more."

"It's okay," you say in a small voice, prompting you to clear your throat before you continue, "We're talking now."

James smiles that radiant, charming smile that makes you swoon. Before silence can settle over you James' face lights up as an idea pops into his head.

"Have you even been on the Quidditch Pitch at night? I mean, when there's no game going on?"

You shake your head, your eyebrows creasing as you find his question rather random. Before you've fully grasped what he's implying, he's grabbing your hand and dragging you out of the castle.

A gasp escapes your lips as he tugs you along, his enthusiasm and long strides causing him to race ahead without realizing how fast he’s moving. It's only when you're outside that you find your voice again.

"James!"

He slows his pace and drops your hand. For a moment, he looks almost embarrassed, shrugging his shoulders as he lacks an excuse for his sudden burst of energy.

You shake your head with a smile. “Some things never change. Do you ever take a deep breath and just mellow out?” you ask, noticing with amusement that he’s just as hyperactive now as he was when you were kids.

James makes a big show of taking a long, deep breath as he falls into step with you at a much more leisurely pace than before.

You shake your head again, chuckling.

"Some things do change, by the way. For example, you were taller than me back then," he says, resting his elbow on the top of your head to emphasize the difference.

You jerk your head away, playfully retorting, "Everyone was taller than you."

"Shut up!" he laughs, letting his arm fall to his side. He's close enough that his arm brushes against yours as you walk. You feel the shake of his laughs against your skin and you can't help but giggle along.

It doesn't take long to walk to the quidditch pitch. The walk felt shorter than it does on game days, but maybe that's because you didn't have James to walk with.

You follow James out to the very center of the field, where he wastes no time to plop down into the grass. "Lay with me," he says, crossing his arms behind his head. "You can see all the stars from out here," he says to convince you.

"You come out here a lot?" you ask as you sink down beside him. The grass tickles your skin as you lay down.

"I've been coming out here since I was a first year," James reveals. "I used to lay in the grass, just like this, and imagine what I would look like flying above dodging bludgers and scoring winning goals."

"Yeah?"

James hums affirmatively. "I've always loved Quidditch. Wanted to play for as long as I can remember. And then I came to Hogwarts, and Merlin, I thought the Quidditch players were so cool. Wanted to be like them so bad."

"What does it feel like?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you’re the one first years are looking up to now."

"No, they're not," James scoffs in complete disbelief.

"James," you deadpan, thinking he can't be serious. "You're the Gryffindor captain and rightfully so. One of the best chasers Hogwarts has probably ever seen. I mean, way you escaped that bludger last weekend?” you muse. “Not to mention the Chudley Chop Down you pulled off. You looked just like the professionals, it was incredible!"

James is caught at a loss for words again, a rare occurrence for him, but you've managed to make it happen twice now.

You clear your throat, realizing how you've just raved on about him to his face. You excuse yourself with, "I, um, I really like Quidditch."

James blinks away the awestricken glint in his eyes, responding, "Figured as much. Don't think I've ever played a game I haven't seen you in the crowd of. But enough about me," he continues. "What about you and your achievements, eh?”

“What are you talking about?”

"Don't be coy. You have to be the brightest witch at Hogwarts."

"No, that's–"

"C'mon I've seen the marks you get. And no one gets Gryffindor more house points in class than you do. All the professors love you; Slughorn always seats you to his right at Slug Club meetings. And I thought Minnie had a soft spot for me but then I saw how she talks to you."

"Maybe if you called her Professor McGonagall once in a while," you tease, trying to distract him from showering you with anymore compliments to spare your heart from racing any longer.

"Wouldn't matter. She likes you because you're smart. Driven too. She knows you’ll do great things after school. Everyone knows you'll be one of the most successful in our class."

"I hardly think anyone notices me,” you say, nervously ripping up blades of grass from the ground.

"I have," he says, looking at you with so much fondness it takes your breath away.

Your eyes widen, sparkling with warm astonishment at all his kind words. James notices the way your parted lips curve into a small, shy smile. Slowly, it grows into a grin.

He nudges you, "Now what's that look for?"

"This is just... unexpected."

"Unexpected?"

"I mean I didn't realize you remembered by name, let alone knew anything about me."

James' expression is tinted with disbelief. He removes his arms from behind his head as he angles his body slightly toward you, gearing towards something serious. "Of course I did. When I said you were kind to me back then, you were really the only one who was. How could I forget you?"

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise as James sighs deeply.

"Merlin, I really should have talked to you more," he says, shaking his head.

"It's okay–"

"No," he insists, "I should have talked to you more. I don't know why I didn't– I mean I do know why I just..."

You swallow hard, giving yourself time to find your voice. "There's a reason?" you ask.

James turns his head, shifting back against the grass as his gaze finding the stars above him. You can see the moon reflecting in his eyes as he bathes in its light. He looks ethereal like this.

"You make me nervous," he's able to admit in the comfort of not having to see your reaction, pretending it’s just him and the moon out here.

Your jaw goes slack. You'd sooner think you're being pranked or he's under some kind of spell than to believe his words.

"What?" you finally utter. Your hand freezes with a chunk of freshly ripped up grass held hostage between your fingertips.

James chuckles, "You were so nice to me. And I always thought you were so pretty I– every time you said something kind to me I would get so red in the face."

You're silent, at a loss for words as you try to wrap your mind around his admission. If the tips of his ears hadn't turned red, you'd think he's lying.

"I mean everything made me nervous back then," he continues. "Thank Merlin I grew out of that, but you..."

James finally looks at you again, his eyes darting across your face as he absorbs your reaction. Carefully, he takes hold of your wrist, placing your palm flat on his chest, over his heart.

"You still make my heart race," he says quietly, and you can feel the proof under your fingertips.

Words make their way past your lips almost instinctively, driven by a desire to reassure him. "I... I was too nervous to talk to you too."

The fondness in his eyes grows even warmer, and he begins tracing gentle lines on the back of your wrist with the pad of his thumb. "It's alright," he says. His tone is genuine and hopeful as he continues, "We're talking now," he repeats your words from earlier with newfound affection. "And I'd really like it if we could keep talking."

"Yeah," you say. A wave of courage washes over you, and you adjust your hand to intertwine your fingers with his. "Me too."

After that, you find yourself out here a lot more often, staring at the stars with James, your fingers intertwined. You're both much more comfortable around each other now, but from time to time, you still make each other's heart race.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 || dark!jonathan crane x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || since you're the only one of his coworkers at arkham who doesn't seem to be intimidated by his intelligence, jonathan decides it's time he finds out what does scare you... and how he can embody it. unfortunately for you, turning into your greatest nightmare doesn't prove very difficult for him.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 || 5.5k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧��𝐧𝐠𝐬 || EXTREME AND EXPLICIT NONCON (18+ only and please proceed with caution), drugging and kidnapping, paralysis, traumatized reader, forced orgasms/overstimulation, degradation, humiliation, choking, slapping, unprotected sex/breeding, misogyny, jonathan is very much in character which means he is incredibly evil and has incel vibes (I know y'all are not about to get mad at me for writing a villain being a villain and not uwu babifying him...)

When you interrupted and corrected your colleague, Dr. Crane, about the correct combination of pharmaceuticals for a certain schizophrenic patient in the asylum who happened to have diabetes, you thought nothing of it.  After all, the whole point of staff meetings was to discuss and debate these things, and you weren��t about to let him damn-near poison a patient by giving him something that would interfere with his insulin.  You weren’t trying to be snarky about it, but you did sort of make a joke about how dangerous his suggestion was— and you didn’t notice the way Jonathan’s nostrils flared and jaw tightened when some others chuckled at what you said.

When you received an email from your therapist’s office informing you that there was evidence of a break-in in her building, but that the police were unable to officially determine if confidential client files were compromised, you thought nothing of it.  It was a big complex, these things happen, and you knew from being a clinician yourself how tricky the laws could be surrounding that stuff: she had to email you, legally, if there was any chance your file could’ve been accessed, and that didn’t mean you had any reason to fear your private therapy session notes had been read.  Besides, who would want to read about you and your boring life, diving into your mundane hopes and fears and daily stresses?

And when Crane came into the office with tea for you, you thought nothing of it.  Sure, you seemed surprised when he popped into your office with cups in hand— you asked him why he had two cups of tea, assuming they were both for himself, and he laughed.  Just that was out of character, he wasn’t much of a chucklehead or anything.  “Green tea, right?  With lime and honey?” he asked, setting one cup down for you.  You were still taken aback, but you had to admit defeat.

“Yeah,” you said, taking the cup as he sat down across the desk from you.  “Yeah, that’s my order— I didn’t know you drank tea.”

“Sometimes,” he informed you, hoping his poker face was holding up as he watched you take a sip.  He couldn’t help but stare at your lips wrapping around the little hole in the lid, the print of berry-red your lipstick left behind.  His heart was racing already, more than he expected.

When you finished the first sip, you smiled at him and let out a small, nervous laugh.  “Thank you,” you finally said.  So, yes, even though you clearly noticed this was slightly odd behavior, you thought nothing of drinking the tea.  That was one thing he hated about you: the thoughtlessness.  You didn’t seem to second-guess yourself much, if anything you were a little on the cocky side.  He found it so irritating— that confidence.  Sure, you were smart and you deserved to take yourself somewhat seriously, but the way you walked around this place— the way you ignored him so easily, or spoke over him if you wanted to, or ignored his suggestions when he gave them… you were a bitch, basically.  You clearly thought you were better than him— better than everybody else— for no reason at all.  Just because you were pretty and had a good job you thought you could get away with anything, surely; pretty girls always think that way.

He made casual conversation with you as you sipped the tea, asking questions he already knew the answer to, hoping to catch you in a lie.  For the most part, your stories matched up with what he’d learned from that file.  But, you left out the gory details— you left out the best parts, really.

You mentioned where you went to medical school and that you transferred mid-way through due to ‘stress’, but you didn’t elaborate on what really happened to you.  You mentioned having your own therapist— something you said passionately that every client-facing mental health professional should have— but left out what you were actually being treated for, not to mention the PTSD diagnosis.

He had to hide his smirk behind the paper cup every time you seemed to lose your train of thought— it wasn’t like you, so focused and determined all the time.  No, it was the drugs finally kicking in.  You went for bigger gulps of tea each time your eyes looked heavier, hoping the caffeine would work— but the trace caffeine in your green tea was nothing compared to what he’d added.

You tried to warn him that you were suddenly not feel up to par— that he needed to leave, and you might try to wake yourself up— but he just sat and waited.  He watched you try to get up, and lose your balance.  He watched you stumble, trip, and ultimately fall onto the floor limply.  He watched your eyes flutter shut and the final ounce of energy to fight it fade; he quietly took a final sip of his tea.

~

You woke up on the floor.  You could barely feel it beneath you, but you knew it was the floor— it was cold, and hard.  And you were looking up at the dark ceiling, at the fan spinning at the lowest speed; so you were definitely on the floor.

Jonathan was standing above you, not too far off, flipping through papers.  You couldn’t move— no matter how hard you fought to, you couldn’t.  You barely managed to turn your head, but it felt more like it rolled to the side on its own.  You tried to yell for Dr. Crane’s attention, for help, for him to explain what happened to you, but even your mouth couldn’t move.  The best you could do was breathe harder— actually, you were pretty sure your body was trying to hyperventilate, but you were too incapacitated to even have a proper panic attack.

He heard you, though; he looked away from the papers and grinned down at you.  “Comfortable down there?”

You started to put together a few things.  One, that the last thing you remembered was being in your office, and now you were in your apartment.  Two, that those papers were photoscans of chart notes— obviously you couldn’t make out the words from here, but the format gave away that it must have to do with a patient.

And three, that Crane was neither surprised that you were paralyzed on the floor, nor interested in helping you.

He half-rolled the papers in one hand and playfully hit the other hand’s palm with them.  “These have been quite interesting… revealing, to say the least,” he informed you, like it was a compliment— something you should be proud to hear.  “You’re quite the enigma, Doc!”

He sat down beside you on the floor, leaning on his hand first to find his balance with a little sigh; he seemed amused, actually, and your heart began to race.

As he started to read aloud from the page in front of him, you felt nauseous.  He was reading patient data, describing a client who was receiving individual counseling— or that’s what the CPT code indicated, at least.  As he listed the client’s demographic data— age, race, gender, height, weight— it became eerily obvious what he was doing.  You refused to believe it until he went on: “Client was recommended to Dr. Min Zhang for individual therapy concerning PTSD following sexual trauma.”

Your therapist.  This was a file he’d copied, which belonged to your therapist.  And it was obvious whose file it was.

As you tried with all your might to scream, Jonathan flipped a few pages ahead.

“Session fourteen, eleventh of June,” he continued.  “Client expressed frustration with an increased recurrence of nightmares and flashbacks to her assault.  Up until now, she has struggled to explain what triggers her anxiety without having to actually elaborate on the circumstances of the event.”

He stopped, but you weren’t exactly relieved.  In fact, you were horrified.  He had a little grin on his face when he looked at you, but you could finally see the rage in his eyes.  Suddenly, you realized how long it had been there.  You had sort of picked up on it before, the resentment he had towards you— and it didn’t take a Freudian expert to figure out that he was threatened by you, especially as a man.  He didn’t respond well to feeling upstaged and he clearly had an issue with women.  Maybe not that issue— he was good-looking and well-off, he didn’t need to have any issues with women if he didn’t want to— but an issue nonetheless.  

“Now,” he added, smiling wider than you’d ever seen him smile before, “client states she is ready to describe the incident in full detail.”

He set the papers aside for a second, leaning over you and almost looking… giddy, really.

“I won’t read you the rest, I’ve already pretty much memorized what goes on from there.  It was fascinating— seeing how what happened that night connected to the fears you still have today… the nightmares.  You said that you still feel sick at the smell of alcohol, you still don’t like to wear pinstripe skirts, and even just the wrong few words can make you feel like you’re right back there where it happened— on the floor of your apartment.”

All you could do was look up at him, and you felt your eyes get hot as they welled with tears.

“Not this apartment, obviously— the one by your old school,” Jonathan sighed, “but this will have to do.  And the smell of alcohol, well, I wouldn’t want to let anything cloud my experience— but I dabbed a little gin on my wrists, what do you think?”

He held his hand up by your face, caressing your cheek for a second, and you imagined yourself pulling away— turning your head and shrugging his touch off of you with a grimace.  But nothing happened, of course, and you were entirely helpless as the acidic stench of liquor became apparent.  You couldn’t give your typical outward reaction of a frown, but inside, you felt just the same as always: your stomach twisted, your heart pounded, your head swirled.

“Smell is such a… primal trigger of memory, isn’t it?” he mused, watching your face reverently.  “I can see it in your eyes, it’s affecting you even more than I expected.  You act so fearless at work— but I knew you must have been overcompensating.  God, you’re terrified— I would say you’re paralyzed, but, well… it would be too literal, I think.”

You knew that Crane studied fear and phobias, even trauma occasionally, as a personal interest within the field.  It was normal to have a favorite subtopic, and to conduct related research on it— but obviously, this was far from normal, this was absolutely deranged.  You knew that part of this was vengeance, in his own mind at least, but you didn't feel like you'd done anything actually wrong to him.  And the rest of it, well, it seemed like some twisted experiment, but if you were able to speak you would've tried to remind him that this 'research' wasn't going to get him published or advance his career— but of course, that wasn't what he wanted.  He just wanted to humiliate you.

“I was worried I didn’t have enough to work with, you know,” he added.  “I knew I couldn’t get you to where it happened, if I could even figure it out since you never filed that police report… and the skirt, well, I considered it.  It sounded pretty exciting to dress you up like the night it happened— what I would give to know everything you were wearing that night, but I don’t have a ton to work with.  Obviously, you don’t own any pinstripe skirts anymore, so I would’ve had to buy one… and I wasn’t quite ready for the looks I’d get shopping at Macy’s, so…”

Carefully, he reached up to take off his glasses, folding them and setting them down on your coffee table.

“You know how detail-oriented I am— I mean, I went to all this, didn’t I?” He continued, reaching down and brushing his fingers for a moment over your leg.  It was so instinctive to pull away that it took you a moment to realize you hadn’t… because of course, you couldn’t.  “But it’s impossible to recreate it all perfectly.  Clearly, I don’t need to— if only you could see it, Doc, you look… you look so weak.  Pathetic.”

Since the only thing you could do was look around, you tried to look away— to not give him the satisfaction of seeing the terror in your eyes.  He grabbed your face and turned it until you looked up at him.  

“Did you think you’d be able to face your greatest fear?  Perhaps with a bit more dignity?” he mused.  He looked different without the glasses on; and, ironically, you felt like he could see you even better now.

It was obvious that he enjoyed lording complete power over you, but a quick glance down to his suit trousers made it clear just how much he enjoyed it.  You quickly darted your gaze away, but it was too late; he started to climb on top of you, staring at your face uncomfortably close, and worked on opening his belt and fly.

“Fear rules us all, doesn’t it?  Everything you did, it was guided by your fear that it would— well, why paraphrase?  Let me find exactly how you put it…”

He picked up the papers again quickly, licking his thumb and flipping around until he found the right entry.

“Yes,” he said, “here it is: client states she lives in almost constant fear that it will happen again.”

So that's what this was: his disturbed take on exposure therapy.

As he tossed the copied charts away for the last time and reached up under your skirt, he leaned down and whispered in your ear— and you couldn’t even flinch from the harsh sounds of his words.  “It took you over fifty sessions to admit it,” he recalled, “to tell her the whole truth.  Not just what he did to you… what you did.”

With a small growl, he yanked your panties down your legs and rubbed your thighs with far too much aggression, such that you expected bruises from his hands— just like the ones you’d had before.

“You said he made you do it,” he continued, “you couldn’t help it, right?  But you said nothing’s ever felt like that— that you’d never had such a powerful orgasm.”

You would’ve vomited, except that that, too, requires your muscles to not be paralyzed.  Rolling your skirt up and spreading your legs, he positioned himself right between them, rubbing his cock's leaking head around your hole.

“Your greatest fear isn’t really that it’ll happen again, is it?” Jonathan taunted.  “You’re afraid someone’s going to find out how much you liked it.”

With that, he punched his hips forward and speared you on his cock.

It had been years since you'd had anything inside you, even your own fingers.  You couldn't even remember if being penetrated hurt like this during your assault, and you would've sworn before that you remembered every detail perfectly.  But this was so real, not a memory or a nightmare.  You couldn't cry out from the sting.

"God, it's tight," he groaned, "I bet you weren't this tight when it happened— you'd been whoring around, hadn't you?  Letting all kinds of guys use you… just ran into the wrong one and got your drink spiked.  But now…"

He hissed through his teeth, tightening his grip on your hip.  

"Now it's all mine, isn't it?"

Inside, you were screaming and kicking and pleading for mercy.  You imagined you would be angry and violent, beat him to death with your heel or something, but you wondered if you'd be forced to bargain with him— apologize for whatever you did to upset him, promise you wouldn't tell a soul about this as long as he left you alone.  But either way, it didn't matter… on the outside, you were useless, laying there and letting him use you.

"What made you come so much before?  Did he have a big cock, is that it?” he asked with a snarl.  “Did he know exactly how to touch you?  Or was it just that you’d been craving it, needed it really rough to get off properly?  Is that why you came while he raped you?”

It was a biological response, you told yourself like you had over and over, I couldn't help it, it wasn't my fault, it was a biological response— it wasn't my fault, I didn't like it, it was a biological response.

“I think I know what it is,” he mused, looking down at you with heavy eyes and almost purring as he watched your limp form bounce on the floor.  “I think you wanted to be put in your place.  You act so liberated, so empowered— but you’re a creature of instinct, like anything else.  You need someone to remind you how weak you are, I know, fuck, I know you do…”

He fucked you just a bit faster, grunting and tightening his fist on the floor by your head.

“You haven’t been able to have an orgasm at all, since then,” he stated— almost making it like a question, with the way he said it, but he obviously already knew it was true.  He sounded shockingly sympathetic— not even pitying, not condescending, for once.  “I’m sure for a while you didn’t even try, afraid it would remind you— but that’s the thing, you can’t finish unless you’re reminded.”

You almost surprised yourself when you heard a whine come from your throat; he smiled proudly.

"It's wearing off, I think," he noticed.  "I only gave you a small dose.  Can you move at all?  Can you beg me to stop?"

You opened your mouth to try to say everything you'd wanted to since you awoke, but all that came out was a moan.  You hated yourself for that, and he laughed happily.

"You don't want me to stop," he decided.  "Feels too good?"

I fucking hate you, you wanted to scream, you sick son of a bitch, I fucking hate you—

"You didn't say it outright, but he must have said something to you— during, maybe after," Jonathan theorized.  "You didn't say what it was, but you told your therapist about having a vivid flashback after being accosted by a delusional homeless man on the street.  He called you a bitch, seemingly for no reason… is that what your rapist said to you?  Did he say you were a stuck-up little bitch?"

As burning hot tears striped your temples, you curled your fingers over and over— maybe you could move your arms if you really tried…

"He was fucking right about you.  You think you're so much fucking better than everyone else," he growled.  "You think you're so fucking smart, and special.  But you're no fucking different, you're nothing—"

You whined and reached up, weakly trying to push him off of you, but all you could do was limply grasp at his shoulders.

"Nothing but a stupid—" he grunted the word as he slammed himself into you— "fucking—" he did it again— "bitch."

"No!" you finally heard yourself sob, clutching a weak fistful of his white shirt, but he grabbed your hands and shoved them back down to the floor.

“God,” he choked, holding your wrists tightly until you whined, “it’s so much better when you can fight— fuck, it’s so much better.  Keep struggling if you want, Doc, you’re still too weak for me…”

Your legs moved a little, but they felt heavy.  Sensation was only just beginning to return to them, like pins and needles, and it stung; you winced as you managed to squirm a bit beneath him.

"That's it," he praised, "this is probably just how you did it before.  Too drunk and too desperate for cock to really do much, but trying so hard to look like you hate it— I understand, you don't want anyone to know that you need this.  They'd never look at you the same again: the smart, accomplished psychiatrist who likes getting treated like fuckmeat.  What would they think of you if they knew?"

"No…" you said again, too weak and traumatized to say much else— but it wasn't what he said that made you say no, it was the pulse of pleasure inside your cunt.  He must have felt it, and if he didn't, he surely felt the next; yes, he did, because he smiled down at you excitedly.

"It's happening, isn't it?  You're gonna come."

He held on tight to one of your legs, gripping your thigh and staring uncomfortably into your eyes as he kept going— faster and rougher with each thrust.  You choked on your throat, trying to stop any part of this, but the pleasure was undeniable; it still hurt, yes, and you still felt so angry and sick and numb, but something familiar and desperate was tightening in your gut.  It’d been so long since anyone touched you… you’d forgotten how natural it could feel, even when it was so horrible.

"I read it in your file, but I still couldn't really believe it,” he laughed quietly, “I couldn't believe you came over and over while being raped— but here you are, wow, look at you… you’re so beautiful when you’re scared.”

A long, heavy sigh fell from your lips; your eyes got heavier, and your whole body seemed to relax— in a way totally different from the medication-induced paralysis.

He cooed at you, seeming oddly proud, and you were oddly compliant as he picked you up and pulled you into his lap.

Tears streamed across your cheeks as he held you close, one hand around your back while the other moved your hips against his.  “There you go— come for me, I wanna feel it— another one, baby, for me…”

It wasn’t much longer before another one came— from what you remembered, it was a lot like the first time, this terribly wonderful way your body protected itself from the trauma by immersing you in pleasure.  Of course, Jonathan helped you along by rubbing your clit with his thumb, excited to watch you surrender to ecstasy even when you begged him to just stop and leave you alone.

Of course, your protests were less and less believable as more of your strength and mobility returned— you could’ve tried harder to get away, but instead you found your hips rocking with his, your arms wrapping around his shoulders.  No, you didn’t want this— you never wanted this— but you found the way he spoke to you impossibly comforting even while it was still deeply upsetting.  “Tell me about the nightmares, darling,” he whispered— some impossible mix of pleading and ordering.

“A-almost every night,” you whimpered.  “I… I got used to it, but I used to… I used to wake up and think I was still…”

"They felt so real, hm?" he presumed, and you nodded.  “It’s real now… you don’t have to be afraid of the dreams anymore, it’s all real— I’m right here.”

You couldn’t tell if he was trying to scare or comfort you; he pet your hair, clinging to you tightly, kissing your face and neck along the lines of the tears soaking your skin.  

You felt his grin against your cheek when another wavering moan echoed in your chest, and he laid you back on the floor to hover over you again.  “Was that your third one, already?” he noticed.  “This is so much easier than I thought… you needed this so badly, you poor girl.”

A quick wave of panic settled over you when his hand wrapped around your neck.  “W-wait,” you pleaded instantly, as if you really feared he would just strangle you to death right then and there.  Your hands, still weak and tingly, reached up to his arm, and you felt his cock throb inside you— of course that was what he wanted, to see you react in fear again.  So many other emotions were at play right now, even some you didn’t know existed (like whatever the word would be for longing for the worst thing that’s ever happened to you, or feeling like the only person you can trust is the person hurting you the most), but fear was still going to rule it all as long as he had any say.

"How many times did you come before?" he demanded to know, nostrils flaring as he fucked you harder.  "Tell me how many times you came when he raped you."

"I— I don't—" you stammered.

"Say it," he ordered.

"I— I don't know!" you yelped, whimpers falling to silence as he tightened his grip on your neck. 

"You don't fucking know?" he snarled at you, watching you fight for air.  You clawed at his shirt, his wrist, tried to pry his fingers away, but he just sneered as he stared at your numbing face.  "You don't know how many times you creamed on your rapist's cock?  Bullshit."

"I—" you gasped when he let go of your throat, "I lost count…"

He went from livid to ecstatic in a second, laughing proudly and dipping down to kiss your neck passionately.  "Good girl," he mumbled against your skin, fucking you even faster.  "That's what you need to do for me now— come for me until you lose count."

“I— I can’t,” you choked, grabbing at his shoulders as he seemed to overwhelm you just by pressing his weight down on top of you.  “I’m sorry— you… you proved your point, I— I just need a break—”

Even though the drug he’d injected you with was wearing off, you realized you were just as limp and helpless as before… after all, some of the most powerful chemicals come inside the body.  You didn’t even fight it when he put his hand over your mouth, spitting out a quiet but hateful shut up and continuing with his quick and forceful thrusts into you.  

He kept you conscious and lucid by occasionally hitting or choking you, talking to you, once or twice even ordering you to kiss him.  Like you mean it, he’d said, slapping you as punishment for doing it wrong.  Truth be told, you hadn’t kissed anyone in so long that you’d really been trying your best the first time.  Sometimes he told you to beg him for more— or to beg him to get off of you— and yet he would usually punish you for speaking at all.  He was completely unpredictable, and you figured that was part of the plan: take away any shred of control you might try to get by making it impossible to follow his rules.  Keep you confused and crying, keep you fearful, keep you obedient.

But, he did seem to enjoy when you could only just choke out a broken please.  He laughed at you, pinching your sore clit in response until you sobbed and tried to jerk your hips away.  “‘Please’ what, honey?  You mean, ‘please keep fucking me, Doctor Crane, you’ll make me come again?’” he taunted.  “Something like that?”

“Please… please,” you swallowed around your whines, “please just… finish, and go…”

“Oh,” he purred, “you want me to come?”

You’d specifically not phrased it that way, but, yes, that was what you were asking for.  You weren’t sure what else he wanted from you now, it felt like he’d drained you of everything.

“You can just say that, baby— you wanna make me come?” he grinned, moving in closer for a kiss, but you turned your head away.  He grabbed your jaw again and stared at you with an angry glare.  “This isn’t about me.  This is what you wanted.  This is what you fucking wanted!”

As he screamed in your face, you sobbed and tried to look away again, but he hit you hard on the face and covered your mouth before the cry of agony could come out.  

“This is what you wanted, right?” he insisted again, forcing your head to nod with his clammy, iron-tight grip.  “Uh huh— and you wanna make me come, don’t you?  You understand now that’s all you’re good for.”

As sick as it was, you felt yourself fall into another orgasm when he said that; your eyes rolled back a bit, and for a moment you felt even hotter between your legs.

“I think, if you beg me to come, maybe I will,” he offered— bargaining with you, probably another way to trick you into clamoring for some control only to yank it away.  Unfortunately, you were in no position to turn down a deal.

“Please,” you blurted out the second he released your mouth from under his hand; when you blinked the tears from your eyes, you saw him clearly again and realized how completely different he looked from the arrogant-but-generally-unassuming man you knew from work.  His hair was fallen beside his face, and he was close enough that the ends were tickling your forehead.  His eyes were bloodshot, crazed, and dark.  His lips, always full and plush but usually in a tight frown or neutral look of condescending boredom, were curled around the teeth he bared at you.  He looked animalistic, for a man typically so measured.  Only he could do something so animalistic in a way that required such intellect, foresight, and contemplation— using his superhuman skills to treat you in a subhuman manner.  You realized that you were really seeing him for the first time— the person you’d known before was the mask.  This was something horribly freeing for him; and you were having a much easier time analyzing and thinking about him to distract from how sickly freeing this experience was becoming for you.  “Please, Jonathan—”

“Doctor Crane,” he corrected.  Apparently this wasn’t enough to put you on a first name basis…

“Doctor Crane,” you repeated, “please… come.  I want… I want you to come.”

“Hmm,” he considered, and you worried he’d decide he was unimpressed with your effort and hurt you again— but, he did maybe the only thing worse.  “Okay,” he agreed, “if it’s so important to you.”

Just when you shut your eyes tight and hoped you could just get through this— just hold on for a few more minutes at most and then this would be over and done with— he whispered in your ear that he needed you to keep your eyes open if he was going to finish.  

Though, when you obeyed, he purred at you and let his own eyes flutter shut for just a moment.  For once, he actually seemed affected by all this physically and not just psychosexually.  “I think I’ll come inside, like he did before,” Crane decided with a groan when he opened his eyes, biting his lip for a moment as he stared down at you.  “I didn’t see any birth control in your listed medications on chart… I guess we’ll find out if you have a fear of getting pregnant.”

"Jonathan— don't," you whimpered.  "Please, don't do that—"

"Shh," he soothed, petting the top of your head and laying his weight over you.  "Shh, it's alright.  I think you need to be filled with come… I think that might be the one thing that’ll get you to settle down, now just hold still.”

“I— please… please…” you began to beg again, but your words faded away as another wave of sensation washed over you— they started to blend together, like before, and you realized you were doing what he’d asked: you were losing count.

“Good girl,” he praised under his breath, “like that— fuck, I’m close.  Fuck!”

He held onto you tight— one hand on your thigh and the other on your neck as his thrusts sped to a desperately, impossibly fast pace.  You moaned— or cried, or yelled, or something— as he pushed just a little too deep and your toes curled in your heels.

“Uh huh,” he encouraged, “just one more while I come inside you— I think you can manage that, just one more good squeeze on my cock— oh, fuck, that’s it, yes, just like that…”

You stopped being able to understand what he was saying, but you heard the wavering groan that came a few moments later when his movements suddenly stopped.  He gasped and kept himself as far inside you as possible; you shuddered, blinking fresh tears out of your eyes, and felt paralyzed in an entirely new way as you laid under him, staring up at your ceiling, seeing how far the sun had set since it began— actually, it had started to rain, making it even more impossible to tell how much time had really passed.  Eventually, though, he took his head out from the crook of your neck and propped himself up enough to look down at you.  

Reaching to your coffee table, he fumbled his hand around until he found his glasses, and shakily put them back on.  “Well,” he grinned, still panting but seeming to be mostly back to himself (whoever that was).  “I never thought I’d meet someone who loves fear as much as I do.”

[lurochar]

Before It All (Pt. 3)

Warnings: Obsessive Alastor

Part 1 + Part 2

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

It really was you.

His nameless Doe.

You seemed tense, clearly uneasy by the static he emitted and his presence alone by the looks of your erect ears and puffed fur of your tail.

(How cute, you had your clothes altered for your tail. A shame he hadn’t noticed it back when he had summoned you).

Alastor was now used to fellow demons being unnerved and frightened in his presence and so they should be, but you – there was no reason for you to be so anxious in his company, though he supposed he could understand it somewhat.

The power dynamics were completely turned around.

You had no advantage over him, he wasn’t that weak human anymore.

But still, Alastor didn’t like the fact you were so wary of him, so he needed to lighten the mood, break the tense atmosphere, and there was no better way than reminding you of your encounter with him when he was the weaker one, when you had the power over him, was there?

“How I’ve missed your wonderful ears, my nameless Doe.”

Alastor always did find your ears fascinating.

He may have his own pair of deer ears now and they had their uses – his auditory senses were vastly superior when compared to his human self, so much so, it took a week or two for him to adjust to sensory overload. They also gave any would-be attackers a false sense of security, he was just a deer demon, so he had to be weak.

Ripping those sorts to shreds felt much more satisfying.

But his ears were so damn sensitive to touch that Alastor had no idea how you didn’t just melt into a trembling mess when you allowed him to stroke your ears all those years ago.

He needed to move on from these thoughts before–

You blinked at his odd greeting, your body relaxing slightly from its earlier tensed position that had been poised to flee at any given second.

You blinked again.

And then you let out a loud yelp of surprise, springing forward when you felt icy cold hands playfully tug on your ears from behind. 

–before his shadow acted upon them.

You reeled around to see what had touched you, not expecting to see a grin right up in your face and you stumbled back a bit, happy enough that you didn’t embarrass yourself in front of the Radio Demon/Alastor by letting out some sort of pitiful sound like a scream or shriek.

“I do hope you can excuse my shadow’s behaviour. The poor thing can hardly contain itself, seeing it is a reflection of me.” Alastor gestured the shadow away, which it did after giving you a last glance before it vanished. “Well then, should we do now what we should have done twenty-four years ago?”

You’re unsure what he is talking about.

“Introductions, my nameless Doe! Unless you prefer that name over your real one.” Alastor bows in a flashy way. “Alastor Hartfelt! But you already knew that, correct?” He stood up straight and eyed you expectantly.

“It’s nothing special, it’s just Y/N.” You shrug before eyeing Alastor intently and you hope you don’t get killed or worse for your question. “You just seemed like a miserable boy brought up in a miserable situation, so I gave you a pass. I thought if I got rid of your main problem, maybe you could live the rest of your life normally. You didn’t even make it to forty. What happened?”

Alastor hummed. “It would turn out that my father was only a drop in the bucket. After that wretch was gone from our lives, my Mama instilled in me the importance and value of women. Women are not second-class citizens nor are they property, but this way of thinking was uncommon and misogyny was everywhere.”

You think you can guess where this is heading to…

“I killed men, men like my father. Men who see no problem in beating their wife. Degenerates that stalked the alleyways for their next rape victim. For over a decade, I was the ‘Bayou Butcher’. It’s only due to the incompetence of a hunter that I am here now.” The expression on his face was that of delight. “I have no remorse. I thoroughly enjoyed every second of it.”

Oh.

It’s… it’s not what you wanted for Alastor, but you remembered that sheer hatred in his eyes. Something that deeply rooted wasn’t so easily erased, even if the main cause was taken out of the situation.

Unfortunately, you were not wrong in guessing Alastor would eventually condemn himself to Hell.

Fortunately, you had held onto Hartfelt for the past twenty some years.

You do have another question, but you know better than to ask.

Some demons don't care, but some demons can get quite offended if asked about their appearance and why they ended up looking the way they do. It’s personal, tied to their sins in life and their manner of death.

Asking Alastor why he ended up as a deer demon, a prey-based demon, could get you killed or maybe worse.

“I was mistaken for a deer by an inept hunter who took a shot before bothering to confirm what he was shooting at.” Alastor answers easily and casually, as if reading your mind and knowing what you want to ask. “Do not be afraid to ask me anything, my lovely Doe. I assume you heard my message on one of my broadcasts, yes? I meant every word of what I said.”

Lovely Doe?

‘I told him my name…’ You decided it didn’t matter too much as it wasn’t demeaning or degrading. You’ve been called much, much worse and on a regular basis by Hartfelt, so hearing an affectionate(?) nickname was a bit of refreshing change–

Should you be thinking that way?

Your ears dropped.

“Listen, Alastor,” you noticed his eyes seemed to glow brighter from you simply saying his name, “I messed up that day. I… I shouldn’t have touched you, let alone hug you. There are countless reasons why most demons don’t have free access to the human world. Contact with demons tends to screw humans up. Even just one night with a Succubus or an Incubus can fuck up humans for months and they’re low-class demons.”

Alastor simply tilted his head.

“I’m mid-class and… and I should have known better.” You sighed. “I think I messed you up in some way by touching you and letting you touch me.”

You were taken back when Alastor started to laugh and your ears flattened completely, slightly bothered by his reaction to your words.

Did you say something amusing?

“Oh dear me, you have twisted it all around in your worrisome mind, haven’t you?” Alastor chuckled. “So you have yet to realize you saved me and my Mama from that piece of scum I had to call ‘father’? My life even? Had you not killed that man for me, I would have made a clumsy attempt to murder that man, whether I succeeded or not. Such a thing would have cost me my life much earlier. I would not have been able to pursue my career and take good care of my Mama until her final days.”

You flustered, not sure what to say back.

“I lived my life the way I wished to because you freed me from that man. I am here in Hell purely of my own actions, though perhaps a little earlier than expected. You are very much downplaying what you are to me and I cannot say I care much for it.” Alastor couldn’t help the loudening crackle of his static.

“...okay…”

“Pardon?” Alastor’s ears twitched at the mumble of your voice, though he heard you just fine. He wanted you to clarify what ‘okay’ meant and look him in the eyes as you did so. He wouldn’t trap you in a contract like the fools whose souls he owned, but with his guaranteed protection for nothing more than just staying at his side and within his sight, how could you refuse?

(Though, if you wanted to give him your soul, he certainly wouldn’t turn it down).

“Okay! Maybe I didn’t fuck you up! Maybe you were… a little ‘different’ from the start!” You weren’t sure how to say ‘psychopathic’ in a nice way. “I still felt guilty about it this entire time. I hoped differently, but I knew you would probably end up in Hell.” You admitted, huffing when Alastor let out another chuckle. “So I did something to try to make up for it in case I did mess with your mind somehow.”

“Hmm, and what is that, my lovely Doe?” Alastor’s smile seemed to widen and it may be hidden from view, his tail wagged in excitement. “You thought of me, even before I landed myself in Hell? I must say, I’m quite flattered!”

“I looked for him as soon as I got back from the human world and found him before he understood how… things worked around here.” You didn’t feel bad in the least. “So I tricked him into making a deal with me. Shelter, food, simple basics for his soul. He didn’t seem used to living on the streets, so he took it right away. He didn’t understand what it actually meant to give your soul away.”

“Well done! What a delightful little tidbit! I had no idea if you would be interested in the art of deal-making. I would be more than happy to guide you. Why, I already own a great number of souls myself.” Alastor’s smile turned a little more sinister and he felt his blood heat at the thought of watching you trick some desperate fool into giving you their soul.

He would slaughter an entire district just to see that.

“I’ve… never really thought about it? I just do what I can to get by. Prey and livestock-based demons don’t have it easy in Hell.” You were sought out for your meat after all. “Anyway, I thought I’d make it up to you by – well, that demon whose soul I own is your father’s.”

The static around Alastor went completely silent.

You swallowed thickly, suddenly nervous. “I, uh, I always intended on giving you ownership of his soul whenever you ended up here, if you ended up in Hell. You can do anything you want to him, I have no intention of interfering if you… wanted to broadcast his torment or something.”

Shit, why was Alastor staring at you like that?

Was it the wrong choice? Did he want nothing to do with his father?

“W-WAH!” It was the most pitiful fucking noise you could probably make, worse than that earlier yelp when Alastor seemed to melt into the floor through a void of shadows and then reappear right in your personal space before you comprehended what happened. That was not the reason you let out a damn bleat before you could help it, though.

Alastor was stroking your ears just as he had done twenty-four years prior.

“A gift from you is always welcome, but this – I never imagined one that would bring me such… joy. Truly, you were always meant for me, my lovely Doe.”

“S-so, I take it you want ownership of his soul?” You struggled to get the words out, feeling your vision blur for a moment. You let out a breath of relief when Alastor reluctantly released your ears, but he didn’t step away from your personal space.

“Yes. I’m more than willing to give you a soul – ten even, in return. Mama may disapprove of it, but I will pay back a thousandfold and more for what that man put her through. He will suffer the worst torture I can possibly think of.” To your amazement, Alastor’s pupils spun into a shape that resembled radio dials before returning to normal.

“It’s a gift. You don’t need to give me anything back in return.” You blinked in surprise when Alastor poked your cheek, pinching it playfully before tutting at you. “What was that?!”

“You have been here longer than me, but it seems I must teach you a few good lessons.” Alastor held out his hand invitingly. “Before this transaction, would you like a tour of my radio tower?”

You placed your hand in his. “You’re going to have to explain it like you would to a child how this radio stuff actually works. I can turn my radio on and change the station, that’s about it.”

Alastor felt that chill that followed him all his life leave him and his smile felt genuine for very few times that it was as he felt your hand wrap around his.

He may be dead and in Hell, but his (after)life was looking rather bright – he still could enjoy his passion for radio and he no longer had to hide his true sadistic nature and homicidal thoughts. Better yet, he could combine the two and broadcast tortured screams for denizens of Hell to hear!

He was powerful and feared, toppling Overlords to become himself in an extremely short period of time and he owned multiple souls to do his bidding whenever and whatever he wanted – and soon, he could add his miserable wretch of a father to his collection to torment all he likes.

Best of all, he finally found you, the demon who made this all possible for him and now that he had you in his grasp, there was no conceivable way he would ever let you elude him. He could certainly give you the illusion of freedom and space if that’s what you wanted.

He was charming, he knew that, it’s all he needed to win you over.

Perhaps it would take a little time and patience, but he would get what he wanted in the end like he always did.

His lovely Doe. His new wife.

It was a dream that Alastor was going to turn into his reality.

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

I hope this ending was satisfying

Tags: @alishii @yourdoorisunlocked @godsent69 @eris-norwega @catticora @tayraedoll @michi-keinz @martinys-world @n0tmentallystable @xalygatorx @everwolf-20 @yui-onnero

[miya-rin]

“what the fuck do you two think youre doing?”

shit, you think, you didnt notice the balcony door had been slid open until you heard the voice of one of your brothers. you start to pull away from suna’s lips which earns you a small whine from his end, his grip tightens around you and honestly it its quite cute the way he is trying so hard to savour the moment. “come back later, we’re kinda busy.” the boy mutters before trying to move your face away from the distraction so that he can kiss you once more.

“suna you get your hands off of her right now, i dont give a fuck that its your birthday.” osamu pipes up, he looks furious and a little bit disgusted, if it hadnt been for the situation youre in right now you would think its kind of funny.

“samu lay off him, it was a mutual agreement, im just as guilty as he is ok?” that does not seem to help the boys understand, if anything they seem even more angry with you both.

“what the fuck do you mean it was a mutual agreement? are you two hooking up or something? yn he just turned 18 a few hours ago are you forgetting that?” atsumu says, he is rambling on with every excuse he can think of as to why this is “so wrong”, from the corner of your eye you can see suna trying so very hard to hide the grin that is creeping its way onto his face, his hands still all over you despite the fact that you arent alone anymore.

“listen, it was his birthday wish ok? i swear it didn’t mean anything,” sunas grip begins to loosen ever so slightly, “i just though it would get him off my back and get him over his little crush on me.” suna’s facial expression shifts but you choose to ignore it, you have bigger problems to deal with at the moment.

“no this is not ok, how would you feel if me or samu kissed one of your friends because it was their birthday wish?”

“that’s different, why would my friends want to kiss either of you?”

“excuse me? ill have you know that many women want to kiss me! and dont think youre getting off the hook either suna, ill make sure you never-“ you dont even want to hear the threat that is about to come out of his mouth, you just want to get out of this shitty situation.

“boys please, just give us five minutes to talk and then we will be back inside ok? i promise.” your efforts to plead with your brothers finally work.

“…fine,” atsumu mumbles, “but this better be a one time thing. im not gonna deal with you two being all lovey dovey around me.” and with that he lightly tugs on osamu’s sleeve, signalling him to walk back inside and continue the party. he closes the balcony door but not before bringing two fingers up to his eyes and then pointing them at the two of you. its a warning.

you turn back to suna and notice the sad look on his face - he looks kinda cute like this, “so, what do-“.

“did you really mean what you just said to them?” the poor boy looks heartbroken, after waiting three years to finally have a chance with the girl he loves wants the moment is ruined like that? “did you actually just do that so i would leave you alone?” his hands fully leave your body now and he takes a step back to put some distance between you two.

“well i mean sort of yeah… ive never looked at you in any way other than my brothers best friend if im going to be honest, i dont know if thats because of the age difference or what but ive never thought we could be anything.” the look of hurt is prominent on his face no matter how hard he tries to hide it, normally playful banter would have been thrown back and forth between the two of you but rintarou just stays silent, an indication that youve fucked up.

“listen suna i dont know what you want me to say, i wasnt really thinking when i said that to atsumu it just came out. i am 4 years older than you and many people would not approve of us if i decided to give you a chance.”

“who cares? i could treat you so right if you would just let me. i have waited entirely too long for this moment, all im asking for is one date.”

“you said that about the kiss too, one thing is never enough with you is it? you always need more.” a playful smile creeps onto your face which is outshined by the one on sunas, he knows that your smile means that you agree to go on a date with him.

“i really hope you arent fucking with me right now, that would be so cruel, especially on my birthday.”

“oh give the birthday excuse a rest now will you? you dont need to keep on at me you have already got what you want.”

“mhm i absolutely have,” he walks closer and once again wraps his arms around you, placing a hand under your jawbone to make you look up at him, “and i couldnt be happier.” he states as he pulls you in for a passionate kiss once more <3

[generalsmemories]

48 hours.

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ synopsis: did time always pass this slowly before?

✧ word count: 3.5k

✧ contents: established relationship, mentions of other characters, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, spoilers for the 1.2 main story! + a very sorry attempt of writing angst lmfao

✧ a/n: i better see my man waking up from the best sleep he's ever had next update, i ain't accepting anything else. but until then you guys will get whatever this is because Jing Yuan is literally the definition of sleeping beauty throughout 90% of this piece.

The smell of seawater is prominent the closer you get to the statue of the former high elder. The waves seemingly roaring their praises for the Vidyadhara male before you who once again parted them to reveal a palace buried beneath them.

You're still able to see the waves crash down onto the shore, the force of the impact so harsh that your shoes are drenched.

The troops behind you seem to be in awe, whispering amongst themselves as you make your way up the stairs. Fu Xuan seems to notice you almost immediately, to which you give a curt bow before looking over to Jing Yuan whose hardened expression seem to soften slightly upon seeing you, "General, the reinforcements you've requested are here," you relay, glancing behind you to gesture the other Cloud Knights to position themselves behind the two that was behind Fu Xuan.

"Splendid, Lady Fu?" Jing Yuan turns his attention back to Fu Xuan who straightens up a bit, your eyes sweep over the people behind him. The trailblazer and their companions either giving you a curt nod or an energetic wave upon seeing your attention on them. Only one male diverts his attention elsewhere when his eyes locked upon yours. You can however see him give you a curt nod when he glanced back at you, "Remain here - lead the Cloud Knights in defense of this passage. We must prevent further incidents."

Your eyebrows furrow, but before you can utter a sound Fu Xuan takes a step before you in alarm, "Jing Yuan- General, are you planning on facing Phantylia alone?"

Your mind blanks the moment you notice what he's planning to do, but as the plan has already come this far any complaints you would have would fall on deaf ears. You can merely bite back your words and look away from him - Jing Yuan does take notice of this, but he has no time to console you, merely sparing you an apologetic glance as if that would lessen the sudden reveal of his plans.

You only turn your attention back towards the stairways leading down once you start to hear bustling around you, already noticing Fu Xuan address some Cloud Knights - but she does glance at you and cock her head to the side towards the retreating group with a small smile.

Almost as if saying: "We never know what might happen, say what you want to say now instead of regretting it later."

He's walking considerably slower than the rest of the party, and you let out a scoff at how he even predicted this, "Jing Yuan." you call out, and your lover turns around with the same easygoing smile he always gave you whether it was during a meeting at the Divine Foresight, on the training grounds of the Cloud Knights as he sparred with Yanqing or at the comfort at your own private quarters.

But he doesn't move from his spot - "Yes?" he asks softly, foregoing the petnames he usually addreses with you, a silent hint as to what sort of situation the two of you find yourself in.

"... I expect you to return safely to your troops, general." you merely say, before mouthing silently: "And to me."

Jing Yuan doesn't give you a nod, he merely laughs with a smile before turning around and descending down the stairs.

The next time you saw him, he was being carried by Dan Heng, not even conscious to hear your call for him.

HOUR 3

It took an hour to haul him to to Miss Bailu's place, the smaller vidyadhara's eyes widening upon seeing his unconscious self being carred by another Vidyadhara of all things.

And as much as you wanted to stay by him, there were more immediate pressing matters to handle. You had practically begged the high elder to take care of him, sputtering whatever you were informed before Bailu were forced to sit you down to make you relax.

You were offered a cup of her herbal tea before you continued on your way, taking one last glance at Jing Yuans' resting form before you rushed out to take care of your home in his stead.

HOUR 12

The ink brush in your hand is barely moving at this point, the tip of the hair dipped with the ink having made an extended black dot on the paper scroll you were currently writing on. You glanced over to the side from your place at the desk, watching with rapt attention Jing Yuans' chest falling up and down - an indicator that he was alive and breathing.

You're pretty sure you've observed his condition more than you have gotten any work done in the past few hours. The intial plan was to go the Divine Foresight to take care of the duties that would be left behind with the abscence of the General personally because at that point you would be easily accesible to the public. But just after an hour or two, Qingzu had contacted Fu Xuan to inform her that you were in no right mind to currently focus.

Thus you were tasked to stay home or work from the room where Jing Yuan was resting by Bailu's clinic - Fu Xuan had merely parroted back what Bailu had said to her which was to let Jing Yuan wake up on his own terms, he didn't seem to be affected too strongly by Phantylia's attempt to turn him into a voidranger, and Bailu was currently in the process of finding out more.

"You wouldn't want him to wake up to the entirety of Xianzhou and yourself in disarray do you? If anything the moment he does he would sure wish he was back asleep," she had tried to joke, to which you only responded with a dry laugh.

You glanced towards the clock again, you don't know how many times you've done it, 7:28 AM. it had gone 9 hours since? Why did it feel like it had gone days?

You let out a sigh, settling yourself to sit beside Jing Yuan and brushing a hand through his hair, "How come you even made me forget the concept of time for us?" you mutter. 9 hours was usually nothing for you - nor for him. 9 hours was a lot for a short-lived species, but for you, it was just 9 hours.

It was just supposed to be a few hours.

So how did 9 hours suddenly feel a lot longer?

HOUR 24

There's a quiet knock at the door that jolts you awake, the sudden sound amidst the quiet room makes you jump from your seat at the desk, your knee colliding with the surface underneath the desk.

It doesn't hurt of course, but the person behind the door can hear your quiet curse, "Come in, Yanqing," you utter a few minutes after, and when he opens the door he's met with scene of ink spilled all over the desk and dripping down the floor.

"... Lady Bailu wouldn't be very happy about that mess, you know?"

You merely dropped a handful of paper towels down on the floor and set the ink bottle straight again, taking a seat by the bed and gesturing for Yanqing to settle on the floor in front of you. The boy doesn't utter a word as he passed you the bandages and first aid kit he had gotten from one of the attendants.

"You know you don't have to come all the way here to just get your wounds dressed up, right?" You remind the lieutenant, but at the back of your mind you're well aware the reason why Yanqing keeps coming back, "But thank you."

A couple of minutes pass like that, Yanqing kneeled on the floor as you set up everything, the distant tick-tock of the clock reverberating by the lieutenant ears.

"It doesn't hurt as much anymore, right?" you ask while undressing the bandages currently adorning his head, "It never hurt at all, who do you take me for, [Name]?!" he scoffed, crossing his arms and turning his head to the side harshly - immediately regretting said decision with a pained whimper.

You chuckle, brushing out his hair before starting to wrap the bandages around his head again, "You and that idiot really like to throw yourselves head first into danger, hmm?" you muse quietly, Yanqing's posture immediately stiffening at the mention of the general still unconscious beside you.

"He's not mad, is he?" Yanqing asks quietly after you've tied a knot, leaning his head back to stare at you. The mere question makes you laugh even more, "He was already aware of what you were planning to do, he could never be severely disappointed in you," the response made the younger boy let out a sigh of relief.

"... Are you mad at him?" Yanqing asks in the end, the boy having already made himself comfortable against you, twisting his body to lean his arms on your left thigh. Propping his chin on his arms that rests against your thigh, he takes a long look at Jing Yuan before directing his gaze back to you. He patiently waits for your response, but you can only blink back at him in wonder before your gaze turns towards Jing Yuan.

... Were you angry?

HOUR 32

"You're not gonna rot in this room with him of all things, [Name]." is the first thing Fu Xuan says the moment she slams the door open. You are for once, not cooped inside the clinic room, but outside by the balcony staring down at the Xianzhou people go on about their day with a cup of herbal tea in your hand, merely giving her a glance with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm very much not rotting inside there, Lady Fu. Bailu wouldn't let me either. Please give me a bit more credit than that," you say with a sigh, placing the cup of tea down in front of her before taking a seat opposite of her, "I'm just concerned is all, is there any news from Lady Bailu?" you question, the divination commissioner shaking her head, "Other than her confirming that the general should really just be deeply asleep, she hasn't found anything yet. But he did take a lot of wounds and hits during that fight from what I was informed, it's amazing there's nothing more than that."

A moment of silence passes, the only sound is the clinking of ice cubes against your glass while you swirled the tea around.

"That's the thing."

"Pardon?"

" There should be something more happening to him than just being bedridden needing a nap! He was almost turned into a voidranger of all things, Fu Xuan!" you shout, the fragile composure that you had so desperately tried to hold up cracking in just a few hours. The divination commissioners' eyes widening in surprise at the sudden outburst.

If the past you could've seen the state you were in now, they would've laughed at you. Even now you find yourself pathethic. Because it is pathethic, you've been through worse situations that lasted for weeks, months and even decades.

But somehow, seeing your beloved in such a position and unable to do anything when you usually were able to just cracks down on every purpose and belief you've held yourself to.

"He didn't want help, he didn't ask for help when he had the chance! He went into that battle expecting to not come back alive at all, but with purpose to bring that ravager down with him! And of course he would, it's Jing Yuan! He will lay down his entire soul and being, his life to protect the Xianzhou through another crisis - just like every other problem that could've risen to a crisis in the past centuries!" you cry, Fu Xuan can see that even with the outburst you're still trying to keep yourself sane, your knuckles turning white from gripping the corners of the table before you.

"The only thing I shouldn't have to worry about is when he's going to wake up, Fu Xuan. That worry shouldn't have to be my only concern with his condition," you mutter in the end. A few minutes pass by in silence, not because Fu Xuan didn't know what to say - moreso because she was aware that you weren't looking for comfort.

So she lets the few minutes pass before you raise your head with a smile. It's a smile she is well aware is forced: "Why don't we take a stroll outside then? I think Bailu would jump in joy if she sees me out of the room too."

HOUR 45

Fu Xuan realized how efficient you truly were whenever you didn't have to appease a touch starved general. A glance at the desk when she first arrived to drag you out showed her results of your hard work under 24 hours which was the finished and marked scrolls that was supposed to be sent to her - in addition to more "trivial" paperwork left behind at the Divine Foresight.

No wonder Marshal Hua was reluctant to let you go when Jing Yuan had first proposed to you.

And Fu Xuan will be damned to let said general also be your downfall.

So for the next 13 hours after that, you were somehow visited by numerous people who were in need of some minor help - that be the trailblazer looking immensely out of place as they asked you for some obvious facts about the luofu to Yanqing dragging you out to the training grounds to finally have a chance to spar with you again.

That girl really can't show concern in the normal way, can she?

A futile attempt to relieve your mind of endless worry - but an attempt nonetheless which makes a soft smile graze your lips. You sent a quick message to Qingzu to send a few Cloud Knights to guard the perimeter of the house before heading out the door once again.

If you knew the Cloud Knights well enough, they would already be running over - and sure enough you were greeted by enthusiastic greetings by them after merely taking a few steps away from the porch.

Fu Xuan merely gave you a deadpanned look when you arrived at the Divination Commission, "What, weren't you the one who wanted to distract me from worrying so much?" you asked with a grin.

"Yes, but I meant it in a way to relax your body and mind, not overwork yourself to exhaustion."

"Just humor me this once, Lady Fu."

Fu Xuan huffed, turned around while nagging at you. She didn't comment on the way you were clenching your fist so tightly that blood seeped out from where your fingernails were digging into your palm.

Love truly was a dangerous feeling.

HOUR 48

Jing Yuan felt like his whole body was underwater. It was hard to move, and even harder trying to open his eyes. There's a dull ache spreading through every vein in his body - a feeling he had gotten used to thanks to numerous battles, but with so many centuries of peace he was not liking how taxing it truly was.

Blinking his eyes open, he was met with an unfamiliar ceiling, but inside an environment that he was somewhat familiar with whenever he felt like skipping work.

Trying to heave himself up proved harder than normal, the man letting out a groan as he supported both hands on the bed to drag himself up to a sitting position.

He was covered in fresh bandages, so either Bailu or another attendant must've been inside a few hours before to change them. One look around the room gave him a rough idea on what has been going on.

It's been roughly 2 days since the battle with Phantylia, the new addition to the desk by the corner piled with scrolls and textbooks indicate that you've been by his side ever since he came back.

And lastly, although his whole body is hurting and moving even a muscle sends shockwaves of pain through his body, he was still very much alive.

"Bailu I've already been chased around for 13 hours to prevent from being inside there, I just want a break. No it's fine I don't need a bed I'll just sit by the balcony again - yes I'll call you if I need anything, don't worry. Really it's fine -" The fake cheer in your voice immediately stops up when you turn your head away from Bailu and into the room, but instead of being seen with the same scenery as you've gotten used to in the past 48 hours, you're staring straight into Jing Yuan's open eyes - the man himself only cocking his head to the side with a smile.

"Good afternoon, dear."

He can tell Bailu has already hightailed away to grab her things, which leaves him alone with you. You, who hasn't even moved a single muscle since locking eyes with him. Jing Yuan can see your mouth move in attempt to say something and that the hand on the door handle is trembling slightly.

"... What, you're not happy to see me?" he tries to joke, but the moment he sees your eyes flicker from surprise to anger he knew it was a bad joke to tell, "I'm sorry-"

"Sorry? You're sorry?!" you seethe through clenched teeth, still having enough rationality to not yell inside of a clinic of all things, even closing the door gently before marching into the room.

You don't even reach out to him, and Jing Yuan doesn't have the energy to reach out for you.

"You sure weren't sorry when you kept all of those plans to yourself and walked down that staircase with half a mind of not returning," you point out, and Jing Yuan can only give you the same easygoing smile he gave you that very same day.

"... Why? Why is at the most crucial moments that you want to do everything alone? Why won't you lean onto someone for once, why must you do everything in secrecy but at the same time be so open?" you question, every worry and fear just pouring and Jing Yuan let's you speak.

And even when his whole body hurts, he reaches out to gently grab your wrist to pull you down to sit by the bedside. He's aware that you could've easily stood your ground, because he's much too weak to actually force you to do anything.

And yet you're so pliant, sitting down close enough for him to wrap his arms around your waist and rest his head against your shoulder, "... 48 hours isn't a long time for our people," you breathe softly after a moment of silence, "But those 48 hours where you didn't even turn around one single time nor make a single movement? It was almost the worst 48 hours I've experienced so far."

"And I hate it, why have I let you reduce me to something so vulnerable and I can't do anything about it?! Why have you gone against everything you first promised to me?!" Your voice is gradually getting louder, but Jing Yuan doesn't comment on it.

"I'm sorry," he mutters again, and you only scoff, "You're not sorry, I know you're not. If something like this happened again I know you would do the exact same thing."

You know him too well, and that's what also scares him in the end.

Because if you weren't so high on emotions right now and just took a moment to think, you would realize that if you were in the same battlefield as him things would not go as smoothly - to either one of you.

It was better for him to be alone right then and there - because if Phantylia had even seen one weakness from him of all people it would've reduced the already slim chances of them winning that battle to zero.

If Phantylia had even decided to target you, he knew he wouldn't be able to keep his rationality inside - because you have him wrapped around your finger more than you realize.

Every regret and painful memory he has experienced have started to pale when he compares to every joyful moment you've given him. So if you were to perish in that fight for him and for the Xianzhou? Jing Yuan would've truly lost against the battle of time.

He's selfish, for once he wants to be selfish because he's chosen to not be in every waking moment of his life - so he wants to be selfish this once and rather take a gamble with his life than toy with yours.

"I'm sorry," he whispers once again, a hand reaching out to cup your cheek, the general chuckling when he feels a stray tear his his thumb. He leans back to watch you, a guilty look crossing his features at your slightly reddened eyes.

And yet you're glaring at him in anger, but Jing Yuan is so relieved that you're still there with him.

So he leans in with no hesitation, pecking the corner of your eyes while whispering that he's sorry after every peck, his thumb pushing down on your lower lip to stop you from biting your lips so harshly, "I truly am," he whispers, silencing the bubbling sobs coming from your lips with his own.

He is sorry. And he hates the thought of you hurting, because both of you had gone through enough. But he would rather that you go through 48 hours of pure torment for him than taking the risk of losing you completely.

His love for you is selfish like that, because if he wasn't selfish he would be too vulnerable.

[yunniiez]

midnight swim- sim jaeyun

mature content ahead, minors dni

possible part 2 based on how well this does.

warnings: semi public???(its a hotel pool), fem bodied reader, swearing, pet names (baby, gorgeous, love ect.) jus all the normal smutty stuff ykyk. you guys get interrupted!

pairing: non!idol!jake x fem!bodied!reader

genre: smut. maybe a teensy bit of fluff at the end

notes: short drabble in thanks for getting me to 170 followers! enjoy!!

jakes fingers danced around your waist, providing a warmth to the contrast to the cool water the two of you had submerged yourself in. after much convincing, jake had persuaded you to follow him down to the pool in the hotel you guys were staying at for your anniversary. which led you to your current situation, encased in jakes arms.

his body seemed to shield you from the cool night air, blowing against his bare back instead of against your body. “thanks for coming down here with me..” jake started, pulling away from the warm embrace he provided you with but still keeping a point of contact with your hand, gently grasping onto it. “this better be worth it jake.” you mumbled under your breath as your eyes looked up from the sparkling water to his eyes, seemingly shining under the moonlight. perhaps it was the reflection of the water against his face but jake looked so undeniably handsome in this moment.

you hadn’t realised how long you must’ve been staring at him before jake chuckled softly, waving a hand infront of your face. “hello? earth to y/n?” he called out softly. you blinked out of your daze, feeling your face heating up despite the cool air surrounding you. jake snickered as you lowered your head in an attempt to hide your blush. even though the two of you had been together for a while, jake had always made you so shy. you doubted it was ever going to change.

“no, don’t hide from me. let me see that pretty face” he said softly, placing a gently hand beneath your chin to raise your face. a small smile graced his face as he admired you for a moment. you only felt your cheeks growing more and more red with each passing moment but you couldn’t bring your eyes away from his.

almost instinctively, your body moved forward to press against his until all that was left apart from eachother was your lips. your eyes looked from his plump lips up to his pretty nose until they finally stopped at his sparkling eyes. jake seemed to notice this, laughing quietly before closing the gap between your lips and his. he shut his eyes, bringing a hand from your waist to wrap around your neck, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

the kiss increased in heat almost instantly when jakes tongue prodded at your lips, non verbally begging you to let his tongue explore your mouth. without much resistance, you let his mouth explore yours, leaning into him even further as you did so. you hummed into the kiss, wrapping your hands around his neck while pulling away for some breath.

jakes hands started to wonder, sliding down your waist to rest on your hip before curling behind you with a slight smirk evident on his pretty features. your eyes slightly widened as his hands moved lower and lower- until they had landed amongst your ass, which was nothing unusual. after all, it’s jake we’re talking about.

he snickered to himself before gently guiding you so that your back was facing him. he trapped you against a nearby pool wall, pressing you between his body and the wall as he sighs out. he was desperate for some sort of friction against his hard-on, that you could very well feel pressed up against your lower back.

“jake…” you whispered out quietly, craning your neck to look over your shoulder at him. “yes gorgeous, fuck. please, tell me you need me as bad as i need you.” he moaned out, wrapping one arm around your waist, pulling you closer, while the other rested against your hip.

you bit down on your lip, looking at the tiled floor surrounding the pool infront of you. you nodded, too shy to say anything. he tutted, shaking his head even though you couldn’t see him. “come on baby, you know i need to hear you say it.” he whispered, his lips almost brushing against your neck as he spoke. you felt your cheeks heat up again in embarrassment. “i need you jake… so bad”

and with that, he instantly tugs down your panties with a groan as he lowered his head into your neck. you could tell her was trying to control himself. “fuck gorgeous. gonna make y’feel so good hm?”

he slipped off his boxers, tossing them onto the tiles around the pool somewhere near the two of you guys that neither of you cared about right now. he was still tightly pressed up against you, slightly rutting against your ass to relieve himself with some sort of friction. he groaned again as he brought his hand around your hip to caress your bare pussy, dragging two of his thick fingers up and down.

usually, the action would evoke teasing about how wet you were but considering the time and place, jake had nothing to say apart from moan at the feeling of you against his fingers. without further warning, he slipped two fingers into your pussy without any resistance, biting down on his lip as he leaned over your shoulder. you let out a moan, a bit too loud, considering where you where. this pulled a small chuckle from jake as he began to move his fingers in and out of you, curling so perfectly. “so tight f’me..” he mumbled, his fingers moving at a slightly faster pace.

you moaned out again, dropping your head to rest against the pool walls with a small groan. “shit jake! fuck..” you whined as jakes fingers curled inside of you, hitting that one spongey spot that felt so good. you back arched, pressing against his painfully obvious hard-on.

you reached one hand to grip one jakes wrist, trying to slow his fingers that were now moving at a relentless pace. “j-jake!! i’m gonna- fuck~”

just as you felt your high approaching, the elevator that went directly down to the pool dinged, meaning somebody was coming down. both jake and your eyes darted over to the door as jake quickly slipped his fingers out of you with an apologetic mumble. you whined at the loss but nonetheless, understood that if we were continue, we were definitely going to get caught.

you pulled your panties that were floating around one of your legs up, reaching over to hand jake his swimming shorts with a soft huff. just as the two of you slipped back on your swimming clothing, a couple stepped out of the elevator after it dinged again. they stared at the two of you, who were now on opposite ends of the pool before looking at eachother and walking over to the pool regardless.

you looked at jake with a small pout, your thighs still tightly pressed together under the water, trying to get some friction, to no avail. jake laughed softly, floating over to you before intertwining his hand with yours, pulling you towards the steps after the couple had gotten into the pool with seemingly the same idea you and jake had while coming down here.

“let’s go back up to the hotel, yea?”

DONE DNE DONENSIDKSNHAKAJSJS MY FIRST SMUT!!!! reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! requests are also open :)

[blueboybot]

Your Husband Is A What?

Damian/Duke is trapped in a weapon (like one of those cool big ass anime swords) and it's up to Danny to get him back to normal.

Travelling back to the past seemed fun but unfortunately all the other heroes think he's a little crazy, and yes, he may have a few screws loose but his husband really is trapped in this weapon damnit.

_______

How they met could be made into a book with the title Love At First Fight, because that's exactly how they met each other.

Danny had taken a route that was basically a dark alley, so there really wasn't no surprise when a couple of guys tried to rob him. Well, Danny was not one to back down and with a trusty steel pipe he found right next to the dumpster he began taking them down.

In the aftermath Danny's jeans had become ripped jeans but he wasn't sure if they could be considered proper clothing to wear anymore, which pissed him off so he got one more hit in with the steel pipe to the nearest man next to him.

Footsteps as light as they were still alerted Danny to one more thief in his vicinity. Without much hesitation he turned swiftly and dashed towards his opponent. Steel meet steel as his attacker counteracted his attack with a weapon of their own. Danny still had powers though, so using a bit more strength he sent the other's weapon flying in another direction, giving him the opportunity to strike.

He didn't know when he lost his own weapon but somehow him and his attacker were now fist fighting on the floor. It was only after the adreneline had calmed down somewhat that Danny was able to see he was fighting one of Gotham's heroes.

Quickly separating himself from the hero he profusely apologised before dashing off to deal with the action of beating up one of his favorite heroes.

What followed afterwards were a series of events that always ended up with the two meeting each other and engaging in a 'battle' of sorts. One thing led to another and for some reason they ended up kissing in the same dark alley they first met, away from any prying eyes. After that night things changed significantly.

Danny always knew the indentity of the one that became his love because of the otherness he could feel beneath their skin that reminded him of himself and eventually he told them about Phantom.

It took a lot more meet ups in secret before they were finally comfortable enough to officially meet each other's family and it had gone a lot better than they were expecting.

Sometimes they would help each other out on missions and this time was no different. They were dealing with another crazy magician who thought he could take over the world by using the power of an ancient deity. They managed to stop him but before he could be detained he fired of one more spell that trapped his boyfriend in his weapon and used some sort or artifact to send them careening through a portal.

Luckily for them they ended up with the JL, unluckily for them no one seems to know who they are.

____________

Flash: Are we sure he should be in the watchtower?

Black Canary: He's not doing anything bad, look at him.

Phantom using his lover as a swing: ^o^

Green Arrow: He thinks that's his husband trapped in there.

Black Canary: He could be.

Flash: How old is he anyways, he looks too young to be married.

Superman: C'mon everyone let's not talk about him while he's right there.

Greenlantern: Look at him! Does it looks like he cares?

Phantom still using his lover as a swing: ( ≧ᗜ≦)

Superman: It's still rude.

____________

Based slightly off of Aba from Guilty Gear.

I imagine Danny pulling a Sayaka (from Madoka Magica) and stabbing the sword through him for a power-up and everyone panics for a hot minute before realizing he's fine.

[softguarnere]

Something He Can't Have

Edmund Pevensie x fem!reader

A/N: Not me falling back into one of my oldest hyperfixations after watching the movies this past week for Christmas 🥴 I honestly don't know what to say for myself, other than that I had fun writing this and it may have single-handedly saved me from my recent writing slump. Anyway, hope y'all like this, byeeee ✨💕 Warnings: none

Lucy lets out a groan that sounds so annoyed that it instantly draws Edmund back into the present moment. “Can I ple-ease say something now?” She asks Susan, who sits to her left at the banquet table.

Susan shushes her, but there’s no malice behind it. In fact, when she does allow a disheartened look to grace her face, she directs it toward Edmund. “No. I suppose we shouldn’t meddle.”

They’ve captured his interest. Which is something that seems nearly impossible, considering that he’s spent so much of this banquet staring at Peter and (Y/N) on the dance floor, watching his older brother enjoy dance after dance with her. And trying hard not to take it too personally when (Y/N) throws back her head to laugh every now and then at something that Peter has said. Usually, she only laughs like that at his jokes, and usually only when they’re alone together.

If Peter is making her come undone, allowing her to feel comfortable outside of the carefully crafted polite and diplomatic persona that (Y/N) has created for herself to use in Cair Paravel’s court, then she’s become relaxed with him. And who knows where that will lead?

“What are you talking about?” For good measure, Edmund tosses one last glance at the dance floor before turning his attention to his sisters.

“That!” Lucy exclaims, gesturing between Edmund and the crowd that swirl on the floor before them. “This!”

Edmund raises an eyebrow. “The ball?”

His younger sister groans, burying her head in her hands. “Oh, I give up!”

“Edmund,” Susan says sternly. “I promised myself that I wouldn’t get involved, but this has gone on long enough.” For a split second, the gentle queen loses her composure, though only ever so slightly. “I mean, for God’s sake! It’s downright painful to watch!”

Still confused, Edmund isn’t sure what to say that will clarify whatever his sisters are talking about without further upsetting them. Instead, he settles for biting his lip, glancing between his sisters and the dancing, trying to work out their meaning himself.

Susan sighs, turning to Lucy. “He’s either a better actor than we give him credit for, or he’s downright daft.”

“Help me out here,” Edmund says.

“(Y/N)!” Lucy hisses, leaning across Susan so that she can scold her brother without causing too much unwanted attention. “You’ve been following her around all lovesick for ages now, but you haven’t done anything. And now you’re all jealous watching her dance with Peter.”

“Am not!”

Lucy swats his arm. “You’ve been staring at them all night. If you like her so much, then you better do something before you lose her forever!”

In other situations, Susan might chide the youngest Pevensie sibling, telling her that she’s being a bit overdramatic before offering Edmund some sort of good-natured advice. Edmund looks to her expectantly, only to find her brown eyes full of disappointment; she agrees with Lucy.

“We can all agree that you wear green better than any other, Ed,” she says. “But jealousy is not a shade that suits you.”

“Me? Jealous?! Of who?”

But his sisters only fix him with knowing looks. It makes Edmund want to wither away from existence on the spot. He spent most of their lives before Narnia being jealous of Peter. It’s been hard, but it’s something that he’s worked on since they were crowned. He really thought that he had overcome it. Now, though, his sisters’ words, coupled with the funny feeling in his stomach . . . He feels like a man, trapped, full of guilt, and caught in the middle of something very private. Which innocent people with nothing to hide do not feel in situations like these.

I fancy (Y/N), he realizes, admitting it to himself for the first time. It feels demeaning, somehow, to put a label on the feelings that he’s been harboring in secret for so long. And I’m jealous because she likes Peter more than me, says the next one, which makes him feel even worse.

A warm hand takes hold of his and squeezes. For all the annoyance that Lucy has felt toward him in these past few minutes, she offers him nothing but a kind look and encouraging smile. “You have to do something, Ed.”

“I – �� The words clog in his throat, causing him to swallow thickly, trying to find some of the air which has suddenly become very scarce. As you spin by on the dance floor, Edmund can see how you’re smiling at Peter like he hung the moon, and how his older brother beams at you like you created all the stars. Who wouldn’t want to bask in the sun’s warmth like that? And what sort of evil would dare separate two people who appear to be so . . . so in love. “I can’t.”

“You can,” Susan reassures him. “Trust me, Ed.”

Edmund, however, can’t take his eyes off of you. “I can’t ruin that.”

“You won’t,” Susan says. And if Edmund had his wits about him, he would recognize that she says it with the tone of someone who is very sure of herself because she has access to information that no one else has. (She, after all, is your best friend. But facts like that tend to fall by the wayside in moments of intense anxiety such as this.) “Ed, it’ll be fine. Trust me.”

To unstick the words in his throat, Edmund reaches for his goblet and takes a swig of the drink from inside. If he’s really going to do this, he’ll need all the courage he can get, no matter where it comes from.

As the song ends, he pushes back his chair and begins to make his way around the table. Lucy squeals with delight from behind him, and both his sisters offer nods of encouragement and thumbs up when he turns back to them, unsure.

The next thing that he knows, he’s on the dance floor, maneuvering his way through the crowd to reach you –

He catches sight of you just as you excuse yourself from the dance floor. You disappear into the crowd before he can call out to you, though he reaches out a hand, like he might be able to catch you from afar.

“Edmund!” A well-meaning slap on the back announces Peter’s presence. His older brother throws an arm around his shoulders. He radiates heat after all that dancing. “I wondered when you might join us on the dance floor.”

“I’m not. I’m just looking for (Y/N).”

Peter’s smile doesn’t falter, despite the fact that the next words out of his mouth are devastating news. “I believe that she’s retiring for the night.”

“Oh?”

“She said that she needed some air, that she might go to bed.”

As one of Narnia’s kings, Edmund is inclined to stay present for the majority of this banquet. You, being a courtier, are free to go as you please, seeing as there are no diplomatic negotiations, no fates of any nations, resting on your shoulders. If things were different, he would find a way to go after you.

And he’s actually looking for an excuse to do so when Peter says something that makes him stop.

“I wish she would have stayed,” the High King sighs. “We were having such a good time.”

Edmund nods, hands involuntarily clenching into fists at his sides. His voice feels hollow when he replies, “It looked like you were having a good time.”

“I was thinking – “ A laugh cuts Peter off as he shakes his head, looking half embarrassed, half giddy. “I was actually just about to ask her to be my – my girlfriend.” On the last word, something most unusual happens – the High King blushes. Actually blushes! Who would have known that such a thing was possible?

To say that it catches Edmund off guard would be an understatement. He’s never seen Peter so vulnerable . . . so happy. It makes Edmund’s mouth go dry. He and Peter have had their differences throughout their lives, but he can’t just ruin his older brother’s chance at happiness.

“Oh.” Is all that Edmund can think to say. He hesitates for a moment before asking, “What do you think she’ll say?”

Peter laughs, breathlessly, happily. “Well, I’m hoping that she’ll say yes, of course. In fact – “ He glances in the direction that you disappeared in. “ – I would go talk to her now, if not for my responsibilities.”

“Go,” Edmund finds himself saying. He can feel Peter’s look of surprise mirrored on his own face. But if Peter is going to do this, if this is all really happening, he’d honestly rather get it over with. “I’ll cover for you here.”

Now it’s Peter who hesitates. After a moment, his face breaks into a wide smile. He claps Edmund on the shoulder. “You’re a good man, Ed.”

I wish I were better, the Just King thinks as he watches his older brother chase after the girl that they both love.  

From the banquet table, Lucy and Susan are giving him confused looks. Edmund only shrugs, then quietly rejoins them. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t want to explain what’s just happened. He recedes into himself, letting the party whirl by without him.

If only he were paying attention – then he would see the knowing look on Susan’s face.

. . .

It’s late when the banquet ends, and later still when Edmund slips into the library. He’s exhausted, but his mind is racing and won’t let him sleep. You and Peter had disappeared from the banquet hours ago. That’s plenty of time for his brother to have confessed to you and for you to have accepted. Dread fills him at the thought of the two of you happily announcing your new relationship the next morning at breakfast. He’ll have to face the two of you sometime, to muscle through his own pain and begin navigating a world where he has to accept that you’re in love with his older brother. But tonight, he can be amongst his books, which are a comfort.

He's so distracted that he doesn’t immediately notice you sitting by the fireplace, an open book on your lap, but a distracted look on your face as you watch the flames dance before you.

“Oh,” you both exclaim at the same time when you notice each other. The synchronicity makes you both laugh.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he apologizes.

“I didn’t mean to take your hiding spot,” you say in turn. You shut your book, but Edmund holds out a hand to stop you.

“You don’t have to leave on my account.”

You squint, studying him for a second, before nodding and settling back into the cushions behind you. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Carefully, Edmund takes a seat opposite you, gazing into the fire to gather his nerve. He didn’t expect to find you here. Didn’t expect to find you looking so . . . distracted and lonely as you stare into the fire, your book forgotten. He really shouldn’t pry. But you’re his friend, first and foremost, and he doesn’t want that to change. “Is everything alright?”

Delicate fingers pinch the bridge of your nose. You sigh, collecting yourself before looking up at him through the firelight.

“Peter asked me to be his girlfriend,” you confess. Though the library is quiet, your voice is dull, hard to hear. You do not look as joyful as he imagined you would when delivering this news.

“Oh,” Edmund offers. He fumbles for words. You look upset, so he can’t congratulate you. But then again, he’s not sure if he should console you.

You stare at him for a moment, studying him just as intently as he’s studying you. “I said no,” you finally explain.

“Oh,” Edmund says again, for lack of anything better to say. “I’m . . . sorry?” Except that he’s really not. He feels quite relieved, if he’s being honest with himself.

Your brows furrow. He’s said the wrong thing, but he’s not sure where he went wrong.

“I said no,” you repeat. “Because I have feelings for someone else.”

Edmund’s heart, only on the mend for a split second, plummets. “Oh. I see.”

“No you don’t,” you scoff. “Edmund, you’re the one I have feelings for! Have you really not noticed by now?”

The words echo through the still library. They hang between you for a moment. A glorious, albeit confusing, moment where Edmund can do nothing but stare at you, unsure if he’s heard you correctly. Narnia is a magical place, but there’s no way that you could have said the very thing that he would do anything to hear.

“You do?” His voice comes so quietly that when you don’t immediately reply, he worries that maybe he hasn’t spoken at all.

“Yes. And for quite some time, I might add.”

“But – “ Images of the night swirl in his mind. You had danced with Peter for ages, looking so happy. Everyone likes Peter. They always have. And much, much more than they like Edmund. To say that you have feelings for him . . . “Why?”

You blink, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“I mean . . . Everyone likes Peter. He always gets what he wants.”

Even in the dim glow of the firelight, he can see your gaze soften.

“Oh, Edmund.” You leave your seat, coming closer to him. He rises, meeting you halfway, so that the two of you are standing together in front of the fire. Gently, you take his hand, intwining your fingers. Your hand is warm in his. You squeeze, and on instinct, he squeezes back. “That’s not true.”

“What’s not?”

“People like you, too. I like you.” Your grip tightens on his hand. “And Peter doesn’t always get what he wants. I know something he can’t have.”

“What’s that?”

A smile tugs at your lips when you gaze up at him and say, “He can’t have this.”

[byte-your-tongue]

Dungeon Meshi Characters x Sick Reader

(Platonic, Gn Reader)

AN: Was written with platonic intentions but ig any of them could be read as romantic???? I'm so sick i'm dying which is why i wrote this. That and i wanna get back to writing headcanons when i have the time

Laios:

Will try to get you to eat all sorts of monster parts that are said to give good health. He's trying to help, but some of the stuff he feeds you is questionable....

He will try to perform small healing spells on you if you are in pain.

He would probably ask the rest of the party how to help you and you will end up with a ton of stuff done to you as Laios takes all of their varying advice.

If you snap and tell him to just let you rest he will feel slightly bad for bothering you, but you know he didn't mean any harm by it.

If you want him to keep you company he will info dump about monsters for hours. Don't worry about falling asleep while he's talking, he's just glad you are getting some rest.

"Ahhh... i think they fell asleep. I'll just tell them about this monster when they are feeling better!" He smiles and whispers to himself when he hears your breathing change.

Chilchuck:

Will do all the traditional stuff to help you, but probably isn't well versed in actual medicine.

What he does to help is more like the natural remedies/old wive's tales your mom would give to you. Not all of them are backed by science but he swears they will help and he seems so confident so what choice do you have but to trust him?

If you're nauseous or have a fever he will sit by your side with a cold wet rag and run it over your face.

Will brew you tea and swear it will fix everything (my mom did this w yerba buena tea lol)

Will load you up with citrus fruits if you have a cold.

Is the type of person to tell you to gargle warm salt water if you have a sore throat

He will scold you for getting sick, telling you to take better care of yourself. He will say mean stuff but he's also tenderly staying by your side and caring for you... so like.. do with that what you will.

"Ugh it's such a pain taking care of you, you better not get me sick!" He complains, but he's still by your bedside attending to your every need.

Senshi:

Will cook for you. Expect a LOT of soup while you are sick.

He plans out your meals to have lots of vitamins and nutrients to help you recover faster.

He will sit by your bed and stay with you in silence.

If you want him to talk to you he might tell you stories about his time in the dungeon and all the things he's learned and the people he's met.

He is keeping you SO hydrated you will be forced to drink water constantly.

"If ya don't eat well, yer body won't have what it needs to recover. So take care of yerself and make sure ya eat up!" He says while presenting you with your 3rd bowl of soup today.

Izutsumi:

She does NOT know how to care for a sick person. But she's trying..??

Will cuddle up with you and purr. It gives comfort if nothing else.

She might also lick your hair or otherwise groom you.

If you express concern about her getting sick from being around you she will brush it off saying that as a beastman her immune system is probably better than yours.

Doesn't know how to help you but she's worried about you.

She probably tries to tell you some superstition about sickness she learned from Shuro's party that she believes is totally real.

Might drag Chilchuck or Senshi over to you to take care of you.

Don't expect her to fetch you most of what you need, she will probably sleep more than you do while sick. You can try to wake her up and tell her to get something but she will grumble about it.

"huuh..? You want me to get you food? Why don't you just ask Senshi?" She says while yawning and curling back up in your bed.

Marcille:

Tries her best to look through books she's read to find anything that can help.

She panics quickly and worries the worst will happen even if you are only slightly sick.

Might try to get Falin to help take care of you if she's around.

She probably is more worried about your health then even you are.

She gets overwhelmed and tries a lot of things to fix you but it probably takes Senshi or Falin to remind her that you just need to rest and will get better with time.

She gets very anxious and will stay by you the whole time you are sick. She probably ends up getting sick after you do and you get to take care of a whiny Marcille. (It's ok she's sort of cute while sick)

"*sniffle*, You have to take care of me now cuz you're the reason i got sick!" She whines while curled up in her bed with a disheveled appearance.

Falin:

Will perform healing magic on you if you are in any pain, she will do what she can to sooth your discomfort.

Might cast a spell to put you to sleep if you need the rest.

She's very chill about it and will sit with you and keep you company. She will joke and talk with you while you are in bed.

If you fall asleep she will read or quietly slip out of the room.

You might think she's one of the more level headed ones here and that she wouldn't do anything weird to you. You would be wrong. She is 100% doing some weird thing that's from the village where her and Laios grew up. She's convinced this is good for you even if it's super weird.

She will read stories to you if you get bored. Or she might even come up with stories on the spot to keep you entertained.

"C'mon! Eating raw onions is said to help bring your sense of taste back and help your nose stop being congested!" She says smiling sweetly, meanwhile you're pretty sure she is trying to poison you.

[luvv4j4ybe11]

✧Summary~Your bestfriends let your curiosity get the better of you.

✧Warnings~ A/B/O elements(retractable penis, knots, and bioluminescence cum(is that an a/b/o element?)), oral (m receiving), threesome(mfm), dirty talk, human reader, size difference, and I think that’s it. Lmk if I missed anything, enjoy love<33

✧Translations- Yawntutsip~darling, little loved one,

“You what?” Lo’ak asked with his brow raised, both brothers stopping in their tracks.

“I wanna see what you guys look like under your loincloths, I’ve heard other scientists talk about Navi anatomy but I wanna see one for myself.” You state plainly, both of them staring down at you with their brows raised and jaws slightly dropped.

Neteyam is the first to break the silence, walking over to you and crouching down at your level. “Babygirl..are you sure?” He asks gently while placing his hand on your shoulder, his fingers almost touching the middle of your back.

You nod your head quickly, sending him a reassuring smile when you do. “Yes teyam I’ll be fine. I can handle it, I promise.” Both of them smile devilishly at this, their gaze on you turning lustful. “Nah mama, I don’t think you can” Lo’ak says gravely, making Neteyam chuckle softly.

“Can’t promise you’re gonna be able to even walk out of here once we’re done with you.” He adds on, standing up to his full height to take off his loincloth slowly. Lo’ak walking next to him to do the same.

Your stomach was filled with butterflies as they were standing in-front of you, watching the last knot on their loincloths come undone before they fall down to the ground in sync.

You stare at them confused for a second, looking back in front of you to what seemed to be a very well lubricated slit of some sorts, which you assumed is where their cocks were.

You’ve heard the other scientists mention this thing called a knot that’s on the base of male Navi’s shafts that swells the closer the he is to his climax so when he pushes it into his desired mate, she’s sure to get pregnant. But they never talked about how their cocks were when “at rest” essentially.

They both look at you with the same smirk plastered on their faces, tails swaying excitedly behind them. “Can I touch?” You ask innocently, looking up at them with curiosity in your eyes.

Lo’ak bites his lip at your expression, while neteyam places his hand on your head. Rubbing his thumb back and forth on your skull softly. “Mhm, that’s why we’re doing this in the first place right, babygirl?” He questions lowly while tilting his head to the side, braids falling in-front of his face.

You nod to acknowledge his question before reaching out to the both of them tentatively, tracing the outside of their slits with your fingertips. Making both of them flinch and buck up into your hands softly at the soft touch.

After a few more minutes you see something coming out from inside both of their slits. And immediately after that, their dicks come out in front of you. Both of them basically the size and length of your forearm, if not a little bigger.

The thought of those going inside of you makes you nervous, but the ache in your core says otherwise. Making you rub your thighs together tightly.

You still keep your hands on the base of their dicks, not fully touching them but still too busy admiring them. Lo’ak has this knot at the base of his shaft just like neteyam, both of them slightly flat but swelling the more aroused they got.

Lo’ak looked more like a human than anything, but was just blue and fucking enormous in length and girth. Neteyam on the other hand had these ridges on the sides, which looked more like the diagrams of Navi anatomy you’ve seen before.

You look up at them with doe eyes, shuffling uncomfortably before wondering what to do. They both laugh at you hesitation,“You can touch mama” lo’ak says softly, rubbing your head affectionately.

You grab both of them firmly, the slick from where they were before aiding you in stroking them fluidly. They both groan at the feeling of your soft hands wrapped around them, both of them reaching down to touch you to reassure you.

They were both twitching and leaking all into your hands, the pre that came from their tips almost looking shimmery and shiny. As if it was glowing. You swallow thickly at this, scooting closer to them to observe them more.

“You wanna taste, yawntutsip?” Neteyam says thickly,his baritone knocking you out of your trance. “Mhm” you mummer quietly before taking his tip into your mouth, whining softly at the stretch it gave you. He tasted so…sweet.

You lick and suck at his tip hungrily, addicted to the taste of him. He groans at the feeling of your mouth on hip, watching how you struggle to get just his tip into your mouth.“Fuck babygirl, that good?” He chuckles breathily before tightening his grip on your hair. Trying to resist the urge to fuck your face and use you until he’s done.

Lo’ak groans needily at the sight in front of him, closing his hand around yours to fuck into your fist the way he wanted. You take a couple more licks of neteyam before switching to lo’ak, wrapping your hand around neteyam instead.

“I didn’t forget about you baby, don’t worry.” you tease before taking his tip into your mouth, letting the taste of him just dissolve on your tongue.

He hisses at the feeling of your tongue on his sensitive tip, instinctively bucking his hips into your mouth. “Fuck mama..” he groans lowly before throwing his head back when you roll your tounge in circles around him.

He places both hands on your head before fucking your mouth softly, making you whine around him and your eyes water. While neteyam was thrusting into your fist tenderly, not wanting to harm you at all.

You tighten your hold on neteyam and suck lo’ak harder, silently telling them to use you. They both pick up on this quickly, giving you exactly what you wanted.

Your the tears finally spill over your eyes as lo’ak uses your throat, causing little whines and gags to come from you. “You look so fuckin’ pretty like this mama,” Lo’ak growls lowly as your throat squeezes him every time you gag. “Such an eager little slut for us, so perfect.” Neteyam coos at you deeply as he fucks your fist roughly. Making you moan around Lo’ak desperately.

The nosies coming from the three of you made you squeeze your thighs together tightly, being used by these two gorgeous men and their dirty words making your pussy throb.

You rub your thumb up and down neteyams tip as your moan around lo’ak again, the vibration making him moan softly.

“Must want us to cum all over that pretty face huh mama?” Lo’ak teases, cocking his head to the side as if he was waiting for you to answer. Neteyam hums in agreement, hips stuttering slightly as his orgasm approaches. “Come one yawntutsip, be a good girl for us and let us make a mess on your face. We promise we’ll make your feel good after…”

A/N~ ‼️PLEASE READ‼️first thing I wanna say is that I’m kinda upset I had to change the character I had originally(neytiri) bc it’s was js too difficult to write her for this prompt, so that’s why I did lo’ n teyam. I did use Luna (@pandoraslxna) and blues (@blue-slxt) fics as a reference but I DID NOT copy them! So don’t even try to say that I did. That’s the last thing I want to happen so that why I’m addressing it rn, bc id never wanna copy my bbys like that☹️ i tried to fix some of the words so it wasn’t too similar but people will still have an opinion about this so 🤷🏽‍♀️. I can only do so much until it’s out of my control. But thank you guys for reading this. Day 10 will be otw later today. Stay safe and hydrated bbys🩷

Duces🫶🏽,

Luvv4j4ybe11

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Taglist: @pandoraslxna @neteyamswillow @neteyamsyawntu @zafrinaxyz @hotdsworld @plooto @alexxie @erenjeagerwifee @inlovewithpandora @somedays-i-just-feel-bad-bitch @marcelruizboba @km-ffluv @urlocalgayblueberry @koalalafications @rihnnx @neteyamspare @mewowsa @tallulah477 @skywonder

[tornado1992]

Sonic and The Black Knight AU in which Sonic’s from that world, he’s an explorer of some sorts and he does technically live in Camelot with his brother Miles, but he spends most of his time traveling around and getting new stuff for his brother to weld and forge with.

One day while returning to Camelot and looking for minerals or cool rocks he finds a sword in a stone, great! New materials for his brother! he can surely make something better than this old blade or upgrade it.

He takes the sword out effortlessly. The sword can talk. Great(?

He brings the weapon to the town, people start to notice the obvious magical artifact and voice goes around about “the legend being fulfilled”.

Oh, that legend. Yeah, no.

He just wants to show his little brother a cool sword, not become ruler of a whole kingdom thank you very much, it doesn’t matter if he “fulfilled the sacred prophecy”, it’s just a rumor until he decides it isn’t. And he doesn’t want it to not be a rumor.

Rumors travel fast, but he is faster.

The talking sword started doubting if he was worthy of the throne after spending no more than an hour around him, not shutting up about how “you’re already running from your kingdom and you haven’t been crowned yet”. Good. Maybe he could convince the sword to tell the people he would make a terrible king if the disdain in its voice gave anything off.

They arrived at the blacksmith’s shop, his brother’s shop, he shush’s the sword down as his brother runs to hug him, instantly pulling away at the sight of the weapon, his twin tails happily wagging gentle circles behind him as he asks Caliburn (what a name) anything and everything that there is to know as a talking sword. Caliburn just asks him why does Sonic call him “Tails” (nice try of a joke mate).

The very rude sword being perplexed about how someone as “reckless and careless” as him has “such a brilliant child in his care”.

Well, not a pretty mineral or shiny rock, but a talking sword seems interesting enough to make his brother happily ramble almost all night long, taking karma in his name as he wears Caliburn’s ear(?) off as he did with him.

Well, he could tell the kid all about his latest adventure in the morning, right now he could focus on cooking his brother a new dinner dish with spices from his latest travel destiny. A small bedtime story (about the knight���s of the round table by Carliburn’s request) and a few ear scratches later and you got a snuggled sleeping fox kit ready for the night.

The sword stays near them, looking at every move Sonic made, as if analyzing him in confusion. What a rude weapon, he might not be good king material but he’s peak big brother material.

He might not have enough on him to give his brother a bigger workshop or expensive materials, but he will give him everything he has if it means keeping him happy, they may not live in a big castle or have fancy dinners every night, but he swore from the moment he met the fox that he would do everything in his power to keep him safe.

As long as his big bro was around, he would never go hungry again, he would never sleep outside again and no one would hurt him again. He won’t ever feel unloved again.

Sonic might not be able to give him the world, but he’ll give him everything else.

His little brother’s sleeping form slightly trembles in his tiny bed, curling himself in his small blanket, covering his body with his fluffy tails, (sometimes Sonic thinks he’s more “Tails than “Miles”, pun intended). it’s been kinda cold lately, their humble home not making much favors to keep them warm even with the forge still on, but he doesn’t think he’s trembling because of the cold.

It’s okay, he didn’t wanted to sleep in his makeshift bed today anyway, he’s been away from his brother for enough time and he doesn’t mind staying right beside him to fight the little fox’s nightmares away and sharing their warmth for comfort. He nuzzles beside him, the kit instinctively moving to hug him and hide his face on the crook of the hedgehog’s neck, gentle purring and soft humming filling the silence of the night.

The next morning Caliburn greets him loudly “Good morrow, king Sonic”

Hell.

He doesn’t know what could’ve changed Caliburn’s opinion on him from one moment to another, but now thanks to that he has knights kneeling before him, the royal wizard offering him their nation’s secrets, a talking sword lecturing him all day long about “a king’s duty and heart”, and the whole kingdom practically demanding him to rule.

It’s not a very tempting idea to say the least. Organizing diplomacy gatherings, hosting balls and knighting warriors is not really his thing, and hell, the kingdom wants it to be his thing.

He offers the throne to whoever wins a crusade? “the winner must defeat his majesty first”. He tries to put back the sword in the stone? “The sword chose you, my liege, it is your destiny”. He tries to show the high commands how bad of a kind he would be? “His majesty is such a humble king, even in all his might”.

So, so eager to make him king. They tried to drag him to the castle so he could “know his new home”. They offered him to make changes to royalty’s way to make it “enough of his way”. They showed him the perks of having power, “a king does as he pleases”.

But what could he really offer them as a king? He can fight bad guys and make allies for sure, but even if he wanted to, would that be enough?

He kinda regrets not spending enough time around the kingdom before, maybe if he did and the people actually knew him they wouldn’t be so insistent on him of all people being king, talking magical sword be damned.

His brother knows what’s going on, he keeps mostly quiet about it, not wanting to disturb the hedgehog with the subject when he actively is trying to avoid it, his only opinion about it being shown a few nights after his return to their home. He’s tucking the fox in for the night, Caliburn silently watching them from the other side of the room, a sleepy squeaky voice fading with a yawn in a last effort to reassure his big brother while he runs his finger’s trough the fox’s bangs.

“You could give this kingdom anything… you already gave the world to me”

That’s all it takes.

Alright, he’ll be their king, but he will not sit on a fancy chair all day, won’t have a personal army following him around and definitely won’t be educated in “proper royalty manners”, you want him to be the king? The king does as he pleases.

The high council or whatever can take care of the bureaucracy, alliances and all the boring stuff, they’ll have the control over most of the kingdom (just how they like it, right?)

His first decree? Right after his coronation, the only time he actually stays in the throne room longer than five minutes, he actually wears his crown, he’s bearing the sacred sword when he calls his brother to the center of the room “I dub thee Miles “Tails” Prower, the crown prince of Camelot”.

He’s the king now, it’s only logical for his little brother to be the prince, the crown prince, direct heir to the kingdom’s throne.

He’s the prince, and the prince can get whatever the hell he desires, so bring him all the minerals and heavy armory, and show him the secret library! Little bro needs stimulation and there’s only so much he can do with a blacksmith’s mediums. His room? Bigger than the king’s! His food? Get him all the neighbor kingdom’s candy if he asks for it! His education? Give him all the books known in the world, get him all the minerals and bring his workshop inside the castle!

What he had was enough for his little brother before, but it might not be enough for him just yet. Time to give him the world that he already promised him.

Prince Miles does have a nice ring to it.

[shy-urban-hobbit]

“I mean, you’ve got to feel a little sorry for them really haven’t you?” Jaskier said from where he was mopping up the last of the evidence of the half dead rat Roach had thoughtfully decided to gift them (the first time it happened he’d shrieked in surprise before Geralt put it out of its misery with a matter of fact “Welcome to country living, city boy”). Geralt gave a non committal hum from where he was warming milk up for Ciri on the stove. The little girl sat colouring at the large kitchen table - too large for two, but that would change when Geralt’s brothers and any guests they decided to bring descended on them.

“I mean they’re just minding their own business like, Oh I’m a hungry rat. Please don’t kill me.” Here Jaskier put on a slightly squeaky voice and held up his hands in imitation of paws, still holding onto the mop, “And then wham one of the last things they see is Roach’s teeth coming towards them. So many teeth.” He gave the resident farm cat a critical stare and received a dismissive tail flick in response.

Ciri giggled at his antics which caused him to grin back at her in return. It always felt like a special sort of personal victory when he managed to coax a laugh out of the little girl.

Despite being together for six months, he was still being introduced to her as her father’s ‘friend’ (which was true enough, they wouldn’t be dating if they didn’t get along) and Jaskier was happy to go along with it. Geralt had explained without revealing too much that the little one had been let down by too many adults in her life already, himself included, and ‘boyfriend’ was maybe just a little too official sounding for the time being (and if he said his heart hadn’t broken a little for the five year old smiling at him from Geralt’s phone, he’d by lying), especially after the shit that had gone down with his ex. Geralt hadn’t gone into detail but from what Jaskier had gathered, the woman had had a hidden agenda in wanting to get back with Geralt and Ciri had almost gotten seriously hurt as a result. Geralt had blamed himself for jumping back into the relationship too quickly and so, any potential partners now had to pass what Jaskier had dubbed ‘The Ciri test’.  

He liked to think he’d passed the first portion with flying colours, the tiny blonde seeming perfectly comfortable with him in public places. Now they were dipping their toes into Jaskier staying in their home for longer periods, with Jaskier having graduated from the guest bedroom to sharing with Geralt the previous visit (the brunette wanting the ground to swallow him up when she happily informed her Uncle Eskel of ‘Daddy’s sleepover’ when the man had dropped by unexpectedly the following morning. Geralt had just shrugged and told him to be thankful it hadn’t been Lambert; who could and would, happily take the piss forever).

“Alright Ciri, put your things away and then go get your bedtime book. I’ll be in in a minute.” Geralt said, pouring the warm milk into a plastic My Little Pony cup.

“I want Jask.” Ciri declared form where she was trying to force the crayons back into their box by the (relatively small) handful, Causing both adults to stop what they’d been doing and stare at one another. This was new.

“You sure you don’t want daddy?” Jaskier asked, looking to Geralt for some sign as to what he should do.

“You do better funny voices. Daddy’s all sound the same.”

It took everything Jaskier had not to burst out laughing at that as he took in the minute eye twitch from the other man at that statement, “Geralt?”

Geralt nodded, “Mind if I stay and listen? You know how much I love The Gruffalo.”

Jaskier snorted and felt a surge of fondness. The lies we tell for our children.

It ended up being a joint effort, with Geralt guest starring as The Gruffalo “On account of you being so, well...gruff.” and admitting to a slightly too smug looking Jaskier and a mostly asleep Ciri that “Yes, Jaskier does better voices for everyone else. Especially Mouse.”

"Everything ok? You’ve gone all quiet on me.” Jaskier said from where he had his head in Geralt’s lap as they watched some mindless Netflix show. “I didn’t overstep did I?” He was suddenly frantic, his anxieties bubbling back up to the surface now that he didn’t have a performance and an audience to focus on, “I know you probably just said yes so things wouldn’t be awkward. I probably should have told her no and come up with an excuse but how can anybody say no to that face-“

“Jaskier. It’s fine, honestly.” Geralt said, rubbing his hands up and down Jaskier’s arm in a way he knew calmed him, “I’ve built up something of an immunity to Ciri’s puppy eyes. I would’ve said no if I had a problem with it. I’m just thinking.”

“About?”

“About how I might have a question for Ciri.”

The next morning saw Jaskier seeing both of them off with a hug (also accompanied by fishing a stray cheerio out of Ciri’s hair which he had been too tired to question) before heading back to his city apartment and his job as a music tutor.

“Ciri?” Geralt asked, putting her school backpack by the door as he knelt down to help her button up her coat, “You know how Aiden is Uncle Lambert’s boyfriend?"

It had slowly been killing Jaskier not to check his phone as soon as the text notification came through but he was nothing if not professional and he would not check his phone when he was in the middle of a lesson. Thank the Gods he did wait as he was prettu sure he gave his retreating student a minor heart attack with the squeal he let out at Geralt’s message:

‘Ciri has been proudly announcing to her classmates this morning that Jaskier is her daddy’s boyfriend. Much disappointment from the single mums.’

[lawchwan]

love alphabet (sanji)

summary: just another alphabet for our favorite perverted romantic chef

disclaimer: there are some spoilers of skypiea and Whole Cake Island in some alphabets so be warn with that. and obviously some alphabets have nsfw content. Also some alphabets have fem terms, which was not my intention, i’ll edit them once i have the free time.

crossposted on ao3

A = Affection (PDA, what sort of affection they give)

You are talking to the king of PDA. If you’re someone who cannot handle pda, then you need to start handling it with Sanji. He loves to be hands-on with you, literally, declaring to the entire world how much you mean to him. This man just outright loves you, and he’s not shy of showcasing it.

Bonus: he loves to be extra in front of Zoro, just to rub it in his face, only to get a groan and an eye roll of disgust from him (and the entire straw hats really, even Luffy couldn’t stand it)

B = Babies (Anything you want about babies)

“Oh, you want babies? Say less, ma’am, I’ll throw all the condoms and contraceptives away. When and where and I’ll give it to you” he says, with heart eyes and nosebleed as you mentioned in passing about babies.

In all seriousness, Sanji does have a soft spot for kids. He is a very gentle man and often really caring towards kids. If you remember at the end of enies lobby, the way he handled Chimney with such care after her exclaiming about how hungry she is how I imagined he’d be with his own kid, and maybe even extra doting and caring. Also chopper and Sanji’s interaction during skypiea… I don’t think I need to add more… (Although Chopper is 17 years old/was 15 during skypiea, it still applies)

C = Cuddles (How they cuddle or are cuddled)

Oh that man loves to cuddle. He may not be the most fleshy, he does however have the warmth that can counteract as a blanket and that’s enough of you. He, like law in my previous love alphabet, loves to be the small spoon, except he is more open about and doesn’t care about one says about it.

D = Darling  (Pet names) 

He’ll throw in any affectionate nicknames that he could think of at the top of his head and will say it with no shame. But I do think he’s the type to say “darling,” “my love,” “my sweet,” and “angel.”

He also has more pet names/nicknames in the bedroom and calls you goddess/god and mommy/daddy. He one time slipped up and called you mommy/daddy in front of Zoro, and Zoro mocked him for all eternity until you confronted him… : )

E = Enamored (how hard do they fall when in love)

It's Sanji we’re talking about… this man will lay his eyes on any woman and he’ll fall head over heels. But when it comes to you, there’s a slightly subtle change. While he still maintains his chivalry and flirtatious act, he does put in extra effort with you. If he makes Nami and Robin a parfait, then you’ll get extra toppings and flavors of your liking. Honestly, their food—still being better than how he would serve his male crew—would start looking underwhelming next to yours, but it's not that they’re complaining. Matter of fact, they, mainly Nami, thank you for having reciprocal feelings since Sanji hasn’t been going at either woman.   

F = Firsts (A first on anything you pick)

The first time Sanji cooked for you was special. You were sitting in the kitchen, alone with him, as you happened to catch a case of “midnight hunger,” and there he was, a handsome cook cleaning the dishes as he hums to himself. When you made your presence known, the blond man turned with his usual charismatic smile and turned the sink before doing so.

“hey, (y/n) darling, what are you doing here?”

He seemed genuinely to be ecstatic to see you in the kitchen, even though it was god-awful late at night, he didn’t seem bothered for some reason. You were about to mention how hungry you were, until the grumble of your stomach spoke for you, only for you to look away, flustered. Sanji simply chuckled as he stated sweetly, “I guess I know why…”

And there you were, as much as you didn’t want to wear him out, he was very insistent and ended up cooking up something upon your request. You just sat there, ogling at the cook as he worked his magic. You stare at his hands, veins popping up handsomely due to the force he is exerting, whether through cutting vegetables or holding onto the sizzling pan, as you place your head onto your hand. You didn’t say much to not distract him, but, man oh man, was he attractive just cooking for you.

“oh, how I wish those hands were on me…” you thought to yourself as you began analyzing his physique with your eyes wandering from his blond locks to his tiny yet built waist, down to his thick ass. Your head was heading to perverted places where you might need a quick shower afterward.

He seemed to have noticed that you were staring at him, so as he finished with his finishing touch, he began declaring, “Voila!”  as he handed you the dish. You were brought back to reality after he spoke up, and you looked down at your dish.

“Oh, wow does that look good,” you say, softly yet excitedly. He just shrugged and hummed with a confident smile before handing your utensils. As you had your first bite, you closed your eyes as you moaned in glee; you truly never doubted him when it came to food because that was perhaps the most delicious dish you ever had. He simply just looked at you admirably, as he mimicked your look towards him when you saw him cook, even down to the head-on-chin position.

Once you were done, you sighed and let out a phew due to your fullness. “How’d you like it?” Sanji spoke up with a smile as he took your plate.

“That was amazing, Sanji… Thank you so much,” You say with gratitude as you hold his face with one hand, and he leaned against it. He mirrored you, only this time he leaned in before he wiped the corner of your lips the remaining sauce while he maintained eye contact.

“Missed a spot,” he whispered to you before licking his finger, winking, and taking the plate to the sink. He then had his back to you with a smirk while you looked at him in awe.

God, does this man drive you crazy…

G = Good Morning (How do they wake you up)

You best believe that you’ll be getting your morning kisses daily from him. If he wakes up before you, he’ll just lift himself and stare at you with love sparkle all over his blue eyes, he’ll probably even run his fingernail against your skin before kissing you awake. He’ll paint that beautiful smile as he says with his gentle morning voice, “Good morning, sunshine.”

That’s on his lazy days though, other days, however, he might just wake you up with breakfast in bed. He’ll set aside the tray before he gently shakes you until you wake up and informs you that he made you breakfast.

He is such a romantic, it warms one’s cold heart.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs?)

His hugs are so warm… I don’t know what else to add. He just adds a layer of comfort to him, just like his cuddles.

I = In Labor (Labour and Delivery)

He’s an absolute mess and honestly, you might have considered kicking him out during delivery. It’s not that he’s a dick about it or whatever—matter of fact, poor dude’s just trying to help—, but he’s acting like he’s the one giving birth due to his nervousness and is making you feel worse about the situation. If he wasn’t your love and/or the father of your child, you’d have kicked him out and had Zoro or Robin fill the role for support (you’ve thought of Nami as well, but she’d probably be squeamish and leave the room).

And once that child’s out, he’ll probably cry at the sight of your beautiful creation and kiss you on the top of your head while he praises you and compliments the beautiful bundle of joy.

“You did it… You’re so amazing,”

J = Jealousy (Are they jealous? How do they handle it?)

And the winner of the most hypocritical individual award goes to; Blackleg Sanji. You might have to beat him for it, because how the fuck is he allowed to flirt with other women, yet he beats men whom you’ve given the same energy?

All jokes aside, this man will probably glare at the person who’s attempting to get closer to you. He’ll probably start causing chaos if anyone were to lay a hand on his partner and he doesn’t care, he’ll stop when the one who gets the beat down promises he won’t look at you again.

K = Kisses (How do they kiss? How often?)

You finally understood the addiction to nicotine when you first pressed your lips against his. No matter a peck or a full-on passionate, his lips were simply addicting and you just crave them every time you look at him. He places a cigarette on his lips, and you envy the tip of the cigarette for it is covered by his lips when it should be your skin that is covered by his lips.

He kisses you very often, maybe a little bit too often, disgustingly often. But he’ll tone it down if you ask, and he’ll give you kisses throughout the day, he can never leave a day with no kisses for you.

L = Loyal (How loyal are they?)

Contrary to popular belief—and the jokes I’ve been making earlier—, Sanji’s pretty loyal. Sure, he may flirt with multiple women, which is a bad habit, but he never thought of sleeping with them now that he’s with you. He mainly claims it as just acts of chivalry, but truly he never intends on coming off as overtly flirtatious nor does he have any intentions of cheating on you, and he will always find a way to prove it.

M = Memory (Their favourite memory about you?)

The first time you declared your love for him. Underneath that charismatic aura, Sanji’s a broken man who believes that love is not by his side. Sure, he is aware that he has platonic, or rather familial love from the straw hat crew, Zeff, and the workers at Baratie, but he never would have thought that he’d find genuine romantic love and he was on his journey of accepting that.

Until you came along and ruined it, and Sanji couldn’t have been more grateful that you did. When you two happened to be kissing each other after an intimate session, you held him and uttered those three words, only for him to be gasping and widen his eyes in astonishment.

“What?”

You looked at him with a loving smile and holding onto his delicate face, “I love you, Sanji…”

You made Sanji’s heart flutter as he looked at you with glossy eyes and he laid on your chest and you began stroking his locks. You didn’t want him to respond if he didn’t want to, you simply just wanted to let him know, only for you to hear a whisper,

“I love you too…”

N = Never! (Dealbreakers)

Never mention his biological father, and don’t you ever try to reunite them. Sanji considers Zeff as his real dad, he taught and treated him like a father would to his son, so if you’d reunite them, he’d be over the moon. Reunite him with Judge and Sanji will feel betrayed that you would put him in a room with his abuser.

No amount of “but you guys are family” will cut it.

O = On the Rocks (How do they make up?)

Sanji’s the type to apologize through meals. He’ll obviously talk to you, but no matter how mad he is/you are, he’ll not leave you hungry. You two will start apologizing to each other and admit your mistakes. The one thing you love about Sanji is that he respects you too much for you to be upset, even if you’re in the wrong.

So you’ll simply just talk it out and kiss afterward… which may lead to more action if you get my drift.

P = Playtime (Any headcanons on sex)

Sanji loves to call you goddess/god, no matter if he’s domming or subbing. He just loves the thought of worshipping you and gliding his tongue all over his skin.

He also enjoys giving you oral or fingering you, doesn’t matter where you guys are, he’ll always find a way to have a taste of you, claiming “It’s the best flavor I’ve ever tried.”

Q = Quiet Time (How do they wind down?)

The perfect wind-down for Sanji is simply cuddling in bed or cooking alone with you. Sure, it may seem very cliché, but Sanji’s a cliché man and he knows it, especially when you call him out on it, but he doesn’t care.

What better way to spend some quiet time than when you have your partner with you, am I right?

R = Rapture (What makes them happy?)

When you value him and remind him how loved and important he is. Given his childhood, it is easy for him to slip through the mindset of self-loathing and ending himself, which resulted in his sacrificial personality. While you were never a cure for it, you did help him ease through those tough times, and he grew to appreciate you for your effort and how you don’t perceive the way others do.

Your overall love and appreciation for him means so much to him, thus resulting in making him happy.

S = Soulmate (What do they think of soulmates?)

Oh, he hands down believes in soulmates. First off, he’s a Pisces, and every Pisces I’ve met believes in soulmates. Secondly, he is a romantic at heart, soul, and body so he believes that there’s someone out there that will complete his soul.

T = Together (What do you like to do together?)

Cooking, of course, and also shopping. This man will go broke for you and he’ll be happy to go into debt for you, as long as you are happy and content, please, by all means, make his pockets hurt (but you won't because you love him too much to ever go through that).

U = Unyielding (How do they handle interlopers on the relationship?)

Sanji will karate kick them on their way out. “How dare you to try to meddle in OUR perfect. Beautiful, loving relationship?! Who gave you the absolute right to try and take my sweet partner away?! I’ll beat you to a pulp!” Sanji would exclaim as he proceeded to ambush the person who tried to interlope.

V = Vulnerable (Are they vulnerable often? How do they handle it?)

Sanji would not be as vulnerable as you’d think when you first met. Sure, he’s very emotional in tune and can hold you days on end when you just want to cry out about whatever’s bothering you, past or present.

Just like Law, once he gains trust, that’s when the floodgates are open and he starts becoming vulnerable and talking about his trauma. Please hug him and promise you won’t throw him under the bus with all of that, he needs emotional support and love.

W = Wedding (Wedding headcanons)

He’ll make sure he’ll make your wedding a day you won’t ever forget. I imagine your guys’ wedding being extravagant yet still intimate, inviting only the straw hat crew—yes including Zoro—, Vivi, Zeff, and most of his workers of Baratie from his end. He made sure you had some cake testing before the wedding and was mostly in charge of the catering, despite it being his wedding day.

Despite you were the bride, Sanji was more of a bridezilla than you were, and you had your fair share of freak outs, but not to the extend of Sanji’s to which you had to calm him down. Eventually, however, everything was settled—thanks to you and the rest of the straw hat—and you had a beautiful wedding by the beach.

(idk he seems like someone who would want a beach wedding.)

X = (E)x (How do they handle exes? What do they do if they see them)

He’d act the same with interlopers when it comes to your ex, especially if that ex had done unimaginable heinous things to you.

Meanwhile, his exes might have to run away because otherwise, he’ll start acting “too friendly,” and may slip up a few details about their previous relationship, which results in you being insecure.

He eventually apologizes, genuinely avoids his ex, and never interacts with them.

Y = Yearning (What do they do when they miss you?)

Another pillow sniffer and clothes (panties) stealer. Yup, that’s it, nothing else to add there. Just read my law’s one and just switch law with Sanji and you’ll get the same effect.

While he’s always snatching your pillows and clothes when you’re away, whenever he’s in the kitchen, he’ll even cook your favorite food to remind him of you. Even though he cooked it himself, he can’t help but be reminded of you and your sparkling eyes of joy when you see him cook your favorite meal.

NSFW

 He loves your enthusiasm so damn much, and God does he crave to see it again, especially when you have that similar sparkle when he undresses in front of you and showcases his pink-tipped cock to you.

Where were those panties when he needed them?

Z = Zzz… (Sleeping headcanons)

He loves it when you guys are in spooning positions. While he prefers being the small spoon, he loves to wrap himself around you with your chest on his. The feeling of you being snug beside him makes him feel like he can protect you and there’s no better feeling than that.

characters are owned by oda. i will not tolerate nor accept translation, reposts on other websites, or plagiarism. divider made by mmadeinheavenn.

[hubbvrd]

Helpful words | Travis Kelce

In which y/n is afraid of becoming a bad mother. She reveals these doubts to Travis, who does everything he can to prove to y/n that she will be a good mother

�� . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

After the last baby things have been stowed away in the closet, your gaze wanders once again through the finally finished baby room.

A smile forms on your lips as your hand rests on your round belly.

Over the last two months, Travis and you had done a lot of work in the nursery to create a beautiful room for your unborn daughter.

Now the room with the light pink walls and white furniture was finally finished and it couldn't be more perfect.

Even all the clothes that you had just sorted into the wardrobe were already waiting to be worn by your little Peanut.

Peanut was the nickname Travis had given your daughter as soon as he found out you were pregnant.

Since then, the nickname has been used by both of you whenever you address the little one.

You already had a name for your daughter, but you didn't want to announce it to your families until she was born, so it was still Peanut.

Your finger gently stroked the many different items of clothing that not only you and Travis had bought, but had also received as gifts at the baby shower.

It was about time to pick out the first outfit for Peanut, as it could be any day now.

Your hospital bag had been in the trunk of your car for weeks, but you hadn't yet been able to decide between all the cute outfits which one you should take to the hospital and dress your daughter in first.

"Honey?" Travis, who had just come back from running a few errands at the supermarket, called out because you were hungry for ice cream and your husband had run straight out to get it.

"Baby room!" you shouted back as you pulled out a hanger or two to look at the outfit on the hanger.

There was too much choice and each outfit seemed to get cuter so you just couldn't decide.

Why was that so damn hard? Even with your daughter's name or the design of the nursery, it hadn't even been that difficult.

A loud sigh left your lips as you closed the closet doors louder than you intended.

"Everything okay?" Travis asked directly as he stumbled into the baby's room, looking at himself with a worried and anxious look at the same time.

"I can't find a suitable hospital outfit for Peanut!" you sobbed as countless tears began to roll down your cheeks.

"Hey," Travis began as he crossed the last few feet over to you and then pulled you into his strong arms. "We'll find a suitable one."

His hand gently stroked your back as a few more tears soaked Travis' shirt slightly.

"How am I supposed to be a good mother if I can't find anything suitable for the hospital?" A loud sob left your lips.

The pregnancy hormones once again had you completely in their grip and you began to doubt yourself.

"Hey, sweetheart," Travis' voice rang out softly as he pushed you back a little so you could look at him.

"Huh?" you sniffled as you lifted your gaze and looked into your husband's eyes.

His eyes radiated calm and warmth, making you feel a little better, but despite all this, your hormones were still on a rollercoaster.

"You'd be a great mom." Travis wiped his thumb across your face to wipe away the tears that were still rolling down your cheeks. "You're going to do amazing, darling. I can already see how much love and security you give Peanut, even though she's not even here yet. You talk to her every day, sing or read to her. And just because you can't decide what to wear right now doesn't mean you'll be a bad mom."

The tears slowly began to dry as Travis' hand placed itself on your stomach and gently stroked over.

"Your mom is going to be a great mom, isn't she Peanut?" As Travis spoke, he squatted down to be more or less on the same level as your daughter.

It took a few seconds for your daughter to kick your belly like she was saying yes.

"See, even Peanut agrees with me." Travis looked up at you and gave you a soft smile.

And this situation once again caused new tears to roll down her cheeks. But not out of desperation, but out of love.

Those words from Travis and the light kick from your daughter caused you to become quite emotional now and once again you were clearly shown how much you loved your husband and your unborn daughter.

"Thank you," You whispered, while Travis wrapped his arms around you again and buried his face in your hair.

"The truth," he replied gently as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head and you stood there for a few minutes just enjoying each other's closeness and affection.

"And now let's pick out an outfit for Peanut together. With all your super cute stuff, it's going to be hard even for me to pick just one." 

Travis took your hand while he opened your daughter's closet with his other hand and looked through all the clothes.

And indeed, your husband felt the same way as you did. He couldn't decide either, so you both picked out your top two favorites and in the end, after a long back and forth, you finally decided on an outfit that your little Peanut would wear first.

And it shouldn't be too much longer before that day finally comes.