#but honestly it feels like something in my brain got knocked loose

[purichana]

so i read through cleopatra and frankenstein. its just. it feels like what someone who never saw new york would write new york as.

everyone in the book was so so beautiful and so so alcoholic. you mean to tell me that the beer bellies never caught up with anyone? the puffing up of your face? when your eyes sink in far in your skull?

also just. cleo is described as the prettiest woman in the world for like the umpteenth time when she's just. white. thats it. everyone in the book is rich and insufferable and oh so beautiful and do coke because they are also *complex* and *struggling* like man do americans really live like this?

unfortunately i did like the writing. and i was curious how the conflict would wrap up, so i did speed through the entire book. but now i wish i hadnt and had instead taken a nap

#cleopatra and frankenstein #coco mellers #book review #i know i sound unhinged right now #but honestly it feels like something in my brain got knocked loose #my god #it was just #trying too hard and trying to appear as it wasnt at all

[thegnomelord]

Hii, here for the prompt game of yours!

What about prompt 1. Where the reader is the one suggesting it to Ghost? Like, big ass guy sitting on your lap I think it'll be interesting. If you haven't gotten any ideas maybe there aren't enough seats in a vehicle and he's forced to just sit? But if you've already got a few ideas for this please use yours instead! I love your writing and how your brain works.

You've been doing great! Thank you for your hard work! Fighting man

Anon you and I share the same brain waves lol I legit made that prompt with Ghost in mind :Dd Play the game HERE

Prompt: "Do you-" "If you suggest I sit in your lap I'll kill you."

CW:NSFW, Sub Top M!Reader, Dom Bottom Ghost, semi-public sex, bathroom sex, quickies.

Simon's going to kill him. Stab him, shoot him, feed him to the dogs. And Johnny just looks at him like an innocent puppy with a smug look in his eyes. Of course Soap would suggest going to Vegas and of course he'd rent a car that's too small to fit them all, and of course Simon's the last one to get in...

"Come on LT, hop in already." The Scotsman grins, settling next to you in the back. Gaz is riding shotgun and Price's behind the wheel since he doesn't trust any of you to drive. "Wouldn't want to miss out on loosing all yer money."

Simon's contemplating strapping Soap on the roof or sticking him in the car's boot when you pat your thighs. "Do you-"

"If you suggest I sit in your lap I'll kill you." He cuts you off, glaring at you. He knows he's dead on the target when you give a sheepish grin, honestly he doesn't understand why you'd want him of all people to sit on your lap when he's at least a hundred pounds heavier than you.

"Oh come on Ghost," But you just give a charming grin, confident like a chihuahua against a wolf. "I promise I'll keep my hands to myself." You raise your arms up in surrender, giving him your best puppy eyes.

"Fine," Ghost relents. The shuffle into the car is awkward and he bumps his head on the roof a couple of times, knees knocking into yours before he finally sits down. He's not even surprised when your arms wrap around his waist and you pull him down on your lap further, your hands unable to meet on his front from how big he is.

"That's a comfortable seat, yeah?" Gaz snorts as you nuzzle your nose into his broad back, he's so big you can't even look over his shoulder, his weight pressing down fully on you.

"Aye, look happy like a hog in shite." Johnny snickers, trying and failing to duck from Ghost's hand, ending up getting knocked upside the head. "Ow- that hurt!"

"There's nothing inside there to hurt." Ghost snarks, feeling your chest shake as you muffle your snickers into his back.

"Settle down boys." Price grumbles as Gaz laughs next to him, Price's eyes meeting both Simon's and Johnny's. They mutter out low 'yes sir's before he humphs, turning the car on. The engine rumbles to life like a dying geriatric.

"Christ MacTavish where did you find this piece of shite?" Ghost asks incredulously, and Johnny answers something in Gaelic. He looses track of time when he starts bickering with Johnny until Price turns on the radio, resulting in Gaz and Soap belting out songs at the top of their lungs. He feels your hands squeeze around him, reminding him that he's currently sat on your lap; strange how he could forget that.

The drive to Vegas is hell, the road's bumpy like a teenager's pimply face and Simon bumps his head on the car's ceiling every time Price drives over a pothole. It wouldn't be as bad if he didn't feel. . .you. . . brush against his arse every time it happened.

He was lucky he was wearing his mask so no one would notice how hot he became, hands clenching into fists each time your cock poked him, his throat becoming dry. He could feel you stiffen, suffering under the same problem he was, heat slowly burning in your veins.

And of course Price had to pick the bumpiest road he could, not a second would go without the car rocking and making you grind against him, the bloody bastard probably did it on purpose. At least none of them mentioned how you and Ghost had become silent, you literally biting down on his jacket to keep silent.

Finally after a few hours of hell on wheels Price stop at a gas station that looks like it hasn't seen human life since the 80's. Simon doesn't even wait for the car to shut off before he's jumping out of it, "With me," he growls with a hand firmly grasping the front of your clothes.

You don't resist him as he pulls you into an equally sleazy bathroom, the type of which you'd find in a brothel. "Simon, what-" You suck in a breath as he all but throws you down on the toilet lid, locking the stall behind him.

"Shut'it." Simon growls, pulling his face mask down to kiss you roughly, blindly opening your pants to fish out your cock. You're both hard as rocks, Simon separates from the kiss to push his fingers against your lips. "Open."

Simon groans as you take his fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his fingers. If you had more time Simon would have had you eat him out, but fingers will have to do for now, especially with how you look when he catches your tongue between his fingers.

"So eager." Ghost hums, undoing his belt and dropping his pants and underwear, bracing a hand on your shoulder as he leans down and roughly pushes two fingers inside him. He groans and kisses you again, quickly stretching himself just enough so he doesn't tear anything.

"Just for you." You mutter against his lips, sucking in a breath when Simon pulls his fingers out, spits on his hand and lubes your cock.

"You better be." He grins, swiftly turning around so his back is facing you. Holding your cock in one hand he moves so your tip is poking his hole, slowly sinking down. Your hands fly to his hips, gripping firmly but not trying to slow him down. "Yeah, that's a good lad." He groans, relishing the burn and stretch, the sizzle of pain muddling with pleasure, electricity running up his spine.

God, he's so big compared to you it does your head in, your hips bucking up to meet his, chasing the tight heat enveloping your cock. "Fuck, Si," You groan, biting the back of his jacket to silence your moans as Simon starts riding you. He's unable to get a good leverage with the awkward position so you two end up rutting like animals, your hand coming around to stroke his cock, feeling his walls tighten around you.

You two cum in record time, a low moan leaving his lips as he shoots cum across the stall door. His hole flutters and clenches around you, muttering 'come on, give it to me' over and over again until you're cumming inside him, his walls milking you for all you have.

You feel him slump against you, tight heat still trying to pull more cum from you. You both are breathing heavy, bliss coursing through your veins as you tilt your head to kiss the nape of his neck lazily.

"Oi, quit snogging else we're leaving yer here!" Johnny's voice rings from the other side of the stall door.

Oh, you are going to kill him.

#Gnome's Prompt Game #gnome correspondence #cod mw2 #x reader #trinkets from the hoard #male reader #top male reader #cod modern warfare #cod smut #cod x male reader #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x male reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x male reader #simon riley x reader

[teacheesee]

Hii! I wanted to request reader x zoro where he sees you wearing his clothes one day and how he would react!

You can also just do it with the monster trio like the other imagines if you like! :]

forgetful - zoro x gn reader!

zoro forgets his clothes at your place, and loves you see you in them. 500< words.

warnings: a bit suggestive oopsie

You collapsed on your bed after a long day of classes, the sun making the whole day miserably hot. After a moment sinking in the silence, you rolled off your bed and hopped in the shower, eager to be rid of the day. Feeling refreshed, you stepped out of the shower and ran the towel through your damp hair. Still warm from the shower, you wanted to opt for some comfier, loose clothing to spend the rest of your day inside in.

Scanning your room, your eyes caught on a t-shirt laying haphazardly on the edge of your bed.

“Huh, he must’ve forgotten it,” you mumbled, putting the big t-shirt on over your lounge shorts. You yawned, walking to the kitchen to make some lunch before the inevitable post-class nap. Over the sounds of the stove, you nearly didn’t hear the knock at the door. Setting down the spoon, you turned to grab the door.

“Hello!” you sang, throwing the door open playfully.

“He--” Zoro’s voice caught in his throat for a moment before clearing his throat, “Hey.”

Your head tilted at his weird reaction. “What?”

He walked in, setting his bag down on a kitchen chair, “Hm? Nothing.”

You didn’t miss the way he was ducking his face down, eyes rhythmically taking quick glances at you while you cooked. Leaning against the counter, stirring the pot, you eyed him skeptically. Shrugging it off, you grabbed bowls and utensils for the two of you as you plated your lunches. Sitting across from him, it really was getting possible to ignore the way his eyes were studying you, slow and purposeful in their intention.

“What is it, Zo, is there something on my face or what?” He looked down again, attention laser focused on his lunch.

“This is really good,” he muttered into the bowl, shoving his mouth full. You propped your elbow on the table, shrugging, causing the shirt to slip down your shoulder, exposing more of your skin. You honestly didn’t notice, but it was clear that Zoro did when he slammed the table, standing up abruptly, face completely flushed.

“Dammit,” he cursed, quickly making his way to you. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but before you could get a word out, Zoro had slung you over his shoulder and was making his way quickly down the hallway.

“What the fuck? If you wanted to take a nap you could’ve just said so,” you protested.

“We’re not sleepin,” he said, a smile evident in his voice as he gently closed your bedroom door.

You weren’t sure exactly what had gotten into him that day, and maybe it was all coincidence, but in the days and weeks following, your closet had grown considerably as Zoro continuously forgot his clothes at your place.

a/n: sorry this was so short anon!! i loved this prompt and i will definitely be posting for the rest of the monster trio and probably ace with this idea in the future. i got so lazy but i was itching to post. thank you so much for your replies and EVERYONE please send me a billion requests i love to see them and stir them around in my brain like smut stew.

note for future requests! i will not write NSFW unless specified! (i wanna write nsfw so give me prompts mwahahaha)

okay guys meow (ciao) •*.

#one piece #opla #one piece zoro #zoro #op zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #zoro x sanji #zoro headcanons #zoro imagine #zoro x luffy #one piece fluff #zoro fanart #ronoroa zoro #zoro smut #roronoa zoro

[hayakawalove]

Test of Love

Chapter One

Summary: Day in and day out, your routine has been exactly the same as a jujutsu sorcerer. You can't complain, honestly. You just wish things were a little more interesting. When you get propositioned by two men, you have no choice but to see what they have going on. Joining a relationship would spice things up, wouldn't it?

A/N: I've had this idea loosely floating around my brain for a bit. Fret not, my short fics will continue but I wanted to write this too. I hope you enjoy it! Thank you!

CW: Slight blood, there's no smut this chapter W/C: 5,560

Credit to @benkeibear for the banner

‘The clouds part, a ray of sunlight shining down on the pair.’

Your eyes glide over the page, fingers strumming the back of the book. 

“What’re you reading?” Gojo’s voice startles you from the scene you had built in your head based on the words in front of you. 

You jump in your seat, turning to see him leaning against your desk. It was no surprise he was here, he often came and went whenever he pleased. But he could have at least knocked. 

“A Trial of Lovers.” You respond, bringing your eyes back to the words in front of you. 

“Sounds boring.” 

You hum, intent on not paying him any mind. Gojo could be a handful, but he wasn’t that hard to manage once you got to know him. You just learned to tune him out. 

“Why aren’t you paying attention to your students? Reckless of you.” He continues. 

Maybe you wouldn’t be able to ignore him. 

“They’re just studying today.” You say, turning the page. 

The room is quiet besides the two of you, the four students either glued to their textbooks or watching the interaction unfold in front of them. 

“A book can be a weapon. And you have a very talented weapon user in case you were unaware.” 

“Salmon.” Inumaki agrees. He always did like stirring up trouble. 

“What if she tries to kill Yuuta with it?” Gojo says, clearly trying to get a rouse out of you. 

“Maki, are you gonna try killing Yuuta with your textbook?” You ask, keeping your eyes trained down. 

“Not unless he pisses me off.” 

“What?” Yuuta responds. 

You look up at Gojo and smile. 

“Yuuta’s harmless, he wouldn’t piss her off so I think we’re good.” 

“Harmless? I wouldn’t call him that.” Gojo responds. 

“Where are your students?” You accuse. 

He was much more lax with his, often leaving them to fend for themselves when he went on missions. You couldn’t say you blamed him. It wasn’t like he had much of a choice, but still. 

“I sent them out to take care of a second grade. They’ll be fine, Megumi is with them.” 

You clear your throat, eyes focused on the book in front of you even though you were no longer reading. 

“He’s still a child.” Even as you speak, your nerves feel more at ease. If you were to trust any of the students, it would be Megumi. Even if that was the case, you still thought they shouldn’t be left alone. Gojo trusted Megumi which was good, but it bugged you that he may have trusted him a bit too much. Even the greatest sorcerers make mistakes, much less ones that were under 18. 

“And Nobara is just as, if not more violent than Maki. What if she kills Yuuji?” You knew she wouldn’t. 

“She wouldn’t do that.” Gojo responds slyly. 

You slap your book closed and set it on the desk in front of you. 

“What do you want, Gojo?” 

Your eyes flick across his body. His blindfold was on like usual, his ensemble completely put together as it always was. You would pay to see him look unprepared. 

“Are you busy after school?” He smiles, his body relaxed as he stares down at you. 

This was something he always did. Flirt with you, while you ignored his advances. It was the nature of your friendship, it didn’t bother you so much as it might bother someone else. 

“Class, you guys can leave early.” You announce, smiling as you watch them hop out of the room. 

You stand up and face Gojo again. He was wearing a cocky grin, no doubt waiting for your response. He thought you would say yes, even though you denied him every time. You weren’t opposed to going out with him, there were just other factors in the mix. 

“Gojo, in case you forgot you have a boyfriend.” 

Gojo huffs and leans back even more, seemingly prepared for your rejection. 

“I didn’t forget. We’re trying something new. Open relationship. He gets to see who he wants and I can see who I want.” 

The response stuns you a bit. He had never mentioned that before. The offer seemed more appealing at his revelation. You had fun with Gojo, and he was good looking. You just didn’t want to be the reason he was kicked on the streets. 

It seems he knows that he’s wearing you down, his grin showing back up. 

“Come on, let’s just go for a walk around the park. Promise I don’t bite. Unless you’re into that, of course.” 

An image conjures up in your mind before you can stop it. One where he’s on top of you, mouth open as he nibbles on your neck. You shake your head, trying to rid the naughty thought as best as you could. You awkwardly chuckle and grab your things, following him out the door. A walk would be harmless, wouldn’t it? 

The weather graced you today it seems, as clear skies shine above you and an acceptable temperature wraps around your body. You were at a park near the school, one that had lots of families and several street vendors. 

You actually were hungry. And Gojo being Gojo decided to jump at the opportunity to buy something sweet, assuring you that he would buy your food as well. 

While you wait, you find a lonely bench sitting in the middle of the park. It’s surrounded by large trees, trees much older than you. It’s refreshing to be out of the school for once. You can’t remember the last time you spent a normal day out in society. 

You loved your job, but it could be exhausting at times. 

“Order up!” Gojo’s cheery voice interrupts your thoughts. 

He’s holding two crepes. One with fruit, the other with chocolate. 

“We can share if you want.” He says, holding the fruit one out to you, mouth darting out to bite into his. 

You smile up at him and grab the treat, eyes flicking over the colors that lit up the food. When you take a bite you taste berries melting with whip cream, the flavor swirling around your mouth. 

“This is really good Gojo, thank you.” 

He offers a serene smile as he takes another bite of his crepe while sitting next to you. Chocolate decorates his lip and you giggle in response. He almost looked childish. It suited him, in a way. People might say he was immature, which wouldn’t really be wrong, but a part of you knew he grew up too fast. 

You make idle chatter as you watch families fill in the park. You spent so much time around sorcerers, you often forgot what it was like to be near normal people. Their carefree attitudes lit up your heart, putting your mind at ease. 

This is what you’re doing it for, this is why you fight. You remind yourself as you watch a toddler topple over before getting right back up, a grin across his face. 

“It’s weird, right?” You find yourself saying. 

You haven’t finished your crepe yet, but Gojo has been done with his for awhile; focusing on the brown syrup that muddled his fingers. 

He hums as he licks his finger, looking up in front of him. 

“The families. The smiles. The people.” 

You don’t have to elaborate, Gojo knows exactly what you mean. Sorcerers rarely have families and rarely smile. Their lifestyles were much different than yours. Your stomach turns as you wait for his response. 

“Yeah, I mean I guess so. It’s not much weirder than sorcerers.” 

You didn’t really expect him to feel the same way as you. He may look like an average man, but he wasn’t. While you couldn’t relate to average people, he couldn’t relate to anyone. Not people or sorcerers. 

Lonely, you thought. You wonder if the feeling keeps him up late at night. 

“Thank you for taking me out. This is nice.” You settle, attempting to divert your attention from the macabre. 

Gojo leans back, kicking his long legs out in front of him. His arms spread out on the bench, head facing the sky. He always took up so much space, not that you minded. You figured the world was too small for him, so you didn’t mind making more room. 

“It is, isn’t it?” 

You offer up a bite of your crepe which he gladly accepts, swallowing before saying he preferred his more. 

“I actually had something I wanted to bring up. You’ll learn about it later in the next meeting, but I figured I’d tell you now.” 

Your head perks up in interest, your attention completely on him. 

“There’s been a slew of random attacks at the school.” 

The words sink in your chest, creating a pool in your stomach. The school? That was your sacred place. Your home. It was all you had. 

“The school? I haven’t heard anything.” 

“Not really at the school, more so around it. They’ve been happening at frequent intervals the past week all within 5 miles of the school. It’s all been small attacks. But it definitely is something. One wouldn’t be a big deal, but with the amount that’s been happening… someone is definitely targeting Jujutsu High. Not enough to actually destroy it but enough to peak our interest.” 

As much as you hated to admit it, he was right. It wouldn’t have mattered if it only happened a couple of times, but there was a pattern. Someone was clearly focusing on the school. 

“What does it mean?” 

Gojo taps his foot, his head in the clouds. If anyone knew what it was about, it would be him. 

“I’m not sure. It’s been relatively easy to handle so far. I’m just worried about the fact it draws our attention away. The more people we send out to watch the border means the less available sorcerers we’ll have. I don’t like it.” 

He rarely sounds serious, but you’re able to pick up on the dark underlying tone in the way he’s talking right now. He didn’t seem too stressed out, maybe inconvenienced at best. It wasn’t like there was much you could do at the current moment anyway. 

You finish your crepe, the mood dramatically shifting after the conversation. You hate to see Gojo like this, his mind swarmed with thoughts and unable to focus on anything else. 

“So, tell me about your boyfriend.” 

Gojo raises his head and looks at you, one of his eyebrows shooting up. 

“Weird thing to bring up on a date.” 

You scoff and nudge your foot against his. 

“If I’m gonna be apart of this I wanna know more about you.” 

Gojo’s eyes flick up as if in deep thought. You didn’t know much about his boyfriend. He and Gojo were longtime friends, having gone to Jujutsu High together. Over the years you learned he was the more responsible of the two. You also learned about his cursed technique. Rare and strong, curse manipulation. You were intrigued by the idea. Using what you fight against to help you, it was nothing short of incredible. 

“He’s nice. Almost too nice. He understands people more than me. Really strong too. A bit stern.” 

You keep your gaze focused on the side of Gojo’s face. You don’t spend much time looking at him normally, so you take advantage of the closeness you have right now to appreciate him. His white eyelashes flutter as he looks at the sky, bright pink lips parted as he speaks. 

Handsome, he was so very handsome. 

As the two of you were in public he decided to forego his blindfold and instead use a pair of sunglasses. His hair lay messy atop his head, but it still looked good. 

He cracks a grin as he notices you staring. 

“See something you like?” 

You quickly turn forward, the act of being caught embarrassing you. The only thing worse than an attractive man was a man who was attractive and knew it. 

“He sounds nice. Nicer than you.” You say, hoping to annoy him. 

Instead, Gojo lets out a quiet sigh. 

“He is.” 

It was odd to see him like this. Gojo cared for people, he wasn’t a robot, but he rarely admired them. With the few conversations you had with him you were able to tell he admired his boyfriend, he really loved him. 

Your lips part as you start to ask Gojo what his boyfriend's name was, but his phone cuts you off. 

Gojo clicks his tongue and looks down, noting a text from Yaga. 

“Can’t even leave for a few hours.” He complains under his breath. 

You know he’s trying to put on a show, but you can’t help but feel bad. He was right. He never had time to himself, always being forced into doing something or the other for the higher ups. His life wasn’t truly his own. 

Your relationship with Gojo was complicated. You liked to tease him, but deep down you knew he always got the shit end of the stick. 

You stand up, swiping your hands on your pants. It was starting to get hot out, your hair sticking to your neck.  You reach a hand out to Gojo, wordlessly offering help. 

He smirks at your hand, looking over the top of his glasses. 

“Cute.” 

You tear your hand away, not wanting to give him the satisfaction if he was just going to tease you. 

“Hey! What if I need help getting up?” 

“Stand up yourself, worlds strongest sorcerer.” You mumur, stepping away to start walking towards the school. 

Gojo whines behind you before jumping up, jogging towards you. The rest of the walk goes by fast, the both of you teasing each other back and forth. One of the good things about Gojo, although there were many (not that you would admit it), was that he was incredibly fun to talk to. As long as you were in the mood, of course. 

Your body chills when you step inside the school. The air conditioning soothes your skin the second you get inside. 

“You’re back.” Yaga says, looking down, shuffling papers back and forth. 

“Sadly.” Gojo responds. 

“What were you two up to?” 

“A date.” Gojo says confidently. 

You train your face to say neutral but you feel your blood simmer. You weren’t exactly planning on telling Yaga, but of course Gojo wouldn’t keep it to himself. 

“And Geto?” Yaga asks. 

Geto. That was Gojo’s boyfriend's name. His last name anyway. You wanted to know what his first name was, that’s what you were planning on asking before Yaga texted. 

“He’s aware.” 

Yaga heaves out a breath, used to Gojos antics by now. Anything that could be weird by someone else’s standards was considered normal if Gojo was the one doing it. 

“I need you to finish this paperwork before going home tonight. And don’t make someone else do it for you.” Yaga hands you both a stack of papers, aiming the last half of the sentence to Gojo. 

You knew it wouldn’t take you long, as long as Gojo didn’t attempt to get you to do his for him. Even if he asked nicely you were going to refuse. You had plans tonight. You needed to go to the book store to get the second book to the one you were reading this morning. 

It takes you two hours and your fingers are sore by the time you’re done, but you manage to finish all your paperwork. Halfway through you had to lock Gojo out so you could focus. You had fun on your date, but tonight was your night. A man wasn’t going to get in the way of that. 

~~~

You weren’t sure what happened to the weather. This morning when you were with Gojo it was bright and sunny, but now the sky was littered with clouds. You didn’t mind it, in fact you preferred it. When you were reading you much preferred for it to rain, finding it way more soothing. 

The bookstore was empty today, except for a couple of people that hid out in the shelves. You liked it here. It made you feel somewhat normal. There were no sorcerers, curses, or villains here. Just books. 

You had no plans for the rest of the night, besides having you time, so you decide to find the book you’re looking for to read there. There were chairs littered throughout the building, each soft and worn down after years of use. 

Curling up on a chair, you open your book and dive into it. The words capture all your attention as you grip the front and back of the book. It’s much better than the first, you think. The author has such a way with words. You’re so engrossed you don’t notice a man approaching you. 

He sits on the chair in front of yours, his own book nestled in his lap.

“That’s a good book,” he says. 

You look up to find a man sitting in front of you. He looked perfect. There wasn’t flaw on his body. 

Long black hair that was pulled up in a bun, caramel eyes trained on you as he wore a small smile. 

Normally, you would be pissed off that someone was breaking the bookstore code ‘no talking’, but you weren’t. You were drawn in. 

“It is.” You respond, trying to look away from him but finding yourself incapable. 

“I love the author, I finished all his books so I was here looking for something else.” 

You think you could listen to him speak forever, the way his voice rolls out from his lips causes your body to relax. 

“Me too, once I finish this then I’ll be done.” 

His smile spreads wider. Your stomach turns under his gaze. 

“I’m afraid I haven’t found any stories as interesting as his.” He continues. “I really liked his use of butterflies in that book though. Very beautiful.” 

You bite your lip and tear your eyes away if only for a second to gain control. 

“Me too.” 

He watches the way you fiddle with the book in your lap. 

“My name is Suguru, what’s yours?” 

You take a deep breath before telling him your name. Normal girls would be scared of a stranger talking to them, but you weren’t normal. You were sure if it came down to it you would be able to take care of him. After all, there were very few people stronger than you, and you were on a date with one of them earlier. 

You weren’t scared of Suguru, you were captivated by him. 

His smile morphs into something more calming after you speak. It sends fireworks off in your stomach. 

“You have a lovely name.” 

You clear your throat before darting your eyes away, unable to look at him any longer. 

“Thank you.” You murmur, fiddling with your outfit. 

After work you had gone home to switch clothes, wanting something more comfortable. You were glad you did, as the clothes you wore now were much more flattering. A loose sweater with yoga pants, perfect for lounging about while you read. 

“I didn’t mean to interrupt you, I apologize. I just saw what you were reading.” 

“It’s okay, is this your first time here? I’ve never seen you before.” 

Suguru wets his bottom lip, and you have to pry your eyes away from it. 

“It is. Normally I go to a bookstore in the next town over, but it’s under renovations so I decided to come here. It’s not far from my boyfriends work.” 

Ah. 

There it is. 

You don’t know why you expected anything different. Part of you was hoping he might be hitting on you. You did go on a date with Gojo earlier, but it wasn’t anything serious. 

“What do you do for work?” You ask. 

“I’m a freelancer.” 

Vague, you think. 

“And you?” 

There’s no way you can tell him you’re a jujutsu sorcerer so you settle on something close enough. 

“I’m a teacher.” 

“Noble, I like it.” 

The rain beats down on the roof of the book store, water running down the windows making it hard to see outside. It’s calming, Suguru is calming. You keep your gaze focused on him as the two of you talk. At first you were almost intimidated, but you were slowly getting used to the heat of his gaze. 

“I enjoyed the butterflies as well. It’s a shame we don’t have them around here. I’d love to watch them like they did in the book.” You say. 

“It’s probably because of all the people. There are places you can go to see them, would you be interested?” 

You pause and stare at him. Was that… A date invitation? 

It wasn’t, there was no way. 

Maybe he meant it in a friendly way. 

“What about your boyfriend? I would love to, but I just want to make sure before I agree.” 

You’d hate to get the wrong idea. 

“He’ll be okay with it. I can ask though if you want me to.” 

You fiddle with your shirt and watch as he pulls out his phone. Suguru types a quick message, not even a second later his phone vibrates with an answer. 

He turns the screen towards you, letting you read the words. 

Suguru: I’m gonna go on a date with this girl from the book store

Asshole: Alright

Asshole: Is she hot? 

Suguru: She’s beautiful 

Your heart stutters at the compliment, your curiosity slightly piqued at the name in his phone. Asshole? Maybe that wasn’t that weird. 

“Would you be free tomorrow?” He asks while sliding his phone away.

“Yeah, as long as it’s after I get off.”

“Nice, I can pick you up or we can meet here?” 

You trusted him, but you wanted to get to know him more before bringing him back to your house. 

“Let’s meet here?” 

“Okay. What’s your number?” 

You give him your number and he shares his. It’s close to closing time once you finish so you decide to head home, the encounter with Suguru still fresh on your mind. 

He seemed normal. Not in a bad way, but normal nonetheless. You mostly interacted with sorcerers, so going on a date with someone who wasn’t one felt weird. You wouldn’t have to be worried about work or anything else. You would be able to have average conversations. 

You couldn’t wait. 

~~~

You feel giddy when you wake up the next day. Your date would be later in the afternoon and you were having a hard time containing yourself. All you had to do was get by the day, which wouldn’t be hard. There was a small mission you had to take Inumaki and Panda on, but after that you would be free. 

As you stood there you watched the two of them work, paying attention to their form so you could give pointers after. It donned on you how odd it really was. 

If Suguru asked you what you did today were you supposed to tell him you fought monsters with a personified panda? 

Yeah, you would have to keep that to yourself. 

You would have been able to keep it all to yourself, that is until Panda accidentally scratches you with his paw, causing blood to leak from your cheek. You lecture him to pay attention to his surroundings as the red liquid pours from your face. It takes the rest of the ride home for it to stop bleeding, and the throbbing pain doesn’t go away. You were gonna have to figure out how to explain that to Suguru. 

The second the work day is done, you’re rushing home to put together your outfit. Suguru didn’t tell you really what to wear, only advising that it should be something light as you would be spending time outside. You settle on a flowy dress that cut off above your knees, you actually felt cute. 

You leave your house early, intent on arriving before Suguru to make a good impression. Unfortunately for you, it seems Suguru had the same plan. 

You check your phone, you had arrived ten minutes early and Suguru was already leaning against the bookstore, looking comfortable as he slouches. 

“I’m sorry! Were you waiting long?” 

Suguru looks up from his phone at the sound of your voice. His eyes drag across your figure, the action making the hair on your neck stand on edge. Those eyes. Were you ever going to get used to them? 

His lips quirk up in a small smile, putting his phone away. He was wearing a black shirt with black sweatpants, his hair half up, the top pinned behind his head. 

“No, I just got here,” 

You find that hard to believe. 

“You look amazing.” He finishes. 

You try to stave off the embarrassment, waving your hand. When Suguru walks up to you, you finally notice how huge he is. He was tall, with a structure that took your breath away. 

You wonder what he did to stay in shape. 

“What happened to your cheek?” His voice is dripping with concern, brows furrowed as he raises his hand up. His thumb brushes on the skin below your cut. 

“Oh! Um, one of my students was a bit reckless today. It didn’t hurt all that much.” 

His eyes dance across your face, digesting your answer before dropping his hand. He looked genuinely concerned. It was cute. He must’ve been the protective type. 

“I see. I’m sorry that happened.” He sounds remorseful even though he wasn’t the one to cause it. “Are you ready?” 

And with that the two of you set off. Suguru told you he was showing you a place with butterflies, and you weren’t quite sure what he meant by that. Excitement bubbles in your veins as you walk. 

The entire time he spoke you couldn’t help but put all your undivided attention on him. He was magnetizing. A natural born speaker, you thought. 

Suguru must notice your silence as he stops himself from talking. 

“My bad, I’m rambling.” 

“No! Not at all. I like listening, you have a soothing voice.” 

“Well thank you.” Pink dust settles on his cheeks. 

As you inch closer to your destination, your fingers brush against his, the movement causing your heart to race. 

Would it be weird to ask him if you could hold his hand? 

“We’re here.” Suguru stops in front of a building. It was a bit unassuming, grey concrete walls and few windows. 

There were butterflies here? 

Suguru notices your expression and chuckles. 

“Trust me.” 

You can’t find it in your heart to doubt him. 

He leads you inside, walking up to the front desk where a middle aged woman is standing by a computer. Her eyes are kind, hands weathered as she types. 

“Can we get two tickets for the observatory?” 

You fidget behind Suguru, appreciating the length of his hair cascading down his back. 

You kind of wanted to touch it. 

“Of course! Here you go sweetheart.” The lady digs around, grabbing two tickets while Suguru pulls out cash. 

The exchange is over as soon as it started, and Suguru is leading you down a long hallway. When he pushes the doors open at the end of it, you’re greeted by fresh air, a short path leading to a giant glass dome. It’s hard to see on the inside of it, but it looks like it’s filled with plants. 

“Let’s go.” He says with a grin, reaching his hand out towards you. 

Your heart skips a beat at the gesture. You grab his hand, interlacing your fingers together. He’s warm. His palm the perfect mix between soft and calloused. His long fingers don’t get past your attention either. Suguru pulls you along to the dome, holding the door open for you. 

When you step inside you’re hit with an overwhelming fragrance. It smelled like a mix between soil and flowers, the sweet scent covering you completely. 

It’s nothing short of amazing. There’s plants everywhere, you had never been to a jungle before but you were sure this is what it would look like. 

“Suguru, this is…” 

“Look!” He urges, pointing up. 

You snap your head up, following the direction of his finger. Above you was a small colony of monarch butterflies, maybe twenty of them flying around. They were low enough that you were able to appreciate the brightness of their wings, orange hues darting around as they flew. 

Your lips part in amazement and you’re unable to tear your gaze away. You were sure you had never seen anything this beautiful before. 

“Amazing, right?”

Suguru’s smooth voice floats over to you, snapping you back to him. When you turn around to look at him, his eyes are already on you. His mouth is spread in a soft grin, eyes twinkling as he looks down at you. 

“This is perfect, Suguru. How did you find this place?”

“After I read the book we were talking about I just had to know what it felt like to be surrounded by butterflies so I did some digging and found it. I come here every so often, although it’s been awhile since I have. I figured it would be more fun if I brought someone with me. I was right.” His eyes are glued on your smile as you look away, following the butterflies with your eyes. 

You find a walkway and set a slow pace, stopping every so often to read the metal plaques that were placed about, explaining the different types of flora and butterflies. You weren’t entirely sure what you were expecting, but it definitely wasn’t this. Your chest swelled with joy as you went on, listening as Suguru read you the plaques. 

“It really is magical, just like it was in the book. Thank you.” You can’t hide the vulnerability from your voice. 

Suguru’s eyes crinkle when he smiles, a cute habit you noticed, and he squeezes your hand. 

“Of course, thank you for joining me.” 

The two of you spend several hours there, a leisurely pace set between you. It was hard to want to go home when you knew the world outside was this beautiful. You wonder if colors will seem dull compared to this place. You were betting on it. 

When families begin to filter in you both decide to head out. You were glad kids were gonna experience the same joy you had, but you wanted more privacy with Suguru, even if you had to go home soon. If you could spend more time with him, you would. Unfortunately duty calls and you had work early in the morning, effectively cutting your date much shorter than you would have liked. 

Much like yesterday's date. 

You agree to let him walk you back home, if only to spend as much time together as possible. He never let go of your hand ever since the observatory, and you were grateful for it. His large palm provided some sense of protection, relief you didn’t know you needed. 

Your apartment comes into view far quicker than you were hoping. You could have lived on campus, but you instead opted to find a place elsewhere. Jujutsu High was your home, but you wanted to be able to separate yourself from it occasionally. You were able to find an apartment for a decent price, only staying there to sleep and change. Every so often when it was too late, you crashed in a dorm at the school, but you made sure to keep those occurrences low. 

“This is it.” You sigh out, turning to face Suguru. 

“I had fun today.” He stops and looks down at you, his body relaxed as he addresses you. 

“I did too! Maybe we can hang out again sometime?” 

Kiss me, kiss me, you internally beg. 

Your eyes focus on the way his lips morph as he talks. 

“I’d love that.” 

Please, kiss me. 

Suguru keeps your hand in his as he leans down, placing his lips gently on your forehead. 

Oh. 

That was different, yet it made your heart beat faster than a normal kiss would have. The intimacy of it all struck you like a freight train. No one had given you a forehead kiss before. His lips linger for a moment, before he’s pulling away all too soon. 

“I’ll call you?” 

Your throat squeezes as you try to force words out, but you’re all too flustered. 

“I’ll be waiting.” You say, trying to seem cool. 

Suguru chuckles softly before letting go of your hand. Your palm feels chilly the second he lets go. You’ll see him again, you remind yourself. Hopefully. 

You force yourself to make your way to your door, body trembling in excitement. It felt like you took all the butterflies home with you, their wings fluttering inside your chest as you close the door behind you. After a couple of deep breaths you’re able to cool down, although you still felt a tingle on your forehead where his lips were. 

Two dates in two days, not too bad. 

Hopefully the momentum will stay strong.

As you get ready for bed, you replay the events of the past two days over in your head, your heart swelling with exhilaration. When you drift off to sleep, your dreams are filled with crepes and butterflies. 

Tag List: @tojislittleprincesss, @dinolvrrr, @kimi01985, @constawrites

If you want to be added to the taglist just let me know, please specify if you want to be added for all my works or just this fic

#my writing #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #satoru x you #suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto x reader #suguru x you #suguru geto x you #geto x you #poly satosugu #gojo x reader x suguru #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk

[tickle-bugs]

Pre-Flight Checks

@allytheally: hi :) here's a prompt: you reblogged this thing a while ago about the seatbelts on aircraft (one on the shoulder, waist, and individual ones for the thighs) (https://www.tumblr.com/tickle-bugs/715247149506609152/hey-there-i-work-with-fighter-jets-super-hornets?source=share) and I think it'd be great if you wrote something incorporating this idea... like maybe lee!hangman and ler!rooster or lee!mav and ler!iceman and/or ler!slider? honestly any pairing would be cool

“Gooooood mornin’, Rooster.” The heavy impacts of boots on the stepladder send Bradley’s eye twitching. Hangman’s presence has a volume the way bright light slowly wears on the eyes.

“What do you want?” 

“Me? I just came over to help with your pre-flight checks.” Hangman grins, cocksure. A sliver of sunshine lights up his eyes over the edge of his aviators. 

“I’m clear, but thanks.” Bradley gives a little ‘shoo’ motion with his hands. 

“Lemme give it a second opinion.” Hangman hoists himself up to get a better view of the cockpit. He makes a big show of scanning over the switches and buttons and humming in thought. 

“Knock yourself out.” Bradley snorts and turns away. Hangman’s indecipherable muttering falls easily away under the buzz of his brain. He double and triple checks everything, noting the feel of each switch and knob under his practiced hands. Finding the rhythm of his plane is half the ritual.

Wiggling fingers fit suddenly into the curve of Bradley’s waist and he barks out a laugh, knees jerking against the straps holding him. 

He blinks at Hangman. Hangman grins at him. 

“Don’t--” Bradley dives to grab his hands, but the seatbelts, ever-dutiful, wrench him back into place. 

“Oh, now that sounds like you’ve got somethin’ loose. No pilot should be making that noise.” Hangman tuts, but he doesn’t stop, just lets his stupid hands do their stupid crawl across his stupidly sensitive stomach. Bradley lets out a giggly shriek and tries to fold in half. 

“Oh, Mav wasn’t kidding. This is my lucky day.”

“Youuuu--” Whatever half-baked insult Bradley was aiming for is smothered by his own laughter. 

“Meeeee. Say, are you ticklish anywhere else? Gotta catalogue this for future use. Scream once for yes or twice for no.” Hangman tazes his sides and Bradley’s voice cracks around his laughter.

He’s going to die in this plane. He better die in this plane, otherwise he’s going to gut Hangman like a fish.

…No, he won’t. 

Bradley manages to plant his hand square on Hangman’s face and start pushing, and the ultimatum between continuing the torment or falling onto concrete makes Hangman finally, blessedly let go. 

“Seems like everything’s in order. Pleasant skies, Rooster.” Hangman pats his shoulder and hops down out of sight. 

In his mind’s eye, he’s shaking Hangman by the shoulders until his brain falls out of his ears. In practice, he’s turning his burning face and shy half-smile back towards the controls with hopes of killing both.

…

“Mornin’, Bradshaw.” Hangman pops up like a gopher. Bradley jumps and nearly flips his lounge chair. 

“Seresin.” He exhales tightly through his nose. He stays very still—maybe he can still salvage the last throes of the sun-warmed nap he was finding his way towards. 

“You seem tense.” Hangman cocks his head in something that passes for concern. The rushing ocean suddenly sounds more like an omen. 

“There’s no one else around for you to bother right now?” Bradley leans up on his elbows to search for the other Daggers. He can hear Fanboy laughing somewhere, he thinks, but Hangman’s giant head blotting out the sun is the only thing he can see. 

“Nope!” Hangman makes a big show of cracking his knuckles and stretching his fingers. Bradley’s eyes widen. 

“Don’t you dare.” 

“You’ll have to be more specific. Don’t what?” The expression that Hangman generates overshoots innocence by a country mile. 

“Tickle me, you asshole.” Bradley winds an arm around his torso and scrambles up in his lounge chair. The fluttery kick of anticipation slaps a smile straight across his face. 

“I can’t believe you fell for that.”

“Fell for--”

Bradley pauses as it dawns on him. Watching it dawn on Hangman is worse--his entire face brightens with mischief. 

Bradley starts stammering through a protest and giggling through another, but Hangman’s kneeling over him before any of it becomes coherent. He flails hard enough to send them both tumbling into the sand. Never in his life has he been more grateful to be alone, if only to keep the pitch of his laughter between him and the menace causing it.

He makes a note to keep his shirt on at the beach. 

…

Maybe a week or so of this puts Bradley in a…strange headspace. Distracted. 

Touch is nice, but there’s more of it lately, enough to make him notice and crave its absence in a way he hadn’t before. When Phoenix leans into his side or Fanboy claps his shoulder, he misses the warmth of their touch after. Even Hangman’s utter nonsense sets a gentle buzz into his chest. It’s dizzying. 

He’s so lost in the ache of it that Mav catches on, and it kicks solidly into that tangle of ‘complicated shit’ between them that he keeps putting away for increasingly rainer days. He’d gotten so used to Mav tiptoeing around him as if he were fragile that the first gentle touch on the shoulder almost shatters him. 

The Daggers meet for a barbecue at Mav’s and Bradley shows up early with a bottle of Ice’s favorite Pinot. Things may be complicated, but the mushy smiles on Ice and Mav’s faces are not. It’s nice, putting ‘complicated’ in motion towards being something else. Something lighter. 

Later into the night, Bradley’s got his feet kicked up on the couch in the hangar and the radio crooning slowly in his ear. 

He watches Mav and Ice dance--more of a sway, really, as they banter. Mav’s got a playful tilt to his smile, one that suggests he’s being as much a menace as he’s visibly in love. Bradley smiles and hums along, halfheartedly wondering what Mav might be pestering Ice with.

“This seat taken?” Not waiting for an answer, Hangman picks up his ankles and takes their spot. Bradley brings his heels down hard on his thigh. He gets a swat on the ankle for his trouble. Still, the weight of Hangman’s arm on his legs is comforting. Solid. 

A room full of people to bother, yet Hangman finds him. Hm. 

“Why’re you so obsessed with me lately?” Bradley nudges him with his ankle. Hangman’s eyebrows raise.

Well. He’d meant to say that with a bit more tact but it’s out there now, between them. 

Hangman snorts softly and passes Bradley a beer. He pops the caps on both and pockets them. Probably donations for Coyote’s collection. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, Bradshaw.” Hangman gives him an utterly complex and unreadable look before taking a swig of his beer. ‘Complex’ and ‘unreadable’ are not words that belong anywhere near him. 

“You didn’t answer the question.” Bradley frowns. 

“It’s a stupid question.” 

“Seresin.” Bradley leans forward to smack his shoulder. 

“Alright, fine.” Hangman exhales tightly. “You’ve been moping around like a dark fuckin’ cloud these past few weeks and we couldn’t figure out how to get you out of it. We ran out of ideas and eventually Mav realized he couldn’t hide from us anymore, so he coughed up a solution. Something he said we could try, and I quote, ‘at risk of your lives’. Never thought he’d suggest tickling, but--”

“You went to Mav?”  

“Yeah, and Mav—“ Hangman imitates the way Bradley’s voice cracks— “told Phoenix to try it if all else failed, she told Bob, Bob told me, and now we’re here. And it worked.”

Bradley’s brain stalls out. He sits up, bracing his elbows on his knees. He drops his face into his hands. 

“Oh my god. So everyone knows?” He peeks through his fingers. Hangman shrugs.

“Well, I don’t think Fanboy was paying much attention.” He scratches idly at his jaw. 

“Mav said if all else failed. I didn’t—you guys didn’t try anything else.” Bradley fiddles with the label on the bottle. 

Hangman raises his eyebrow in the precise shape of ‘oh really?’. 

“Remember when Bob tried to buy you soup? Or when Payback made a fool of himself trying to sing Great Balls of Fire? Or when Fanboy tried to introduce you to Star Trek? Or—“

Oh. 

For maybe the only time in his life, Hangman snaps his jaw shut. Bradley furrows his brow. 

“Look…point is, you keep making that exact face you’ve got right now, and concerned parties asked me to investigate.” Hangman swirls his finger around Bradley’s face. He swats it away on habit, but fondness bubbles in the base of his throat. 

“Concerned parties?” A smile sneaks under his mustache.

“Yeah, Phoenix and the rest of them were worried. Not me though.” Hangman takes a long, incriminating swig from his bottle. 

“Not you?” Bradley tilts his head teasingly.

“Nope. I’m a neutral party. Like Sweden.”

“It’s Switzerland, dumbass.” Bradley knocks shoulders with him. Something about Hangman’s smile tells him he already knew that.

“Sure. Whatever.” Hangman throws his arm across the back of the couch. His fingers brush Bradley’s arm. The fondness settles into a resonant hum deep in Bradley’s chest.

“You’ve got your shit with Mav and your past. I get it. But some of us would like to see you smile more than twice a week.” Hangman gestures with his bottle. His movements are loose in the practiced Seresin way, but the care on his face is stunningly plain. 

“Some of us?” Bradley grins. Hangman narrows his eyes. 

“Concerned parties.” His cheeks grow rosy even as he scowls. 

“You are obsessed with me and I’m telling Phoenix.” Bradley pats his shoulder and makes a break for it. A fist grabs a handful of his collar. 

“Like hell you are!” 

The (thankfully empty) bottles clatter to the floor as Hangman wrestles an already-laughing Bradley back down to the couch. He tries not to think too hard about hearing Mav cheer in the background. 

…

Bradley does not start fights. He does not. He finishes them.

He slips past Phoenix and Bob, nodding in passing, and ducks up to Hangman’s Super Hornet. He can feel their eyes on him--especially Bob, he’s got a killer stare for someone so quiet--but he ignores it. 

It’s not a fight, not really, but if he thinks about what he’s doing too hard he’s going to lock himself in a supply closet somewhere. 

Bradley hops up the steps alongside the cockpit. 

“Rooster! To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing your ugly mug?” Hangman grins and bats his eyelashes. 

“I heard you were challenging Mav. Wanted to get a good look at you before you spend the rest of the evening with your face to the tarmac.” Rooster holds up his fingers like a picture frame. 

“Try not to miss me too much.” Hangman winks, insufferable as always. 

“Miss you? Every second you’re not buzzing around down here is a second of peace.” Bradley reaches up and knocks on his helmet. 

“Would you kindly get the fuck off my plane?” Hangman swats lazily at him. Bradley bats his hands away. 

“Before you go, just thought I’d see how your pre-flight checks are going?”

Hangman goes rigid. Bradley grins evilly at him.

“Bradshaw, don’t you fuckin’—“ 

Bradley fumbles with Hangman’s hands and flight equipment until he can jam his fingers right into the soft parts of his side. Hangman yelps and nearly jumps out of his skin. The seatbelts ensure there’s nowhere for him to go, and the clacking of the buckles only spurs Bradley on.

“I thought you’d put up more of a fight than this, Hangman.” Bradley tuts and shakes his head, worming his fingers up under straps to get at his ribs. Hangman well and truly shrieks.

“I am g-going to kill you!” Hangman shakes with the force of his laughter, folded awkwardly into his seatbelts. He shoves uselessly at Bradley’s chest. 

“And I’m never gonna let this go. Think I could get you to do that again, or are you a one hit wonder?” Bradley squeezes quickly at Hangman’s thigh. His hands slap down hard on top of Bradley’s and he starts cackling his way to incoherency. 

Bradley raises his eyebrow and times the squeezes to every escape attempt. It’s incredibly entertaining to listen to Hangman reinvent the squeal. He wonders if the other Daggers know about this yet. 

The sound of a throat clearing nearly sends Bradley toppling backwards off the plane. Strong hands heave him upright and he turns--Maverick’s eyes crinkle around the edges of his sunglasses. 

“Appreciate you getting a head start on destroying him, Rooster, but I believe that’s my job.” Mav pats him on the shoulder. Bradley goes to duck away, but Hangman makes a swipe for his sides, and he can’t let that stand. He leans back into the cockpit and tickles Hangman’s ribs until he’s screeching between hiccups and an interesting shade of red. 

“Aren’t you ssssupposed to help me?” Hangman crumples in around Bradley’s hands, wriggling like a worm on a hook. 

“Help you? No. Teach you? Sure. Wheels up in two minutes. Hopefully you’ll learn a thing or two about getting your ass handed to you.” Mav pulls Bradley back by the shoulder. He lets it happen. Hangman thunks his head back against his seat, chest heaving. 

“Bold words, Pops. We’ll see who comes out on top.” He clicks his tongue and winks. Insufferable bastard. 

“See you in the skies, Hangman.” Mav pokes Hangman’s stomach. 

…

The lounge at Top Gun hums with quiet chatter through the evening as the Daggers share drinks. Bradley’s tucked against the wall with Phoenix and Bob under his arms. He’s half watching Fanboy and Payback fumble through a game of pool, half listening to a story Phoenix is telling, and fully content to lose himself in the sound of her voice. 

The door slams open, welcoming a sweaty and disgruntled Hangman to the room. Scattered laughter and teasing applause kicks up among the other Daggers. He gives the entire room the finger. 

“Yeah, laugh it up. I was off my game.” He pushes his hair out of his eyes. Coyote offers him a pity beer. He takes it. 

“I wonder why.” Bradley chuckles. Phoenix swats his chest. Hangman locks eyes with him, absolutely feral. Bradley goes to make a run for it, but Phoenix hooks her arms under his. He could break her grip if he really tried, but…

When Hangman barrels towards him and tackles him over the back of the couch, Bradley can’t say he doesn’t deserve it.

#ok this was supposed to be mostly lee!hangman but i started thinking about bradley and blacked out #hope you still like it tho!! hangman still gets got as he should #idc if you tag this as ship btw #background icemav bc they are married #special thanks to chock who reminded me that writing is fun and i like to do it <3 #my fics #top gun maverick #ticklish!rooster #ticklish!hangman #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #jake 'hangman' seresin #not tagging the other daggers they're barely here <3 #idk how I feel about this fic still but it was fun to write

[pe0ple3ater]

Your bottom Etoiles content is FEEDING me you get it you get it he’s the most bottom man ever

Thoughts on Foolish and Etoiles? I honestly think they’d have the BEST sex, like they’re so competitive with each other, I love the idea of them like fighting over who tops until Foolish like just manhandles him down and Etoiles crumbles. Also the size kink possibilities 👀

HELLOOO Foolish my beloved. Etoiles, most service bottom man ever. Okay I'm so sorry that this is a fucking MESS because I worked on it over multiple days blah blah. I love them though, hope you enjoy!

The problem is, it's annoying.

Foolish has been alive for a long time. He's spent hundreds of mating seasons alone. It's not really a problem. It's just annoying. He's got work to do, things to build. He can't do any of it if he's so horny he's afraid he'll jump the first person he sees.

So he's in his shitty house with his meager supplies, hard and annoyed. He runs his hand through his hair and reaches down to palm at his crotch, groaning lightly and considering calling Bad. They've spent many of Foolish's mating seasons together. Bad is a good partner when he needs to be, but there's something wrong with him right now, and Foolish doesn't like the sickly chemical smell on him.

He drops his head back against his pillows and snarls, irritated and frustrated.

Like the universe wants him to suffer, there's a knock on the door. He knows it's not Tubbo; something happened to him a few days ago, and he hasn't returned. It's none of the eggs. Foolish groans and tugs on a loose pair of pants, uncaring of his way, his erections are still highly visible. He leans against the doorframe and opens the door with an annoyed huff.

Etoiles is in front of him, inventory open while he'd been waiting for Foolish to open the door. He looks up, and a grin spreads across his face. Foolish tries not to bare his teeth, instincts telling him Etoiles is standing too confidently, his smile is too wide. Foolish tenses, fighting the need to take him down a few pegs.

"My bro, let's spar," Etoiles says, eyes trailing over Foolish's face and smile widening at his annoyed expression. "You will feel better," he urges, stepping more into Foolish's space and looking up at him through his lashes.

Foolish smells him, earthy and almost floral, ripping a growl from his chest. Etoiles doesn't even flinch, and Foolish wants to grab him by the neck and make him scared enough to submit. If Foolish wasn't so out of his mind with his instincts, he might see through what Etoiles is doing. Suppose he wasn't so horny he couldn't think. In that case, he might see that Etoiles is offering himself to Foolish on a silver platter.

As it stands, Foolish isn't in his right mind.

He nods, grabbing Etoiles by the shoulder and dragging him to the field near Town of Fobo. Etoiles follows, grinning.

They fight, Etoiles doesn't go down easily. Foolish lets his brain haze over, losing himself to his instincts and needs. Every time he gets Etoiles pinned, the cucumber hybrid manages to squirm his way out. Foolish gets tired of it, snarling and getting his big hand in Etoiles' hair. He presses the man's face into the ground and straddles his back, hard and dripping a wet spot in his sweats. Etoiles shudders under him, thrashing and laughing breathlessly. Foolish grinds hard against Etoiles, panting and more worked up than before.

"You win my bro," Etoiles purrs, letting his body go soft and pliant under Foolish's grip. Foolish growls and tugs clumsily at Etoiles' pants, getting them off and spitting directly on his hole. Etoiles is making soft noises under him, hands digging into the grass. Foolish presses two fingers slowly inside of him, groaning at the tight heat. He grinds his cocks against Etoiles' thigh and stretches him out quickly, sloppily.

When Etoiles starts getting squirmy and impatient, Foolish pulls away and presses one dick into Etoiles in one swift push.

Etoiles gasps, choking on his moan and shuddering hard. Foolish is easily the biggest on the island; he fills Etoiles like he's never been filled before. Foolish is one of the only people who manages to make Etoiles feel small, the way he towers over him, the way his dick feels like it's splitting Etoiles in half. He's drooling, and Foolish is barely fucking him. He's so big that it's impossible for him to not be pressing against Etoiles' prostate on every pass.

Foolish leans more of his weight onto Etoiles, pinning him and starting to pound into him. Etoiles can't keep his mouth shut, moaning and whimpering. Foolish purrs and leans down, pressing him deeper into Etoiles. He latches onto his shoulder, sharp teeth digging into his skin and holding on. Etoiles yelps, his dick twitches, and he's cumming untouched on the ground. Foolish groans, every thrust forward dragging the dick not stuffed inside of Etoiles against the length of Etoiles' cock, making him gasp and twitch.

Foolish chases his release, ignoring the pathetic whines from the body under him. He removes his teeth and licks eagerly at the wound, hands tightening on Etoiles' waist and in his hair. He snarls when he cums, pressing down on Etoiles harder and making sure the man can't move. Etoiles groans softly at the feeling, eyes rolling back and hands scrambling against the ground, trying to get any kind of stability.

Foolish pants, pressed as deep as he can go inside Etoiles, calming down a bit. He runs his hands gently up and down Etoiles' sides, watching the man below him shudder and whine.

"It's better?" Etoiles asks, laughing shakily. Foolish hums softly and leans down to nuzzle against Etoiles' neck, nipping behind his ear and keeping his softening cock inside of him.

"I'm not done with you yet."

#qsmpnsfw #eto!les #fool!sh #obsessed with fool!sh having two dicks #so is eto!les

[slashersthings]

bad idea, right? // Billy Loomis x Reader

“God this place is crowded.” Your friend groans out from somewhere behind you. You were eager to agree with her while you slide on top of a barstool, fingers tapping the sticky bar counter while waiting to order drinks.

The night out of partying had been unexpected but welcomed in your eyes. You definitely needed to chill out and get drunk for once in your life. Or at least that’s what everyone always told you.

So that’s how you found yourself at this overcrowded and chaotic bar, wearing a tight little black dress that was way too short than you were used to. It rides up your thighs when you sit down and with a sigh, you tug the hem down as much as the fabric would allow.

But after two rum and coke’s you were feeling much better and even let your more wild friend drag you with her to the dance floor. You laugh and sway your hips, feeling good to let loose for the night.

You danced with her for a good while, but she soon got distracted by a random stranger and you watch on as she gets swept up in muscular arms and tanned skin, a twinge of jealousy irking you.

You reach the bar again, trying, but failing desperately to get the busy bartender’s attention so you could order a third drink. You were just about to give up when a gruff voice from beside you says, “You should try being a bit more aggressive.”

You weren’t asking for advice but something inside you compels you to reply with a, “Is that so?”

The voice belonged to a man that looked to be your age you notice when you glimpse at him. The next thought that popped in your brain was how incredibly hot this guy was.

He offers you a sly grin before hollering for the bartender, ordering two drinks and two shots.

You quirk a brow when a glass of rum and coke comes your way down the counter, followed by a shot of tequila. “Trying to get me drunk?”

“Will you stay here if I say yes?”

Without answering, you tap his shot glass and knock back the liquor, wincing as it burned down your throat before dropping the glass back to the countertop. “God, I hate tequila.”

You reach for your more liked rum and coke, taking a long sip as your new friend laughs to himself. “I hope I got your drink right.”

You were a little taken aback that he had in fact gotten it right. “Yes.”

“Was that a yes to your drink or yes you’ll stay?”

He was smirking now, that smugness making you feel all sorts of things as you wiggle on the bar stool. “That’s for me to know and for you to find out.”

“Well you haven’t gotten up and left yet, so…”

That was true. Plus it wasn’t like you could turn down a free drink. So with a discreet smile, you take another sip. “My name’s Y/N.”

“Billy.” He answers.

You felt yourself unable to stop staring at him.

Not only was he hot, but he also had this bad boy vibe mixed with a little bit dangerous that made you oddly attracted to him as you move in closer. “Here alone?” You ask him, feeling a rush of confidence thanks to the liquor coursing through your veins.

“Nah, my friend is here somewhere dancing.”

“Likewise. Guess that leaves you and me.”

“Something tells me you don’t mind that.”

You duck your head when a pretty blush creeps up your face. You distract yourself by taking another long swig of your drink, finally answering with a simple, “Maybe.”

“Something also tells me that you’re here to get some revenge.”

You turn back to him, shocked. Had you been that obvious? “The dress, the attitude, not telling me to take a hike,” Billy continues, pointing out every single dutiful aspect of your revenge scheme, almost like he had been there with you earlier picking out the outfit.

“So what’d he do?”

“Fucked my friend.” You admit honestly.

“He’s an idiot.” You nod in agreement, finishing off your drink with a sigh. “Well then you deserve to have some fun.”

“That’s what everyone tells me.”

“So when was the last time you had any?”

Your brow raises. The smirk on his face implied that he was no longer referring to just plain fun as he leans against the bar, watching you.

“Too long.”

His eyes run down your body slowly then back up to find you waiting expectantly for a response. “I could help change that, if you want.”

Oh you wanted. You shift in your seat, squeezing your thighs together, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Billy.

“Yes.”

—

Your entire body was on fire with need as Billy pushes you backwards onto his bed and climbs on top of you. You had lost your dress and bra somewhere along the way, maybe between the front door and his bedroom but you didn’t really care of the whereabouts.

Not when Billy was kissing you hard, tongue sweeping into your mouth as you’re dragged from your thoughts and back to the present.

Your hands fly to his hair as you moan and open your mouth, tasting the liquor he’d been drinking earlier at the bar.

You roll your hips against him, moaning again at the contact. “How long’s it been?” Billy asks and leans up slightly, hands running down your body as you think for a second.

“… Erm, a month?”

“Was he good?”

“He wasn’t terrible.”

Billy quirks a brow, that damn smirk returning to his lips as you grind against him. “Ringing endorsement, Y/N.”

Your name on his lips has you moaning, hips bucking as his fingers glide down between your thighs then back up again, purposefully ignoring your whine of protest when he didn’t go right to where you desperately wanted him.

“He was decent.” You offer again, muscles twitching at his low chuckle while his hands slide back up to your chest, fingers brushing against your nipples.

“Yeah?” Billy questions, “What’d he do that was so exciting for you? Was it his tongue, or was it his fingers?”

“Fingers I guess.” You answer quickly, shrugging. “He wasn’t into… y’know.”

“What a shame.” He mutters, lips finding your neck as he presses sloppy kisses from your throat to your collarbone, tongue sliding across your skin. His fingers dance back down your stomach, asking, “Was he even good at fingering you?”

The words have you moaning, coupled with Billy’s expert fingers running down your thighs and back up again, toying with the lace edge of your panties. “Hmm? How wet did you get for him?”

You were incapable of thinking about your previous boyfriend but what you did know was that Billy’s questions alone already had you incredibly wet and he hadn’t even really touched you fully yet.

Your hips grind against his fingers, but when you don’t answer, he stops out of the blue. You whine again, eyes opening to glare up at him.

“You can take these off, you know.” You were referring to your underwear, and he chuckles again.

“Oh I know. A little eager, aren’t we?” He taunts you with a smirk, his fingers skating under the band of your panties, discovering just how wet you were already.

You whimper when he withdraws his fingers after a second. “Did you get this wet for your ex boyfriend?”

“I don’t think you did,” Billy adds, answering for you since all you could coherently do was groan out a curse. “I think you like it like this. You like being talked to, you like being told to wait.”

“Fuck,” You moan again, the heat growing in your stomach making it hard to concentrate on anything but that. You had never wanted to be utterly ravaged like this before.

“Am I right, Y/N? Did he ever get you this wet before?”

“No.” You admit, shaking your head.

Instead of responding, he kisses you again, then down your neck, down down until he finds your breasts and kisses patterns across them, tongue flicking against your nipples.

You moan, hips bucking, fingers tightening in his hair as his mouth moves down your body, licking and sucking on every inch of your skin.

He groans when he reaches your underwear, helping to take them off of you before carelessly tossing them to the floor by his bed.

You weren’t expecting the first lick of his tongue against your exposed clit, a rush of moans and curses falling from your lips. He leans back and chuckles, pressing soft kisses all along your thighs.

“Your boyfriend didn’t like going down on you?”

His voice was a mixture of annoyance and judging as his tongue darts back out to flick against your clit again, your moans sounding like music to his ears as he laps at your wet folds.

“Oh, fuck,” You groan out when he increases his pace, hips bucking against him. A loud cry is ripped from your throat, back arching as you squirm and moan Billy’s name.

His tongue circles your sensitive bud, flicking it as your cries grow more louder and desperate for release. Your hips roll once then twice, crashing forward as a spasming tremor hit you, flowing out in a hot wave as you fall back on the bed and attempt to catch your breath.

Billy crawls back up your body, pulling you in for a kiss after your first orgasm. His tongue slides across your bottom lip, swallowing your breathless moan as you taste yourself.

Thank god you came out tonight.

#kind of smutty #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #scream #horror one shot #horror

[3-2-whump]

Tying Up Loose Ends

<prev

Okay I'm back!

(But you had hardly left!)

Whatever! Here's the next chapter and the conclusion of this

TW/CW: creepy whumper, jealous whumper, manipulative whumper (I guess?), nsfwhump (not graphically described), noncon (at the very end, not graphically described, and honestly you could end the chapter just before it happens and it would still make sense)

A rhythmic series of knocks reverberated through the door of the office at half past eleven, just as Thomas had planned. He scooted closer towards his desk and minimized the windows he had opened on his desktop PC. “Come in,” he replied.

The door cracked open. The kid –Nico, my nephew, Michael once told him–stepped hesitantly inside, shoulders to ears, brows drawn tensely. “Y-you wanted to see me, Boss?”

“I did.” He gestured to a chair in front of the desk. Nico approached it stiffly, visibly uncomfortable being so close to the Don of the Costa Family. “Oh come on, sit down, I don’t bite, you know!” he chuckled.

Nico briefly looked around the room, eyes bright and alert. “Wait, where’s Khaled?” he asked, blinking at the empty space behind the Boss’ chair.

“On a coffee run,” Thomas answered simply. He suppressed an eye roll as Nico looked down, squinting at the bottom of the desk as if he could see through it if he stared hard enough. He cleared his throat, and Nico snapped his gaze back up. “I could ask him to get you something before he leaves the café, if you’d like?”

Nico shook his head. “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience him like that,” he insisted. The young man drew back the chair and took his seat across from the Don, and waited in questioning silence.

No matter how many times he had rehearsed this meeting in his head, nor how many arrangements he had to make over the past couple days to lead the boy to this point, Thomas still couldn’t help the nerves that feathered into the edges of his composure. Keep it cool, keep your tone calm, never betray how you truly feel, stay in control, a familiar voice once told him.

“So, how’s school?” An innocuous line, and as good an opener as any.

“Great, it’s been great.” Nico huffed an awkward little laugh as he hung his signature smile. “Which reminds me, thank you so much for allowing me this job in the first place, sir! I never got to thank you properly, or in person before-”

Thomas stopped him with one raised palm. “Hey, hey, that wasn’t all me. Let’s give a little credit to your Uncle Mike, too, right?” Nico conceded with another awkward laugh. “I understand it that this job helps you pay for your schooling, is that correct?”

“I mean, yeah,” Nico began to answer. “I don’t know how much college was back in your day, let alone law school-”

I never went to college, Thomas remembered, trailing off into his own thoughts as Nico kept nervously rambling. That was never really my scene. Never really had the brains for it, or the personability, according to my teachers. My brother, the Golden Child, on the other hand…

He redirected his thoughts at the right time where Nico started to complain about the most important part. “Wait, can you say that again?” he requested.

“My last tuition payment didn’t go through,” Nico repeated, an edge of desperation in his voice. “And if I don’t scrounge up enough money within the next two months, I won’t be able to afford my next semester’s worth of classes!”

Thomas gave a sympathetic expression of concern, even though he knew about this all along. After all, he was the one who delayed the payment to the college. “Is that so?” he asked with feigned interest.

The door cracked open again, though this time a familiar young intern entered. He cradled a cup of coffee in one hand and carried a takeout bag in the other. The guard whipped his head around, nearly bolting from his chair in shock. “Khaled?”

“Nico?” The boy approached, dumbfounded as he wordlessly set the spoils of his errand onto the Boss’ desk.

“You actually were out?” This time, Thomas rolled his eyes. Was it so hard to believe he used his fuck toy for honest work sometimes? (He supposed maybe yes, considering how much Nico had probably inadvertently witnessed over the past three years.)

Khaled’s well-timed entry provided a natural transition to the second half of his plan. “Speaking of which, I would like to thank you for looking out for Khaled this last weekend,” Thomas said. His boy silently took up post behind the desk, standing up straight with eyes slightly downcast, as he had trained him. “You’re a good kid for that. Most guys, they probably would’ve taken liberties, but not you.” Thomas craned his neck to look over his office chair. “Isn’t he a good kid?”

“Yes, sir,” Khaled readily agreed.

“Oh, no, please, I’d have done that for anybody! He’s my friend.” Thomas noticed how Nico cast a furtive glance at the boy behind him.

Friend, my ass. The very thought of how ‘friendly’ those two might have gotten had he not intervened that night made him seethe in possessive jealousy, though he maintained that icy façade of control.

“Of course, even if Khaled doesn’t remember it, you and I both know he was a wreck, wasn’t he?” The boy had sworn up and down and sideways that he didn’t remember what he had told his friend that night, no matter how much he’d tried to beat a confession out of him. Thomas leaned over the desk, dropping the volume of his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. Since Khaled still had no idea what he had told Nico, the next best course of action was to discredit his words entirely. “He was saying some pretty crazy things, wasn’t he? Things that you and I both know not to take too seriously?”

“Well… I don’t know” Nico began, “don’t they say ‘in vino veritas?’”

“Don’t they also say ‘God don’t pay tuition?’”

You’re being too blunt again, a familiar voice in his memory chastised. Yet he couldn’t help but smile as he saw understanding dawn on the young man’s face. “Well, go on,” he coaxed the young man standing behind him. “Tell him.”

Khaled bristled uncomfortably before hanging his head low. “He’s right,” he agreed somberly. “I may not remember what I said, but, it was probably not true. You should just forget it.”

“But, Khaled-” Nico began to protest.

“You heard him yourself, kid,” Thomas cut in. “Now, you’re gonna forget whatever it was he said when he was wasted, and just keep studying hard, alright?”

Nico attempted to make meaningful eye contact beyond the boss’ shoulder, but Thomas didn’t have to turn around to know Khaled would keep his eyes firmly fixed to the floor. The young guard let out a defeated sigh as he slumped back in the chair and offered a small, reluctant nod. “Yes, sir. Like it never even happened,” he muttered.

Check mate.

“Good boy.” Thomas leaned back in his chair, his hands folding on the top of the desk as his mouth curled into a small smirk of victory. “Now, try contacting Student Financial Services again. I have a feeling your tuition payment might’ve been resolved after all.” He waved him off with a final self-satisfied smile. “You may go.”

The kid looked green around the gills as he pushed himself up from the chair and excused himself from the room. As soon as he left, Thomas swiveled around to face the boy behind him. Khaled ventured a resentful, hopeless glare into his owner’s eyes before looking once again to the floor. “Well?” he goaded. Khaled did not rise to the bait.

Thomas pushed away from the desk, motioning to the familiar darkness underneath the hardwood like he was commanding a dog to lie. “Go on.” He took a sip of the slightly cooled coffee as he watched his intern crouch and fold himself into the space with stiff reluctance. “You know what to do, and you know how hard you need to work to get back in my good graces,” he sneered. “Now, put that tongue of yours to a better use.” He pushed himself back in and trapped the young man underneath the desk.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344

#whump writing #creepy whumper #jealous whumper #manipulative whumper #nsfwhump #tw implied noncon #not graphically described but its there

[vay99]

Chifuyu x reader

Wounds

Anime/Manga: Tokyo revengers

"And another strike!" you cheer, score far ahead of Chifuyu who's currently sulking over the reults. "Awww don't be upset, you'll win eventually. One time you will win. Someday." 

"Thanks for the motivational speech." he grumbles as you two make your way out off the bowling center. 

"Any time." you laugh, wrapping your arms around his. "What's next?" 

"We can go to my place and play some video games." he suggests, scratching his neck with his free arm.

Before you could answer a group of men gets in your way, surrounding you. 

"Hey you! We've heard that you're from Toman. What's a looser like you doing here with such a bad chick?" one guy laughs making you wanna punsh his brain out. 

"Yeah why don't you get fucked while we have some fun with her." another laughs and if Chifuyu wasn't mad already he'd be boiling now. But... 

"Hey babe, why don't you ditch your boyfriend for me?" one guy steps closer to you being in the perfect range for you to kick his ribs into pieces. 

"I may not be a captain in Toman but I'm the one who taught them how to beat loosers like you are up." you smile as you use an uppercut to break another's chin. 

*20 minutes of fighting later*

16 guys knocked out on the ground has you smiling with satisfaction. Meanwhile Chifuyu knocks out his last opponent before sitting down on the street. 

"Chifuyu are you alright?" you kneel down next to him. 

"Yeah no worries, I just took a punsh in the face." he laughs it off as his nose starts bleeding. 

"No worries my ass, come with me we'll treat your wounds." you take his hand in yours as you walk to your house which is close by.

"It's not that bad." 

"Your face is not a punishing bag, it's not made to resist strong impacts. Yet you always get your face beaten in all colors of the rainbow." you point out as you make him sit down in the kitchen. 

"I like the rainbow." he puffs his cheeks. 

"Use make up not fists to decorate your face with it the next time." you ruffle his hair. 

"Do you have lipsticks in all 6 colors? If yes you could cover my face with lipstick stains then." 

"Wow they must've hit your head pretty bad." you fight back a smile, Chifuyu loves to tease-flirt from time to time but becomes shy right away. 

"They did but still." 

"I'll get my make up set when we're done then." 

Whenever you two hang out your friends would comment how you look like a couple or more than just friends. They'd call Chifuyu your boyfriend all the time. All the flirting doesn't help you two when you say that you're friends. You're unsure if it's just playful teasing or if he's for real so you two just keep going in circles. 

Cleaning the scratches and his bloody nose you loose yourself in your thoughts. 

/Now I wanna punsh these douchebags even more, his nose looks pretty bad. I can't take this, he's strong but if something happens to him I could never-/

"Hey, why are you crying?" Chifuyu asks, wiping the tear that escaped your glassy eyes. 

"Oh I just got emotional for a second, hate seeing my friends getting beaten up." you explain, rubbing your eyes. 

"I used to get beaten up even more before you thought me some tricks. Now I just take some hits and knock them all out." Chifuyu poses with his arms which makes you giggle. 

"Sure you do, I'll show you some more tomorrow." 

Silence surrounds you again as you put the plaster on his face. 

"That guy called me your boyfriend... why didn't you correct him?" he breaks the silence again, avoiding your eyes. 

"I liked the sound of it." you answer honestly, shrugging your shoulders. 

"Ouch ouch ouch that stings." he whines as you use medical alcohol to clean his wound on the lip.

"The more you whine the longer it'll take." you keep the tissue on his lip. 

"I can't feel my lip anymore." Chifuyu complains, tugging on his lower lip Inc you remove the tissue. 

"Let me test that." you wipe your thumb over his lip a finger under his chin. 

"How-oh. Sure." he looks at your lips and then into your eyes. 

"You felt that?" 

"No." Chifuyu gulps, one hand holding onto the shirt your wearing. "Maybe something else might help". 

"Anything particular in mind?" you step right in front of the chair, leaning down slightly. 

"The lipstick idea sounded nice. But for now please do it without the lipstick."

"You could've just asked me to kiss it better." you whisper, pressing a kiss on his swollen cheek and then on his nose. While his cheeks explode in a red blush you switch to his lips, softly moving against his. 

"No feeling yet, do it again, please." Chifuyu says not even a second after you remove your lips. "I don't feel pain when your lips are on mine." he flirts, leaving kisses from your neck until your collarbone. 

"Oh my bad boy huh~" you chuckle squishing his cheeks as you softly press another kiss on his lips. 

"Always~ And I'll omg is that a cake." he notices the chocolate cake on the cupboard. 

"Aaand bad boy is crossed out of my list of nicknames." you sigh as you hand him something to cool his lip with. "You'll get some later, use that cool pack first your lip is swollen."

"But I'm hungry now."

"Well if you wanna whine instead of cuddling up on my couch and get you face covered with kisses then it'll be that way." you leave him as his brain processes what you just said and immedi ately runs after you.

"I want kisses more than cake!"

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #chifuyu fluff #chifuyu x reader #chifuyu matsuno #Chifuyu matsuno x reader #Chifuyu one shot #Tokyo revengers one shot

[lemmetreatya]

band drummer!reiner x fem! reader 💚

band drummer!reiner would absolutely be struck smitten when it comes to you. he’d first see you on the audience floor with your friends — head turned 90 degrees as he ‘respectfully’ watches you from the backstages

(“did you really just do that?!” annie sneered, voice tight in whisper.

“do what?” reiner would say as he looked down at her innocently.

the blonde girl would half mumble her reply as she placed her unlit roll up between her lips, eyes jadedly sharpening in reiner’s direction.

“check that girl’s ass out.” she said bluntly.

reiner would only cheekily smirk as he took a risky double take back at you, craning his neck to see if he could catch another glimpse.)

band drummer!reiner would subconsciously look for you at every concert, bummed when he finds out you’re not in attendance. his bandmates have even realised that his performance drops when you’re not in the crowd

band drummer!reiner takes glances at you from the bar stool he’s sitting at, a fan’s congratulatory words falling upon death ears as he cant help but fantasise about how sweet a conversation with you would be right now

band drummer!reiner would try to shoot you a smile every now and then as you pass him either inside the venue or on the surrounding streets when commuting home

band drummer!reiner would whine his bandmates ears off about how he’s unsure of how to approach you; not wanting to be creepy about it but forward enough for you to witness his confidence

band drummer!reiner would breed jealousy at the fact that you seem to talk so easily to eren jaeger, the band’s guitarist and main singer, his suave attitude causing you to giggle into your fists or bat your doe eyes up at him. some part of reiner feels like he’s loosing an uphill battle with when it comes to winning you over

band drummer!reiner would attend jaeger’s annual party this year out of spite. even though he wasn’t the biggest fan of the man, he’d be foolish not to come out and enjoy the celebrations (and get a chance to talk to you)

band drummer!reiner would see you sitting on one of the sofas with your legs snugged underneath your bum, looking so soft and warm and god— edible! as you animatedly talked to someone he didn’t know

band drummer!reiner would softly cuss underneath his breath once you caught him watching you, how you noticed him through a slim gap of bodies and limbs, how you gave him a smile, small but nonetheless for him

band drummer!reiner declares in that moment that he was going to walk over to you and spark a conversation — because what better time than now!

however as soon as he makes the move, eren has called you over to meet one of his friends, the general body of the party in his favour as he easily glides through the parting crowd to take your hand and lead you elsewhere

band drummer!reiner is bummed and doesn’t get another opportunity that night to talk to you and in all honesty doesnt know if his confidence can continue yearning after such an enigma like yourself

(“reiner, you’ve got to pull yourself together. you don’t know the girl, the girl don’t know you and you honestly look rather pathetic right now mopping over a loss that was never a gain in the first place.” the blonde girl spat.

annie was more enraged at the fact that reiner was calling an emergency band huddle at 8am on a sunday morning over something non-band related, but she assures she says all of this in good heart.

“although i wouldn’t say it that harshly,” bertholdt shot annie a warning glare before directing his attention back to reiner. “she kinda has a point. i know you’re really in your feelings over this—”

“im not in my feelings.” reiner dejected.

“but you didn’t even know her to be this upset over it— yes, you very much are in your feelings, reiner.” )

band drummer!reiner is so glad he doesn’t listen to his bandmates and kept his brain occupied on you because exactly 34 hours later it’s you who’s knocking on the backstage door in search of him

(“reiner, right?” you say, smile soft as you look up at him.

“y-yeah, that’s… that’s me.” the surprise was still written on his face as he stood by the door, unbelieving that you were right there — looking for him!

“i saw you the other day at eren’s joint but i didn’t get to say hi. ive been meaning to for awhile but i guess i just didn’t find the right time.” a magical yet shy laugh left your mouth right after.

reiner felt so ashamed. did his lack of confidence really mean that you beat him at his own game?!

“believe it or not ive been meaning to do the same thing and to be honest i should have said something first.”

scratching the back of his neck, reiner’s cheek’s started to heat up. not like you could say anything about it— your own cheeks were feeling the exact same way.)

band drummer!reiner is alot more happier these days since the two of you have started talking and getting closer. nowadays you even join him and the rest of the band backstage before and after shows

band drummer!reiner is ecstatic when you agree to go on a date with him after several months of talking and texting each other

band drummer!reiner is even more ecstatic when you invite him back to your place and let him blow your back out twice and then some

band drummer!reiner plays better at concerts nowadays because he always catches your eye as you enjoy within the crowd

just had him on my mind (as usual) so i hope you enjoyed!! <3

#reiner x reader #reiner x y/n #reiner aot #reiner braun #reiner headcanons #reiner x black reader #attack on titan reiner

[system-of-a-feather]

Honestly I don't think I go a month (probably not even a week) without thinking about how thankful and genuine the "System Elders" in our brain have filled and replaced the shattered "secure base" that our parents and family have left behind and replaces it with something so so so stronger, reliable, and loving and even MORE that said secure base is there for as long as I am alive and will follow me around for the rest of my life.

Cause I'm very thankful and grateful to have that. For better or worse, I've never known what it was like to have a secure base OUTSIDE of yourself, but I feel very happy and never really wish I had a secure base in my actual parents anymore. I feel happy knowing that I can look to myself and get the assurance that someone on the outside would provide me. I don't have to worry about moving away from anyone and loosing some sense of security; or someone dying and loosing that safety blanket because again, that secure base lives and dies within me.

I'm ever thankful to the parts that stepped up and filled the role. I'm ever thankful for their never ending support and the freedom and security they give me. I am ever loving to them and I am honestly grateful to have such a strong sense of internal self love and support with myself.

I genuinely don't think there is anything that can knock us all the way down. I don't think there is anything that we can't get through together. I don't think there is anything that could really make me feel unsafe to the point I can't navigate it because when worst comes to worst, I have the security of my "System Elders" to know that pfft, even if I can't they can. And man, the fact that they can cover for me when I cant is just astonishing cause damn man, I can do a fucking lot myself.

Anyways, I just wanted to appreciation post @ the "System Elders" cause God Damn are they the unsung heroes of this system (largely because they almost exclusively sit back and encourage our exploration and engagement with life and thus interact less with the blog and those outside of the system; ya know, like a good secure base / safe haven)

Also a great lab page discussing attachment theory more in depth from a guy who got a PhD from one of the leading guys in Attachment Theory: http://labs.psychology.illinois.edu/~rcfraley/index.html#about

Some Secure Base Graphics from Google:

#alter: riku #attachment theory #secure base #i love attachment theory ngl #system appreciation

[dirtyoldmanhole]

real dweeby navel gazing time

i think one of the reasons i am having genuinely, so much fun with this gunter slowburn fanfic despite sitting at a literal 53k words rn and with it probably being close to 90k all said and done, is it's ... writing the ship i see myself in the most by far on both sides.

like, ever.

this shit is the rawest most honest shit i've ever written.

i've talked a little bit about how corrin's memory wipe stuff is literally a 1:1 to my anesthesia/childhood surgery/physical therapy conga line of bullshit. even aside from the helpful textual 'here's how this works from a medical event standpoint' there's the 'here's the emotional scars that it will leave because yes it is a bodily/mind violation of a sense, over and over, and jesus all of this of this stuff goes so well thematically to the straight up fantasy bullshit of nohr with the underpinning of being hyper-aware to the themes of "power" "use" "what it takes to survive by emotionally dragging yourself through a minefield" etc. stuff i've been ruminating over since being conscious lol.

then my body's so whack from a physical joint perspective that there's also almost word for word conversations from gunter's side that i've had with my gf about how to navigate certian shit from a kink perspective but also like... how to maintain dignity when your body's kinda physically crapping out on you due to the march of time.... without loosing the sexytimes u know?

the concept of dignity in the face of being broken is a huge theme in this fic that gets echoed. very poignant for reasons you fates players know.

amusingly there's a scene near the end where corrin's helping him to shave after his stroke. (in one of fate's "clearly having a giggle at my expense" coincidences i've been in contact lately irl with somebody who's also gone through a stroke and man is it not easy) and it's this kind of perfect blend of she's helping him, technically, with something that could just be... god awful self loathing brainspace wise for him but it turns into this amazingly hot kink scene with some serious sizzling power exchange.

the dream, man!

there is a real thin line between being able to laugh at yourself *while* keeping that dignity to pointedly.... having to not look in the mirror some days. desire and shame being some real fucked up entangled wires too, in that sense.

the tumblr uwu approved discussions re: tricky medical/'my body is crapping out on me man and i can't hide it'/kink shit and having to be ~valid~ all the time gives me the hiiiiiveeeees man (and i'm not knocking it for other people, i know why it exists, but it sends my hackles up u feel).

and yet this fic still feels like, hot, in the fun sense.

there's enough fun whacko fantasy taboo elements in it that it doesn't feel .... oh no this ain't sexy this is Too Real, you feel, or too much like a trauma fic(tm)

there's the sexy yandere villain ossan (lol), corrin herself has one hell of a sex drive (and honestly that's yet another huge focus, that wish fufillment fantasy of this 'pure fragile princess chick that's fought over like a prize by everyone else' who gets to choose 'no i actually want the hot villain kthx'. she actually rants to him several times about being fought over and having everyone else from nohr/hoshido project all the shit on her.

(and him being all, I got you, I get it.)

he actually does!!!! that's the funniest darkest most ironic thing!! he's got that weird blend of being aware enough from a kink perspective and just 'went through enough shit' life perspective of why sometimes the most sacred, profound thing you can do for somebody is to break them when they ask for it. sometimes in the dark u just want the brain wires to go bzzt.

there is a weird as hell comraderie in the sense of facing very specific demons that only they have (which, again, hilariously, goes so well with the themes of revelation! invisible enemies/demons that only you two know about.)

and then i have like yet another essay in me about how literally every character i've RP'ed is a suspiciously similar to his whole... archetype.... like all of my RP partners have gravitated to playing the chicks in the het relationships and i've always RP'd the snarky older guy going through life snarking at shit and being a closet misanthrope (there's probably some presentation/gender-aligned stuff going there but this is already navel gazey as hell lol)

anyway

tl;dr i haz feelz

#bla la la la ~ #the dad jokes in the fic make it worth it too #idek this came about when i caught myself genuinely finding it easier to write gunter's POV scenes. though i dig corrin's a lot too. #motto of writing this fic (said in the voice of the classic ms. frizzle): make it weirderrrrr

[lucifers-horror-harem]

I was about to submit this on anon bc I'm shy lol but what are some of your writing tips? (if you feel comfortable sharing them ofc) you write SO WELL and I do wonder how you do it. writing is so hard for me 😭 I sit down to write and my brain will go "um no actually you're on your own enjoy <3"

🥺🥺🥺 Sorry it took me a bit to gather my thoughts and also I wanted to keep this ask a little longer cause aaaaaa you're so fucking sweet!!! And also asking me??? Hopefully my advice helps cause I totally get you about the head empty syndrome because I still have that all the time even after writing for forever now lol

So this one might sound redundant, but one of my biggest tips is to read lots of stuff! Books, fic, plays, whatever. Depending on whether you're doing writing as just a hobby or want to develop it into more, reading is the best help for writing. When I first got into smut fic writing, a lot of what I did was just read tons of fics and kind of replicate the sorts of things I'd read. Obviously I don't mean plagiarize, but you can get a lot of inspiration from other people's writing as well as just learning the craft in general, sentence structures and grammar, etc. If you have favorite authors you like, read their books and stories and analyze it like a paper in school and figure out what bits you like and how the author conveys what they're saying.

That being said, there will be tons of practice to be done. Writing is like any other hobby. One of the best things that I find helps me are prompt lists. There's tons on tumblr, of all sorts. You can write them as long or as short as you'd like, or just use their ideas as a jumping off point. I've also found sometimes when I'm stuck on writing something, I'll do headcanon posts, which are just fics in short bullet form. Writing things as bullets in general helps knock things loose, and they're great for outlining stories too. Hell if you're stuck on ideas, writing all your random fic thoughts on paper in bullet form and then later when your brain is fresh you can see them in a new light and maybe something will pop in your head that way.

I'm not sure what other general tips I can suggest besides those... on a smaller level I'd say you can use movies, shows, and music to help give you inspo as well but because they're not written it's hard to get the form down if that's what you're looking for. A lot of my inspo comes when I least expect it honestly, which I know isn't the greatest advice, but it's true at least in my case. I also project hop a lot as well because sometimes I'll get burnt out on an idea and move onto something else which is also a viable thing you can do. Otherwise I think everything I've said before pretty much covers it! I still think reading is the biggest one just because that's how I learned myself, but I say if that or any other combination of things helps then I'd say you're golden!

Writing is a really hard hobby, mainly because inspiration/motivation comes and goes so frequently for me, but I also can't imagine my life without it. Hopefully these help you! I'm always happy to help new writers 🥺💜

#asks #writing help

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Merlin goes home for a little while, determined to enjoy a well-earned vacation;

Camelot immediately falls apart, with the sole exceptions of Guinevere and Gaius.

Merlin knows Arthur really well.

Which just means he knows exactly how to get him to let his servant go home for two weeks to visit his mother and relax a little:

“You just don’t want me to go because you know you can’t cope without me! Look, if you want to come with me, that’s fine, but you’ll struggle just as much there as you would here because I refuse to act as your servant in my own home.”

Arthur turns red, looking outraged as he loses the ability to speak. Merlin turns around before The King can see his satisfied smirk, tidying around the prat’s chambers with exaggerated annoyance as he just waits for the inevitable-

“Fine! Go! See if I even notice that you’re gone! Honestly, Merlin, the running of the Kingdom will probably end up going smoother without you here to mess things up, you bumbling idiot.”

Merlin grins to himself before schooling his face back into annoyance and turning around with a huff, crossing his arms petulantly:

“Fine!”

The servant decides that he’d better leave, what with the way he was struggling to keep the victorious grin from his face, so without waiting for a response, he “storms” from the room, slamming the door behind him as dramatically as he’s able when he hears Arthur yell:

“FINE!”

~

Merlin sets off at the beginning of the next week. Gaius had raised a disapproving eyebrow when his ward had told him how he’d gotten Arthur to agree to such a long vacation, but didn’t say anything. They both knew that the elderly physician thought it was funny.

Gwen and Morgana make sure to see him out of the castle gates with big hugs, and whilst all of the knights were meant to be training, it came as no surprise to anyone when Gwaine slacks off for half a candle-mark to say goodbye as well. Mordred shoots him a quick goodbye across their mental link as the servant walks away from the city, after promising Merlin that he would warn him if anyone was in any serious danger (”Serious danger only, Mordred, I mean it. If I get called home because Arthur is throwing some sort of tantrum, then I’ll act out your destiny for you.”).

Merlin’s journey goes smoothly. The world was hovering in the junction between Spring and Summer, but with a little magical manipulation, the Warlock had no trouble staying warm and keeping his feet beneath him on the uneven path. Unsurprisingly, the young man is a lot less clumsy when he doesn’t have to focus on keeping his magic locked away so tightly.

Two days after his departure from Camelot, his mother is greeting him outside her little house with a long hug and a wide grin, stroking a hand through his hair as she welcomes him home.

Coincidentally, that’s also about the time things started going to shit for everyone else.

~

It was just after noon when Elyan had to be carried to Gaius’ chambers, his whole body juddering as he struggles to draw breath, the lack of oxygen from his throat closing up mixed with the panic making his brain go fuzzy.

Percival holds him up from one side and Leon holds him from the other, the two of them bursting through the physician’s door just as Elyan’s eyes roll back in his head. Gaius looks up suddenly, obviously startled by the abrupt intrusion, but he swiftly focuses, eyes wide and assessing as he quickly points them to a patient pallet:

“What happened?”

The two knights lay him down as carefully as they can before standing out of the way as Leon forces out an answer, trying to catch his breath between words:

“I don’t know, servants brought lunch out whilst we were training so we stopped to eat and he just started... wheezing. We thought he was choking at first but he said he couldn’t breathe. Has... has he been poisoned? We stopped everyone from eating.”

Gaius had gathered a handful of odd looking dried leaves the moment Leon mentioned the food, recognising the symptoms of an allergic reaction and putting two and two together immediately. He crushes them in his hands quickly, knowing he didn’t have time for a proper mortar and pestle as he shoves the crumbs into Elyan’s mouth, following through with a vile of something green and gross-smelling

He massages the odd concoction down Elyan’s throat as best he can around the swelling, and lets out a relieved smile when the knight’s eyes blow wide open and he chokes slightly before swallowing it all, grimacing at the taste but breathing deeply as his airways open again.

Leon and Percival let out similar breathes of relief when Elyan begins breathing again, chuckling breathlessly at his disgusted groan. The door bursts open again before anyone can say anything, and Arthur strides in, his flushed cheeks and rumpled clothes implying he had sprinted across the castle in his panic.

He spots Elyan on the pallet, his deep breaths interspersed with the odd cough, and his eyes widen even further as he looks to Gaius for an explanation:

“A servant told me something was wrong, what happened?!”

The King loses a little of the tension in his shoulders when Elyan waves a thumbs-up in his vague direction, but still looks frantically between the two knights and the physician as he waits for an answer. Percival wordlessly moves to Elyan’s side, running a hand up and down the man’s arm as Leon looks to Gaius expectantly:

“He had an allergic reaction, likely to nuts in the food. He should be fine, but he needs a day or two of rest, and to come back to me immediately if his throat swells again.”

Arthur sags in relief, nodding his approval of Elyan’s needed bedrest, but Leon’s eyes go wide as he lets out a knowing noise:

“Of course! I forgot about his allergy, it hasn’t been an issue since we were kids.”

Gaius nods knowingly and begins reorganising the jars he had knocked over when the knights had startled him:

“Hmm. I imagine he watched what he ate carefully when he was travelling, but Merlin keeps an eye on all of your food now.”

Leon frowns slightly as he tilts his head in confusion, but Arthur beats him to the punch, asking incredulously:

“What do you mean, Merlin keeps an eye on our food?”

Gaius raises an eyebrow, holding in his smirk as he slowly replies:

“Well, Merlin is usually the one to bring food out to you when you train, is he not? And on days he can’t he always speaks with the kitchen staff to double check what food is going where. Sir Elyan is not the only one with an allergy, My Lord. Merlin always makes sure any food the seven of you are given is safe. He has a tendency to check the Lady Morgana’s meals as well, whenever he’s able.”

Arthur is too taken aback to reply, his mouth hanging open, but that is when Percival looks up from his place at Elyan’s side, a confused frown on his face:

“Why?”

Gaius doesn’t manage to hold his smile in at that, looking between the three knights, and Elyan, who has just about managed to regain his breath:

“To avoid situations like this, I imagine, and to check for poison. It’s not uncommon for assassins to try and lace the royal’s food with something or other.”

Arthur finally shuts his mouth, only to open it again, speaking slowly:

“So... Merlin checks all of our food?”

Gaius nods:

“Religiously, Sire.”

Leon and Percival just shrug, adding it to their list of Weird Things About Merlin That They Should Be Grateful For, and Elyan smiles goofily from his place on the bed (whether it was the lack of oxygen or something funky in the vial, the knight didn’t know, but he was definitely still feeling a little... odd), but Arthur just frowns deeper, muttering a distracted “Take it easy.” to Elyan before walking stiffly from the room.

The King makes quick work of the journey back to the council meeting, desperately trying to persuade himself that this was nothing to do with him not being able to cope without Merlin. Elyan was the one not coping, clearly. Merlin was still wrong and stupid and Arthur hadn’t even noticed that he was gone until Gaius brought him up (a lie, he missed him terribly, but shhh).

Leon and Percival look to Gaius in confusion when Arthur had almost stormed from the room, and the Physician simply smiles again, the amusement shining clearly in his eyes:

“Merlin persuaded Arthur to let him take a holiday by heavily implying that he couldn’t cope with Merlin’s absence.”

Percival snorts with laughter and Leon raises an eyebrow as he grins:

“Arthur took that as a challenge then, I suppose? Two days in and we’ve already got The King sprinting from meetings because a knight has collapsed from an allergic reaction... because Merlin wasn’t here...”

Gaius just nods, and Percival mutters an amused:

“This will be entertaining.”

~

Arthur steadfastly refuses to acknowledge that the next mini disaster, a few days later, was also down to Merlin’s absence.

Ok, so maybe it was because Merlin wasn’t here, but ultimately, it was Gwaine that messed up, not Arthur. So it didn’t count.

The knight came back from a night patrol that he’d taken with The King with an infected gash on his arm. Arthur grins teasingly as he describes to Gaius how the knight had tripped on a loose cobblestone and scratched his arm on the sharp edge of a stray cart at the beginning of the patrol, and Gaius hums disapprovingly as he unwraps the scrap of fabric Gwaine had used as a bandage:

“Did you not have any medical supplies in your pack? Or did you think it best to let it get infected so I had to wake an hour before dawn to deal with it?”

Gwaine swings his dangling legs back and forth from where he sits on Gaius’ table, pouting sheepishly as he admits:

“I looked, but there wasn’t anything helpful in there, usually the armoury-hands have them stocked up for the patrols, I guess they missed mine.”

Arthur rolls his eyes at Gwaine’s seeming ineptitude, but his scolding is interrupted before it even begins when Gaius shakes his head in disagreement:

“Hmm. The servants that work in the armoury only tend to check the packs every few weeks, and even then they only check if they need any repairs. Merlin is the one with easier access to patrol rotas, so he’s the one who stocks them up on a day to day basis.”

Gwaine just nods in understanding, as if he should’ve expected that, but Arthur’s smile drops as he unfolds his arms, getting over his annoyed speechlessness in a matter of seconds:

“You’re telling me that Merlin, my personal manservant, is responsible for all the knights’ patrol packs?”

Gaius finishes cleaning Gwaine’s wound, muttering a quiet apology when the knight hisses at the first poke of the needle, speaking slowly as he focuses on making sure the stitches were neat and uniform:

“No, Sire. Technically the knights are meant to take care of their own packs, but Merlin is a paranoid man, he likes to double check things to make sure everyone has what they need. I suppose some people got used to having it done for them.”

Gwaine winces abashedly, making a mental note to remind the others to check their packs before their next patrols, but Arthur rolls his eyes, crossing his arms again and immediately accepting that this little incident was therefore Gwaine’s fault, and not down to Merlin's absence.

The voice in his head sounded a little doubtful, but he ignores it, choosing instead to chide his rebellious:

“Do try to pay attention to your own responsibilities, Sir Gwaine, I’d hate to see something terrible happen to you because you’re unable to complete your own simple tasks.”

Gwaine just sticks his tongue out petulantly, looking away from The King before he can see the blonde’s rolled eyes. Arthur huffs at his childishness, turning around to cover his grin and speaking over his shoulder as he walks from the room:

“You will be on time for once, Gwaine, training starts in a few hours and I want to see you bright and early.”

Gwaine just smirks, waiting for the door to shut behind Arthur before moving his sly, curious eyes to the physician in front of him:

“He’s missing Merlin, then?”

Gaius just gives him a knowing glance before looking back down at the now stitched gash, gathering bandages:

“I’d imagine so, though he’d never admit it. Merlin implied that Arthur wouldn’t cope with his absence,-”

Gwaine interrupts him with a laugh:

“Hence his insistence that it was entirely my fault?”

Gaius nods wordlessly, and Gwaine snorts, shaking his head in amused disbelief.

Meanwhile, Arthur stalks back towards his chambers, eager to get out of his armour and get into bed; Gwaine had training in a few hours, but so did he, and he needed at least a little sleep. He purses his lips in annoyance as his gaze falls upon the clinical cleanliness of his room... George had been in then. 

Look... Arthur being used to a slightly messy room did NOT mean he depended on Merlin. And Gwaine not being used to having to actually organise himself ALSO didn’t mean that Merlin was... ok. Maybe Gwaine relies on Merlin a little.

So that’s Sir Elyan and Sir Gwaine, two of The King’s most trusted knights, who can’t cope without Merlin. But Arthur is doing just fine. It’s been half a week and he is just. Fine.

Just fine.

~

It was the next day that things began going wrong a little more... drastically.

George wakes Arthur up for training on time because of course he does. Arthur had found himself losing out on a lot of sleep without Merlin insisting he go to bed at a reasonable time, and waking him up late; Merlin had gotten into the habit of snatching Arthur’s paperwork away and holding it out of reach until The King agreed to go to sleep, and somehow manages to fit Arthur’s entire morning routine into half a candle-mark. George would never snatch away Arthur’s paperwork, and he takes so much longer in the mornings meaning Arthur has to wake up earlier.

Not that Arthur would ever admit to enjoying his and Merlin’s unorthodox routines. 

Eight more days to go, and he’s fine.

At least... that’s what he thought until a nameless guard approaches the training field, waving him over from his spar with Mordred. Arthur strides over quickly, annoyed at the interruption and nodding at the guard to speak as he drinks from his water-skin:

“My Lord, Lord Halbert and Lady Ethel have arrived. I believe they’re waiting for your presence in the courtyard.”

Arthur chokes, managing to turn his head to the side just in time before he spits a mouthful of water over the guards face. He quickly wipes his mouth and turns back to the pour armoured man with wide eyes:

“That’s today?!

The guard nods hesitatingly:

“Yes, Sire, would you like me-”

He’s interrupted when Arthur shouts a hurried:

“Fuck!” as he drops his water-skin and begins sprinting up the field towards the castle, desperately trying to calculate if he had enough time to wash and change before they got antsy with waiting. Probably not.

Seeing Arthur’s panic and hearing his loud curse, Leon hurriedly approaches the guard, putting a friendly hand on his shoulder as he speaks with a frown:

“Gavin? Is everything alright?”

The guard, Gavin, looks to Leon with a confused frown:

“It would appear that His Majesty... misremembered the date of Lord Halbert and Lady Ethel’s arrival.”

Leon’s eyes go wide and he glances quickly to the castle as he rushes out an exclamation identical to Arthur’s:

“That’s today?!”

Gavin just nods again, and Leon drops the hand from his shoulder, letting out a loud:

“Shit!” as he recreates Arthur’s sprint up to the castle, knowing that he was expected to be at The King’s side when welcoming guests. He doesn’t pause, even when he shouts:

“Lancelot’s in charge!” over his shoulder.

The knights all look to each other in amusement, but Lancelot quickly takes charge, running drills as if he had been doing it his entire life and trusting that, whatever it was, Arthur could get things sorted. And if Arthur couldn’t get things sorted, then Leon would get things sorted. And if Leon couldn’t get things sorted, then Merlin would... oh.

He glances worriedly to the castle just as Leon falls through the door, not bothering to shut it behind him in his panic. Oh.

Arthur lets out the deepest breath of relief he thinks he’s ever experienced when he sees George ahead of him in the corridor; he gestures him over hastily, making the servant jog to keep up with him as he continues his fast pace down the hall:

“I don’t care how many other servants you have to pull from their duties, but I need the castle prepped for Halbert and Ethel’s arrival right now.-”

Arthur barely pays attention to George’s faltering step of shock, just stops suddenly in front of the door that leads down to the courtyard, turning to the servant and putting both hands on his shoulder as he stares at him intensely, face flushed and breathing harsh:

“I need you to do this for me, George. Prepare guest chambers, send someone down to show them to the right rooms, and make sure the Kitchens know they’re feeding two extra nobles for three days, starting today. If you can organise all of that in the next two minutes, I’ll give you a raise and a Godamn hug, you hear me?!”

George gulps, his shoulders tense, his face pale, and his breath frozen in his lungs as he meets Arthur’s frantic gaze with wide eyes. He gives a shaky nod, instantly turning and sprinting down the corridor without a word when Arthur lets go. 

Leon skids around the corner, moving to stand next to Arthur with his hands on his knees as he attempts to catch his breath, speaking in a slight wheeze:

“I... I left Lance... in charge.”

Arthur nods in approval, pulling Leon to stand before holding his hands out to the side, presenting himself for inspection. Leon takes one last deep breath, smoothing the training tunic over Arthur’s shoulders, attempting to rub the dirt from his nose, and brushing a quick hand through his hair before stepping back and holding his own arms out. Arthur pulls a leaf from behind his ear, but is otherwise satisfied, and the two of them turn to the door, schooling their faces and stepping down into the courtyard.

Arthur has a calm, welcoming smile on his face, and Leon stands stiffly behind him, hand on the sword that he luckily had on his hip as he stares blankly ahead.

The nobles seem taken aback at The King's state of undress, but don’t say anything, covering their shock quickly. Arthur’s hoping that his friendly attitude will just give the impression that he’s...approachable and slightly laid back, as opposed to just an idiot who forgot they were coming because no one had reminded him.

Gods. Merlin can never know about this.

~

Thankfully, the next three days went smoothly, or at least as smoothly as possible after Arthur spent an hour rifling through his old mail to try and figure out the original reason for Lord Halbert and Lady Ethel’s visit (watching their eldest’s knighting ceremony, and discussing with Arthur the potential for their youngest to move to the city to become a squire).

He waves them off in a much more regal manner than he had welcomed them, and keeps his promise to George, upping his pay slightly; though he exchanges the hug for an awkward pat on the shoulder, which he thinks both of them were grateful for.

~

He’d successfully made it through nine days. Semi-successfully. He’d just about made it through nine days.

Five more to go. But Arthur was feeling fine about those five days. He’d double checked all his mail, and made sure to find out when his patrols were scheduled.

Which is... unknown to Arthur, where the next problem stems from. 

Arthur wasn’t the one to rota the patrols, he really didn’t have the time to sit down with a list of names and hours and times and maps and organise everything fairly, it was difficult and time-consuming, but he made sure that Leon knew exactly how many hours he could give up for patrol each week.

Apparently, the communication between Leon and the council was normally handled by Merlin, who wasn’t there. So whilst Arthur was enjoying a solo patrol along the city borders at noon, waving at citizens and making his horse do tricks for giggling children, the council were sitting around the table, waiting rather irately for his arrival.

Now normally, this could’ve been easily dealt with, but when the same guard from three days ago gallops over to inform him of the problem and take over his patrol, Arthur was reminded rather suddenly that Merlin was always the one that came up with sensible sounding excuses.

(He also makes a mental note to avoid that guard forever out of embarrassment.)

This was one of the very rare occasions when Arthur simply glares the council into submission. Normally he likes to work with them; he hates to feel like they're just doing what he wants because they were kissing his arse, but he has no excuse other than “I forgot.” and he felt like that was worse than just.. acting like a bit of a dick for five minutes.

So... yeah. Merlin wasn’t there to reorganise the council meeting around Arthur’s patrol, and then also wasn’t there to come up with an excuse for why it wasn’t reorganised.

Arthur makes it ten days before he admits to himself that perhaps he relies on his manservant just a little too much.

~

Four days later, Arthur had missed another council meeting (despite his best efforts), Lancelot and Mordred had accidentally insulted some visiting Lord (and had therefore been told not to leave their rooms until he had vacated the city), and Gwen was no longer speaking to him, on account of The King being a dick without realising because Merlin wasn’t there to rein in his ego and... well... dickishness. That, and his crown had somehow gone missing between yesterday morning and now.

(If that last one had happened even a week prior, Arthur would’ve been adamant that it had been stolen or something else equally not-his-fault, but with how quickly he’d been made aware of his apparent bad memory and social clumsiness, he had every faith that he’d just misplaced it, and Merlin would know exactly where to look.)

Arthur was sitting on the courtyard steps, tunic unlaced at the top and hair a mess when his servant finally, finally walks through the castle gates. The King perks up slightly, but refuses to give Merlin the satisfaction of being run to, so forces himself to remain in place. He was especially glad that he’d made that decision when he saw Guinevere spring over to greet him. He has a feeling she won’t be all that... welcoming, at least not yet.

Merlin wraps her in a tight hug and Arthur forces down the swell of jealousy in his lungs, especially when he laughs brightly and pulls back to clasp her shoulders. Arthur sees Gwen’s face fall at a question Merlin had asked and he gulps, biting his lip when Merlin frowns and raises an incredulous eyebrow at her response. She points in Arthur’s direction, and The King’s eyes go wide as he rapidly stands, failing miserably at looking as though he weren’t staring in their direction. Guinevere rolls her eyes before giving Merlin one last hug and walking very deliberately in the opposite direction to Arthur.

Merlin marches towards him, slight annoyance mixing with a secret eagerness to check on Arthur speeding up his normal pace significantly. Before the servant can say anything, Arthur grabs his wrist, pulling him up the steps and through the castle without a word, tugging harshly every time Merlin opens his mouth to demand an explanation for himself or an apology for Gwen.

When they finally reach his chambers, Arthur quickly locks the door behind him, whirling on an angry Merlin with flushed cheeks and a desperate look in his eyes:

“I swear Merlin, I will never doubt you again, but Elyan almost died, Gwaine got an infection, Leon and I forgot about Ethel and Halbert, Lancelot and Mordred are essentially under house arrest, I missed two council meetings, lost my crown, and now Gwen’s not talking to me. You’re never allowed to leave me again.”

Merlin freezes in place, staring at Arthur with wide eyes and an open mouth for a few moments before he bursts into laugher. Arthur huffs, crossing his arms as his blush deepens, but waits patiently instead of demanding that Merlin stop. Honestly? He may have been laughing at Arthur, but it was still the most beautiful sound The King had heard in two weeks, and he’d definitely missed it. Which is... something to think about at a later date.

Merlin finally relents, his dimples showing prominently as he holds in another round of giggles at Arthur’s red face. The servant drops his pack to the floor, stepping forward and not giving Arthur time to move away before he pulls him into a tight hug, sighing contentedly at the warm contact:

“I missed you too, you prat. You’ll just have to come with me next time and we can leave Gwen and Gaius in charge.”

Arthur huffs out a gentle laugh, finally wrapping his arms around Merlin’s middle tightly and burying his face in the slightly taller man’s hair:

“I did. Miss you, I mean. And I also mean it when I say you’re never going anywhere without me again, this has been a nightmare.”

Merlin snorts, tightening his grip on Arthur as if he were trying to squeeze all of the stress out of him:

“Co-dependency isn’t the healthiest thing in the world, you know.”

Arthur just huffs, refusing to let go as he petulantly responds:

“I don’t care. I’m The King, I can do what I want.”

Arthur can almost feel Merlin rolling his eyes, but the servant just laughs again and seems to nod in agreement:

“Hmm. That excuse is going to come back to haunt you one day. Heard you gave George a raise?”

The blonde tenses in embarrassment, now refusing to pull away so Merlin wouldn’t see his pink cheeks:

“Uh... yeah. He cleans too much and is shit at coming up with plausible excuses, but he did save my arse a few times.”

Arthur can feel Merlin’s laugh vibrate through his ribcage, and though the man was usually rather touch averse, he found he never wanted the feeling to stop. He found himself hoping that Merlin felt the same when The King chuckles at his response:

“Oh yeah? Does that mean I get a raise for being good at excuses and bad at cleaning?”

~

THE END!!! 

Literally wrote this in one day so... sorry if it’s bad😅

Had no clue how I was going to end it until I got there, my thought process essentially just went “Hugs? Yeah. Hugs hugs hugs hugs hugs.” :D

Same as always lads, you wanna write it out in full or remix it or whatever, go for it, just drop me a message and credit/tag me :)

#bbc merlin #merthur #merlin #good mordred #merthur fluff #arthur is gay and stupid #merlin is THE functioning gay #leon is surprisingly dumb #in fact all the knights are #only percival survives #and gaius and gwen of course #sir leon #leon #sir percival #percival #sir gwaine #gwaine #mordred #sir lancelot #lancelot #sir elyan #elyan #gaius #gwen #guinevere #merlin/arthur #bamf merlin #arthur pendragon #sir mordred #gavin

[yourheartonfire]

By the time everything was done - the survivors found and the crowds dispersed and the press satiated and the authorities satisfied - the hero was so tired they almost smashed into their own window like a disoriented swallow. Still, somehow they got their fingernails into the gap they'd left open and half fell into their apartment.

Only to be slapped in the face with the smell of tomatoes and garlic cooking, and the sight of the villain leaning against their kitchen counter, glaring at them.

"There you are. Honestly, you're a terrible host."

The hero staggered up to their feet, fists raised. The villain smacked their hands down.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous. You couldn't take on a bunny, honey, not in this state. And I'm not here to fight. You forget our bet?"

The hero stared. Dimly they remembered but the last burst of adrenaline was gone and their brain felt like mush.

The villain gestured with a flourish to a pot burbling away on the hero's stove. "Whoever takes down Supervillain, the other one buys dinner? You won, idiot. Here's your damn food. Now go shower. You aren't touching my food covered in blood."

The villain planted their hands on hips and waited. The hero looked from them to the pot, swaying gently on their feet, hands still half-extended.

After a long pause the villain sighed heavily. "At least I get paid in scintillating banter," they grumbled. But their arm around the hero's waist was firm and their footsteps patient as they guided the hero towards the bathroom.

Later the hero only had vague memories of the villain cranking on the shower, pushing them in fully clothed and ducking out as the water heated. The first really clear memory was the visceral pleasure of pulling their oldest hoodie over their aching limbs, the pilled cotton lining scratching pleasantly against their freshly clean skin, the feel of collapsing into their ancient sofa, the sagging springs cushioned in layers of cheap fleece blankets from the dollar store.

Another tantalizing waft of food smells, and the villain was dishing up bowls at the kitchen table.

"It's almost 4 in the morning," the hero said.

"Hey, there's that world class superpower: telling the time." The villain tucked a pair of colorful napkins under the spoons. "Glad to see that's still with you. After the ninth or twelfth blow to your head I was getting worried."

"[Supervillain] didn't hit me that many times."

"I was including the times your head hit the pavement, the walls, at least one car."

"It was a van," the hero muttered.

The villain pursed their lips, eyed the hero's loose limbed sprawl. "Love how you say that like that's supposed to be better."

The hero was too tired to feel more than a twinge of alarm as the villain came stalking up. They let themselves be loomed over, their head lolling back under the villain's hand cupping their face.

"You're burning up," said the villain, a new edge of worry in their voice. "Why are you burning up?"

"Superhealing in overdrive," the hero said. Suddenly they felt dreadfully hollow, even as they could feel their body churning away beneath the bruised skin. They closed their eyes.

"Nuh uh!" The hero hissed as something hot pressed into their hand. A bowl of chili. The villain dipped in the spoon and grinned viciously. "Open up."

"I can feed my - mmph!"

The spoon slid into hero's mouth and they bit down. It was barely spicy at all, closer to a stew than a chili. And it had kidney beans, the undisputed Worst Bean.

But it was delicious. Salt, fat, sweet, spice, starch. The hero chewed and swallowed and their body roared its approval, clamored for more. Just the one bite and they were recovered enough to grab the spoon away from the villain.

The villains grin only widened. "Good, huh?"

"Cheapskate," the hero muttered and shoveled another mouthful in. "Was gonna make you buy me dinner somewhere nice, not break into my house and get my dishes dirty."

"Shoulda specified that in the bet, honey." The villain sat down next to them, slung an arm around their shoulders. The hero was too caught up in the direct application of calories to do anything about that, not even as the villain's hand casually came around to brush across their forehead again. It was nice to have something to rest their heavy skull against as they gulped bite after bite.

As their spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl, the villain's hand moved across their cheekbone. "You're crying," they said, carefully neutral.

The hero wiped their eyes. They were. "That's embarrassing. This is barely even spicy."

"More than you can handle, apparently."

"I handled it," the hero snapped with more heat than they meant. "I handled it myself."

The villain breathed in and out slowly, pulled their arm away. "You almost died," they said to the still-half-open window. "I knew you were a glutton for punishment, but I didn't think you'd actually try to live out your martyr complex on live TV."

"What else was I supposed to do?" the hero said, throwing up their hands and almost knocking over the almost-empty bowl in their lap.

The villain rescued it at the last moment. "Yeah, good question," they snapped. "What could you ever possibly do except throw yourself all alone at every life threatening situation you find?"

The villain put the bowl on the floor with an angry thunk and clatter of silverware against ceramic and slumped back against the couch, arms crossed. The hero closed their eyes and tried not to miss the feel of the villain's arm around them. They were so tired. Their body craved sleep and they didn't have the words to tell the villain... Oh hell, they didn't even know what they wanted to tell the villain, let alone how to say it.

After another long silence the villain sighed. "Right," they said, moving to stand. "Our bet didn't say anything about doing dishes either, so I'm out of here."

The hero didn't think. They grabbed the villain's arm and pulled it back around their shoulders, burrowed their face into the villain's shirt, breathing in the cooking smells that still clung to them.

The villain went stiff in surprise. "Um," they said. "What is this?"

This is what my body wants, the hero meant to say. After a fight, my body gets what it wants - food, rest, comfort - and it wants you. 

What actually came out was something more like, "Mm buddy wazza... wanna... hmmm."

"[Hero]?" said villain but the hero was gone, sinking into the sound of the villain's safe, steady heartbeat under their ear.

When they woke hours later, the villain was gone and the dishes sat drying in the rack next to the sink.

#my fiction #heroes and villains #heroxvillain #hero x villain #fluff #little side of #angst #h/c #100 #300 #500

[makeitagood0neao3]

Safe Inside

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 2,754

Warnings: Non/con. Explicit sexual content. Dark!Peter Parker AU. 18+ only!

The knock on your apartment door couldn't have come soon enough. After a long, tiring day working virtually, all you wanted was your take out, likely still warm from the restaurant downtown. Hair in a messy bun, long shirt covering a pair of shorts you padded to the door. Looking through the peephole, just to be safe. You couldn’t be too careful nowadays.

You opened the door to see your usual delivery guy standing before you, grey Supreme hoodie beneath a black coat, the hood pulled over his head. In his hand were the handles of a plastic bag as he balanced a soda on top of it.

“Greek delivery for a pretty lady in apartment 410?” He asked, barely able to contain his smile.

“Hey Pete,” you greeted, matching his energy. “I just Venmo’d you.”

“You better not have included a tip, Y/N.” Peter handed over the soda and bag before grabbing his phone from his pocket to check for the transaction. “I told you to stop tipping me.”

“I know you did,” you answered smuggly. “But you deserve a tip when you give me life by baklava.” He smiles back before peering into the apartment behind you. He was always doing that; checking, observing. You only ever ordered dinner for one, but that didn’t stop him from being curious. Not one to easily trust, you know the little world you built can be easily destroyed if you let the wrong person in.

He never asked if you were seeing someone or overstepped. The most flirting you had done with this younger man was to tell him that if he got straight A’s this semester at the university, you’d invite him inside for a drink. 

“Yeah, yeah. I appreciate you. I gotta run, but I’ll text you.” He waved and made his way down the hall.

Using your foot to kick your door closed you locked it with your free hand and set the food down on the counter. Setting your Spotify playlist to shuffle on 80’s rock before digging in at your tiny dining room table that barely fits in your small apartment.

You met Peter on a whim. Never one to plan meals out in advance, you were often left to starve or eat cereal for dinner after working. Never one to leave your apartment when it was dark out, you settled for having dinner delivered. Peter was delivery guy on a food delivery app and learned your dinner routine and favorites quickly. Which was surprising, because you couldn’t possibly be the only person in Queens ordering take out every other night.

And he couldn’t be the only delivery guy around, but he somehow became your usual delivery guy and you, his regular. Usually one to get chips as a side at a nearby deli, you didn’t order any one evening. He messaged you No chips tonight?

It surprised you, but you brushed it off, telling him you were cutting back on junk food. He dropped off the meal at your door with a knock, but by the time you opened it, he was gone. Sitting at the top of the paper bag was a bag of your favorite chips.

Always one to drop off your food quickly and not stay to chat, you caught him one night to thank him and tip in cash. Since then, you two would talk in your doorway briefly, mostly keeping your friendship to text as you were both busy. After a year of limited in person social interaction, any casual conversation over your threshold was greatly accepted. One day soon you’d venture outside, but with the availability to have nearly everything delivered, you doubted that day would come soon. You just weren’t ready.

Soon you ditched the app and just text him when you wanted dinner and he dropped it off to you. The price for you didn’t change, but gave him some extra. You honestly didn’t know why he chose to deliver food; he was always dressed extremely nicely in name brand clothes and you later found out he has a lucrative position at Stark Industries.

Once you had asked him why he chose to do this, in the literal rain and snow, and he told you that it was something to do. He got bored often and it was better than sitting in a lab all night. He made it seem like he did this for several people, but you didn’t see how he had the time to.

In the middle of scrolling on your phone, there’s a slow delay in registering what you’re seeing. Shaking your head and blinking hard, the sensation didn’t go away. Your body seemed to relax as a deep buzz set in and your body movements sluggish. Bringing the fork up to your mouth for another bite, you missed completely, the rice pilaf dropping onto the table. You tried for another bite and this time succeeded.

Are you... high?

You tasted the mineral chalkiness before you noticed the white powder poorly mixed into your rice pilaf. Brain fuzzy, you tried to analyze the substance. Thinking it strange, you drank from your take out cup of soda to wash it down. It became harder to swallow each sip, but you had already finished half the meal.

A knock at your door echoes through the wood. Each footstep towards the door bounces between your ears. Struggling with the lock, you finally got it open, your legs almost numb and your arms heavy. On the other side of the threshold stands Peter, his hood over his head, eyes assessing you through his lashes as his head angles down.

“Pete?” 

You feel his arms around you before the whoosh registers in your head. Blinking hard, you are lying on your back, limbs heavy. Some time must have passed, but you can’t be sure.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered from above you. “I think I gave you too much.”

Struggling to keep your eyes open, a shiver blankets your skin. You let out a whine when your tongue refuses to curl with your words. It lies heavy, your jaw loose as you slur out questions.

“Peter?” You try again. Your question is slurred and there’s a pitched whine to your voice.

“Shhh, this is for your own good.”

“Mmph” you mumble, unsure if you actually feel hurt right now at this moment. Your movements are heavy and slow, like running through water. Your back is against something soft that smells like your fabric softener. Your bed. When did you get here?

“I’ve wanted you for so long. Now I can finally have you.” His hands seem to be frantic as he pulls your shorts from your hips and down your thighs before discarding them. Is he frantic or is this normal speed? His coat is gone and he pulls his hoodie over his head, his shirt stuck inside it. He’s next to you a fraction of a moment later

His warm hands graze your hips as he pulls the oversized shirt off of you, the crack of static electricity sparking from your hair as it's pulled through the collar in your ears. His hand gently rests your head back down on the pillow. You whine again and try to cover your bare chest with your small hands. He notices and pulls them away. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he reassures, mistaking your modesty for insecurity. He’s lying on top of you now, chest to chest. The heat of his bare skin as he presses into you, his hands tracing the shape of your waist and hips. He seems to be mesmerized.

“We can’t-” you want to scream, but even you aren’t sure your thoughts matched what came out of your mouth. Your hands try to push him off of you, but he’s too solid, too in control. When that doesn’t work, you slap his chest, but you don’t really feel the impact on your palm. You’re too numb. He grabs your wrist.

“I don’t use my hands to harm and you won’t either.” He says this firmly, eyes locked on yours, but follows up with, “Behave or I’ll have to tie you up so you don’t hurt yourself.” The latter comes out softer, more timid like the Peter you know.

His head dips down as he places sloppy, unpracticed open mouth kisses on your neck and shoulder. Quickly this turns into full sucking. You angle your chin to the side, scanning your nightstand for something, anything to help you. You eye a book, hardcover, heavy hand reaching up to grab for it. Maybe you can hit him hard enough to buy time.

Peter catches your movement and lets out an irritated, though shaky, sigh as it leaves his lips. “What did I say?”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, silver device. He grabs both of your arms and places each palm on an iron bar on the headboard before a white, sticky, material shoots from it and seals your hands to it. You pull, but they don’t budge. He tosses it aside and slides down your body as you fight against your restraints.

The cool air brushes against you where your panties were. Vision unfocused, try to reconcile the split image of him and merge it into one. It’s dim in here, but it looks like he has your panties in his fingers as he tosses them aside. He lowers himself to his forearms, eyes never leaving your face. Or you think he’s looking at your face.

His nose brushes against your slit, tentatively, as you flinch. Your tongue is motionless in your mouth, but feels swollen, like it will suffocate you. All the things you want to say are being swallowed in your constricted throat.

His tongue pokes out as you manage to shake your head a fraction bit side to side. It probes your folds, uncertain. It takes him a few attempts, but he seems to find a technique he likes. The flat of his tongue swiping up as he breaks eye contact and his eyes roll back, indulged in the taste of you.

The sight of him enthralled in your most delicate region forces a squeak from you. His eyes snap open and his hands grip your hips a bit harder as he dives his mouth onto you. Seemingly encouraged by your noises and movements.

“You taste so good, baby.” He says, breathless, before he dives back in. Suddenly, his mouth finds your clit and he flicks his tongue against it hard. It’s too much pressure and it has you wriggling, brow furrowed.

He seems to notice this, because he modifies and begins sucking on your clit instead. A shock wave is sent through you, your hips angle up to meet his mouth eagerly. Taking this as a sign to continue, he inserts two fingers inside you, stretching your hole.

Quivering, you try to fight off the orgasm building, thighs clenching his head. He seems superhuman as his fingers never cease their rhythmic curling inside you and his mouth sucks the life from you. Whatever he gave you makes it impossible for you to take deep breaths and the orgasm that drenches your body in sweat steals the air from your lungs. He slows his motions as you ride his fingers and mouth before slowly removing both from you.

He seems proud of himself as he says, “I’ve always wanted to do that to you.” It’s almost endearing, but then you remember you’re drugged and bound.

Stalking you like the prey you are, he crawls up your body and slides his pants and briefs off his hips. He’s already hard as you try to focus your vision on him. Unable to tell how thick he is, you wonder if it will hurt. Perhaps if he caused you pain, your body would snap and find the adrenaline you need to get away. You pull against the bars again, hoping to break free. In the very least, your head lulls side to side in protest.

“I didn’t bring a condom, but we don’t need to worry about that. I’ll always take care of you.” He says, his forearm resting next to your head while his other hand reaches down, lining himself up with you. He pushes forward, breaching your entrance. Removing his hand, it moves to cup your head in his hand, sound muffled as he presses his palm hard against your skull.

Unable to move your head as he cradles it, your eyes flutter, unable to make him out clearly. His eyes penetrate yours, his eyes a deeper brown than you noticed before. His lips are parted as he catches his breath.

He slowly pushes forward, inch by inch. Your wet channel stretches and forms to him as he slips inside you. Despite the heaviness in your limbs and numbing to your skin, you can feel how your body accommodates him. The feeling of him is amplified by his heavy breathing in your ear as he pulls back and slams back into you.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” You try to tune him out, the only thing you really focus on is the wet sound of your slick as he draws more from you. Your body operates on sensation alone and all you can feel is him. He finds a rhythm that seems inhumanly fast as his hips push yours into the mattress harder and harder. 

He presses his chest against yours again and you can’t tell whose body temperature is higher. The desire within you builds. Fighting through the haze, you cry out, spine arching off the bed. The fabric is damp beneath your hips and you wish you could be embarrassed by it.

Both of your breaths grow louder, more frantic. On particular thrusts when he tilts his hips. the tick of his cock angles up to hit your g spot, you let out a moan. Encouraged by this, the corner of his mouth lifts into a cocky smile.

“Louder, baby.” He commands breathlessly, seeming to find his courage.

He lifts his chest from yours and kneels, his hands lifting your hips up with him, your ass no longer on the bed. Grabbing for your ankles, hooking your heels over his brawny shoulders, he slams back into you. His forearm wraps around your shins, holding them in place while his opposite fingers find your sensitive clit. Letting out breathless gasps, you can’t catch your breath or restrain your vocal cords. He continues plowing into you, fingers rubbing diagonally, frantically, against you.

“Come for me, Y/N. Soak my cock.” Something about this version of Peter, this feral side of the sweet delivery guy you thought you knew, makes you come again. Eyes rolling back, your lids closing as his hips become frantic. He squeezes your legs like a lifeline as he comes inside you, a loud grunt from above you.

He pulls out of you and lowers your hips to the bed. The euphoria sets in and your taught muscles relax into the bed. Leaning over you and he connects his nose with yours as he catches his breath. You’re both hot, a thin layer of sweat over your skin, but that could be from whatever he gave you. Your shoulders are stiff and you try to tug again on the headboard.

“Oh,” he chuckles, “those will dissolve soon.”

Abruptly, he gets up, wiping his cock against the inside of your panties, before he slips them back on and settles them on your hips. His come drips out of you and into the panties, keeping you wet and reminded of him. How did this happen? You never let anyone inside the safety of your home.

Moments pass as you process this. Faintly, you hear his feet on the carpet before he’s back in your room, sipping on the soda he brought you.

“Thirsty?” He asks and angles the straw to your mouth.

“My shoulders hurt,” you murmur out.

“Then next time don’t fight me. I think you understand that now, don’t you?”

Even without touching you, he is still inside of you. There is a faint pulsing from your clit that radiates down to the soles of your feet. Rhythmic and matches your pulse as you come down. Your arms and thighs goosebump from the chill in the air and you can feel the balloon in your head deflate. But you’re still unable to respond to him so you lie there, surrendering to his power over you. 

#dark!peter parker #dark!peter x reader #peter parker #spider-man #inappropriate use of web slinger #dark fic