#skeptical echo

[perenlop]

not at all denying that this is a major cause of death for trans people but nex benedict’s murder being ruled as a suicide is making me question that high trans suicide statistic. how much of it is really suicide and how much of it is just murder at the hands of our oppressors retooled to blame ourselves

#trick question actually its all murder. #echoed voice #ok read up some more and its being ruled as a suicide bc they believe nex overdosed #but… im skeptical of that tbh #and even if it is the case then hmmmmmmmmm i wonder what could have fucking driven them to such a thing. theyre still murderers

[luminecho]

Seriously those AIs are literally not capable of that sort of shit they’re too loving

#i didn’t say it but I need y’all to trust me that I was skeptical lhdgdjdjk #// #echo screams #echo plays dual destinies #echo's aa liveblog #aa spoilers

[ohproserpine]

i. deer dolly

part i | part ii | more | ao3 tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, human! possibly ooc! alastor so he's a bit more "tame" here, allusions to murder and such, unsettling & obsessive behavior, written before episode 7; may become inaccurate, gorey-ish descriptions of love

"So what?" Angel Dust hummed, drumming his nails on the counter. "You and Alastor are like... friends?"

"Oh, well, that ain't the word I would’ve used, but it's something like that!" Mimzy chirped, reaching for her drink and downing it in one go. "He used to frequent the club I had! In fact, that’s where he met his wife—"

“Wife?!” Angel Dust cut her off, jaw dropping. “Freaky face is married?”

“Oh yeah,” Mimzy hummed, waving her hand around. “Under all that murder and cannibalism, he’s a total sap! Can't blame him, I mean—his wife is a doll! Me an' her used to perform together!”

"An’ how come I never heard of this? People ain't told me shit!" Angel Dust grumbled, turning to Husk behind the counter. "You knew 'bout this, whiskers?"

"Yeah. They were together back in the living. But don't even think of bringing it up in front of Alastor. He gets all heated," Husk grumbled, grabbing a towel to wipe down Mimzy’s now-empty glass. The cat then turned to grab another bottle off the shelf, a grimace on his lips. "I would know."

Angel Dust leaned forward, resting his face on his folded hands. "Well, ain't that something. Never knew he even had one of those."

Mimzy cackled, her voice a raspy melody that echoed through the smoky air of the bar as she snatched the bottle of liquor away from Husk’s paws. "Oh, honey, you wouldn’t even know how deep it goes. They go way back."

"Spill," Angel Dust grinned, curiosity getting the better of him. 

Mimzy leaned in, looking both ways to make sure Alastor or his shadows weren't around before lowering her voice. "It was back in the day, at my joint. Alastor dropped by for the bootlegs, you know? But then he caught sight of her. She was singin’ and dancin’ on stage, a real heartbreaker. He couldn't resist the charm, and boom, he was struck on! Ever since then, he came around as frequently as he could. Made me so much money~" 

Angel Dust raised an eyebrow, his long lashes fluttering as he squished his cheek against his palm, a coy smirk playing on his lips. "And you were part of this love saga?"

Mimzy shook her head, a wicked glint dancing in her eyes before she lifted the bottle to her lips and downed its contents in one swift motion, her throat working as she swallowed. "Oh, sugar, just a witness to the drama. Those two lovebirds had their own dance going on. I just spiced things up."

Angel Dust chuckled, shaking his head. "Never thought smiles had it in him."

"Again. He likes to keep his shit private. So, don't go running your mouth unless you wanna be on the receiving end of one of his… episodes," Husk interrupted, his gruff voice breaking through the conversation as he leaned over the counter and reclaimed the bottle from Mimzy with a low growl.

Angel hummed dismissively, his golden tooth catching the glimmer of the bar lights as he spoke. “Anyone could've guessed that. Where is she, anyways? I haven't seen or heard of her since day one."

"Busy," Mimzy snorted, her finger lazily tracing the rim of her glass. She leaned back in her seat, the dim glow of the bar lights casting shadows across her features. "That's where."

“Really?" Angel's brow lifted in skepticism, his boot lightly kicking against the base of Mimzy's chair. "Busy? That’s it?”

Mimzy shrugged, her lips curling into a sly smile. "Can't tell ya much. Y'know Alastor doesn't like sharin'. Secrets and shadows, that's his game."

“Aww c'mon, tits,” Angel grinned, his golden tooth glinting beneath the bar lights with each word. “You gotta know more than you let on. It'll be our secret.”

"Well," Mimzy drawled, savoring the suspense as she tapped a gloved finger against her cheek. "I guess I can tell you a lil’ something about how they met…”

.

Alastor found himself standing in the heart of a secluded corner of town. 

A desolate, dimly lit street stretched out before him, raindrops rhythmically tapping on the worn concrete beneath his feet.

It was something he had never imagined—searching for a speakeasy in this far-off locale. Rarely did he have time for himself. Most of his days were dedicated to caring for his mother, his job as a radio host, and any free time he had was reserved for his… hobbies. But he supposed a change of scenery wouldn't hurt.

Adjusting his glasses, he gazed up at the timeworn, ragged sign of a barbershop that read, "Chum’s Clippers." 

Charming. 

With a roll of his eyes, the radio host stepped into the worn-down establishment, visibly grimacing at the shop's decrepit condition. His eyes surveyed the room, settling on a young blonde woman. 

Perched on the edge of the registrar counter, a cigar dangled between her cherry-red lips, the tendrils of smoke curling upwards in lazy spirals. Her legs crossed provocatively, causing the fabric of her dress to ride up her thighs, revealing more skin than what civil society would allow. 

As soon as she caught sight of Alastor's silhouette, a spark of excitement lit up her features, and she greeted him with an animated wave.

"Hey there, mistah! Names Mimzy!" she chirped with a friendly lilt. Her crimson-painted nails plucked the cigarette from her lips, trailing a wisp of smoke as she gestured toward Alastor. "Whatcha here for?"

"Pleasure to meet you," Alastor smiled back and stepped closer, offering her a bow of his head, “Quite a pleasure. You see, I was just strolling through these darling streets, and wouldn't you know it? The whispers in the wind pointed me straight to you, the gal in the know when it comes to bootlegs. Care to confirm?"

‘A potential client?" Mimzy thought, her smirk hidden behind her hand as she took one last puff, the cherry of her cigar glowing brightly before she flicked it into an ashtray. 'Straight to the point.'

"Well, well, mistah," she drawled with a playful twirl of her finger through her blonde curls. "You've got a nose for sniffin' out the good stuff, huh? Well, we might have a few things tucked away for the right kind of folk. But, sugar, we don't just give 'em to anyone.”

Alastor's smile widened as he smoothly fished out his wallet, giving it a theatrical wave. "I do have a penchant for fine libations, my dear. And I assure you, I'm just looking for a little taste of the local flavor, nothing more."

Mimzy's eyes sparkled with mischief as she perked up, eagerly hopping off the counter. The click of her heels echoed against the worn floor as she approached the tall man.

"You're in luck, then! Follow me, and we'll talk business in the back," she said, gesturing toward a concealed door at the back of the barbershop.

Alastor followed her through a narrow passage, which unveiled another door leading to the very speakeasy he’d heard talk of. The atmosphere changed instantly, lively jazz music filled the air, and the dimly lit space was alive with laughter and clinking glasses.

Mimzy guided Alastor to a private booth tucked away in a corner, where a polished bottle of bootleg whiskey awaited their arrival.

"Here's to unexpected encounters, mistah," she beamed, the words dripping with charm as she poured a generous measure into his glass. Alastor raised his glass in acknowledgment, his eyes glinting with amusement.

"To unexpected encounters," he echoed before taking a deep sip.

The whiskey was bitter and strong, yet there was a subtle sweetness that danced on his tongue, leaving behind a tantalizing warmth. It had been increasingly difficult to find such fine brews ever since the prohibition hit, making each sip all the more precious.

Seating himself comfortably, Alastor swirled the glass in his hand, mesmerized by the way the golden liquid caught the flickering candlelight. Beside him, Mimzy continued her lively chatter, her words accompanied by the persistent clinking of ice in their glasses as she refilled his drink, hoping to stack his bill higher with each pour.

As the room hummed with the soft, easy notes of a piano and the clinking of glasses, a sudden hush fell over the crowd as an announcer's voice sliced through the air.

"Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for the enchanting Dolly!"

Mimzy's excitement bubbled up even more, and she leaned in toward Alastor. "That's my sister! Well— not by blood, but you know, me and her are real, real close. One of my best performers here at the bar!"

"Is that so?" Alastor hummed, his eyes now alight with curiosity as he shifted his focus toward the stage.

In that moment, you stepped onto the platform, grabbing a hold of the standing microphone. With a subtle flick of your wrist, you directed attention to the dark-haired pianist, his fingers poised above the keys. A nod from you and the jazz ensemble sprung to life, setting the stage for your performance. As the spotlight enveloped you in a warm glow, a hushed silence fell over the speakeasy.

Folks, here's a story 'bout Minnie the Moocher She was a red hot hoochie-coocher She was the roughest, toughest frail But Minnie had a heart as big as a whale

The lyrics flowed easily through Alastor's mind, carried by the smooth, buttery tones of your voice that filled the air. The radio host found himself utterly hypnotized, his gaze never tearing from your form.

He could stare for hours, unabashed by any sense of shame—though, truth be told, he didn't possess much of that quality to begin with.

She messed around with a bloke named Smokey She loved him though he was kokey He took her down to Chinatown And he showed her how to kick the gong around

As Mimzy began clapping excitedly and waving her arms to beckon you over, Alastor's attention shifted. The final notes of the song echoed in the room, snapping him back to reality. In the haze of your performance, he hadn't even realized that the song had come to an end.

“What a gal!” Mimzy cackled, joyously wrapping her arms around you as you approached.

Alastor took a moment to study you with keen interest.

The dim lighting of the speakeasy lent a soft, ethereal glow to your figure as you moved, casting long shadows across the floor. A slender dress, shimmering with golden sequins, hugged your figure, shimmers and glitters catching the light. The dress boasted a daring low neckline, while its swaying boxed skirt gracefully fell just above your knees, accentuating your every movement. Complementing the ensemble were black kitten heels, their clicks and clacks adding a subtle rhythm to every step you took. Your hair, styled into a sleek bob, framed your demure features perfectly. Adorning your head was a headpiece adorned with golden yellow feathers and dark lace.

"Dollface, I want ya to meet Alastor!" Mimzy exclaimed, pulling you along and positioning you in front of him. “He’s new!”

With a wave of your hands and a warm smile, you tilted your head up to meet Alastor's gaze. The man standing before you was tall and slim, boasting broad shoulders. His white button-up clung perfectly to his frame, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing toned forearms adorned with scars, cuts, and prominent veins.

‘Must be a hunter or a butcher,’ you noted heatedly.

Short, side-swept brunette hair framed his face, adding a touch of rugged charm to his appearance, while rectangular glasses perched on the bridge of his nose lent him an air of intelligence. As he smiled, a chill crept down your spine, and an odd sinking sensation settled in your stomach.

There was an unsettling nature to him, a subtle aura that left you uncertain of whether your reaction stemmed from the eerie quality of his smile or if it was simply a flustered response to his strikingly handsome features. 

“Pleasure to meet you, cher,” Alastor purred, turning on the charm. He delicately took your hand, pressing a kiss against your knuckles. In a subtle move, the radio host let his fingers linger over your skin, subtly checking for any sign of a ring. Noticing the absence, he filed the information away with a sly smile. 

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well, sir,” you smiled, tucking your face behind your hand. Alastor observed with delight as a subtle blush painted your cheeks, a tacit acknowledgment that his presence had left an impression.

"Al here knows his way around a glass of whiskey like nobody else in these parts! Ain't that right, Al?" Mimzy chattered, her voice bubbling with familiarity as if she had known him for years and hadn't just met him one song and ten drinks ago.

Alastor chuckled, a low, melodic sound that sent your stomach doing flips. "

"Well, I do have a certain fondness for…" The radio host paused, his sharp, gaze raking up and down your form, his words trailing off. "…finer things in life."

A silence lingered in the air, and Mimzy, always attuned to the mood of a room, shot a knowing look between the two of you.

"Well, don't cha?" Mimzy exclaimed, her hands clapping with excitement. "If that's the case, then I'm sure Dolly would love to show you around here!"

"Is that so?" Alastor, maintaining that devilish smile, turned his attention back to you. "Well, what do you say, cher?" he questioned.

Tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, you met his gaze with a coy smile. "I'd be delighted to show you around. There's a lot more to this place than meets the eye."

Mimzy clapped her hands together. "Perfect! Now, why don't you two enjoy the rest of the night? I'll be right here waiting."

“Shall we?” Alastor offered his hand, gesturing to the dance floor.

With a small nod, you graciously accepted Alastor's outstretched hand, leading the way to the lively dance floor where the band played an upbeat tune. Around you, couples twirled in a dizzying dance, with heels tapping, shoes stomping, and skirts gracefully gliding and twirling. Alastor wasted no time, pulling you in and molding your form against his.

Looks were indeed deceiving, as despite his lean appearance, Alastor had no issue effortlessly tossing and spinning you round and round, lifting you as if you were as weightless as a feather. Each spin and dip was executed with skill, his footwork was a blur and soon enough, you found yourself willingly surrendering to the rhythm of his lead. 

This man could fucking dance.

As the music gradually slowed, Alastor guided you to the side, providing a moment to catch your breath after the energetic routine.

"Thank you for the dance, cher! You are quite quick on your feet," Alastor chuckled, his voice low, blending with the fading echoes of the music.

"You're not too bad yourself," you managed between breaths, a raspy laugh escaping your lips. "Nobody's ever been able to keep up with me," you continued, running a hand through your tousled hair and adjusting your dress. "I think I was the one who had to keep up with you."

After ensuring you were presentable, you lifted a hand to fix Alastor's slightly damp locks, adjusting his glasses and tie. Alastor froze, a foreign sensation enveloping him. Despite his typical aversion to physical contact, there was an absence of the usual recoil in disdain this time.

"Looks like we're both a bit of a mess, aren't we?" you chuckled, a wry smile playing on your lips as you gracefully brushed away a speck of dust from his shirt.

Alastor blinked and eventually relaxed, allowing you to proceed without any resistance. "Quite."

While you continued to fix him up, Alastor couldn't help but feel a sense of bewilderment. He felt as though coils had entwined themselves around his heart. Slowly constricting, they didn't just tighten but twisted, sharp edges digging into muscle, squeezing his emotions into a thick syrup that spilled beyond the confines of his ribs, seeping out in a haunting shade of crimson through the cracks in his chest.

As the seconds passed, he paid no mind to your touch, shifting his focus to instead dissect you with his eyes. He scrutinized the subtle reactions playing across your face—the delicate twitches of your brows, the soft pout of your blood-red lips, and the scrunches of your nose. 

What were you doing to him?

"There you go!" you announced, a note of satisfaction in your voice as you finished your task, your hand coming to rest briefly on his chest before retreating. "Ready to head back?"

Snapping out of his obsessive trance, Alastor emitted a soft hum, offering his arm to you. You gracefully accepted, intertwining your arm with his. The energetic atmosphere from the dance gradually subsided as you and Alastor made your way back to the private booth. Mimzy's mischievous grin awaited you as she rejoined your company.

"Looks like you two had quite the time!" she exclaimed, a twinkle in her eye.

Alastor quickly composed himself, nodding with a grin. "Indeed! It was quite a delightful dance."

Just as Alastor turned toward you, the insistent dings of a nearby clock echoed through the room. His expression shifted, a fleeting shadow of disappointment and ire crossing his face. The hours had danced away quicker than he had anticipated.

Undoubtedly, the night was still young for you, given that speakeasies often extended their festivities until the early hours of the morning.

However, as much as Alastor would adore the idea of continuing to enjoy your company, the weight of responsibilities at home tugged at him. He had his elderly mother waiting, relying on his care for her well-being, as well as an upcoming morning shift at the radio station.

"It's later than I realized, my dear," he admitted, his voice carrying a touch of regret. "I'm afraid I can't stay any longer. Duty calls, and the dawn awaits for my return."

Something twisted and snapped in Alastor's gut as he observed the unmistakable disappointment etched across your features, evident in the downturn of your blood-red lips. His fingers itched with an impulse to claw your mouth back into a smile, to dig his nails into your skin and carve your lips into a grotesque display of happiness, all in a desperate attempt to restore the radiance of your joy.

Meanwhile, Mimzy sighed in disappointment, yet Alastor discerned that beneath the theatrics, she was indifferent to it all, evident in her thinly veiled disinterest.

"Aww… That's too bad, sugar! The night's just gettin' started!" Mimzy exclaimed, shaking her head with a pout. 

"But I get it! Some folks got places to be," Mimzy waved it off. There was a sudden twinkle in her eye as she pulled out a tab from her dress pocket. "Anyways, 'bout those drinks you had, they weren't exactly on the house, sooo..."

Alastor chuckled and pulled out his wallet. "Of course, my dear! I apologize, it must not have crossed my mind!"

He settled the bill and threw in a generous tip, for both you and Mimzy. His job as a radio host was quite the money-spinner, affording him the pleasure of treating others to the finer things in life. Mimzy practically glowed with satisfaction, her blue eyes sparkling as she snatched the tab. Swift and efficient, she flipped through the bills, before pocketing the money.

"Thank you, love!" Mimzy chirped, already moving away from the table as she waved him off. "You're welcome anytime!"

“I’m sure I am,” Alastor responded flatly, almost mockingly, with a roll of his eyes, pulling a laugh from you. As Mimzy made her way off backstage, both you and Alastor were left alone.

“It's a shame you have to leave so soon. I've got more songs up my sleeve for later. I would have loved for you to stay and catch the performance,” you sighed, turning back to him.

Alastor's eyes sparkled with genuine interest. "Songs, you say? Well, cher, that does sound like a delightful experience. Perhaps I can catch your next show some other time."

You smiled, appreciating his enthusiasm. "I'd love that. I perform here regularly, and your company would be more than welcome anytime."

Alastor's gaze intensified, fixing onto you with a magnetic pull that seemed to draw you closer despite yourself. His eyes, pools of darkness, held an unexplainable intensity. As his lips curled up into a grin, there was a hint of something more primal than human lurking behind his charming facade. A shiver traced its way down your spine, leaving behind a lingering sensation that unsettled you to your core.

"I'll definitely make it a point to come by," he finally said. 

Scrambling for a response, the only sound that reached your ears was the rhythmic thud of your own heartbeat as your blood rushed through your veins.

"Y-You too! Don't let the night slip away too quickly," you stammered.

With a nod, Alastor bid you a final farewell, weaving through the dimly lit space towards the exit. 

Yes, he shall see you very soon.

Cher - Louisiana Creole term meaning "darling," "sweetie" or "honey."

#sephiewrites #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you #hazbin x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor

[summer-suspicion]

A revamp of some old undertale ocs I made when I was like 10 :p

#ut oc #undertale oc #oc: skeptic #oc: echo

[incognit0slut]

Hypothetically

Chronically single, you suggest a pact with your best friend to start a family together when you turn forty.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x bau fem reader

Category: fluff/comfort

Warnings: marriage and baby talk, reader is insecure because she feels left out

A/n: This is my entry for the kid fic challenge by @imagining-in-the-margins! This was like a breath of fresh air from all the smut I’ve been writing

"Do you want to have a baby with me?"

The scalding coffee burned his tongue as your question lingered in the air. Spencer cleared his throat awkwardly and patted his chest, his eyes drifting towards you. "Uh... what?"

"Hypothetically," you replied, the tap of your pen echoing against the round table between you. "It's like a pact. If we're both still single in the future, we get married to one another and, well, start a family together."

Spencer felt the clamminess of his palms as he set his mug down, trying to steady himself. He considered you as one of the closest people in his life, if not his best friend, and he was accustomed to your random questions, but this sudden topic of conversation seemed to strike a nerve.

"Where..." he began, wiping his palm along his pants. "...where is this coming from?"

You shrugged casually, the tapping of your pen momentarily ceasing. "Just a thought. I mean, we're both at that age where these things start to cross our minds, right?"

Spencer swallowed, trying to push down the unease rising in his chest. "Yeah, I guess so," he muttered, but as he studied you, he noticed the tension in your shoulders. "Are you okay?"

Your gaze flickered away for a moment before you sighed, slumping against your chair.

"I have a wedding coming up this weekend." Spencer frowned, not understanding what you were trying to say. You continued, "And another one next week, and guess what? Two of my cousins are getting married next month."

"What does that have to do with...?" His voice trailed off as realization dawned on him. "Ah, I see."

But you weren't finished. Somehow, the thoughts that had lingered in your mind for the past few days spilled out right then and there, in the middle of broad daylight when you were supposed to be focusing on the case you were working on.

"And a close friend I went to high school with just gave birth while another friend from college announced she's two months pregnant. And look at me," you exclaimed, your arms flying around. "No wedding. No pregnancy. Spencer, I don't even have a boyfriend, heck, I forgot what it's like to go out on a date!"

He watched as your brow furrowed into a frown, and although your demeanor was all over the place, he couldn't help but notice how you still managed to look pretty.

"Spence?" You asked, nudging his leg with your foot under the table. "Are you listening to me?"

He blinked, momentarily pulled from his thoughts by your voice. "Sorry," he replied. "I'm listening."

You gave him a skeptical look, but the tension in your shoulders seemed to ease slightly as you leaned back in your chair.

"I just... I don't know, I feel like I'm left behind." You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "I mean, I'm happy for my friends and all, but sometimes it feels like everyone's moving forward but me. Like I'm stuck in this... this rut."

Spencer wasn't sure how to respond. On one hand, he knew how it felt to want something that seemed out of reach, but on the other hand, he felt like it wasn't his place to offer advice when he wasn't even sure what the future held for him.

"I get it," he finally said, trying to gather his thoughts. The least he could do was try to offer some comfort. "But just because you haven't reached those milestones yet doesn't mean you won't get there eventually."

"But what if it doesn't happen? What if I'm still all alone and nobody loves me when I'm gray and old?"

He frowned at you. "I'd still love you when you're gray and old."

"Platonically. You love me as much as you love JJ. Or Emily. Or Penny, or even Morgan." You leaned over the table. "I want to be loved passionately by someone who is head over heels for me, who can't imagine a life without me. I want to feel that kind of happiness."

His frown deepened. "I don't think you should find happiness in another person."

"You're missing the point," you groaned, crossing your arms. "I'm not saying I want to depend on someone else for my happiness. But is it too much to ask for someone to share it with? To feel like I'm someone's everything and not just another friend in the group?"

His expression softened as he listened, a sense of familiarity washing over him. He remembered feeling the same thing once, or maybe more than once; he wasn't sure. He had lost count of the times he felt his life was falling short.

But he realized the more he thought about the why—why was he so different? why couldn't he find love?—the more he felt worthless, and he hated that. So what was the best thing he did to ignore those thoughts?

Bury himself in work, because to him, pushing those feelings aside was easier than confronting them. But now, as he looked at you, it felt like he was seeing his own reflection and your words hit him harder than he expected.

"No," he quietly agreed. "It's not too much to ask for."

"I guess what I'm trying to say is... I'm tired of waiting for life to happen to me." Your gaze slowly met his. "So I came up with a plan."

His throat felt dry as he recalled how this conversation started in the first place. "The... baby plan?"

You nodded enthusiastically, sliding into the seat next to him.

"Think about it. If we're both still single when we're..." You paused, furrowing your brow as you did a quick calculation. "Forty? Yeah, let's say we're both still single when we're forty, with no partners, or like, no friends with benefits?"

You shook your head.

“Just... with no one in our lives—we get married. You and me."

He blinked, trying to process your proposal. It was unexpected, to say the least, but there was a strange logic to it that he couldn't quite shake. The idea of marrying his best friend as a backup plan was both absurd and oddly comforting.

"But what about... love?" he asked cautiously. "Wasn't that what you wanted?"

You paused, considering his question before responding. "I mean, I don't think it's impossible," you said, leaning back in your seat. "Haven't you ever heard of the saying, 'Marry your best friend'?"

His gaze lingered on you, his heart beating hard against his chest. "You're saying that we can fall in love?"

Your eyes met his, and a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "Who knows?" you replied softly. "Stranger things have happened."

Spencer shouldn't entertain the possibility. After all, who knew what could happen in the future? It seemed like an absurd thought, but as he stared at you, it was hard not to imagine a life with you as his wife.

He imagined you in a white dress, walking down the aisle towards him with a radiant smile on your face. He pictured you both in the house you had just bought, dancing joyfully around the empty rooms as you unpacked boxes together.

Then thoughts of you being pregnant with his child—or maybe even children—filled his mind, and he envisioned a future where your kids would run around in the backyard with a pet dog trailing behind.

And then he considered the prospect of growing old with you, watching as your children eventually started families of their own while you found comfort in each other's company. All of these possibilities didn't seem so bad, because if anyone could understand him on a deep level, it was definitely you.

Maybe this crazy plan of yours wasn't so crazy after all.

"I... I guess it's not impossible," he finally admitted. Then, not wanting to seem too eager, he added, "Hypothetically speaking."

"Of course," you replied with a smile. "Hypothetically speaking."

Suddenly feeling flustered by your gaze, Spencer looked away and focused on his coffee, bringing the mug to his lips. Then you heard laughter and footsteps drawing closer, and soon Derek and Emily entered the room. Their eyes immediately landed on the two of you, sitting closely together at the table.

"What are you children whispering about?" Derek's voice interrupted, his eyebrows raised curiously as he glanced between you.

You didn't miss a beat. “Spencer and I are having a baby together."

Spencer choked on his coffee, his eyes widening in shock as he coughed and sputtered. You quickly moved to pat his back.

"Well, we're gonna get married first, right, Spence?" you added with a grin, glancing at him expectantly.

Spencer finally managed to regain his composure, clearing his throat awkwardly as he shot you a sideways glance. "Um, yeah, of course," he stammered, his cheeks still tinged with embarrassment. "Hypothetically."

Derek and Emily exchanged bemused glances, a silent conversation passing between them. Emily's curiosity seemed to win out as she lifted a hand, turning her attention back to you. "Care to explain?"

"We were discussing our backup plan."

"Backup plan?" Derek echoed. 

"Yeah," you replied with a nod. "In case neither of us finds the right person by the time we're, oh, I don't know, forty or so, we figured we'd marry each other and start a family."

Derek placed a hand over his chest, feigning hurt. "And you chose Pretty Boy over me?"

"I'm not going to compete with all your lady friends," you shot back, rising from your seat. "Come on, Spence, let's grab some lunch and brainstorm baby names."

He stood up, giving you a pointed look.

"Or do you want to discuss how we'd make those babies in the future?"

"Well, I was thinking of Amelia if it's a girl..."

You grinned, linking your arm through his before guiding him towards the door. Derek and Emily observed the natural closeness between you two, how you were practically clinging to him and how he seemed to be comfortable with it.

Derek turned to Emily as you disappeared down the hallway. "Do you think they'd actually get married when they hit forty?"

Emily shook her head. "Nope," she replied confidently. "I give it a year until he's already down on one knee."

He laughed, nodding in agreement. With the way Spencer's gaze lingered on you with unmistakable affection, it seemed like it was only a matter of time.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

“Are you gonna be a good girl?” || Young President!Coriolanus Snow x reader

Summary: Coryo's friends have always been and probably will always be condescending towards you. When you refuse to stay home when he invites them over for dinner, you become aware of the intricate control that Coriolanus has skillfully woven around you, highlighting a sense of submission in your actions.

Warnings: reader smoking, age gap (r is 18 and Coryo is 25), manipulative, controlling, toxic!coryo, power dynamic, condescending behaviour,

Wc: 740

A/n: crap summary but i kinda got inspired by Priscilla and I lowkey imagined cailee as Priscilla in this but u don’t have to. I LOVE THIS MOVIE SM 😭 also pretend Arachne is still alive.

"I want to visit my family later today, Coryo," you mention, casually flicking the ashes from your cigarette into the nearby ashtray. Coryo looks up from his newspaper, his gaze fixed on you. “What?”

"I want to see my family later today," you repeat, "I haven’t seen them in weeks." The sentiment is laced with a tinge of longing. With a cigarette delicately held between meticulously manicured nails, your painted lips articulate the words, the smoke swirling into the air.

A hush settles in the air until Coryo’s voice breaks the silence, his tone void of emotion. “You can’t. Not today,” he asserts, his attention returning to the newspaper. Your eyes fixate on him. “And why not?” You try not to raise your voice, but a hint of urgency slips through.

"Because, sweetheart, we have guests coming over for dinner." You roll your eyes. "And I want you here, yes?" he adds, pointing to you. “Who’s coming?” Coriolanus sighs deeply, dismissing the question with, “Does it matter?”

“Yes, it does matter. Who’s coming, Coryo?” Your tone grows more agitated. He casually shrugs, “Just a few of my friends, that’s all.” The harsh stubbing out of your cigarette emphasizes your displeasure.

"Your friends?" you question, annoyance evident in your tone. Sensing your irritation, he casually discards his newspaper to the side. “Yes, does that bother you?” he spat in response, his words carrying a tinge of defiance.

You let out an exasperated laugh, “You know how I dislike your friends, Coryo. They’re horrible to me!” You grip the armchair tightly, leaning towards him. You can practically feel the irritation radiating off you.

Coriolanus dismissively rolls his eyes. “Please. They’re not horrible to you. You’re being dramatic—” The room is charged with tension as your hand forcefully slams on the table. “Yes. They are. They belittle me, Coryo!” The weight of your words hangs in the air, your chest heaving from the emotional intensity of the outburst.

It's true. Whenever you're around Coriolanus' friends, it's hard not to notice the condescending vibe they throw your way, the snarky comments about anything and everything about you.

The memory of your wedding day remains vivid in your mind, etched with indelible images of raised eyebrows and skeptical glances from all of Snow's friends as you walked down the aisle. The collective gaze left you with a lingering sense of embarrassment. You were only 17, and he was 24.

You were well aware of the swarm of thoughts buzzing through their minds every time they saw you with Coriolanus. According to them, you were too young, too naive, too quiet, and perhaps even too unintelligent to hold the title of First Lady.

The unsolicited opinions seemed to echo a common sentiment: Coriolanus should have chosen someone closer to his age, someone who shared more similarities with him.

Conversations with his friends were always filled with subtly belittling comments that Coryo either didn't notice or chose to ignore.

Arachne stood out as the harshest among them all. Her comments, in particular, were cutting and had a way of driving you out of the room, often leaving you with tears streaming down your face.

In their eyes, you were just weak. A wife who sat there and looked pretty. But you were more than that, you knew that, hell, even Coriolanus knew that, but he never spoke up.

"They just like to tease you. Don't be so sensitive," he scoffs, the nonchalance in his tone amplifying your frustration. You gnaw at your lips as Coriolanus rises with a sigh, leisurely stretching his neck before heading to the nearby table to pour himself a glass of alcohol.

"I don't want to be here," you whisper loud enough for him to hear you. "I want to see my family, Coryo," your voice trembling with the urgency of your plea. "You can't deny me of seeing my own family," you exclaimed, the words escaping your lips with an urgency that surprised even you.

His response was swift, harsh. He took hold of your chin, his fingers digging into your flesh as he forced you to look at him. "You are to stay here, do you hear me?" he commanded, his voice cutting through the air.

The forcefulness of his grip left you momentarily breathless. Your attempt to pull away was futile as his gaze bore into you, a mix of anger and expectation in his eyes. Tears welled up, blurring your vision as a wave of helplessness washed over you.

As your gaze meets his with glassy, doe-like eyes, Coriolanus can't help but be overcome with a sense of remorse. His hold gently eases, his fingers transitioning from your chin to delicately trace the pad of his thumb along your cheekbone.

"Are you gonna be a good girl and stay, hm?" His voice was softer now. You swallow hard and you find yourself nodding, silently surrendering to the intricate web of control that Coriolanus deftly wove around you.

Coriolanus tenderly brushes away a stray tear that had dared to escape, his touch as soft as a fleeting whisper. Leaning in, he draws closer to your face, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek. The warmth of the kiss lingers for a brief moment, a delicate embrace, before he gently withdraws. "Now, go get ready," he says, his back turned to you as he pours himself another glass as you wordlessly leave.

#coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x you #young president snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #tbosas imagine #tbosas x reader #coryo snow #president coriolanus snow #fanfiction #tom blyth #possesive!coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow #tom blyth imagine #hunger games #the hunger games fanfiction #priscilla movie #coriolanus snow smut #president snow #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader

[foldingfittedsheets]

When I was young I was dating this absolute cocknob right as I graduated high school. More on that later.

As a present ostensibly to me (but mostly my folks) I was whisked away after graduation to spend two weeks in Europe with my parents. The plan was to see London, Paris, and Heidelberg.

I was moody and a teenager and was largely disgruntled by this fabulous adventure. I went along with sullen foot dragging and black looks. I commandeered my reprehensible boyfriends enormous black hoodie and wore it on the trip. At the start of our jaunt into London I mentioned offhandedly to my mom that it was burning when I peed.

“You’re just dehydrated, and your period is about to start.”

She was right on both counts. I upped my water content, and had my period (which may have contributed to my overall ill humors.)

So we found ourselves in a tiny hotel in Paris, a week into our jaunt, when I repeated, “Man, it just really burns when I pee.”

“What?!” my mom demanded.

“I told you like a week ago that it was burning.”

“Augh! Now we have to go to the hospital!” she proclaimed.

“What?! Why?”

“Because,” she snapped, “You have a bladder infection.”

More bickering ensued, and my temperament was not improved by knowing I’d told her I was having an issue a week ago and been ignored.

My dad heard about the itinerary shift with resignation and we trooped down the narrow stairs as a family to ask the concierge where the nearest hospital was.

The absolutely lovely man at the desk was immediately so concerned when we asked for directions. “Is everything okay?” he asked with very genuine sympathy and I muttered that everything was fine, we just needed a quick visit.

Lucky for us the hospital was only a few blocks away. We walked there and the building was massive, home to what appeared to be several separate wings but no obvious main entrance.

We wandered inside and it was like a weird dream. There was no one around. Huge echoing corridors met us as we peered in vain for a front desk or possibly signs. We searched with increasing frustration for anyone to talk to and somehow found ourselves in some tiny back offices.

A woman sat at her desk and looked bewildered to see three lost Americans approaching her. She greeted us and as a family we all simultaneously realized the massive flaw in our current course.

You see, dear reader, we did not speak French. My dad and I both spoke German. I inquired politely if she also spoke German and she shook her head looking increasingly cornered. We asked if she spoke English.

“Leetle…?” she replied.

“My daughter has a bladder infection! Blad-der?” My mother declared this at a high volume as if volume alone could bridge the communication gap, while simultaneously miming over my stomach, circling where she presumed my pelvis was under the gigantic black sweatshirt.

The woman’s expression turned extremely skeptical and she slowly repeated “Bladder…” She scrutinized me for a moment then said, “You go…. This?” And pointed to something purple on her desk.

“The purple signs?” my dad asked.

She nodded and we set off. I was stewing with resentment at my mom for having ignored my first complaint when we were in a country that spoke English. And also generalized hostility about being on the trip and the object of miming. Now here we were in a French hospital, lost and unable to communicate. I also was under no illusions that someone who didn’t know the word for purple would have any clue what bladder meant.

And slowly I realized what had actually happened as I peered at the purple signs. My mother circling my stomach with her hands, gesturing to my middle. The woman’s skeptical face.

“Hey mom,” I chirped, syrupy and smug. “I don’t speak French. But I do know that it’s a Latin based language. And wouldn’t you know, but that purple sign looks an awful lot like it says ‘maternity’ to me.”

“Shut up!” she snapped.

A few minutes later we stood surrounded by the moans of pregnant people and the cries of fresh new lungs wailing at their first taste of cold air.

I smiled sweetly at my disgruntled mother.

Luck was with us however. A nearby father noticed us and came over to ask if we needed help. With perfect English he gave us clear directions.

As we finally approached the right area for walk in services it was clear how we’d missed it the first time. A large swathe of the front of the building was covered in tarps. A huge wall sized window was broken, and construction was taking place, but at least it had a bustle of people and a clear line. We sat down in the queue of chairs.

While we sat some police officers came in. They walked up to a man ahead of us in line and with few words exchanged they handcuffed and led him politely away.

I was genuinely so out of reality. Every new thing that happened was like a bizarre dream from the empty hallways to the maternity ward and now this tarp strewn waiting room in which people could just be calmly arrested.

It was a shock to me then when we reached the front and the nurse spoke with perfectly unaccented English to assess me. Not only did she know bladder but a whole slew of other medical words I couldn’t guess at. I peed on a stick and we waited.

When we got the results she told me it was good because they could give me antibiotics today for my now confirmed infection, but bad because I’d need the doctor to sign off. I nodded and my mom and I were escorted to yet another small room to wait.

When the doctor arrived I felt suddenly gangly and awkward. I’m not tall but I towered over this tiny French woman who radiated calm composure. She seemed to be around my grandmothers age. She looked up at my blushing face and said, “Bladder infection?” Her English had a much stronger accent than the nurse but with the same medical competence.

I nodded.

She nodded too and we sat in a still contemplative moment on my UTI.

“Do you have… boyfriend?”

My face was on fire, every cell of me wanting to flee from this tiny perfect old woman. I nodded.

She nodded too. We sat still in the knowledge that I had a boyfriend and a UTI.

“Do you and your boyfriend do… it?” Her delicate accent stretched it into “eet.”

I don’t know if she didn’t know the word for sex or if she thought saying “it” was kinder but I wanted to melt into the floor and cease to exist to escape my increasing mortification and her meaningful pause. I nodded.

“Okay,” she said kindly. “When you and your boyfriend do… it… you must make pee pee.”

I writhed slightly under the psychic damage of this elegant medical professional saying “pee pee” and I nodded more emphatically hoping she’d desist this torture.

She continued. “If you and your boyfriend do… it… five times? You make five pee pees. If you do it ten times, you make ten pee pees.”

My face had never been hotter, all the blood in my body had volcanoed to my head, pounding in my ears and valiantly attempting to give me an aneurism to end my suffering. There is no mortification as acute to a teenager as an adult talking about sex and here was this medical professional telling me about… it.

Meanwhile, my mother. Who should have been regretting her poor parenting and reflecting on her neglect in failing impart this vital part piece of sex ed to her kid. Alas, she was laughing herself sick the corner. She added to my embarrassment by quietly repeating “pee pee” and “it” under her breath as she wheezed and chortled.

The doctor patted my hand kindly and handed me the antibiotics. I got to spend the rest of my trip in Europe avoiding direct sunlight and listening to my mother parrot “Do you do… eet?”

#ramblies #funny #story #writing #teenage angst #there’s a couple stories I tell that my betrothed has to hear on repeat cause they’re party pleasers #this is one such #ffs foibles

[lettersofalover]

-> kiss me quick | blurb

paige b. x famous!fem!reader | for @euphternal

genre: fluff

summary: the hard launch of your relationship happens courtside at a nba game because the camera man won’t give up

the camera followed you. from the moment you sat down he was finding angles and sneaky ways to cut to you each timeout or commercial break. you played into it because it was the new normal for your life. with your dads recent acquisition of an nba and wnba team, all eyes were on your family. the media speculated endlessly about your dad, his previous experience, his hockey playing son and you, a model and brand ambassador for multiple luxury brands. you worked alongside you dad in the office with designing the teams public image and crafting more life and energy into the game. the future of quality basketball meant a unforgettable fan experience. you, your friends, and your brothers’ friends always sat front row. you were a loud mouth heckler and famously known for it. there was a video of you that circulated where you told off the referee while simultaneously giving the bird to devin booker after he played dirty.

it was all in good fun, devin would dm you after the game, asking to take you out but you declined - he was 1/2 your type. he was an athletic professional basketball player but he fell short in the most important area. you liked your basketball players to be women, tall and blonde, with a heart of gold. someone who was unapologetic about their loyalty. and that someone, your girlfriend, was paige bueckers.

she was late to the game and when she finally slid into the seat next to you, she held a shirley temple in her hand and a massive smile on her face. she leaned into your ear to say hi and offered you a sip of her drink - she held the straw for you and you took a long swig of the alcoholic drink that she so desperately loved. you couldn’t help but agree that it was delicious. paige leaned back into the seat and placed her arm on the back of your chair, immediately asking about the game. her infamous leg spread made you smile - she looked really fucking good tonight.

“how does dad feel about it?” paige questioned about the teams sudden lackluster performance. paige loved your dad and he loved her right back. he was skeptical of her at first - he assumed she was cozying up to you so that she would get a guaranteed spot on a wnba team. but the more she came around it was clear she loved you and soon, she was family.

“he’s pissed. there’s some disconnect between the coaches and the players and they don’t want to talk through it.” you admitted. paige shook her head in disbelief.

“what are these plays? the guys are reading right through them.” she sighed as the opposing team possessed the ball. the suns executed a perfect counter play to control the ball and lob it to their own player, who dunked and swung on the rim for good measure. he stuck his tongue out in a celebratory fashion and pointed at you - a friendly jab but it didn’t stop the irritation from growing.

the buzzer echoed through the arena and a commercial break ensued and you turned to paige to give her your undivided attention. it had been while since you had seen her last. you crossed your legs and she placed her hand on your knee, listening closely as you tried to talk over the mc announcing a kiss cam. it was in the back of your mind as you talked to her about the meeting you had with your dad but the music overpowered you. suddenly, the crowd whooped and cheered and paige snatched her hand from your leg. you looked up at the jumbotron where the camera man had you promptly placed in a heart with your brothers friend, who sat to the left of you. the both of you laughed and your brothers friend fiend heartbreak as you denied him a kiss.the camera moved on to someone else, thankfully.

the camera bounced between couples, old and young, and you smiled at how interactive the crowd was tonight. even in the midst of one of the worst days of the season, the fans were happy to participate. the crowd grew louder and this time, the camera man settled on paige and your brother who sat to the right of her. he fell over in laughter and she immediately began signaling “no” with her hand swiping back and forth in front of her face. your brother was cackling, pushing her arm playfully and she turned as red as a tomato.

“oh my god they aren’t giving up tonight.” you laughed and your brother said, “i bet yall are next.”

“no shot.” “hell no.” you and paige spoke simultaneously. the camera panned to another couple who seemed to be wearing matching uconn shirts and paige cheered along with the crowd. the buzzer rang again, signaling the end of the break.

“see, i told you that they wouldn’t come back.” you replied but you spoke too soon. the kiss cam was focused squarely on you and paige. the two of you placed on each side of a heart in the jumbotron and to make matters worse the crowd began to chant, “kiss kiss kiss” over and over.

paige looked to you and you looked at her, both of you bursting into laughter. she took the comfortable, easy route, and placed a kiss on your cheek and much to your surprise, the crowd booed and paige threw her hands in the air.

“should we?” she asked as the crowd began chanting “kiss kiss kiss” again, this time louder than the last. you shrugged your shoulders with a smile and bit the inside of your lip and nodded at your girlfriend, who took you face in her hand. she held your jaw sweetly and kissed you. the sound of the crowd was deafening and your heart was beating faster than you knew it could. sneakily, paige wrapped her hand around your neck and pulled you in closer which made you giggle against her lips. you knew it would go viral as soon as the internet got ahold of it. it was an unserious kiss but a kiss nonetheless and you knew that people were shocked to see it. you pulled away from her and waved at the camera before hiding your face in your hands. paige leaned back in her seat once more, a smirk spread across her face.

the crowd was satisfied with the results of their chanting and finally getting you two to kiss. it wasn’t a secret but you kept it private - until now, when you made out with your girlfriend on national television. where there was no back tracking. paige’s phone immediately started to flood with notifications of what just happened, people even sent pictures of the kiss.

“i cannot believe we did that.” you said, “i can’t believe you did that.” you teased. she pulled her phone out and scrolled through the comments flooding her instagram page.

“look,” she pointed at the comments.

user1: always knew she was for the girls but did she have to take my girl smh

user2: paige you didn’t have to break up with me this way

user3: i would die for your gf actually

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers blurb #uconn wbb

[moonstruckme]

Idk if this is even enough for a request but I would love to see poly marauders w a reader who takes extremely hot showers, like maybe she’s already in the shower when the boys come home and they go to join her but start squealing and they jump back out, pouting at her about “it’s too hot! You’re boiling, you’re going to pass out in there” etc. I just think it’s funny and I love a good hot shower. (Bonus pts for plus size reader!! Not sure how that would be important but I’d love it if it was!)

Thanks for requesting sweetheart! I couldn't really find a way to make it plus!size reader without describing her body a lot but that felt sort of weird and I ended up cutting most of it, so unfortunately it's only plus!size reader if you squint a bit

cw: non-sexual (okay, some sexual, but it's only lightly implied) nudity

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 628 words

Steam whooshes out of the bathroom when James opens the door. The mirror is completely fogged up and he’s immediately warm, but that’s alright, because he’s shrugging off his shirt anyway. 

“Hi, angel,” he calls over the spray.

“Jamie?” Your voice echoes off the tile a second before your head pokes out past the curtain. “When did you get home?”

“Just now, but Sirius and Rem are already in the kitchen making dinner.” Well, Remus is making dinner. Sirius is providing commentary. “Can I join you in there?” 

Your smile comes quick and devious, water dripping from your chin. “Sure you can.” 

James hurries out of his pants and socks, pulling aside the curtain. “Alright, scoot ov—ah!” He hardly gets one leg under the spray before he’s jumping back. “Shit that’s hot! What the hell, lovie? Are you trying to cauterize yourself?” 

You laugh like he’s overreacting, which James knows for certain he is not. Steams pours out so thickly from behind the curtain it’s a wonder there’s any water left to wash yourself with that hasn’t instantly evaporated. “What’s wrong with a hot shower?” you ask. 

James doesn’t know how to answer that. “Hot” doesn’t even begin to describe the temperatures you’re subjecting yourself to. He hears footsteps in the hall, and a second later Sirius is opening the door, Remus behind him. 

“Did someone yell?” 

“Yeah, me,” James says, accusatory, “when I nearly had the skin scorched clean off my leg.” 

Sirius raises a single brow. “That scream was awful girlish, Prongs. You sure it was you?” 

“Prick,” James laughs. “Go on, feel the water. It’s like she’s punishing herself in there!”

Remus steps past Sirius, sticking his hand under the showerhead. His eyebrows raise, and he draws it back (albeit with much more dignity than James had withdrawn, but he’d been caught by surprise). “That really is quite warm, dove. I can barely hold my hand under there, how’re you doing it with your whole body?” 

You shrug, turning towards them, and it occurs to James that he and you are both naked while your other two boyfriends are fully clothed. There was a time where you would’ve tried to hide yourself from them in this state, and he’s hit with a rush of gratitude that that time has passed. Still, he doesn’t quite like the look of you like this, steam rising off your body as water that may as well be magma slides over your curves. James can’t believe you when you say that doesn’t hurt. 

“It’s nice,” you say, like some kind of psychopath. “I don’t know, I like it.”

“Sweetheart, you could pass out from heat like this,” Remus frets.

“Is it really that bad?” Sirius is skeptical, until Remus presses the palm that he’d held in the water to his face. His eyes widen. “Fuck, how can you stand that, babe?” 

“You guys are wimps,” you tell them, rolling your eyes. “It’s cold outside, and I fancied a hot shower. Sue me.”

“But this is more than hot,” Remus says. James nods ardently. “You’re really telling me you don’t even feel lightheaded?” 

“I don’t,” you promise, but James isn’t having it. He pulls the curtain aside, gripping the fat of your hip (“Fuck, Jamie, you’re freezing!”) to reach around you and adjust the water temperature. 

“There,” he says. “Let it cool down a bit, and you won’t melt your brain, plus I’ll be able to get in with you. Okay?” 

Remus nods satisfiedly, hurrying back towards the kitchen to attend to whatever he’s likely left on the stove, but you pout. “It’s going to be cold,” you complain. 

“I’ll be in there with you,” James reminds you, grinning when you brighten. “I’ll make sure you don’t get too cold, lovie.”

#poly!marauders #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x fem!reader #poly!marauders x you #poly!marauders x y/n #poly!marauders x self insert #poly!marauders fanfiction #poly!marauders fanfic #poly!marauders fic #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders drabble #poly!marauders scenario #poly!marauders one shot #poly!marauders oneshot #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #the marauders #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom #hp marauders

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 51 || The Resolve

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, angst if you squint, & heart-tingling fluff.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 4.5k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——THE TRUTH, CHOSO deserves to know the truth. After all he’s told you about himself the very least you could do is give him that. He’s earned it hasn’t he?

“Six,” You murmur honestly, your heart rate spiking as the word leaves your lips.

He repeats it as if he didn’t hear you, “Six?”

“Mhm, I’ve slept with six other guys since meeting you,” You explain in full, facing forward and avoiding looking at him.

Choso’s eyes are all over the side of your face and he takes a second, processing what you just said. “A-And that includes Geto… Sukuna, and the other guy you have feelings for, right?”

You nod and things get quiet for a second. The only thing you could hear was the pounding of your heart. He hates you, doesn’t he? He thinks you’re disgusting and is seconds away from kicking you out of his car right?

You should’ve told him earlier, maybe he could’ve helped you. It’s too late now though, the silence told you everything. You basically just told him you’re a wh-

The sound of Choso letting out a relieved sigh is heard, “Thank god.” He mutters, earning the turn of your head.

“T-Thank god?” You whisper, “You’re not… You don’t… Choso, I-“

“I mean, in total, six isn’t terrible is it?” He hums casually, meeting your widened eyes, “If three I already knew about, what’s three more?” He says with a shrug.

You blink, “Choso… You can’t be serious right now?”

He tilts his head innocently, “Why not? I mean we’ve known each other since when, like, September? It’s February now, baby. If you break it down, honestly, aside from me that’s one guy a month, no?”

The way he just responded as if it’s literally nothing makes you feel like a fool for worrying so much, “You’re serious…”

“Plus, we weren’t dating so,” He shrugs.

You sigh, “D-Do you want to know who-“

“Nope, absolutely not.” Choso cuts off, shaking his head instantly.

A slight chuckle leaves you due to his reaction, “Why not?”

“I don’t need any more images in my head.” He hums, “I know who two of those six are so, that’s enough info’.”

“Right…” You murmur, nodding slightly. That went entirely different than you were expecting, “Well uh, your next question, then?”

“That was the main one I think,” Choso sighs, “I can’t imagine there’s anything else I should know that could possibly change the trajectory of our… uhm, situationship?”

“You…” You blink, “You don’t want to know who the other guy I have feelings for is?”

A brow is risen and Choso doesn’t quite understand your offer, “Does it matter who he is?”

“I don’t know…” Your shoulders raise a little.

“I mean,” Choso moves his head and glances away in thought, “I can’t imagine it being someone I know since I only know a handful of people.”

“Uh, can I ask something then?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“Does the name…” You pause wondering if you should really ask your question but after a second or two, you get it out, “Does the name Gojo Satoru mean anything to you?”

“Gojo?” Choso echoes, giving you a skeptical look as he smiles a bit, “Gojo Satoru? Uh, didn’t Geto mention him earlier?”

You swallow, “Mhm…”

“Does the name mean anything to me? I dunno, I mean, I know him but-, wait…” His eyes narrow at you, “Baby…”

“Y-Yes?” You squeak out nervously.

Choso tilts his head a little, “Is he…?”

“Is he what?”

He pauses, then he swallows and meets your eyes with an intense gaze, “Do I wanna know?”

“Wanna know what?” You ask for clarification.

“Do I wanna know if that’s my competition?” Choso explains simply.

You’re still not used to such easy and quick answers to your questions, “I d-don’t know, do you?”

He stares for a minute before shaking his head, “Never mind then, I already told you, I don’t care who it is.”

“But-“

“What would knowing who it is change?”

Well, it’d give you an opening to explain the list… But then again, do you want to explain the list?

“Baby,” Choso sighs, “What I don’t know won’t hurt me, right?”

“It might…” You mumble.

His brows furrow, “How?”

That’s a damn good question. If you tell Choso that Gojo’s his competition then proceed to explain how you only slept with all those guys, including Choso himself, because of a list you were blackmailed into completing— how would he react?

No, really think about it. One, Choso might feel like a tool. Even though you know you talked to him that day in the hall because you were genuinely interested in him, he might never feel that way. To any sane human, that interaction will feel set up.

And two, somewhere deep down, you still want to protect Gojo. Why? Because you know there’s more to this blackmailing situation and you can’t tear down his character anymore without knowing the truth, that’s just not in your nature. And hey, you may regret this later when you do learn the truth but, it’s the thought that counts, right?

A man who’s obsessed with you and loves you like Gojo does wouldn’t blackmail you without good reason-

Okay, wait, what good reason is there to blackmail someone? And… What if boredom wasn’t the reason like he said it was… What if this was all done just so that Gojo could somehow trick you into running back to him?

Think about it. He claims the list was done out of boredom but later down the line tells you he loves you. What if he knew Choso hates liars, knew you’d tell Choso the truth after so long, and assumed you and Choso would part, thus leaving you to run back to him?

What if this is some kinda sick game and when the credits roll, the winning option is revealed to be Gojo Satoru? What if-

Choso says your name, “Are you okay?”

“H-Huh?” You breathe out, not knowing the facial expression you hold.

Your eyes were all wide and you looked like you’d seen a ghost.

“What’s wrong?” Choso asks carefully.

You shake your head and snap out of your mind, “Nothing, sorry.”

“After all I’ve told you, you still chose to lie to me?” He teases.

Your heart jumps a bit, “I-I didn’t mean to lie, I just, uhm… W-Well-“

He snorts and you freeze. When you look at Choso you see the way he’s smiling at you for the first time in a while. As quickly as your eyes meet, he turns away and brings his hand over his mouth.

“You… You were messing with me, weren’t you?” You question, narrowing your eyes at the man.

Choso lets out a chuckle, “Kinda. M’sorry, you just got all nervous and it was cute.”

“Well I thought I fucked up again Choso, that’s not funny,” You tell him, frowning.

He laughs, the sound more genuine than ever and making your heart simmer into a state of relaxation. A pout takes over your expression and you couldn’t believe that after all this he still found a way to tease you.

Playfully, you reach over and hit his arm, “Quit laughing, you scared me.”

Choso’s eyes get dramatically wide and he winces, bringing a hand to where you just hit him and sending you a look, “Oh wow, and after I tell you I was abused, you decide to hit me…” He points out, again making your heart sink.

You swallow hard and get nervous all over again, “Shit, s-sorry…”

Choso stares at you for a second and it’s slow how his smile returns, the sight making you realize he was messing with you again. 

This time you frown and turn away from him, “Oh my god, stop doing that, we’re supposed to be serious right now.”

He starts snickering, “Baby, c’mon you know that was a little funny.”

“It wasn’t,” You utter seriously, staring out your window and watching water slide down the glass.

The sound of him scoffing is heard before he moves and a hand is placed on your arm. You turn and look down at his fingers wrapping around your arm and watch how he tries to tug at your arms to get you to unfold them.

“I’m sorry, princess,” Choso hums, “C’mere, I was jus’ teasin’ you.”

You pull away from him, “Making jokes about your childhood trauma isn’t funny, Cho.”

“I laughed,” He says, shrugging.

You roll your eyes at him, “Well I didn’t.”

“Yeah and that’s the problem,” He argues back, “I can joke about my trauma. It’s my trauma.”

You sigh, “But-“

“Baby.” He cuts off, tipping his head to the side.

“What?”

Choso’s eyes grow pleading, “Look at me please?”

With a huff, you steadily lift your gaze to his, “Okay, now what?”

“Come here,” He says.

Your brows furrow and you blink, “What do you mean come here?”

“Climb over to me, I wanna hug you.”

You stare at him, “Choso I’m not climbing over-“

“Then I’ll go out in the rain, walk over to your side, and drag you out of that seat.” He says while finally pulling your arms loose. Then, Choso reaches down and unbuckles your seatbelt, “Either you come over here or I come over there.”

You sigh and look at his area, “Choso, there’s not even enough space for me to-“

He moves back into his seat and immediately adjusts his chair to go back as far as it can, providing you more than enough space to be able to sit on the floor and in between his legs if you wanted to.

“I dunno’ why you’re acting like you haven’t done this before,” Choso scoffs, “C’mon, bring your ass over here,” He orders, patting his thigh, “I’m not gonna ask you again.”

You sigh heavily and start moving, shifting your knees into the seat and then carefully climb over the center console and to Choso’s side. His hand goes to your waist to support you as you move and you soon find yourself sliding into his lap.

Choso’s car was rather spacious so it’s not like it was difficult for you to end up in this position with him, hell, you’ve been here plenty of times before.

Once seated comfortably, Choso settles his hands on your waist, holding you lightly as his head tips up to you, “Hi princess.”

You try not to smile at him, “Hi Cho.”

“Hug me,” He directs.

You pout, “You could at least say please…”

“If I was asking, I would’ve. But,” He tilts his head at you, “I wasn’t asking you, I’m telling you.”

You simply stare into those brown eyes of his for a moment, noticing the dullness from earlier has lifted and his pupils are dilated. After which, you begin to lean in slowly and Choso grows impatient, quickly wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you to him.

The smile you tried to bite back breaks free onto your face as you move to drape your arms around his neck, burying your face into him and feeling as he squeezes onto you.

Choso lets out a sigh and you feel his entire body relax underneath you as he rests his head back and shuts his eyes, “Now, can we stay like this for a while?”

The crook of his neck smells so good and you were just melting into his hold, “Mhm.”

The two of you nearly molded into one another’s bodies after all the stress that’d been endured. This was so surreal to you— to go from arguing and worrying you may have ruined everything to hugging that same person without being confused in the slightest, god it lifted this weight off your chest.

And as said weight was lifted, another weight took place on your heart. This weight was strong, suffocating even. What did this weight symbolize? Was it trust? Peace? Or… was it love?

Did such a simple yet emotionally present conversation become the breaking point for you? Was this all you needed to acknowledge your feelings? When you realized you felt something for Gojo, it was that time in his car when music was playing and he just looked so damn perfect.

But… With Choso it was different. The physical sensation of falling in love with someone is different for every person. In this case, it’s like the heat emanating from his previously wet and cold body was wrapping around you and smothering you with comfort.

Breathing in his cologne brought nothing but the brightest memories to the forefront of your mind. Choso consumed you with nothing more than a simple hug and he had no idea.

He was completely unaware of how his embrace and faint but gentle thumb swirling over your back made you never want to leave this very moment. Choso didn’t know that you were currently recalling your first phone call with him, remembering how he’d put a smile on your face after Gojo had stripped it from you.

And he’s always been that for you, hasn’t he? In a world where Gojo puts you in a dark room, leaving you frightened, confused, and nervous, Choso is to you the same light he claims you are to him.

Forget Gojo’s claims that you and him are the same. No, you’ve found the person in whom your similarities lay in and that person is none other than Choso Kamo, a man whose only fault with you was falling for you.

And even then, you don’t blame him for doing so because you did too. Your heart is simply swelling right now and you unconsciously started clinging onto his body tighter.

The way, “Choso,” Slips past your lips before you even realize is simply tantalizing to the man beneath you.

He feels as your breath hits the skin of his neck, your warmth giving him chills and making him swallow, “Yes, princess?” He replies.

“I’m sorry,” You apologize sincerely.

He sighs, “Told’ you to stop doing that.” Choso reminds you. Then, his hand slips to caress along your spine, “But, what are you sorry for, baby?”

You weren’t sure just yet. Everything? Nothing? Why is it that you have to apologize for a situation that was never your fault to begin with?

“Earlier,” You come up with, “I think I uh… I should’ve handled things differently.”

He nods a little, trying to ignore the ticklish feeling of your breath against his skin, “Oh, thank you for that. I’m sorry too.”

“Why? You didn’t do anything wrong,” You hum, smiling a little.

“Called’ you dense,” Choso recalls and you feel how his body shifts a little, “Yelled at you, caused a scene, y’know, the list kinda’ goes on, babe.”

“Choso, it-,” You pause for a second. Then, you start moving, your hands slipping down to his chest as you push yourself up to sit on his lap comfortably instead of laying on him, “What?”

He raises a brow, “Hm? What? Did I say something wrong?”

“You called me babe.” You point out, grinning.

He chuckles, “It’s no different from baby is it?”

“It is.” You say.

Choso nods, noting that in his head before asking, “Which do you like more?”

“Doesn’t matter, I like anything you call me,” You tell him, smiling a little.

Choso nods slowly and bites back the mischievous smirk that threatened to show, “Anything?”

“Mhm,” You hum with a slight shrug.

“I’ll…” His words fade for a second and he’s so deep in his head as he processes what you just told him, “Yeahh, I’ll keep that in mind.”

You tip your head to the side, “Why’d you say it like that?”

“No reason, princess, ignore me,” Choso dismisses, “Anyways, I was serious about my apology.”

You sigh and move your hand to caress the side of his face, “Right, well, I forgive you, Cho.”

“You’re supposed to say I didn’t do anything wrong,” He jokes, leaning into your touch and pushing his lower lip out to pout.

A scoff leaves you and you slip your fingers down to his jaw before grabbing ahold of his chin, “Mmmh… You yelled at me, I didn’t like that.”

“Your face said otherwise.” Choso points out, glancing off to the side.

“Hm?” Your brows knit together.

“For a second I thought you were turned on,” He says, so clearly joking with you.

You snort, “If I was turned on, it’s not because you were yelling at me.”

“Yeah?” The way the corner of his lips quips up into a sly smirk makes you shift in his lap a little, “Then what was it, baby? I knew there was somethin’.”

“When you were arguing with Suguru,” You recall simply, sliding your thumb up to trace Choso’s lower lip, “I don’t know why but I thought it was hot.”

He raises a brow, “Oh yeah?”

You just barely meet Choso’s eyes and you could feel yourself folding. Good god, why is this man so damn sexy?

“Mhm.” You hum timidly.

He pushes his lips out a little and kisses the tip of your thumb, “Words baby.”

“Yeah,” You utter, your voice almost breathy. 

“Atta’ girl,” Choso praises and you swear you should not be getting turned on right now. “Anywho, before you get yourself too worked up, I did want to ask you something else.”

You shake away your incoming horny thoughts and return to seriousness, “Okay… What is it?”

His gaze drops down to your torso and his eyes narrow, “Well, I wanted to ask about you and uh… You and Sukuna.”

For some reason, unlike earlier you’re not as nervous, “Okay…”

Choso’s index finger and his thumb are toying with the fabric of your top as the rest of his fingers rest on your hips, “Did you… Did you enjoy your time with him?” He asks carefully.

Your heart jumps, “Uh, I-“

“You promised to answer honestly,” Choso reminds you, lifting his gaze to yours once more, “I won't ask anything I don’t want the answer to.”

“Alright, well,” You look off to the side, “He was sweet to me after we…”

“After you had sex?” Choso fills in.

You nod, “Mhm. He was surprisingly good with aftercare. A-And I think… I think because of that, yes, I did enjoy my time with him.”

He gazes at you for a while without saying anything and you continue to keep your eyes elsewhere. Choso thinks back and he genuinely doesn’t remember Sukuna being like that. Before his last known girlfriend, after he’d have sex with whichever girl he was with, he’d kick most of them out.

But, there were a few he was different with. Those few Choso got to meet. The most memorable was the last known one, the same one Sukuna knocked out. Choso remembers her to be rather rude to him, calling him gross or disturbing whenever she and him crossed paths but, he recalls the woman having Sukuna wrapped around her finger.

Of course, due to Choso’s experience with Sukuna, he didn’t care to point this out to his older brother— if that woman was playing him, he deserved it.

Even so, it makes Choso wonder what about you made Sukuna treat you so nicely. Hell, it actually worried Choso because since the two attend the same university, Choso knows what it’s like to have his love interest taken from him by his older brother.

“More than…” Choso’s voice is soft, scared even, “More than with me?” He blurts out without thinking.

Your eyes snap onto his and your brows furrow, face shifting into something bothered, “What? Hell no.”

Choso releases a shaky breath and nods, “Oh, okay good.”

You tilt your head, “Choso are you worried I may feel something for him?”

“N-No, I know you said you don’t and I believe you.” Choso stammers, “I-It’s just-“

“He’s repulsive,” You snap, “After everything you’ve told me about him, I could never see that man in the same light.”

“Oh.” He chirps.

“Now, it does confuse me why I experienced something different but,” You shrug, “I don’t care to find out.”

Choso’s eyebrows raise and he stops toying with your shirt, “Really? Why’s that?”

“Because I’m not interested in him.” You say.

Choso smiles a little, “Good…” All his worry fades and he returns to his playfulness, “So uh, who are you interested in, then?”

“You, obviously.” You tell him with a roll of your eyes.

“Is it obvious?” Choso questions.

You frown, “I thought so…”

“Mmmh, I dunno’ baby…” He starts looking away with a skeptical expression.

“I’ve said it before but, I do want you Choso.” You remind the man.

His eyes shoot back over to yours, “Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Have me, then,” Choso says eagerly.

What surprises him the most is your response to that this time around, “Can I?” You ask.

He bats his eyelashes at you, “O-Of course.” The words pour out of his mouth and his heart skips a beat.

“You sure?” You question teasingly with an innocent tilt of your head.

“Fuckin’ positive,” Choso breathes, smiling, “Have all of me, princess.”

He’s so clearly happy about this and that makes you just as happy, “Okay…”

“Okay?” There’s a hint of need in his voice, “What does that mean?”

You give a sheepish shrug, “I don’t know…”

“Baby I can’t do I don’t know.”

“Okay then,” You slide your hands down and rest them on his chest, “Let’s make it official, Choso.”

“M-Make us official?” He asks for clarification.

“Mhm.” You hum.

“So,” He can hardly process what’s happening, the entire conversation feeling like a dream, “You wanna be my girlfriend?”

A pretty smile spreads across your face, “Yes, Choso.”

“Okay,” He whispers, nodding, “O-Okay, I can work with that.”

“Work with that?” Your brows knit, “Cho, what're you talking about-“

“Let’s go on a date,” He offers, “Wait-, no. Can I take you out on a date?”

You blink, “We’ve been on dates already-“

“A real one.” Choso urges. Oh he’s been planning this for months now, hasn’t he?

You’re smiling from ear to ear, “A real date?”

“Yes.” Choso says, “We both dress up all nice, go out to eat or somethin’, y’know, do this properly.”

“Okay.” You murmur.

His hands slide up to your waist and he squeezes a little, “Yes or no baby?”

“Yes,” You start smiling and your heart has never felt this full before, “Yes you can take me out on a date.”

“Thank you,” He sighs, suddenly tugging your body closer to his, “This way I’ll never have a reason to feel insecure.”

Your arms go up and back around his neck, “Yeah?” You whisper.

Choso’s voice lowers and his gaze is so intimate with you, “Mhm, I think that’ll solve every problem we’ve had so far.”

You nod, “I think so too.”

Both of your faces near one another and you’ve never in your life felt more content with a person before. Is this what you’ve been craving for months? Is this freedom? Peace? Bliss?

To have such a tough conversation with your heart spiking multiple times, and feeling worried about certain reactions, all to result in feeling more comfortable in a person is something you never expected. Do you deserve this? Such happiness?

Well, why wouldn’t you? What have you done to yourself to not deserve the man looking at you so lovingly right now?

Did you forget?

The list is over. You’re free to experience this without worrying about hurting anyone. You are finally allowed to love with all your heart instead of only half.

Gojo was right about one thing, he could never give you things Choso can because, at the end of the day, Choso will explain everything to you because he knows what it’s like to be confused and hurt. Choso understands you, he actually loves you.

As for that stupidly beautiful white-haired man? You’re not sure what to think of him anymore but, you think you’re done thinking about him.

Sure, you still have a journal to burn with him but, can’t you indulge yourself in the joy that is loving someone wholeheartedly? Is that not what you deserve after everything you’ve been through?

Your head tilts as your gaze sinks to Choso’s lips. Does this man even realize how wonderful he is to you? Does he know that he’s your savior? Is he aware of how much you adore him? How thankful you are to him?

“Choso,” You utter so carefully, your face nearing his.

“Yes?” He replies, his eyes dropping to your lips as they near him.

“Thank you,” You suddenly say.

He smiles a little, “For what?”

“Everything,” Your answer is vague at first but you’re quick to explain a bit more, “For loving me the way you do, being so open to me, telling me everything even though it was hard for you…”

“Baby that’s not something you have to thank me for,” He hums, letting out an amused scoff, “That’s the bare minimum of what I should be doing for you.”

Something sheer glosses over your eyes but you ignore it, smiling at his words, “But still,” Your voice is light and tainted with emotion, “Thank you for waiting for me.”

“If my reward for waiting is you,” He smiles, “I told you, I’d wait lifetimes.”

“Choso,” You breathe out, holding onto him so very tightly before the words slide out of your mouth, “I love you.”

His chest is against yours so you can feel the way his heart throbs. His breathing picks up in an instant, hitching for only a moment as your words caress his ears so beautifully.

“Y-You…” Choso’s at a loss for words. He’s dreaming, right? “You what?” He asks, his voice shaky as his eyes land on yours.

The sight of joyful and overwhelmed tears in your eyes lets him know just how real this is. Then, you lean in and just barely press your lips into his before repeating yourself, “I love you, Choso.”

Those arms around your waist squeeze you tighter and you don’t miss the way he trembles a bit, his own eyes glossing over, “I love you too, princess.”

Another sweet, soft, and lightweight kiss is shared between you two but as you pull away and your eyes meet all over again, Choso sees the way your pupils have expanded. He wonders how long they’ve been that way, having only seen it at such a size once before.

His brows tense and Choso pulls you to him again, muttering the words into your mouth, “I love you so much.”

You smile briefly against the connection before mumbling right back, “I love you too Cho.”

Everything you could’ve ever asked for was within your grasp now. Peace, freedom, happiness, certainty, hope, love— all of which was felt in the midst of you and Choso kissing so passionately.

This right here… This is what one would describe as a healthy relationship. 

Arguments and drama occur but the end result should always be this; peace and understanding.

That’s what he is to you. Choso is your peace, your understanding, and the man you love all in one.

You’ve finally ended the war in your heart. Should someone ever ask you who ended that battle, who healed the plague on you, your answer would remain forever;

Choso Kamo.

GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ITADORI SUKUNA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???

NANAMI KENTO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙙

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

tags;

@blognicole @suguruologist @luqueam @ivoryviness @sinaxalui @rxnnie18 @carlacujo @gods-landing @bitchysouljellyfish @miles4hour @sinaxalui @annananamin @heart-snow @kiyomizzx @hanuh @acehyacinth @mccookiemonster @tojis-ball-sack @cartwheel6869 @mariluvsusstuff @addie1010 @slammynics @actualz0mbie @hisbitchhh @kay-xle @cunttee3 @voids-universe @raininglovelyfire @itsbokutosjuicyass @peaceoutbritta @barbielani @gennaray @r3inae @kfmcykdy @camiihutt @tokina @curtin81937 @hopefullydecent @nameless-shade @ureuphoriasworld @forgetfulmachine @legbouk @lilliaannn @clementineee0-0 @divinelseraph @didibxx

#the f*ck list #the fuck list #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo x reader #choso x reader #toji x reader #nanami x reader #sukuna x reader #naoya x reader #geto x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #nanami kento x reader #choso kamo x reader #kamiverse #kamiversee #wattpad #smut fic #jjk smut #gojo smut #geto smut #choso smut #toji smut

[perenlop]

i feel like im kind of an asshole when it comes to pokemon openings bc when “your adventure” and the third “1, 2, 3” opening showed ash battling kukui and leon respectively i was like “aw cmon dont get your hopes up :/ ash never fights the champion so this is probably bait” but i was totally gunning on leon car being real. and look what happened

#in retrospect yeah the foreshadowing made sense i was just a mean ol skeptic #echoed voice #jn lb

[captainfern]

this is a request but i accidentally deleted it 😭

“hi babes. ur work is amazing but im sure you know this. im also sure you have lots of requests so please take your time getting to this one. but I was wonderingggg if you could do one where price is the friend of the readers dad? they've been hooking up in secret for a while but at a little house party, they sneak into someplace private and do the deed. ive seen so many other ffs about this with other characters so ikkkk price would fit this. thank you again <33”

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Marigold

dbf!Captain John Price x fem!reader

[“Marigold” by Nirvana]

[18+]

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• summary - price is your dads best friend. he asks you to meet him upstairs during a party. you fuck lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 4.4k • warnings - fem!reader, dad’sbestfriend!price, established relationship? kinda?, unprotected piv, age gap [whatever you want it to be as long as it's legal lmao], fingering, recording [consensual], oral [f!receiving], praise, strong language

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You fidgeted with the hem of your dress, looking at yourself in the mirror. You ran your hands down the fabric, smoothing the wrinkles, smiling at yourself. You looked fucking good.

Downstairs, a big neighbourhood party was in full swing— something organised by your father. It was a comfortable get together to unwind before the summer holidays, complete with all of your neighbours from down the street, and even across the block.

The dress you were wearing was new. You brought it recently, actually. You liked to convince yourself you got it because you were treating yourself, but in reality, it may or may not have been a 2am online purchase after a considerable emotional breakdown. But hey, same thing, right?

It was shorter than you thought, mid-thigh, if that. The colour was pretty too, your favourite. It complimented the complexion of your skin, accentuating your figure, showing off a significant amount of leg. You smiled at yourself, doing a quick twirl.

Hot as fuck.

The party was bustling. You had arrived home late, apologising profusely to your dad before rushing upstairs to get ready. So, over the gentle thrum of the music, you weren't surprised to hear your dad call your name, hurrying you to come and greet the guests.

You bounded down the stairs, dress fluttering against your thighs, and made your way into the kitchen. You tried not to feel awkward when copious pairs of eyes turned to look at you as you shuffled towards your dad. He put an arm around your shoulders, holding you to his side for a moment, placing a kiss to the top of your head.

"There you are. Come say hi to everyone."

You did. Humming along to the music as you went, you individually greeted each of the guests. You plastered on your best people-pleasing smile, responding cheerily to the same fifty fucking questions everyone asked you.

How are you? How is work? Have you figured out what you want to do? Any plans for the future? Met anyone special?

By the time you made it to the edge of your living room towards the other side of the house, you felt a headache coming on. So, you excused yourself back into the kitchen to get a large glass of water. Your father was just departing, leading the congregation of neighbours outside. By the smell of it, someone was on the barbecue.

You were left, alone, in the kitchen, nursing a cold glass of water, listening to the music you were skeptical your dad had actually chosen. There were some good songs, surprisingly.

You placed your glass away as your dad walked in, heading for the sink. He wriggled in next to you, rinsing his hands under the water.

"You okay, honey?"

You nodded. "I'm fine."

He smiled at you, drying his hands on a towel nearby. As he did that, the doorbell rung, echoing through the house, just audible over the music.

"Oh, can you get that? I just need to take these outside..." Your dad said, scooping a couple of extra wine bottles off the counter and heading outside.

You walked through the house, heading to the front door. You opened it with a polite smile spread across your features. It drooped slightly, catching sight of the man on your front porch.

"Captain Price." It was meant to be a greeting, but it sounded more as if you were stating a fact.

He offered you a small smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges. He had a bottle of whiskey tucked beneath his arm.

"You just never want to call me by my first name, do you, sweetheart?" He chuckled as you stepped to the side, allowing him entrance.

You blinked after his form— strong, hulking shoulders, a lean abdomen paired with a slight narrow in his waist— as he meandered into the entrance hall.

"John makes you sound old." You quipped as you followed him into the kitchen.

He laughed. "I am old."

"Not that old." You said.

It was somewhat true. He was a similar age to your father, and they were best friends. They'd been in the military together before your dad retired to have a family. Price had always checked in on him, especially when he had time off work. You had known him for a while. Met him a couple of times when you were really young— not that you could remember, anyway— and then you saw him a bit more frequently as you got older. You hadn't seen him for a while up until today. Captain John Price is a busy man.

You felt your body begin to heat up once the pair of you were in the kitchen.

Well, the last time you saw him was a couple of weeks ago, before he was set to be deployed to some foreign country—

"That's it, thaaaat's it, don't talk sweetheart, just take it," Price whispered in your ear, chest pressed to your back. "Don't talk. Just take my cock, there you go. Take it, love. Doing so good for me."

He had you bent over his kitchen counter, his house dark around you, the early hours of the morning apparent by the inky black sky visible out of his windows.

You couldn't talk, even if you tried. You had been trying to whimper to him, moan his name and his rank and tell him what you wanted, but you couldn't get the words out of your mouth. He had left you speechless with the way he continuously hit that spongey spot inside you, making you tighten and gush around him.

Bodies flush together, sweat accumulating between you. Your skin was on fire, hands and tits flush with the cool countertop as he fucked his cock into you, harder and harder, your knees smacking the underside cabinetry. His grip on your hips was vice-like, keeping you steady, his pelvis smacking into your arse.

"S'this my going away present, sweetheart?" He chuckled as you choked on another string of moans caught in your throat. "Fucking perfect. I better get another one once I'm back, yeah?"

You nodded deliriously, finding your voice. "Yes, Price, fuck, I promise, I promise—"

Price cleared his throat, snapping you out of your little flash back. He leaned against the kitchen island, hip bracing against it, having placed the bottle of whiskey down. He folded his arms across his broad chest, arms looking especially good in his black jacket.

"Your dad around?" He asked.

You nodded towards the backyard. "Yeah, he's outside. Did you want me to go get h—?"

You were cut off as Price grabbed your wrist and pulled you to him, pressing your body to his. Quickly, he cupped your jaw and placed his mouth to yours, backing your lower back up against the counter. You had your hands against his chest as his tongue slipped into your mouth, one hand on your jaw and the other balled at your hip. He pinched the fabric of your dress between his knuckles, still keeping his fingers tucked into a fist.

Just as you whined into the kiss, your hands travelling upwards, Price stepped back. Commotion outside drew him right across the kitchen as the back door opened and your father came in. You discreetly wiped your face. So did Price.

That was unexpected.

Your dads eyes lit up when he saw Price, and Price smiled at him.

"John! Didn't think you'd make it!" Your dad beamed, pulling Price into a hug.

Price slapped your dad a couple of times on the back before they released each other.

"I flew in last night," Price admitted. "I won't stay long. Just thought I'd pop in and say hi. Oh, I also brought this."

Casually, Price stepped past you and grabbed the bottle of whiskey off of the counter behind you. You breathed in his cologne as he passed the bottle to your dad. You had to force yourself not to close your eyes and whine.

"Jesus, mate, this is an expensive bottle. You shouldn't have."

"No worries, mate. Enjoy it." Price replied.

Your dad turned to you, showing you the bottle, and you had to pretend like it was the coolest thing ever, since your dad seemed absolutely ecstatic.

"You see this, honey? This is good stuff."

"Oh, I bet." You said.

Your dad turned to put the whiskey in a cabinet nearby. When he turned back around, he let his eyes fall on to you, and his gaze softened, a small smile still evident on his face.

"I didn't say earlier, but that's a really nice dress. Nice colour, too. You look beautiful." Your dad said.

You felt your lips quirk at the edges as you hid a bashful smile. "Oh, thanks."

Your dad nudged Price. "It's a nice colour, don't you reckon, John? Reminds me of our deployment in Damascus. Remember? That nice lady selling all those shawls..."

You could tell Price wasn't really listening to your dads military-era story. His eyes were on you. It felt like he was absorbing you whole. Eyes darkening, raking up and down your body, admiring both the dress and the way it clung to you. The pinpoint of his tongue darted across his lips as his gaze travelled upwards from your legs, resting now on your face. You cocked your head at him, ever so slightly, biting your bottom lip for a second. He followed the movement, blinking and looking away, clearing his throat as his cheeks dusted a light shade of pink.

"Yeah, nice colour. Suits you." He grumbled.

After a moment, your dad led Price outside and you watched them go. Your body thrummed in time with the music, buzzing from where Price had touched you just mere minutes ago. You felt warm.

•º•

An hour or so later, the congregation of people had moved back inside, happy and full after the food outside. Darkness had fallen now, music still loud and just slightly vibrating the drinks resting on the counter in front of you.

You were talking with your neighbour, a girl just a few years older than you, who you had known for quite some time. The conversation was actually nice, and you found yourself enjoying it. Until she had to leave, and you were once again left standing alone in the kitchen. Until, of course, Price sidled up beside you, still a respectable distance away.

"Meet me upstairs. Give it a minute, though." Was all he said before he vanished from the room.

No greeting, or small talk. Straight to the fucking point, clearly.

You downed the rest of your drink, letting a good long couple of minutes pass before you decided to head up the stairs. As you ascended, you looked around, seeing no one paying you much attention. Your dad was on the couch, telling a good dozen people one of his usual thrilling stories of his time in the military. You smiled to yourself as you reached the top of the stairs.

You made your way into your bedroom, humming to yourself. You didn't see Price straight away, so you flinched when he slammed the door closed behind you, jamming your desk chair beneath it to keep it locked— it was an old house, with no locks on the bedroom doors— and striding across the room.

You had no time to react as he put a hand to the back of your neck, holding gently but firmly, and pressing your mouth to his. You whined desperately, folding your arms along his shoulders and carding your fingers into his hair, knocking his woollen hat off. He wasted no time in shoving his tongue into your mouth, smoothing it against yours, drawing soft noises from your throat.

He walked you backwards until you both fell against the bed, him overtop of you. He didn't once break the kiss, even when he used one hand to pry your legs apart, forcing them to hook around his hips as he pushed you further onto the bed, crawling after you.

"Missed you." You whispered, pleasure straining each syllable. He had broken away from your mouth, kissing along the curve of your jaw and down the expanse of your throat. He nipped at the soft skin of your neck, licking along your collarbone, still heading southward. He got to the neckline of your dress, pressed taut to the swell of your breasts, rising rapidly as you breathed. He ran kisses along the soft flesh, running his hands up and down your waist, revelling in the softness of the fabric and the warmth of your skin beneath.

"Such a pretty fucking dress," He muttered, teeth skimming the line of the fabric. "Took everything in me not to flip it up and fuck you in it... right there in that kitchen."

He yanked it down, letting your tits spill out before him. With a soft grumble in his throat, he pressed his mouth to your left one, drawing your nipple into his mouth, circling it with his tongue. He looked up at you whilst he did it, admiring the way your eyes fluttered, struggling to maintain eye contact as the pleasure built.

After a moment, he released it with a slick pop and moved to your right tit, mimicking his earlier actions. You moaned his name, gripping his hair, massaging his scalp. He groaned, mouth wet and hot against your delicate flesh. His hands had moved now— one running up to cup and massage your tits as he sucked, and the other travelling down the length of your body.

Your body hummed in anticipation, tingling as he gently flipped the bottom of your dress up, exposing your underwear. Still sucking kisses onto the mounds of your breasts, he dipped his hand past the hem of your underwear. Two fingers made contact with your slick core, and you arched further into his mouth, moaning loudly.

"Fuck me, you're soaked," Price grunted, releasing your swollen nipple and sitting back on his haunches.

Impatiently, he yanked his hand out of your underwear and ripped them away, the cotton snapping against your thighs, breaking with a loud tear. You whimpered as Price stuffed the material into his jacket pocket, swiftly pushing his fingers back towards your core.

They ran up and down your slit, collecting the excess arousal that was drooling from your cunt. He slowly dragged the digits through your folds a couple of times before he pressed the tips to your clit, drawing tight circles. You gasped, arching for him, moaning his rank as he replaced the two fingers with his thumb. His two fingers were immediately at your dripping entrance, circling.

"So wet, sweetheart. Absolutely dripping," He mused. "What's got you all wet and needy?”

You mewled at him, sensation-overload and he had barely started. Your tits were slick with his saliva, cold in the air of your room. He was still circling your clit, your arousal making his movements audible if you listened hard enough. The music downstairs was dull and echoey, as if you were underwater. Then, his two fingers, the tips barely grazing your soaking hole. You could scream.

"Eh, sweetheart? What's got you soaking your pretty little underwear, hm?" Price asked, still giving your clit attention.

"You." You whine.

"Me?" Price chuckled. "What about me?"

'You're... you're making me wet, Price," you almost sob. "Need you so bad. I missed you."

Price liked that answer, clearly. He pushed two fingers into your cunt, letting out a breathy moan as your silky walls clamped around the digits. You keened, whimpering like some kind of wounded animal as he buried his fingers to the knuckle before dragging them all the way back out. He plunged them in again, and a pace began, almost in time with the base of whatever song was playing downstairs.

"This my welcome home present?" He asked, shoving his fingers repeatedly into your tight cunt, wet sounds reverberating around your bedroom.

You nodded. "Yeah. M-missed you—"

Your lower stomach was tingling, coiling tight. Already? Fucking hell.

"Missed you too, sweetheart," Price leaned up to press a chaste kiss to your lips. "Couldn't get this pretty face outta my head. Couldn't get this pretty cunt outta my head, either."

He leaned back, settling on his ankles as he watched his fingers drag in and out of you, coaxing wave after wave of slick from the depths of your cunt. He moaned, really fucking loudly, at the sight.

"Can I... can I take a video?" Price asked, breathless.

You felt yourself burning up, stomach flipping. You nodded, whining a "yeah" as he reached into the pocket of his jeans and fished out his phone. His fingers slowed for just a moment as he readied his phones camera.

"Wish I had a video when I was deployed," he whispered, more to himself than you. "Had to rely on my imagination."

His words made you moan.

"Yeah, just had to remember those pretty sounds you make, and the sight of this pretty cunt stretched out around my cock," He groaned, turning the flash on to combat the hazy lighting in your bedroom. "Came all over my hand imagining it was this cunt 'round my cock."

He hit record as the movements of his finger sped up. You mewled, whining, arching off the bed and pushing your aching core further onto his hand as he fucked his fingers into you, thumb rubbing tightly against your puffy, wet clit. The sounds were obscene, like foley sound effects, soft squelches with each push of his fingers. You could feel your arousal pooling out of you, down the soft skin of your thighs, across the curve of your arse, bleeding into the sheets beneath you. You imagined that Price's hand would be absolutely drenched.

He was making soft, deep noises in the back of his throat, watching his fingers, phone focused on their movements. He flicked his eyes up to your face, not moving the camera though. Your facial expressions were easy to remember— chewing at your bottom lip, slight furrow in your brow, lips puffy and wet with saliva, eyelids fluttering. That was for his mind only.

You moaned, breathy and high-pitched.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?"

"Gonna... gonna cum."

He withheld a moan at the sound of your sweet desperation. It made his cock throb angrily within the confines of his boxers, already painfully hard the moment he had pushed you onto the bed.

"Go on then, pretty girl. Cum 'round my fingers," He muttered, and you did— creaming around him with a violent twitching of your legs, cunt spasming around his fingers in a burst of arousal, splattering up the length of his forearm. He smiled lazily behind his phone, muttering; "That's a good girl."

"Price—!" You cried, halfway between a moan and a sob.

He hit stop, tossing his phone aside and pulling your thighs apart. Nestling himself between them, his breath fanned out across your soaking folds. You tried to lift yourself off the mattress to see what he was doing, but you couldn't. When his warm tongue licked a fat stripe up your sensitive slit, you flopped backwards.

There wasn't as much foreplay as usual… in the sense that Price shoved his tongue directly into your drooling cunt. He ignored your overstimulated clit, probably for the best, as he lapped at the arousal that was still leaking from you. He moaned happily against your folds, nose pressed just below your clit. It nudged the swollen bundle of nerves every few seconds, and it made your hips buck, electricity zapping the base of your tummy.

You had both hands in his hair, pulling him closer and urging him on. You tugged gently at the strands, massaging his scalp, making him grumble appreciatively below you. His hands were hard and warm against your thighs, making you tingle. Your tits were still exposed, the rest of your dress pooling around your waist.

You could still hear the rest of the party happening downstairs. A small jolt of fear passed through you. If anyone— especially your dad— came searching for you, you'd be fucking dead. Whoever it may be, would find you spread out on your back on your bed, legs spread and panting, a man probably more than twice your age between your thighs, eating you out like his life depended on it.

The fear turned to thrill, and you released a shaky breath.

Your second orgasm rolled over you quickly, and Price dragged it from you with a moan of your name against your cunt. You keened, uttering a sickly sweet "captain!" before coming in his mouth.

"Fuck, yeah, that's it." He murmured against your folds, sucking up the arousal that pooled at your fluttering hole. It always made you embarrassed, the way he literally talked into your cunt, his words vibrating your core. He groaned again, humping against your bed covers, pressing the outline of his aching cock into your mattress. "Such a good, wet cunt. Tastes fucking divine."

He pulled away. You watched him hazily as he shed his shirt and pants, then his boxers, his hard cock bobbing against his stomach. You salivated at the sight as he gripped himself, moving to scoop some of your arousal into his hand. He coated himself in it, pumping his hard length, eyes raking down your body.

"So beautiful, sweetheart," he murmured, leaning over you and kissing you again. His cock settled at your entrance, fat head leaking pre-cum onto your already glistening folds. "Just made for me, weren't you?"

You hummed your agreement, barely able to keep your eyes open. He kissed you again, tongue probing, hot and wet. You whimpered, feeling his tongue skim your bottom lip, drawing further desperate sounds from your panting mouth.

Price cursed. "Fuck. Can I record another video?"

You nodded.

"Words, sweetheart, come on. You should know that."

"Yeah, okay," you said sheepishly. "You can record again."

He kissed your nose, then shuffled back, grabbing his phone as he kneeled between your spread legs. He flicked it to his camera, flash on and hitting record. His phone followed the movements of his cockhead, rubbing up your slit, smearing your arousal. Then, with no warning other than a shallow, animalistic grunt from the depths of his chest, Price pushed his cock into you.

He tried not to cum on the spot at the way you tossed your head back, moaning as your silken walls clamped around his cock. Your fists balled your sheets, twisting, as you scrambled for some kind of anchorage as he pulled out and thrusted back in, shunting you up the bed.

His pace was gruelling, sticky skin colliding with a wet fap fap fap. Your eyes rolled, mouth agape as breathy strings of whimpers fell from your lips. His cockhead nudged the plug of your womb, slamming into that spot that had you twitching and spasming.

"My good girl, my fucking good girl, look at you, taking me so well," Price muttered, definitely audible on camera. You clenched around him repeatedly, drawing throaty grunts from him. Your third orgasm was, not surprisingly, approaching quickly. Really fucking quickly. Especially when Price moved his free hand from your waist to toy with your puffy clit, giving it a light pinch before circling it. You sobbed out, clawing at the sheets.

"Captain, please—!"

"Fuck... beg for it... please, sweetheart, fucking beg for it." By the way Price was speaking, he was close.

Your cunt throbbed at that, a whine in his words.

"Please, Price, need to cum. Can I? P-please—fuck—please, captain, need to—"

He groaned, trying to mute himself as much as he could, sinking his top teeth into his bottom lip before urging himself to speak.

"Go on then. Cum 'round my cock," Price uttered lowly, eyes focused on your face. He could watch his cock fucking into your slick cunt whenever he wanted. He just wanted to see your beautiful face. "Good girl, that's it. You can cum. Let go for me, sweetheart."

"Oh my god, Price—" you keened, third orgasm slamming into you and sending you spiralling. White hot, body alight, nerves buzzing as you came around his cock, still burning hot inside you, abusing the plug of your womb.

"Fucking beautiful," Price grunted, still recording the way your cunt stretched taut around his girth, splattering wet across his pelvis.

He was close, twitching inside you. He was pawing at the mound of your belly, pressing his palm to where the imprint of his cock was visible, so fucking deep inside you. He moaned at the sight, salivating, hiking your dress up further to get a better view.

Overstimulation was creeping in. You whined, reaching down to skirt your fingernails across Price's bare abdomen.

"Please, Price, cum for me," you whimpered, voice coming out unusually sultry. "Cum inside me, please, captain."

"Holy fuck—" Price stuttered, spilling inside you instantly.

His warmth flooded you, spurting around his cock, dribbling out of your cunt. He spilled ropes and ropes, hot white ichor, filling your womb as you sobbed for him.

Price tossed his phone to the side, immediately dragging himself up your body, cock still inside. He pressed kisses all over your face, soothing you, the both of you shining with sweat. Your bare tits pressed against his bare chest as he whispered sweet words of affirmation in your ear.

You sighed.

There really wasn't any other man, your age or not, like Captain John Price.

"You alright?" He asked, kissing your earlobe, your jaw, your cheek, your nose, then finally your lips.

You smiled, his facial hair tickling your face. "Mhm."

"Good." He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, sucking at the skin.

"You had fun filming your little videos?" You cooed, stroking a hand through his hair.

He grunted against your neck. "Of course. Straight to the wank bank they go, sweetheart."

You snorted, laughing. "For such an old man, you are so immature."

"I'm not an old man."

"You said you were earlier," you smiled. "Surprised you can still get it up."

"Fucking hell. You and Soap'd get along."

Your mischievous grin grew. "Oh, the one with the mohawk? Sexy—"

Price bit at your neck, making you yelp. He grumbled, "Don't push it."

You laughed, patting his head. You both lay in silence for a little while, listening to the dull, far-away vibrations of the music.

"We should probably rejoin the party..." You said in a disappointed mumble.

Price grunted, hugging you tighter. "Five minutes."

"Enough for round two, old man?"

"Don't tempt me, sweetheart."

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

This was meant to be longer and a bit fluffier but I got tired and horny so here you go hope you enjoyed mwah mwah xx

#captainfern #captainfernsalutes #call of duty #captain john price #call of duty mw2 #captain price #captain price smut #fem reader #price x reader #captain john price x female reader #price smut #captain price x reader #captain’snirvana #cod mw2 #cod price

[lilacnini]

— SICKNESS DAYS TOGETHER

₊˚⊹ notes ~ idol! sunghoon x fem!reader ⋆⭒ warnings: sickness, reader on period, guilty, not proofread, pentanes ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 word count: 400+꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆˚ genre: fluff, comfortish | AN: a request from an anon, this was honestly a really cute prompt so thank u sm anon for requesting ^^| LIBRARY FOR MORE...

YOU'RE HUDDLE ON THE COUCH cradling a heating pad against your stomachas the cramps rage on. It's one of those days where everything feels terrible, and your mood matches the gloomy weather outside. Each passing minute seems to drag on, and you find yourself wishing for some relief.

Just when you start feeling more pangs of pain, the door creaks open, and Sunghoon steps inside. His dance practice ended early today. You barely acknowledge his presence, due to your cramps.

"Hey, angel," Sunghoon greets, his voice laced with tiredness, "I'm home."

You respond with a short nod, still in immense pain.

Sunghoon's brows furrow in worry as he approaches you. "Are you okay?"

"Do I look okay?" you snap, your irritation seeping into your voice.

Sunghoon steps back slightly, taken aback by your sharp tone. "Sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"Just leave me alone," you mutter, burying your face in the pillow.

Sunghoon hesitates, his expression troubled. "Actually, I'm not feeling too well either."

You shoot him a skeptical glance. "Oh, really? Got cramps too, huh?"

He shakes his head, a pained expression crossing his features. "No, it's my stomach. It's been bothering me since practice."

You can't help but roll your eyes. "Sure, Sunghoon. Just trying to tease me, are you?God I probably going through worse."

His hurt is evident in his eyes as he meets your gaze. "No, I'm serious. I feel really sick."

"Right," you turned around, annoyance still flaming in your mood. Sunghoon stood up and then left the living room quietly, leaving you alone.

YOU'RE ABOUT TO HEAD OUT TO THE convenience store. As you grab your bag and keys, Sunghoon's earlier words echo in your mind. His stomach ache. At first, you brushed it off as him teasing you, but now, a feeling of doubt creeps in.

You pause, your hand hovering over the doorknob. Glancing back at Sunghoon, who's slumped on his bed looking paler and more tired than usual, a wave of guilt washes over you. Maybe you've been too quick to dismiss his discomfort. After all, he's never been one to complain about minor ailments unlike you.

With a heavy heart, you leave the apartment, your mind racing with worry. What if he's really sick? What if you've been too caught up in your own discomfort to notice his suffering?

As you make your way to the convenience store, you try to focus yourself to get the stuff you need and maybe a couple of snacks.

Inside the store, you mechanically grab the pads, your mind preoccupied with thoughts of Sunghoon. As you head to the checkout counter, you catch sight of the antacids on display. Without hesitation, you add them to your basket.

Back at the apartment, you find Sunghoon exactly where you left him, looking even worse than before. His pale skin and pained expression tug down your heart, filling you with a sense of determination to make it up to him.

"I got you something," you say softly, handing him the antacids.

He looks up at you in surprise, his eyes widening. "You didn't have to—"

"I know," you interrupt, taking a seat beside him in the bed. "But I wanted to. I'm sorry for not taking you seriously earlier. You were right, and I should have listened."

Sunghoon's expression softens, his gratitude evident in his eyes. "Thank you, baby. I really appreciate it." You give a soft smile leaning in for a soft kiss on his cheek.

"I love you so much," you whispered softly.

"I love you too," Sunghoon replied, holding you tightly.

#𐙚 nini works #k-labels #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen masterlist #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen au #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon imagines #park sunghoon #sunghoon angst #sunghoon enhypen #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon fluff #park sunghoon imagines #park sunghoon angst #enhypen icons #enhypen soft hours #enhypen reactions #enhypen drabbles #enhypen headcanons

[self-loving-vampire]

In the past three years, as bills targeting gender-affirming care for transgender youth have circulated through state legislatures, some anti-trans activists have thrown around staggering detransition rates—often claiming figures as high as 80% to 90%. These numbers have surfaced everywhere from Montana's legislative hearings on gender-affirming care bans to segments on Fox News. Chloe Cole herself has echoed these claims multiple times. Now, consider this: conservative estimates place the transgender population in the United States at over 1.5 million people. If these extremely high rates were accurate, we'd expect to see around 1.2 million detransitioners. Therapist offices would be slammed with people wanting to “change back,” hearing rooms would be packed to the brim with detransitioners, and prime time news-hour specials would feature… well, people other than Chloe Cole on a regular basis. So when Seven News releases a special stating that they are going to cover “the most controversial topic ever covered,” featuring the same faces that we have seen in multiple ads across the world, people understandingly become skeptical. If detransitioners are so rare, why is Chloe Cole’s face the one they always use? ... It's worth noting that Seven News didn't just recycle the same detransitioners commonly featured in other anti-trans specials to suggest a sweeping wave of detransitioning. The network also included images of a transgender individual who has not detransitioned, implicitly suggesting she regretted her transition.

The far right can find so few detransitioners to fuel its narrative that they are even using images of people who are not detransitioners without permission, on top of just flying the same handful of people all over the country to repeat the same bullshit in every state.

The lack of a detransition wave has even played a key role in court cases. Earlier this year, when asked to substantiate the claim that gender affirming care results in youth who will eventually regret their decisions, the state of Florida ran into a problem. They could not find a single detransitioner in the state of Florida to support the claim. As a result, the judge in the case found the facts in favor of the plaintiffs opposing Florida’s gender affirming care ban. Even in a state as populous as Florida, which has over 90,000 transgender people according to expert estimates, detransitioners appear rare.

And, as the post says, even the detransitioners that exist are generally not useful to the transphobe narrative, since they most often do so due to a lack of support and often retransition when in a better situation.

Importantly, transphobes never seem to actually care about the dignity or healthcare access of detransitioners or anything. Only about banning trans healthcare as a whole because "what if people regret it?" They are not subtle about this either. They constantly refer to trans people (detransitioned or not) as "mutilated", "damaged", "ruined", and so on.

#transphobia #100 #1k

[savannahsdeath]

thinking about dealer!ellie, but not the college-little one . . . one, that an innocent girl like you sees on a dark alley and she can't help but instinctively start walking faster. yet, it turns out, she's really a sweetheart when you give her a chance <3

warnings: daddy issues kinda ?? ellie can seem creepy at first but i swear she's not .. thats all for now

you explored the darkest part of the city, the moonlight not brightening your way at all. you felt lost.

you always defined yourself as fatherless, it was the easiest way to explain the lack of a parent — people thought he died and didn't pursue the topic. after some time passed, you started believing your own lie. deep down, in a strangled part of your brain, you knew he's alive and well. but on the other hand, he wasn't — not for you, not in your life. why would he matter?

until he contacted you. he didn't show up in person, what at first made you think that he's... well, a pussy. but you soon realised it's actually analytical and mindful of him. you could act on impulse, say or do something bad. seeing him for the first time won't be easy. he gave you some time to think, so your emotions didn't get between both of you, and couldn't ruin your relationship from the beginning.

but he could at least leave you his phone number instead of the most complicated address, consisting of, not to be dramatic but, like a hundred numbers.

"can i help you?" you heard a feminine, yet hard and raspy voice.

the unforeseen sound made you jump, your heart beating like a little bird trapped in a cage, trying to get out of your chest. you couldn't let her notice how scared you were, though. you crumpled the letter in your sweaty hand. the yellowish paper felt humid, probably soaking wet from your moist skin.

"i don't think so." your voice trembled with the first vowel but you managed to regain your unbothered, callous posture right after.

"this..." she gestured at the ground and area around you — dark buildings that looked empty, yet you felt watched, in plain sight. "this is a bad place for girls like you."

you nervously cleared your throat, deciding to ignore her opinion, and continued on walking. but you could still hear her echoing footsteps.

"i think that— you shouldn't be there. and you don't want to be there." she crossed her arms.

once you gave up and turned around, you were left surprised by how pretty she was. your expectations were— well, on a way lower level. she looked masculine and you could see the curves of her muscles through her clothes, yet you weren't feeling precarious nor apprehensive by her presence anymore.

"actually," she continued, "i know that. it's painted all over your face. one glance in your direction and i already sense the discomfort."

you sharply inhaled, the air hissing in your nostrils as you mumbled an annoyed "god" under your breath. "are you always like that?"

"no." she shook her head and pursed her lips in a thin line, before realising what you meant and chuckling. "not at all. but you should be fuckin' thankful." she untangled her arms and shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans. "c'mon, what are you looking for?"

you pinched your nose bridge and closed your eyes with a huff, because why did she have to be so damn persistent and perpetual? but she seemed able to help you, so in a slightly complaining—dissenting tone you murmured your father's name.

and her stubborn smirk faded, her gaze shifted between you and the letter in your hand. "who are you?" she asked, emphasizing each syllable, as if she was talking to a child.

you were dubious and skeptical on what you should say nor should you admit the truth, you just shrugged. a hesitant, mistrustful raise of your shoulders, which even deepened the girl's frown, knitting her eyebrows together. "i dunno..."

"you can't be a sluuu— sorry, a prostitute" she thought aloud, actually considering this option.

"why?" your expression glowered as you scowled. oh, so your father is associated with call girls, how nice! "don't answer. whatever. just— take me to him."

"i can't." she defensively raised her hands. "you could be a... fuck, i don't know, a spy or something!"

"don't be stupid" you scoffed and couldn't help but roll your eyes. "i'm his daughter."

she gulped and her eyes widened. "daughter?..."

✧˖°

PART 2 IS OUT !!

#tlou ellie #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie x y/n #ellie x fem reader #ellie #ellie x you #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams x female reader

[sourprada]

Possessive mommy wanda clubbing with you for the first time. She’d be a menace.

It wasn’t news to anyone that Wanda was the possessive one of the relationship. Sternly glaring at anyone who dared to talk to you when she was holding you by the waist. When you agreed to spend your friend’s birthday on a club, wanda was skeptical about the idea but seeing you in a short dress, barely leaving anything up for imagination, made it up for her.

Until she remembered she wasn’t the only one seeing you like this.

Wanda regretted the idea the moment she stepped foot into the club, her mind playing tricks alluding her to think everyone was looking at you, automatically stiffening her posture. You noticing this, clung to her side the whole night — until the drinks started coming— being the light drinker of the group had its perks, getting drunk with two cocktails was one of them.

The drinks kept coming and the heat started to rise within you, the alcohol consuming any restrictions you once had. Dancing became easy and teasing the infamous Wanda Maximoff came naturally. It started innocently, light touches in the back of the club turned into a full grinding in the middle of the dance floor. Your ass purposely brushing against her crotch making her grunt in your ear, ring clad fingers harshly gripping your waist closing any distance between your bodies, and that’s when you felt it. The hard shaft poking you through the thin fabric of your dress.

“Keep this little show going and I’ll have no problem putting you in your place in front of everyone”

“I bet you’d like that, getting your pussy stuffed with everyone watching how much of a dirty whore you are”

Wanda had a dirty mouth every time she fucked you, she mastered the power of getting you wet and needy just by her words. And it worked. Your breathing was ragged and legs shaky but the alcohol was still hot and heavy inside your mind, you still had the bratty within you. Turning around with pouty lips and doe eyes, you looked up at her, circling your arms around her neck, making the first and worst mistake of the night — “but wands, I’m not doing anything. It’s not my fault you’re all sensitive and can’t take a little heat”— if looks could kill, you’d be 6' feet under by now. Wanda was red and fuming, she didn’t think you had the balls to say something so bold without thinking about the consequences. Oh there’ll be consequences. In seconds you were being dragged across the club in direction to the bathroom, her short nails digging against your flash making you wince. The bathroom door was closed with a bang and she wasted no time in attacking you neck.

“After I’m done with you, I’ll make sure you come out of this bathroom so full of my cum, you’ll feel it drip from your legs every time you walk”

And she did just that. Wanda pounded into you, until she had to hold your form between the sink and her body so you wouldn’t collapse. Squelching noises filled the room while she abused your cunt from behind, fist full of your hair stinging your scalp, “that’s what you deserve, bunny. Sluts only learn when they are full of cock.” Shame long forgotten, your moans echoed through the whole room, louder and louder each time you got closer to climax

“Beg to cum. Come on, slut. Beg”

Wanda complied her promise. She left you full of cum and put your underwear back on.

“There you go, bunny. Don’t worry, when we get home I’m gonna make sure you suck mommy’s cock clean”

#wanda maximoff x reader #mommy wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagines #wanda x reader #wanda x you #iwannabehertoy