#the only others i can think of off the top of my head that do that are SU Future and the Inheritance Cycle

[miguelhugger2099]

Just a silly little request👉👈

Do u think fem!reader likes to wear crop top with no bra and Miguel's boxer. You two are just flirting and teasing each other until Miguel decided to toss the remote to reader for movie night and reflex, she tries to catch it reveal her tits and Miguel just "😳... Nice catch..." And smut if u want. Having his hands speezing them I'm going insane 😭😭

Just One Touch

a/n: this ask has been in my inbox for so long and ur not gonna believe what got me out of my month long stump to write this. everyone thank sir-mix-a-lot's song "ride" it possessed me and gave me energy. excuse the crappy writing, i'm still lowk having writers block so it's not my greatest work. please enjoy and as alwayssss i can rewrite this if you'd like <3 Art: mar_mar0u on instagram ! Unedited btw, plz dont crucify me ill die :(

It wasn’t unusual for you and Miguel to wind down after the sun had set. Movie night was a must, whether it was cheesy romcoms for you to sob to, horror movies for Miguel to be annoyed at, or even action movies to make fun of–as long as it was together. Still, Miguel teased you by holding the remote up above his head and out of your reach. He grins with one hand on his hip and watches you reach up with no progress in sight. “Give it!” You laugh, trying to keep your anger believable. “No, first you take my clothes and I know you’re gonna pick one of those creepy knock off animated movies.” He chuckles and he walks off. Due to the size difference, every step of his was three of yours–practically chasing after him. “Put respect on Over the Hedge’s name! It’s not even a knock off!” Miguel plops on the couch on one side with a huff of laughter. “Fine, fine. Here–take it!” He throws the remote above your head and you pause and stumble back.

You reach high up to grab the remote. “You asshole!” You laugh. The remote hits your fingertips and bounces a bit farther back. Your crop top rides and flows up as you lean back onto one foot to finally grasp the device in your hand.

Miguel could feel everything happen in slow motion. The small glimpse of your underboob before your nipples finally come into view. The grin on Miguel’s face slowly drops and he could feel drool slipping from his lips. He watched your boobs bounce, the roundness of your flesh and perky buds making his cheeks go red. He can’t help the disappointment in his face when your arms fall back down, shirt hiding the glorious view of your tits.

“Caught it!” You smirk at him triumphantly. His eyes continue to glance at your tits.  “Yeah, uh…” He gulps. “Nice catch.” He adjusts his shorts, hoping his growing bulge wasn’t too apparent.

You don’t notice, too engrossed in your victory and making Miguel speechless. So, you crawl in his lap, Miguel’s hands suspended in mid-air as you nestle yourself in his arms. You feel his muscles surround you like a warm comfortable blanket, leaning your back on his firm chest while you click the buttons to turn on the TV.

“So what are we picking this time?” You ask, flipping through random trailers to find what you’re looking for.

“Huh? Oh, uh, anything’s fine.” Miguel shrugs half-heartedly. He’s too focused looking down at your crop top. Slowly and gingerly, his fingers caress your stomach–light and feathery as if trying to be discreet.

“Yeah sure, whatever. Don’t complain if you don’t like it.” You laugh softly, clicking on a random movie that looked good enough.

“Mhm.” Miguel mumbles, not even hiding his disinterest in a damn movie right now. While your eyes are on the opening scene on the TV, Miguel’s eyebrows scrunch together, his lips into a tight line as he resists his urges.

He can’t help it though. He gets handsy, Miguel carefully caressing your stomach. You barely notice it since the two of you always get snuggled up like this.

You only notice when he hikes higher up, his hips shifting slightly while his fingers run up and down the valley of your tits. You smack his arm around your waist with the remote.

“What are you doing?” You ask, trying to sound annoyed but the smile seeps through your tone.

“Nuthin’” He murmurs. Miguel then feels the curve of your breast, his fingers itching for a squeeze.

“We’re supposed to be bonding.” You move to turn your head up at him. You try to meet his eyes but he stays glued downwards to your chest.

“We are.” Miguel insists, his lips slightly parted. His thumb swipes across your nipple and you gasp, feeling your cheeks burn. He can feel the nub perk up and his tongue darts out to lick his lips, biting his bottom lip to hide the satisfied smile on his face.

Miguel takes his chances, bending down to kiss along your neck, tugging you closer to him and making you melt. His body moves against yours and your eyes flutter shut. His mouth gently sucks and licks your skin and you shiver. Miguel grabs your left tit, the plump flesh squeezed in his palm. His fingers flick your nipple, circling around before gently twisting it.

You back arches and you moan. “Ah–fuck, Miguel!” You hissed, a burning heat crawling up your neck. Your hand lifts up to curl in his hair while he attacks your neck, his other hand running down to his boxers you were wearing. He slips his fingers in the front hole of the boxers, using his index and middle fingers to spread your folds apart. You feel him nip your neck with a smile as he smears your slick around your clit.

He then uses both of his hands to lift your shirt up and over your head. Your breasts are now out in the open, the cool air hitting your chest and making your nipples hard. You barely get a word out, Miguel already cupping your boobs and squeezes them. Your hips buck back to grind on his crotch, eyes closing as he plays with you. Miguel used his fingers to tease your nipples simultaneously, flicking and tweaking them. He lifts them up and watches them fall down before squeezing them again. Your pussy is soaking through his boxers, aching for more stimulation that’s making you feel empty.

His eyes are dark watching his own hands play with your chest, the memory of the bounce of your tits as you caught the remote high in the air. He wanted to see that again.

Miguel could feel his cock swell and twitch along with each bounce of your breasts. You have your body arching, hands behind you and holding onto his thighs. He plays with your tits switching with his hands or his mouth–but if you asked him, he preferred sucking on them. So that’s where he was now, lips attached to your right nipple and his right hand playing with your left. You slammed down on his cock, whining since you barely felt him thrust up. But in all honesty, Miguel could do this forever with your tits in his mouth and his cock buried in your cunt. While his tongue sucked and lipped your nipple, he knew if he didn’t focus, he’d cum instantly. He looks up at you after playfully biting down on your nub, your squeaks making his dick twitch against your walls. You look down with glossy eyes, hips stuttering and pussy throbbing when you see him smirk up at you with your boob in his mouth. One of his hands that was on your waist comes up to your back to keep your body arched. Miguel scrunches his eyes shut, eyebrows furrowed while he sucks on your nipple, his hips jerking and balls slapping against your ass. You wail with each thrust, falling forward and holding onto the backrest making your boobs squish in his face. Miguel groans as he lets you fall on top of him, hands falling down to your ass as you grind on him. His cock slips in and out of your wet cunt with a wet squelch. It makes you bite your lip with a loud whimper, the action making your man under you tug on your nipple with his teeth. He’s obsessed with you, Miguel pulling away just enough to make your tits swing in his face. He glances up at your pleasure filled face, sweat glistening down your face and body while you panted and whined. He’s entranced, eyes falling down to follow the way your boobs bounce as he fucks up into you. Miguel trusts you to keep fucking yourself on his while his hands leave your ass to come up and cup and squeeze both your breasts. He kneads them and watches your mouth drop open to moan. Your head hangs and your foreheads almost touch. Miguel doesn’t need to tell you a damn thing, his lips parted while he looks at yours. You lean down to kiss him, Miguel immediately slipping his tongue past your defenses with a low groan. He continues groping you, his hips smacking up with your thrusting and he can feel himself about to cum. He can tell you’re about to too by the way your pussy spasms wildly, sucking him in deeper and soaking him in your slick.

So he hammers into you, grunting as he puts all his strength in making you cream. Your eyes roll back, mouth separating from his to dig your nails into his shoulders and roll your hips. You can barely get a word out, garbled moans of his name escaping you while your body twitches, ecstasy flowing through from top to bottom. Miguel watches your chest heave as you catch your breath, your juices dripping out of your a making a sticky mess in his lap. You’re dizzy and weak, body flopping forward on his chest. Miguel soothes you, curling his hand in your hair and pressing you into the crook of his neck. He kisses the top of your head and you’re too numb to feel him take your body off him. He places your back down on the couch, hair sticking to your face with sweat, lips plumped from kissing. You’re whining when your sensitive folds feel his still hard cock rub in between them, accidentally slipping his tip in a few times. You swallow to get the dryness out of your throat. “Mig…Mig…” You’re cut off when Miguel slams into you, your body jerking and tits bouncing with the hard thrust. Your hazy vision rolls onto his face, Miguel glued onto your chest still. He gives another few soft thrusts and watches your boobs jiggle around. You feel his cock jump inside your walls, a soft hum of approval coming from deep in his throat. He bends down, biting and licking the side of your tit to add another mark to his collection. His teeth marks littered around your plump and round flesh–his favorites being the ones around your areola.

His face is buried in your breasts while he pounds into you, your head thrown back and legs locked around his waist. Oh, he’s in heaven.

#miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader reblog #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel x y/n #miguel x you

[kryptonitejelly]

art donaldson x childhood friend reader who he hasn’t seen in a long time (whose had a crazy glow up) visits him at stanford at the same time as patrick and patrick starts hitting on her (him and tashi are in an open relationship) and art gets jealous.

(maybe she tells patrick she knows he’s in a relationship and he tells her tashi wouldn’t mind and she would probably be down to join idk)

art donaldson x reader // challengers // fluff; happy ending

a/n: i did not hit the prompt on the head 100%, but i’m not mad at it. this ended up turning into a monster i had no control off and ended up being alot longer than i expected (i haven’t done a word count, and did not mean for it to spiral into this but i enjoyed writing this very much). i am an art donaldson defender and this is my way of giving him everything he deserves (i hope you guys can see what i subtly tried to do in places - please leave comments/reblog if you see them, it would mean the world). also i typed this entirely on my phone without proofreading - you’ve been warned.

edit - as a disclaimer, i do not purport to comment on the victim/villain/any dynamic in the challengers universe. this space is purely for delusional thoughts and fiction only (see also)

-

Good luck.

Art shoots the text off to you before taking a swig out of cup of diet coke he has in hand. He leans forward, his forearms on his knees, teeth crunching on ice cubes as lets his gaze sweep across the court in front of him. It is devoid of players but already has the umpire and linesmen ready and waiting.

You’ll buy dinner if I win?

Art doesn’t expect to get a text back, so he checks his phone absently, but his face breaks into a tiny grin as he sees your reply. Most other players would have been hyper focused in the moments before a match but you, in the breezy light hearted way you always were, still had it in you to joke around.

Yes, but if you lose…

Art sends his response, the tiny grin still on his face.

I’ll feed you.

Your reply is fast and it makes art shake his head lightly a quiet chuckle dropping from his lips. He is just about to type another reply but is interrupted by the loud cheers that erupt from around him. Art looks up from his phone to see Anna Davies walk out on court in the same colour red as he had on. He claps politely with the rest of the men’s team who he was sitting amongst in the stands, in a show of support.

Art catches sight of Tashi and Patrick, both perched a few rows down from him with the rest of the women’s team both clapping and hollering in support. He notices the turn of Patrick’s head, no doubt to check in on Art but he doesn’t tilt his head or smile back in acknowledgement as he usually would - he is far too distracted by you.

Art can feel his jaw slacken slightly as you walk on court. He knows what you look like, but you in the flesh - Art thinks you are breathtaking. Your top is in a shade of your college’s colour, paired with a white tennis skirt that shows off a pair of toned, long legs. He catches a glint of metal just above your ankle, and he finds himself squinting in a feeble attempt to make out the look of the ankle bracelet that you have on. Art moves his gaze your face, taking in what he can see from his perch on the stands as you walk out towards your designated bench on the court, bright neon green bottle in hand, your tennis bag slung on a shoulder.

You had been close back home for most of your childhood and more formative teen years, and the both had kept in touch since he left for Stanford and you to your own school of choice, but too infrequently - the occasional text, more frequent reaction or comment on each other’s social media and the small conversations that spiralled from those interactions - like two planets orbiting in the same solar system, but not close enough. Life had overtaken, the excitement of moving your separate ways to a new environment, of college - tennis, academics, people, parties, it had overwhelmed you both, individually and together - made you just about forget that you had each other.

Art is transfixed. You are, lithe, glowing and with a hop in your step - Art finds himself questioning why he had never made more effort to keep you closer since you had both gone on your separate paths. He watches as you settle your bag on the bench, turning your gaze to the stands, eyes narrowing from the glare of the sun as you search the stands, only for your gaze to fix on his. Art sees you smile, lips turning up as you wink directly at him. It makes a series of heads turn to look back at him - your fellow team mates, the small group of supporters from your college who had come along, and the Stanford women’s team plus Patrick, half curious, half puzzled. Art can only raise a hand beside his chest in greeting as he remembers to breathe, letting the air he had been holding in his chest out.

He sees turn away while reaching for your phone which you had wedged in between the band of your tennis skirt and skin. Your fingers flying over the keypad briefly before you toss the phone into your tennis bag, hand fishing out your racket. Art feels his phone buzz in his hand and he looks down at the text that had come through.

Stanford still hasn’t taught you the right way to wear a cap huh.

Your text, a reference to his penchant for securing his cap on backwards, makes Art laugh, out loud, the sudden sound causing his team mates to crane their necks in attempt to look at his phone. Art swats them away as he refocuses his attention back on you, watching as you do a few hops, shifting your body weight from side to side before walking to your position on court, racket in hand. You lose the coin toss, and Anna choose to serve and yet your demeanour is one of ease, something Art can’t help but think is so stark in contrast to Tashi before a match. You aren’t smiling anymore, and yet in an unexplainable fashion, Art can feel you smiling as you bend to ready position, your hands flipping the handle of the racket around, poised to receive. He sees Anna toss the ball, her back arching, hand shooting up, before she connects her serve, and he watches you receive it with ease, your body moving in a smooth motion as you hit it back. Your strokes have their own weight and intention behind them, they are careful, thought out - but what surprises Art is he sees little calculation behind each. Instead, he watches as you let yourself feel each shot, as you let your instinct take control with each step. Art sees himself moving pieces of chess across the court when he watches replays of his game, but with your game, - Art manages to see colour, life, ease. He sees something he hasn’t seen in his tennis since he had last played with you, Art sees fun.

-

The match isn’t long drawn out, you win - effortless, just as each of your strokes and movement are. It frustrates Anna, as is evident from the increasing number of unforced errors she makes on her art which leads to her swearing loudly as she easily hit the last heavy, driving it quick and to the opposite corner of the court from where she is positioned. Art finds himself clapping enthusiastically along with the crowd as the umpire calls the game.

-

“You never told me you had such good looking friends,” Art feels an arm sling itself around his neck, pulling him close as he stands outside the court, waiting for you to finish your match debrief with the rest of the team.

“Shouldn’t you be with Tashi?” Art questions as he tugs himself out and under, away from Patrick’s hold. His eyes remain focused on the door of the tennis court, waiting for you to emerge.

“Some strategy meeting,” Patrick offers as explanation, “refocusing or something like that.”

Art starts to say something in response only to be stopped by the view of you walking out from the courts. You both lock eyes, not too similar from how you had with you on the court and him on the stand. Art thinks that your smile is more brilliant up close.

Neither of you say a word, as you walk up to him, hands reaching up to tug his cap off his head only for you to pop it promptly on your own head, the right way around.

“The right way,” you say in greeting, pointing towards his cap which is now sitting on your head, the Stanford red a confusing contrast to your your top, now a loose fitting tshirt in your college colours, as Art chuckles while running a hand through his hair, attempting to shake out any flatness.

“The red looks good on you.”

“Perhaps I should transfer.”

“Didn’t peg you for a traitor,” Art teases which makes you laugh.

“Do I get a hug,” you ask, both of you oblivious to Patrick who is just watching.

“C’mere,” Art says, his words inviting, but just almost slightly shy as he opens his arms to you. You step into his embrace, arms slipping around his body as Art brings his arms around your shoulders, hands bumping into the tennis bag you have on your shoulders. His embrace is familiar, and you let yourself relax into his hold.

“Could I get a hug?” you hear a different male voice chime in and you pull away to look curiously at the brunette who is standing just beside you both.

“Fuck off Patrick,” you hear Art say with no bite, but notice as he steps just that one inch in front of you in an attempt to place himself as some sort of barrier between you and the brunette.

“Patrick Zweig,” the boy says, ignoring Art as he proffers a hand to you which you shake to be polite while introducing yourself.

“Do you go to Stanford as well?” You take in his attire of jeans and a white tee, the lack of red - you would guess not but it didn’t hurt to ask.

“I’m just visiting,” he says, “I’m actually playing on tour.”

“Losing on tour,” Art corrects.

“Your tennis is insane,” Patrick comments, ignoring Art, “when will I see you on tour?”

“I don’t intend on turning pro,” you respond with the flash of a smile.

“Why?” Patrick continues the conversation, now slightly befuddled, “you’re a natural.”

You shrug with a laugh, not answering and simply brushing off his question.

“Why don’t I take you to dinner and you can tell me why.” Patrick’s statement makes Art roll his eyes.

“Aren’t you taking your girlfriend our for dinner?” Art chips to which Patrick simply shrugs not phased in the slightest and answers with a no.

“Thanks, but I already have a dinner to cash in on,” you offer Patrick a smile, before glancing at Art.

“I’m sure Art wo-”

“Nope, fuck off Patrick,” is what Art says again, not even giving the other man a chance to finish his sentence. It makes you laugh, but you follow as Art grabs your hand, tugging you off in a direction away from Patrick.

“It was nice meeting you Patrick,” you call out, turning your head towards him giving him a wave with your free hand, “good luck on the tour!”

You walk for a minute or two more until the tennis courts are out of range before Art stops. He lets go off your hand, but reaches instead to grasp the top of the tennis bag on your shoulder. You raise a brow questioningly only to have him tug again with a slight tilt of his head. You relinquish the bag to him and he hoists it on his shoulder instead.

“What a gentleman,” you joke, but with a smile on your face.

Art does a mock bow with a flourish of his hand which makes you laugh with a shake of your head.

“Your chariot awaits my lady,” he extends a hand to you, waist still tilted in a bow, but his head up and looking at you.

“Lead the way,” you place your hand on top of his again.

“My car is that way,” he says jerking a thumb towards his right as he intertwines his fingers with yours. Its the second time in the day where he’s holding onto your hand but you don’t think too much of it and neither does Art. It feels right, comforting, familiar and like it’s supposed to be - and you go with it.

-

“Sorry about Patrick,” Art says as he fiddles with the paper casing of the straw. You are both sitting in a booth, plates cleared, your drinks left in front of you. Art is leaning back but being across him you can feel his knees knocking into yours. Dinner had gone by way too fast for Art’s liking. There had been both plenty to catch up on, as well as new information to learn and yet - it had felt like no time had passed between you both.

“He’s a bit of an ass isn’t he,” you say as you lean back, a mirror of Art. Your comment elicits a bark of laughter from him.

“Girls don’t usually say that about him.”

“What do they say?”

“Well not say, but they usually fall at his feet or into his bed,”

“No,” it makes you crinkle your nose while you shake your head.

“His girlfriend Tashi,” Art says, fingers still fiddling with the wrapper, “we played tennis for her number, she chose him.” Art said referencing the tennis match between him and Patrick. His sentence is blunt, to the point, and yet manages to be vulnerable at the same time. Art surprises himself as the words slip out from his lips so easily but it feels easy to tell you, safe to let himself be vulnerable, fine to let you view him for who he truly is.

You both sit in silence for a beat or two, the only sound between you both being the rustle of paper in Art’s fingers.

“Well,” you begin, “if she made you play for her number, maybe its for the better you didn’t win.”

Art’s fingers give pause and he looks up at you. His expression is unreadable, but you don’t feel like you’ve said anything wrong - just the obvious.

“I guess you are right,” he says after a few seconds of silence, before raising his head to look at you. There is a small smile on his face that you can’t quite place.

“When have I been wrong Donaldson?” You challenge in jest as you lift a leg under the table to jostle one of his lightly. Art leans forward, managing to capture one of your legs, your calf in the warmth of his palm.

“You really want me to start?” Art questions as you wriggle your leg in attempt to get away but no no avail.

“No.”

“Let’s see, the time we were six and you thought that the way to get strawberry milk was to dump pink food colouring in normal milk.”

“Stop,” you protest, but with a laugh on your lips.

“Or the time we were ten and you were convinced that the park we passed by on the way home from school was haunted and we had to sprint past that stretch of sidewalk for 3 whole months.”

“It was creepy!”

“How could we forget the one time we were thirteen and you thought that the way babies were made wa-”

“Arthur Donaldson,” you protest, managing to wrestle your leg out of his grasp which has grown looser with each anecdote. It allows you to set your foot on the ground, body shooting up to lean across the table, your palm coming to cover Art’s mouth to prevent him from announcing any further recollections from your youth.

You can feel his breath hot against the palm of your hand as his muffled laugher fills the space of your booth.

“Art,” you huff, relinquishing his full name for his nickname again. You move to drop your hand from his face, but Art catches a hold of your wrist. You sit back down, butt hitting the seat again, but with your hand still stretched across the table, wrist still loosely wrapped in one Art Donaldson’s hand. His shoulders are still shaking, now with a silent laughter.

“Art,” you try again.

“I’m sorry, it’s just so funny,” Art exhales, trying to collect himself as best as he can. He doesn’t remember the last time he laughed like this, freely and with such reckless abandon over something so innocent.

“Your dedicated court jester, always here to serve,” you mock with a roll of your eyes.

“You’ve been derelict in your duties,” Art says, now calm, but his eyes still twinkling under a mop of strawberry blonde hair. He keeps his tone light but what he really means to say is that it has been too long. You chuckle, not really having an answer for him.

“It’s been a while,” you finally admit, both your hands now resting on the table between you, you wrist now lying upturned in Art’s open palm. You had always been close

“It has, hasn’t it,” it isn’t really a question. Art has missed you - something he hasn’t realised until today. He had let himself be distracted by the complex, focused toxicity that was tennis, Patrick and Tashi, letting himself get sucked into the whirlpool, that he had forgotten to hold on to the things that grounded him.

“Maybe we should change that.”

“We should change that,” Art corrects you and you can feel the tips of your ears burning, and the skin across your cheek bones tingling for some reason.

-

You aren’t quite sure how ended up here, but one thing had lead to another as you both made your way out of the restaurant and back to Art’s car, and the next thing you knew you were heading back to his dorm to watch reruns of Buffy the Vampire Slayer for some reason.

“How do you not find her hot?” You ask again for the tenth time as you both focus on the screen of Art’s laptop which is perched half on his thigh and half on yours. You are both sitting on his bed, shoulder to shoulder, both of your heads damp from (separate) showers in Art’s ensuite, and you smelling quite like him from having used his toiletries and borrowing a short and shirt set, both of which which were a baggy fit for you.

“I don’t know, I just don’t.”

“You’re rubbish Donaldson,” you snort, nudging your elbow lightly into his ribs with a simultaneous yawn.

“Tired?” Art asks, as you stifle another yawn.

“Yeah,” you accept, seeing little point in trying to hide it. You had after all, played a match today.

“I should really get back to the hotel,” you mumble, the back of your head leaning against the wall beside Art’s bed, eyes closing.

“You could just stay here,” there is a hint of hesitation in his voice because he isn’t sure if you’ll stay.

“Here?”

“My bed’s a double,” Art shrugs, “it would also be quicker for you to get to the matches tomorrow.” You aren’t playing but Art knows you would be expected to show up as a supporter for the series of matches between your two schools that continued tomorrow.

“Are you sure?” You don’t mind, after all - it’s Art, the boy you had known growing up, shared milkshakes and apple slices with after school, but you wanted to be sure he was truly fine with it.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Art moves to shit his laptop, lifting himself to bend over the edge of the bed to place the laptop on the floor, “you can take the inside.”

He flops down on the outside of the bed that is further from the wall too easily, his right hand going behind his head. Him moving forces you to move in tandem as you flop down on Art’s left, legs scrambling under the covers which Art has somehow managed to worm his way under in the flurry of movement.

Art reaches a hand over, his arm extending over you in the process to hit the light switch that he has beside his bed. It plunges you both into darkness, the only light the faint glow from the street lamps creeping in from below his curtains, and the glow of his digital clock.

You flip onto your right side, eyes closed, missing the turn of Art’s head as he observes yours features, closed eyes, lashes, nose, lips, finding his gaze lingering a moment too long on your lips.

“Stop staring Art.”

“Am not.”

“I can feel it,” you respond, lips curving into a smirk. It was a habit he had developed from the sleepovers you both had either in his living room or yours when you were both younger. You would close your eyes, just about to doze off, only to hear the faint shifting of a head against a pillow while Art turned to stare at you, his blue-brown eyes boring into you.

“Am not.”

“Go to sleep Art.”

-

“So I guess I’ll see you around,” You are standing just a distance off the side of the bus which is supposed to take you back to campus. The matches for the day had ended, with your school having won by one match.

“Yeah,” Art replies, drawing out his words as he takes you in, he finds himself think that he had very much preferred you in his clothes despite them being oversized and not as well fitted as your own. You had managed to change into a fresh set of school colours before the matches started earlier that morning, having pleaded with your angel of a roommate to help you lug your overnight bag, which you hadn’t even had the chance to unpack the night before, over to the courts before the matches had begun. She had taken one look at you in Art’s tshirt, shorts with his hoodie thrown over, and had given you the widest smirk known to man despite your insistence that nothing had happened.

“I think you are scheduled to come play next month,” you refer to the Stanford men’s team, “I’ll see you then?”

“Or I could see you next week?” Art says almost shyly as he raises a hand to rub the back of his head. Art was a walking oxymoron, easily grabbing your hand, asking you to sleep in his bed, and yet somewhat bashful in the moments in between, “the drive over is an hour, max.”

“I would like that,” your response earns you a mega watt smile, his eyes twinkling at you. You both hear voices calling Art away from the bus, one male, one female - but Art ignores them both.

-

“Yeah and I told her-” your sentence is cut off by a nudge to your shoulder.

“Stanford” you friend explains with slightly too much glee in her voice. She had seen the smile on your face after returning from your away game last weekend, and the way you had been constantly glued to your phone, grin on your face, laughter peppering your days, the name Art Donaldson a constant fixture in your notifications.

Your head swivels up and to your left to spot Art leaning against his black jeep, hands crossed loosely across his chest. He smiles when he sees you, and your face mimics his expression.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” you friend calls out as she pushes you in Art’s direction. You pull a face at her while rolling your eyes, but letting your legs carry you towards Art.

“Are you stalking me Donaldson?” You ask in jest. Art had texted you half an hour earlier, asking which part of campus your last class of the Friday was in and where he should pick you up from.

“Hundred percent,” he says as he opens his arms; you step into his embrace for a brief hug, before he turns to open the car door for you. You unload your bag from your arm, dropping it onto the floor of the passenger’s seat before climbing in. You move to close the door, but Art is in between you and the door, reaching over to click your seatbelt into place.

“Ready?” He asks, and you nod, gazing into bright blue-brown eyes.

-

“Positivism,” Art says simply at your question of what theory of jurisprudence he found himself most inclined towards. You think for a moment, the side of your face propped up with a hand, elbow on the counter of the bar you both are seated at, your body turned towards Art who is likewise, facing you.

“Positivism,” you roll the words around your tongue, “I guess it tracks,” you shrug, before raising a brow slightly, “but how does an engineering undergraduate so much about jurisprudence?”

“I read.”

“On jurisprudence?” You frown nose wrinkling as you reach your hand out to place the back of it against Art’s forehead as if to check if he had a fever, “are you alright?”

“You mean you don’t read engineering daily in between sets?” Art questions you with mock horror as he reaches up to tug your hand down from his forehead. Your hand ends up, yet again, in Art’s, which is resting on his knee.

“Why engineering, and not something with a lighter course load?” The underlying question is clear - Art had every intent of going the pro track post-Stanford, and it wasn’t that he would be making full use of his degree anyway.

“I don’t want the only skill I have to be hitting a ball with a racket,” he shrugs, “it feels good to know I can do something else.”

You hum in bother understanding and agreement as you feel Art’s thumb begin to stroke the back of your hand. It distracts you, his calloused thumb sliding across your skin.

“In another life I’m sure you would have made a darn good engineer Art Donaldson.”

Your words make Art laugh, something he found himself doing a lot with you.

-

“So, this is me,” you point towards the dormitory buildings up in front and Art slows his car to a stop, pulling the gear into park. He kills the engine before hopping out of his seat. Your hand is on the handle of the door, ready to open it for yourself but Art is faster, his hand on the outside lever, pulling the door open for you.

Art offers you a hand as you hop out of the jeep before he shuts the door behind you.

“I had fun tonight,” you find yourself saying, suddenly feeling slightly shy for reasons you cannot fathom.

“Me too,” is what Art says in response, his hands stuck on the pockets of his jeans, heels rocking in a back and forth motion. You see his gaze on you, locking with yours before flickering to your lips. It makes you bite down one on side of your lip, an action which causes Art to gulp, making the Adam’s apple on his throat bob.

“We should do-”

“Can I kiss you?” Art blurts out his question in a burst and you can see his face flush slightly as he asks, a surprising and yet apt contrast to the Art who had no qualms about holding your hand in his. You feel your heart quickening, and with the silence between you both - you almost feel as if you can hear each beat.

“Yes,” you breathe out, a small nod accompanying your response. You see Art’s gaze flicker to your lips again, but you would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about this.

Art takes a step forward, pulling his hands out of his pockets. You feel him cupping your face gently, and you tilt your head towards him. Your eyes flutter close and your lips meet.

Art’s lips are softer than you imagined. You feel his hands move, slipping down the sides of your body, circling your waist and pulling you closer. You drop your bag off your shoulder onto the floor as your hands move up, one to cradle the side of his face, and the other reaching behind, fingers weaving into soft curls as you tug him closer towards you. First kisses with someone new had always been awkward for you - teeth, lips, noses, as you each try to figure out the grooves and crannies of each other, but with Art - there was no such thing. It felt as if you both had learnt each other long ago, each in and out, the curve of his neck, and the the planes of your body.

You break the kiss first, pulling away, eyes still closed, feeling as if the breath had been knocked out of you in the best way. Your forehead pressed against Art’s, body held firmly against his.

“I hope you aren’t going to send me packing after that.” Your eyes flutter open at his words.

“You packed an overnight bag didn’t you?”

“I might have,” Art pulls you even closer, his arms wound tight around you.

“Presumptuous much?” You run a hand through the front of his hair, pushing his fringe back.

“Just good at reading the room.”

-

12 years later

The skin across your knuckles are visibly tight, your hands clenched into fists, the only sign of the nerves that have taken over and riddled your body. Your eyes are shielded by dark oversized glasses, but your pupils are darting left and right as the final point of the match plays before you. The stadium is silent, save for the pop of the ball and the grunts from the two players on court. You hear an exceptionally loud grunt, the whizzing of a racket whipping through the air, and then you hear it before it hits you - the roar of the crowd, the thundering claps, and you feel your body freeze as even the announcer goes wild.

“Art Donaldson, ladies and gentleman, our new US Open champion.”

You remain glued to your seat despite the commotion around you - family, Art’s team, cheering, jumping, excited hugs being passed around. Your eyes watch as Art runs towards the center of the net, hand raised as he waves to the crowd around. He shakes his opponents hand, before waving to each section of the stadium in thanks of their support and there he is, jogging towards you. His hair is dripping with sweat, plastered to his head, shirt clinging to his body. He extends a hand to you even before he reaches the sideline and your body reacts from habit, standing, your hand extending back towards him. A warm hand, the back of it still slick from sweat grasps yours, tugging you forward lightly.

“Hi,” is all he says as Art’s lips meet yours. Art enjoys the tennis, but he doesn’t need it - doesn’t need the tennis, the fame, the money, or the trophies - all he needs is you.

You hear the crowd go wild at the display of affection, the announcer’s voice booming over the sound system with something about Art Donaldson and his wife, but it all fades - the commotion, the sound, the people, the tennis, because all you see is Art.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#art donaldson #art donaldson x you #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x y/n #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson fic #art donaldson fanfic #art donaldson fluff #art donaldson x female reader #challengers #challengers fanfic #challengers fic #challengers imagine #not cm #not tg

[moonstruckme]

james x shy!reader first time?🤭🤭🤭🤭

Thanks for requesting!

cw: smut mndi

James Potter x shy!reader ♡ 908 words

James almost feels bad about the mark he’s surely leaving on your tit, but your hands are encouraging on his back and he’s yet to learn how to deny you anything you want. 

He can feel your heartbeat in his mouth as he sucks and teases your skin. It speeds up when he lets his teeth scrape lightly. Your breathing falters. 

James can’t help himself; he grins. “That’s it,” he coaxes. “Don’t be shy, angel, let me know what’s good, yeah?” 

Your reply comes soft and surprisingly teasing. “I think you already know.” 

A little laugh startles out of him, and he looks up in time to see your small smile. That smile is going to get James in trouble. 

“How’re you feeling, baby?” He runs his palms up and down your sides comfortingly. Your top half is bare, your shirt balled up and tossed into the hamper, but you’re still in your pants. “Are you ready?” 

You rub your lips together, showing your nerves. “Yeah.” You nod. James kisses you softly to try and settle you. “I’m ready.” 

“Okay. I’m gonna take care of you, okay?” You nod again, looking a bit more sure this time. He smiles at you. “Can I take these off?” 

You hum. “Please,” you say, lifting your head and reaching for the button of your pants. 

James bats your hands away, nipping playfully at the underside of your jaw as he undoes them himself and then easing them down over the curve of your hips. You sit up on your elbows to watch him. Underneath, you’ve got on a pair of underwear that’s prettier than anything James has ever seen (present company excluded). He can’t take his eyes off them as he tugs your pants the rest of the way off. 

“Sweetheart.” James is delighted. “Did you wear these for me?” 

You look like you’re contemplating smothering yourself with your pillow. “Yeah,” you murmur, not looking at him.

He plants a heavy, smacking kiss on your cheek. It’s burning hot under his lips. “You’re fucking adorable,” he says, running a finger over the waistband. “I almost don’t want to take them off.” 

“Please do,” you say in a hurry. 

Something frightening close to a giggle bubbles up in James’ chest. He’s continually surprised by your bouts of boldness. 

“Whatever you say, angel.” He gets his fingers under the pretty fabric, and they join the rest of your clothes in the hamper. 

It’s not the first time you’ve been exposed to him like this, but you never seem to get used to it. James can hardly blame you; he hasn’t either. He stares openly while you cover your face with your arms, taking one of your thighs in each hand and easing them open. 

“My shy girl, all ready for me,” he coos, dragging two fingers through your slickened folds. “Fuck, I wish you could see yourself, baby, you look so pretty. Probably won’t take long at all to get you ready for me, huh?” 

He looks up, but you’re still hiding under your arms. 

When no response comes, he hums, “Or, maybe I could take my time—” 

“Jamie.” Your voice is quiet and frail, directed towards the ceiling like a prayer. “Please.” 

“Okay.” He laughs, hands moving back up you until they’re clasped around your wrists. “Okay, I’m sorry. I won’t play with you too much, just don’t hide from me, please?” 

James gives only the slightest tug, but you move your arms of your own volition, peering up at him warily. 

“Good girl, thank you.” He rewards you with a kiss, his hand sneaking back down between your legs. 

Your lips part in a silent gasp as his thick fingers broach your entrance, and James slips his tongue into your mouth, cock aching at the tightness of you. His other hand finds your tit. Your gummy walls constrict on his digits, and he swallows a groan. 

“Fuck, angel.” He slips in a third finger, the fit easy when you’re already so worked up. “S’like you’re sucking me in.” 

Your head falls back against the pillows, but James doesn’t hold your lack of reply against you. He finger fucks you deep and slow, curling his digits every now and again in search of that sensitive spot on your front wall. Your cunt is weeping now, wetness slipping out of you and pooling on the sheets. 

When James sets his lips to your clit, you make the sort of breathy, desperate sound he knows will echo in his dreams for the next week. 

One of your hands burrows in his hair. He spurs you on by bullying the small bead, licking and sucking until he can feel that telltale trembling of your thighs. He lifts his head, and you look relieved. 

“I’m ready,” you say through soft pants, braver now that James has wound you up so tightly. “I think I can take—” 

You cut yourself off as he spreads his fingers inside you, testing the fit and hoping to numb you out in the process. 

“Sorry, angel,” he says. “That feel okay?” 

“Yes.” You nod, urgent. “Yeah, Jamie, can you—can you please—” 

James placates you with a soft kiss to your jaw, soothing his slick-soaked hand over your hip as he undoes his pants with the other. 

“Someday,” he promises, “we’re gonna find out what happens when you don’t get your way. But for now I’ll give you whatever you want, sweetheart.”

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x shy!reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter x self insert #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter fic #james potter smut #james potter imagine #james potter scenario #james potter drabble #james potter blurb #james potter oneshot #james potter one shot #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom #the marauders #hp marauders #marauders era #marauders x reader

[risoria]

so. have you seen the pictures from Rafah of the blackened, charred infants? the toddler with no head?

i would like to ask a favour of everyone seeing this post, from one human to another. don't think about the things you can't do - because as it seems, nothing is enough, and nobody can do enough - there is no use to be paralyzed by these thoughts. instead focus on the things you are already doing and the things you can do. i will start by compile a small list of personal suggestions, and please add to it from your own resources! this list is not numbered, i will just add things that i can think of off the top of my head and if it is of any help to at least one person, thats good. take care of yourself - that includes taking care of others, and this world we live in.

this is obvious but keep listening to Palestinian voices. i am mostly active on twitter so i will give some examples from there: Hind_Gaza, HossamShabat, BayanPalestine (press). MuhammadSmiry, does community work with Care for Gaza. m7mdkurd. Everyone is saying mostly the same thing - keep talking, keep protesting, keep boycotting. so do it.

keep talking. humans are social animals and it's as simple as this: the ongoing genocide is dire, urgent and catastrophic - i dont think i need to tell you that. but when people, a lot of people, share posts with each other and reiterate this fact the urgency will be felt stronger by everyone, and reach people who would otherwise maybe not see the reports of the genocide on their screens. if people instead choose to stop sharing and stop talking because it's "been so long" or it's "too difficult", the suffering will become normalized and the only thing people will see on their feeds are mundane things - food, pets, fandoms, and it will send the message that oh, it's not that important after all.... sometimes, you SHOULD feel disturbed and uncomfortable. these feelings are not evil - they will be channelled into actions to better a situation and better the world. silence is violence.

search for protests near your town, sometimes they're hard to find but once you find your local organizations for the Palestinian movement, follow them and you will usually find them! this all depends on where you live of course - but most often there will be fundraisers and events and mailing campaigns etc, and the more people joining the better. and, most importantly i would say, share these events and pictures (no faces of strangers, ofc! from protests on your facebook, twitter etc - because that way people close to you will see them and that it's completely rational and normal to attend protests, and if they've been on the fence maybe they will reach out and join you.

donate if you are able and share links to the different organizations - some examples are Care for Gaza, Sulala animal rescue, the Gazan Municipality Life for Gaza project (https://gaza-city.ensany.com/campaign/6737), the PCRF.

individual gofundmes - here is the google doc with a lot of campaigns, but im sure there are lots of them that arent yet added: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1-DDMFyn-ttboPXrz1bB3MFk7BlzCwfugh4259Wh7U1s/htmlview

donate e-sims, which will be sent by the Esims for Gaza team to people in Gaza, to help communicate with their families etc during blackouts. it's very quick and easy and on nomad you can get a referral code which gives someone else 25% off their first purchase, and there's also often different bonus codes. on the website there's tutorials for how to buy the different esims. https://gazaesims.com/

there's some different charity shops where you can buy Palestinian products and the proceeds help Palestinian artisans and people. here are some examples, please add more if you know any: https://handmadepalestine.com/ (based in Ramallah, Palestine), https://forpalestine.dk/ (based in Denmark), https://www.shoppalestine.org/ (based in the US)

boycott!! the BDS of course have their targeted brands (https://bdsmovement.net/) but there's also for example the witness website with lists of brands and the reasons for boycotting them (https://boycott.thewitness.news/) and some different apps that do the same thing, like the "no thanks" app. yes, the list of brands is very, very long. maybe all of it isn't feasible BUT i think a good start would be to go through them and decide which ones are unnecessary either way that you're better off without (mcdonalds, starbucks etc), and then which ones are part of your usual shopping routine, make a mental note of them and pick different options - see it as an opportunity to try new things, to support local brands and smaller businesses!

go do yourself a favour and give Palestinian-Canadian artist Nemahsis' new single "stick of gum" a listen, it's super good! <3 https://youtu.be/VsqYlmf3SAg?si=EK_TZjo0Ijny8hMT

please, add more tips and resources below or just share your own pictures or art or thoughts!

#palestine #gaza #resources #please add on with your own! <3 #i just wanted to compile these links in one place and also bc i want to make a similar one for my facebook friends...

[steddiecameraroll]

“Happy two year anniversary on your crush, dingus.” Robin tosses a peanut at Steve’s head.

“Shut uuuup,” he groans into his arms after an embarrassing interaction with the one and only Eddie Munson only 7 min earlier.

“What did you get yourself? What’s the two year anniversary anyway? Paper? Wood?”

“Why do you torture me?” He softly hits his forehead against the top of the countertop near the candy rack.

“Because you deserve it.”

“He keeps getting hotter,” Steve whines.

“So you keep saying.” She crosses her arms and leans against the counter at Steve’s side.

“Did you see? Did you see that tattoo on his- under his- oh my god.” Steve waves his hand under his armpit. “That should be illegal. Why does he think wearing a tank top with that much skin showing is-is appropriate? If he shows up at my house in fucking cut off jean shorts again, I’m going to lose it.”

“Oh yeah?” Like she hasn’t heard this before. “You mean like how you said you were going to throw ice at him, if he showed up in those wranglers to help with your car? Or when you said you were going to bite him, if he wore that stretched out loose-necked band shirt? Maybe this time you should kiss him. Spice it up a little.”

“Shut up, those jeans are diabolical. No one ever said that cowboys had great asses.”

“Um, actually I think they did? Why are chaps assless?”

Steve stands up and thinks about that for a minute. “Oh, shit.”

“You gonna finally say something to him?” She’s thisclose to shoving their faces together.

“I don’t know. I don’t want to ruin anything.” Steve says with a sigh.

Meanwhile…

“Idiot, idiot, idiot.” Eddie bashes his head into a pillow.

“It couldn’t have been that bad.” Jeff rolls his eyes.

“It was horrendously bad. He stared at me like I don’t know, like I grew a second head or something.”

“When are you going to just talk to him about it? Dude, it’s been two years. Two years of listening to you pine over Harrington. If you don’t tell him, I will figure out a way to tell him myself.”

“Et tu Brute?” Eddie grabs the collar of his shirt in mock horror.

“If you don’t tell him, I can promise you Dustin is mere moments away from piecing it together. The way you look at Steve when he picks the kids up? Dude, it’s over.”

“Oh god, don’t remind me. I know I’m on borrowed time!” He digs his fingers into his hair.

“Aren’t you going over there this weekend?” Jeff crushes his empty soda can and tosses it easily into his nearby trash can.

“Yessss, ugh the first pool party of the summer. I gotta find those stupid shorts.”

“You own shorts?”

“They were an old pair of Wayne’s jeans I cut into shorts. They’re a little loose around the waist so they don’t dig into me.” Eddie falls back onto Jeff’s mattress with a sigh. “Last year I could’ve sworn I saw Steve checking me out in them.”

“Dude? Fucking tell him.” Jeff groans.

Steve rushes to the front door after hearing Eddie’s signature knock. When he pulls it open he’s unprepared for what’s standing on the other side.

“Hey, man.” Eddie smiles wide while holding up a six pack.

“Sh-shorts…,” Steve murmurs.

“Huh? Oh, I know my legs are whiter than white.”

“Come in,” Steve tries to even his voice.

“I’ll put these in the fridge.”

Steve walks behind Eddie as the man heads into the kitchen. Steve’s trying not to ogle. Honestly. He’s trying to keep his eyes off Eddie’s ass, objectifying him like he’s a piece of meat, but it’s hard when he keeps shimmying his hips to the music playing in the living room.

After Eddie slides the beer into the fridge he grabs one of the cold ones Steve loaded up earlier and kicks the door shut with his hip.

“Everyone else outside?”

“Yeah, I knew you were on your way so I was finishing up in here and listening for the van.” Steve grabs a bag of chips, rips it open, and pours into a big plastic bowl.

“Hey, did you know we’ve been friends for two years now?” Eddie bumps Steve’s hip with his own.

“Oh yeah?” Steve definitely knew that.

“Happy anniversary,” Eddie grins.

“Heh, that’s what Robin said.”

“She- Robin said happy anniversary?”

Shit

Steve opens his mouth trying to come up with something but shuts it again when it all sounds stupid in his head.

“Yeah, uh, she said something like we’ve been friends for two years.”

Eddie shifts and leans on the counter to face Steve. “You and her? You’ve been friends longer than that.”

“No, no, you and me. You and me have been friends for two years.”

Eddie furrows his brows while chewing on his bottom lip. Steve keeps his eyes pointed forward as he continues to situate snacks. They stand in silence for a beat and Steve feels like he should say something.

Eddie beats him to it. “Tell me something. Do I look ridiculous in these shorts?”

Steve feels his stomach drop because there’s no way he’s getting out of this unscathed.

“They were my uncle’s and I cut them up. Do you think I should cut them shorter, maybe?” Eddie turns around and looks over his shoulder at Steve.

Steve’s eyes flick to Eddie’s denim hugged butt before clearing his throat and looking away again. “I don’t know. They look fine like that.”

“Sure, but,” Eddie turns around and takes a hold of the hem of Steve’s shorts between his thumb and index finger. “Your’s are so much shorter than mine.”

Steve can feel Eddie’s knuckle brushing against his thigh.

“I may not have thighs like yours, Stevie.” Eddie leans into Steve’s space while continuing to hold the hem. “But do you think I could pull them off?”

Steve’s brain is malfunctioning because does he mean pull Steve’s shorts off? “My shorts?”

“Hmm,” Eddie grins and then looks over Steve’s shoulder like he’s making sure no one is watching. “I’m gonna do something that I’m praying you’re into. If not, please don’t punch my face.”

“What-?” Steve’s question gets cut off when Eddie places a quick kiss to Steve’s mouth.

It’s so quick Steve’s brain didn’t even realize it was happening until Eddie was already standing back in place. He stands in shock, lifts his fingertips to touch his lips, and gawks at the doe-eyed man before him.

“Was that ok?” Eddie’s leaning away.

Steve’s nodding before he speaks. “Yeah, mhmm.”

“Can I do it longer this time?”

Steve can’t speak but he nods without hesitation. Eddie makes a quiet noise before moving in and kissing Steve.

And it feels….

“I knew it!”

Steve pulls back and the two men turn to see Robin standing smugly.

“I knew it! Two fucking years.” She shakes her head before waving her hand at them and moving to the fridge. “Oh don’t stop on my account.”

#the spend the entire afternoon sneaking away and making out #Dustin ran in on them in Steve’s dad’s den but they broke a part before Dustin could see #Steve pretended to be showing off the crown molding #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddiecameraroll posts #my writing #steddie ficlet

[ejundo]

Do u think maby you could do an outgoing reader and a quiet introverted guy who's a huge secret perv there friends and reader finds out his 'shy' friend isn't so shy~♡ (top m charecter, bott m reader) - (love Ur writing!)

outgoing bttm m reader x top shy giant charac

—

NOT PROOFREAD(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ [ characters are obviously 18+ ]

a.n : hai!! apologies for not answering to everyones request.. finals r kicking my ass… but i thought this would be a good drabble (saw the request while witth my friends.. almost screamed.) and THANK YEWE for the compliment my dear! ALSO THANKS FOR 500 (almost 600) FOLLOWERS?? ILY ALL!! <3

laughter filled the room , and that laughter was coming from you, arms wrapped around the victim. his gaze averted but small laughs left his lips ‘it wasnt— that funny..’ he mumbled as he watched your beautiful eyes. the shadows contouring your face perfectly as the sun set, casting a glow to your features . fuck

‘oh come on!!! it was pretty funny… you cant even lie t’me” pulling away, you looked back at your packed lunch. ‘ooh!! we should hang out today— or have a sleepover! theres no school tmrw remember?’ suggesting while grinning , your hands wrapped around the metal container. ‘mmm… maybe i mean ill have too see..’ he was appalled, he was so excited he was gonna strangle the next person he saw… not you though. pulling out his phone to seem busy you looked away from him as you ate the last remaining pieces of food.

‘shouldnt be busy today. your house?’

‘duhhh!!! and yay! we could play video games and watch that one movie that came out—‘

‘mhmm, im down. ‘

—

the sound of the door bell ringing quickly caught your attention, racing to the door you dropped all blankets needed for the sleepover.

the door swung open the cold air entering the home making you shiver though sigh in relief as it freed the warm hot air. ‘haiii! glad ya got here safe, ooh-! i made us some snacks, and then some store bought food on the table in my living room— you can. settle down your stuff up in my bedroom’ you explained quickly as you practically rushed to be by the others side. his hands fiddled with eachother while your warmth embraced him , arm wrapping around his bicep.

"hope you didn't have too much trouble coming here- you can settle down on the couch while i get my blanket from upstairs! then we can watch that movie and uhh! sleep? or play games!!" you suggested moving away from him, he watched your every move, the way you carried yourself up the stiars settling himself on your couch. the house was cozy, it was cold aswell.. just how you liked it.

it even smelled like you, the scent invaded his nostrils calming him, his head was thrown back as he relaxed in ur smell. eyes closed, though the shuffling of your feet and blankets dragging against the floor caught his attention as he awoke and stared at you "need help?" he asked, shaking your head you threw the blankets onto the couch- well onto him..

throwing yourself onto the couch you snuggled the cold blankets ontop of him. he looked at you with a raised eyebrow, "what movie were you talking about?" "you'll see! i think it may be a horror movie- its rated r" "so you don't know for sure what it would be?" shaking your head you got off him and grabbed the remote. he took that time to sit up and lay the blanket out.

your hands grazed the remote before heading over to the streaming site, scrolling through to find the movie. once found, pressed the button and rushed onto the couch jumping onto the other, yelping in surprise he only held you. "cuddle?" he asked softly, you nodded your head frantically. I mean.. it was normal to cuddle your homies right? thought so.

.

his heavy breathing and your calm breaths. eyes tuck to the screen, but it seemed as if your were the only one paying attention.

your warm body held by the arms of the boy infront of you. he gulped softly as you wrapped your arms around his neck, oblivious as to what you were doing. your body pressed up against him, and his growing hard on.

you had noticed- but it was normal for people to get hard.. but fuck he just couldn't contain himself. the way your bodies collided, how you unintentionally rubbed his cock with your inner thigh. his hips bucked into your thigh before he let out a long sigh.

"fuck, im gonna go to the bathroom.." you looked at him and tilted your head "oh alright ill pause the movie." getting up your sat up and leaned over grabbing the remote before completely getting off him. the view presented infront of you surprising you, his flushed cheeks and his hard dick pressing against his sweats. blinking rapidly you stared at the obvious hard on. . noticing your gaze, his member twitched. "stop . . don't look" he mumbled embarrassed.

but he only lied. he wanted you to look, he didn't try covering it up. thats when you came to conclusion. "ah!- . . you- did i ? do that to you.." it throbbed.

"shit . . ." he mumbled throwing his head back. " look i don't mind . . i just didn't think-" you flushed at the thought he even- got hard because of you. "i actually.. i invited you here just. for you know.."

his eyes widened, feeling embarrassed you covered your face thinking he was gonna call you weird... but when you looked at him, a smirk was placed on his lips.

he reached out grabbing your wrist as he pulled you ontop, legs straddling his sides. " y'dont know how long ive been wanting to fuck you..." your heart pounded in your chest. "are you-" interrupted as he pulled you into a kiss, his rough lips pressed against your soft ones. a moan leaving his lips as his tongue grazed your bottom lip.

allowing entrance, both tongues dancing in a rhythm. relaxing in his grasp, he pulled away looking at your now disheveled look. the way your pajamas fell loosely down your shoulder, your throbbing cock pushing against your pants. "matching boners.. cute. except mines bigger." he mumbled he reached down grabbing your dick and pressing it against his own. comparing the two.

he wasn't wrong.. yours was smaller compared to his girthy one. "ive been waiting for this y.n.." the way your name sounded rolling off his tongue was sweet like honey, his large hand trailed to slip your pants down revealing your throbbing member following behind he whipped it out practically jumpscaring you. the wet tip looking at you .

"c mon baby." he mumbled eyes low as he watched your eyes, oh how hungry you looked. " dont be shy darlin" he mumbled his hands trailing up your body, hands resting at your hips rubbing gentle circles. your breathing heaved as you trailed down , face met with his girth. licking your lips, your tongue licked his tip as if it was your last meal, getting comfortable your lips wrapped around his cock. sucking on the tip , leaking precum onto your soft tongue he audibly groaned moans spilling out from him. "fuck why are you so good at this shit..." he grumbled, a large hand gripping onto the back of your head slightly edging you to go on further. and further you went, reaching the back of your throat you took it.

moaning at the sight he grinned messily biting his lip. "atta boy.." he hummed.

with one hand, you wrapped it around with whatever you couldn't take stroking it gently while your free hand prepped your hole, moaning into his dick, he pressed his lips together with hazy eyes he pulled your head away. "mngh.." you moaned , staring into his eyes as you fingered yourself open. he grabbed your hips pulling you closer , you laid your head against his chest, whining as he pulled your hand away. "i wanna fuck your tiny hole.." he hummed into your ear, feeling the tip of his girthy cock align with your slick he pushed up. causing you to twitch you gripped onto his shirt sinking down onto his length.

"fnh! hmmnhahnh" smiling at your dazed face held your hips, fucking into you gently as he watched your head nuzzle his chest. "lemme see your face." though your eyes only looked up at him , feeling his dick throb inside of you.

by then he was fully in, your tight warm walls huggin his yummy large cock. his eyes staring at you lovingly, hungry. hands gripped onto your hips, he used you as if you were a fleshlight. moans spilling out drool leaking from your lips as your eyes stared up at him. "your- funhck.. beautiful."

"gonnhacuhm.." you moaned into his chest, your juice leaking onto his shirt, staining it as you twitched reaching your climax, not far behind he held you down as he came inside of you.

the both of you moaning in pure bliss.. head thrown back you held onto him.

"ill fuck you better next time.." he mumbled, pulling out of you as his warm cum leaked out of you.

-

a/n : i finished a request yayyayayayy!!! another one cummin soon sooo be prepared guys!! (,,>ヮ<,,)!

#. ♡ ejundo writes ! #character x male reader #character x reader #charac x male reader #male reader #m reader #x m reader #x male reader #x bottom male reader #top character #bottom reader #sub reader #reader #male reader blog #male reader insert #MALE reader

[voxisdaddy]

Collection of Pleasure

Hazbin Hotel NSFW Headcanons…

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairings: Alastor | Lucifer | Vox | Valentino | Velvette | Charlie | Vaggie | Cherri Bomb | Rosie | Carmilla | Adam | Lute | Emily | Saint Peter

C/TW: 18+, NSFW, MDNI, reader written as fem, cussing, various kinks, collection of a few subs x dom!reader, mainly the ladies are domming/topping lol, not proofread, some are bad im sorry, carmilla has two though bc its carmilla

In which in at least one NSFW headcanon for each character...

My personal NSFW headcanon for several Hazbin Hotel characters. This includes some of the main cast, the Vee’s, the angels, and some of the other characters ♥︎

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Alastor likes being the predator chasing his prey during his rut...

Sex with Alastor is pretty rare, happens occasionally but usually it's for special occasions like an anniversary. His ruts however? His favourite thing to do (aside from you) is have you run around the forest in his room while he hunts for you in his demon form. He can very easily catch you but he likes to let it play out before he pounces on you for like, two weeks. Goodluck lol

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Lucifer is an insatiable beast...

When he started crying and was quivering so bad one night, you thought that enough was enough and climbed off of him only for his hips to desperately follow you, thrusting into nothing. Despite his tears from the overstimulation you've given him for several rounds by then, he looked at you with teary eyes and begged you to not stop. A safe word was set in place because of that, so you made sure when to stop when he genuinely wanted you to stop. But despite how teary eyed he gets or how much he begs, he never uses it.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Vox likes to watch himself...

"Oh you mean like in front of a mirror?" NO. Well yes but actually he loves getting it on with you in his office because all his monitors will showcase how well you're either riding his dick or fucking his ass with a strap. A few monitors will display his weeping face though thanks to you. He thinks it's humiliating and will try and change them to literally anything else but he can't exactly focus on anything when he's so lost in pleasure. So his weeping face and him getting railed it is. It's like he's your own porn star. This porn star whimpers "mommy" too so have fun with that.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Valentino is capable of getting fucked dumb...

I know it might be hard to believe with him, but it is possible and it's why he's so obsessed with you. He's very experienced in sex, obviously; doming, subbing, top, bottom, doesn't matter. It's all good. The way you can somehow fuck him so good and bring him to so much overstimulation that all he can do babble incoherently? Mans is down bad for you and grows more romantically attached to you than he thinks. Often times the night after a particularly passionate and heated session, he heads to the studio with a slight limp in his step. The first time people saw him limping like that paired with his surprisingly decent mood that day, they knew; oh you're fucking good.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Velvette is a pillow princess...

I 100% see her as a dom, and she very well can dom, but she's selfish and wants all the pleasure with minimal work. With the way she acted, especially when it comes to teasing you, it really through you in a loop when you got to bed that evening. Okay so you're topping-no big deal. The real surprise was when you found out she didn't wanna do anything to help you get off. Oh well. Sitting on her face and using a vibrator against her clit is motivational enough for her to pleasure you too.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Charlie has a little bit of an exhibitionist kink...

a little bit. Kind of? Okay but you know the large window in her room we see her by in episode 1? Has rode your strap and/or fucked you with a strap right in front of that baby. Granted it's pretty high so not like anyone can easily look in anyways but it's still just not private enough that it does something to her. If she's ever potentially really ticked off sometimes she'll eat pussy aggressively while you're pressed, bare tits and all, against the glass.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Vaggie likes titi's...

Whether your big breasted or sporting itty bitties, her hands immediately go to fondle them during heated make out sessions. She's kinda shy in the bedroom so don't take her boldness to grope your chest as her being dominant-she just can't help herself from groping you. Sometimes after sex she'll kiss your chest. Depending on where she kisses and if she'd biting or not, it may lead to another round.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Cherri Bomb is the only person who can rival Lucifer over…

Eating pussy. Whether your sitting on her face or her head is buried between your plush thighs, my girl loves to eat. And she eats like her life depends on it. Even when you think she may need a breather and try to move she’s very quick in pulling you back and keeps you there firmly, often smirking when you’re overstimulated and squirming.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Rosie loves thighs...

Call her old fashioned (cuz she is) but seeing your exposed thighs just does something to her. I mean how scandalous! She spends a majority of her time in Cannibal Town which is trapped in the 1910's. Everyone is dressed in only the most stylish and modest clothing from that time period. So if you ever come strutting about, publicly or privately, in a little something that exposes more of your figure and especially your thighs, expect to have dozens of hickeys decorating your inner thighs by the next day.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Carmilla always says she has no favourite sex position but she does...

it's 69. She prefers to be at bottom since it makes it easier for her to finger you while simultaneously assaulting your clit with her tongue. And of course while you're down there she likes to keep you trapped with her thighs. Because i mean look at them thighs!!! MMHHMMM!!! I see her leaning more towards dom so like, if you're able to focus on eating her out without getting distracted as little as possible then she'll reward you good.

I have two for Carmilla that I desperately want to share so here's my second one; she loves having you keep her strap warm while she does paperwork. Just you sittin pretty on her big plastic dick, occasionally gripping your thigh when you squirm too much. Will play with your clit if you're being needy-try not to squirm too much though or else you ain't getting anything once she'd done her work for the day.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Adam secretly cherishes your more intimate sex...

As much as a dick (master) this guy is, he definitely has his vulnerable side. During some make up sex after an argument and temporary separation that could have very easily lead to your guys break up, he found himself unusually emotional as he was balls deep in ya. He didn't cry, as if he'd allow himself to do that especially at a time like sex, but he felt it. The pull at his heart strings, the relief that washed over him that you two were still together, the way your lips uttered his name like a prayer., It was a surprise to him and one he'll never forget.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Lute cums surprisingly fast via fingering...

You found this out when opting to use your fingers to do the job over the dildo, strap, and vibrator. She already knew she came fast via fingering but didn't want anyone to know that-she came almost embarrassingly fast and it sometimes felt like it wouldn't stop. This hit her ego a little bit considering that she's stubborn as all hell but she could barely defend herself when she kept cumming around your fingers. Safe to say you had quite a lot to lap up that night.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Emily gets wet easily...

is it really that surprising? You found this out when you were kissing at her neck and reached down to her uplifted dress and felt that slick wet feeling between her legs. She was very flustered and even more when you teased her for getting this wet over a few neck kisses-there was only one hickey (so far).

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Saint Peter has a thing for light bondage...

Nothing hard obviously but his wrists being bound together or to the bed via rope or handcuffs gets him going. It puts him in a position where he's completely at your mercy. Blindfolding him is on the table as well-his other senses are heightened as fuck making him react more enthusiastically to your touches and whispers. Even though he's into it it's also a double edges sword cuz this guy needs to touch you and not even being allowed to look at you either has him whining.

This has been in my drafts for weeks lol some of these aren't to my personal standards but I was really running out ideas that were both fitting to the character and weren't too basic/a repeat of another's. I didn't wanna exclude some people from my original roster so I toughed it out lol

sometimes my posts get shadowbanned for literally no reason and at random so it would mean the world if you reblogged this thank you <3 no pressure tho!

#hazbin hotel #x reader #vox #saint peter #st peter #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne #adam #lute #emily #rosie #cherri bomb #vaggie #charlie #charlie morningstar #velvette #velvet #valentino #charlie magne #carmilla #carmilla carmine

[ctrlsatoru]

DIABLO CH2 - TOJI FUSHIGURO

content: techbro billionare!toji, reader is gojo's little sister, age gap (toji's in his mid 30s, reader in mid 20s) kind of ooc toji, suggestive themes, no smut yet. protective!toji, but also asshole!toji. warnings: 18+ only. suggestive themes. explicit language, references to being roofied. toji being toji. minors do not interact. pairing: toji fushiguro x afab gojo!reader word count: 8k tags: @liitlesushi a/n: ok so this might be longer than I anticipated and also semi slow burn. it'll be worth it, trust. summary: It's Gojo's anniversary party, you're doomed by your Satoru's whims, haunted by your father's scheming, and now a devilish third player appears: Toji Fushiguro. And he's here to collect.

Toji opens his eyes, manually focusing on the strange ceiling. It twists slowly before it settles. 

This bed is not his own, he can tell from how flat the pillow feels under his head, which is throbbing painfully. He feels like a dozen horses ran over him. A voice, distinctly female, unnecessarily loud, makes him wince and curse under his breath.

“... If I agree, and I haven’t, you’re not picking my outfit. Know that .”

This is unlike him. He can’t remember a thing. The only good thing about not recognizing the bed is that he’s not gonna have to deal with a strange woman in his place–

“Because your conception of what’s socially acceptable to wear to a formal function is not tethered to earthly reality, Satoru.”

Oh.

It’s you .

You’re on the phone, standing by floor-to-ceiling windows. The sunlight casts off your ring like a white laser when you turn, blinding him.

“Mornin’” he croaks, pushing himself to sit against rough the rattan bed frame. The room moves from side to side, like you’re stuck in a boat instead of Haibara’s beach house. It’s all coming back to him, watching you and your boyfriend’s rowdy love spat, the deck–

“Oh. Hey, buddy.” you say idly, looking over your shoulder as you sit on the other side of the bed, your ring-covered finger tying your slutty sandals around your ankles like some shibari countess. The strap of your top falls as you lean over. Toji’s buffering.

His ears must be fucking deceiving him. Buddy?

The fuck?

He can’t for the life of him remember anything after the deck. You’re zooming through the room, texting furiously. On top of that, you look fresh and plump like lettuce out of the fridge, don’t you? But he had to blink several times to break through the layer of crust around his eyelashes, and his body is telling him you two fucked like animals for the past 12 hours.

Or he spent the weekend in the trenches. 

He feels wildly unprepared for this morning after, and it’s a just fucking relief that you’re keeping your distance until you start tap tap taping your little heels to the door.

“The hell do you think you’re goin’?”

You stop, surveying him over your shoulder like he’s coming close to being some sort of inconvenience. 

And then the corner of your lips lifts, the mole on your cheek jumping with the motion.

“It was fun.” Your phone starts ringing again. The sound drills a hole into Toji’s temples. “Too bad that it never happened.”

With that, you’re gone. 

You leave Toji with a bunch of unconscious people scattered around the house and Haibara, who’s still young enough to not know what a real hangover is. The kid will just not shut up about some hardcore surveillance system he had installed around the house recently after he noticed someone was stealing from his Kaws collection.

Toji listens to the whole story, sipping on the cold pressed green juice Haibara made himself, simply refusing to use the crystal straw, and makes a promise to himself. You’ll pay for whatever it is you did to him.

Even if he doesn’t remember what that was. Yet. It doesn’t matter. You’ll pay anyway. Nicely. 

“Say, kid.” he asks Haibara, licking the green foam off his lips and putting down the empty glass on the counter. The juice tasted just like it looks, which is cow puke, but his mind is somewhere else. Machinating. Scheming. 

“This system of yours, does it cover the whole house?”

Here’s the thing.

There are many things Toji isn’t. 

For starters, he’s not easily bothered by most things, a trait that people usually mistake for a personal attack, like it has anything to do with them and isn’t just the hand that he was dealt. People assume others, in this case him, think about them more than he can be bothered to. 

He’s not a control junkie either, not anymore. He left those days behind.

Control isn’t something he needs to worry about anymore. He has plenty of it. If something gets out of line, it gets back on it automatically. That’s just the way life is. Sure, he had his vices back then; lactose, gambling, adrenaline, women. 

But the thing is, you learn a few things with age, right? Shiny things lose their sparkle. The excitement wears off. Nothing is safe from becoming predictable, not even the rush of hearing bone crack under his fists or the juiciest, tightest pussy presented to him on a tray.

And this sheds a light on the fact that he’s way past the age of being pussy whipped.

“You cannot be serious.”

So why the fuck is Shiu Kong looking at him like that? 

And who does he think he is standing next to him, all up on his screen, and mind you, only alive thanks to the fact that Toji has lost some edge from his gory days?

He shuts down the tab like a kid who got caught watching porn on the family PC.

“You listen to me. Don’t you ever fucking do that–”

“The Gojo kid?” 

Toji’s eyebrows dig into his face because you’re certainly not a kid. No. Far from it. Kids don’t go around feeding people horse tranquilizer or whatever the fuck it is you fed him with that glossy mouth of yours. And that’s what you did. That’s as far as he can remember. 

“Is that what’s been–”

“I’m gonna stop you before you say some dumb shit and piss me off any further.”

Shiu’s been pestering him for days now about the upcoming iteration and the threat of several deadlines. Toji has been brushing it off. No nagging back or shutting down his complaints. 

Somehow, his silence only pushes the stick up Shiu’s ass even. Like he’s his sexually neglected wife of 40 years.

Truth is, he hasn’t given the dynamic with his CFO/best friend much thought lately. Why would he when there’s an infuriating, mouthy woman with siren eyes that look down at him even when he’s about two heads taller than– 

You.

“–stalking the poor girl on the desktop version of Instagram.”

Toji returns to the conversation. “I don’t stalk people. I’m a grown-ass man.”

And you’re not a girl either. You’re something else. He hasn’t figured it out yet.

“Mm. So am I.” Shiu says, still standing there with his hands in his pants pockets, head tilting down at some forgotten paperwork on his desk. “And even I know looking at someone’s profile on a desktop computer is a concerning level of unemployment, which you’re not at. Yet.” 

Toji’s not that thick-headed. He knows he’s been distracted, but he can’t just brush away the mystery of what went down that night at Haibara’s. 

You pop up in his head unannounced and make yourself comfortable, rent fucking free. Like a little squatter. In the middle of meetings, on the drive back home, at the gym, when he’s at his favorite club with a gorgeous and willing girl on his lap. 

It’s becoming so frustrating that he’s started to despise you for real, and not just the made-up version of yourself he created when he met you and decided you were an ill-mannered bunny that he wanted to toy with for a bit.

In this scenario, of course, he was a wolf.

No one ever talks about how sometimes the bunny roofies the wolf and bolts the morning after.

Days pass and his mind is blank of memories, no glimpses, no time-stopping sex flashbacks, just a bunch of vivid dreams about you that distract him to the point of burning his toast one morning and nearly knocking the front teeth off his trainer’s face.

Toji’s positive you didn’t fuck. Sure, you had a bit of bed hair, but your face lacked the I-was-fucked-by-the-Toji-Fushiguro glaze he was used to seeing in women and took pride in. You looked perfectly fine, unfucked enough to be giving hell to your dimwit brother on the phone and fuck with him before disappearing.

It was fun.

He was also wearing underwear, and you walked just fine. No wobbly legs or tilted hips. No bruises on your neck or scratches on his back– 

Too bad that it never happened.

You had shared a bed, that much he knew. He caught a whiff of your perfume after you left. He had cursed you then, feeling like a pathetic fucking dog sniffing up some pillows, but now the confusion and annoyance faded to a curiosity that extends past the time in his head he gives to even the best lays he’s had. 

So he put up an incognito tab and looked you up hoping to find something corny or annoying about you to make you unappealing, and somehow he landed on your personal IG profile. 

You posted a set of pictures three days ago of meaningless corners at some random location. The fourth picture is a snap of what looks like your desk. By the corner, there’s a polaroid of you and your fiancé. 

You’re standing in front of the guy, leaning your head to the side with his chin resting nice and cozy on your shoulder, his nose pressed against your neck. It pulled a dry snort from the depths of his chest.

He found your twitter account as well, because why not? And finds nothing interesting there. You stick to promoting your work and hardly communicate. Other people in your circle, on the other hand…

Toji went through a twitter phase not too long ago. He found endless amusement in pissing people off with less than 140 characters and replying to those who enjoyed his work. He uninstalled the app the second he found people selling mugs with screencaps of his tweets. 

Safe to say the decision made Shiu’s and the PR team quite happy. 

He’s out of the loop with the overall discourse, but it’s clear that you have farmed your own dedicated micro following online and your boyfriend’s some kind of underground A24 flowerboy on the rise. 

The both of you, as a couple, act like viagra for a very specific, insufferable and presumptuous crowd. They’re hyper-focused on the fact that you haven’t posted him on your stories lately and that Hiroki allegedly deleted some posts with you on Instagram.

Kids these days. As short as life is, and the things they waste their time on… 

“Please tell me that’s not her twitter account,” Shiu says. Toji’s hands twitch. “This is more pathetic than I thought. No wonder you haven’t gotten anything done in days.”

Toji kills the rest of the tabs, spitting over his shoulder “I can’t very well do my fucking job if you’re breathing over my fucking shoulder, can I? You know how I fucking feel about people standing behind me when I’m trying to get shit done.”

“ Twitchy .” Shiu notes and takes his sweet time walking around his desk, plopping down on the seat in front of him.

“Yep, take a seat, why don’t you.” Toji grumbles.

His partner and oldest friend crosses his legs in front of him and taps his fingers on his knee, a sign that he’s craving a cigarette.

“So I’m gonna take a leap of faith here and assume this is some kind of executive-level scheming, and you’re just exploiting a vulnerability.”

Toji’s face twists like he sucked on a lemon at the mere thought of it. 

“You know damn well the day I do business with that old cunt will be the day your ex-wife comes clean about what she did at that yoga retreat in Bali and asks for forgiveness.”

“Figures. So?”

“You’d probably take her back. Fucking cuck.”

“She really got under your skin, didn’t she?” Shiu notes, not at all bothered by the unprovoked attacks. 

Toji sniffs, comes down from the spike of anger, and finds a more comfortable position on his chair.

“She owes me.”

Shiu leans his head back, mildly amused. 

“You adding usury to your ledger now?”

“Not money.”

“Alright then, I don’t want to know.” Lies. But Shiu knows better than to push too much. Toji’s the type to hoard details not because he’s afraid of compromise, just to be an asshole. 

It’s refreshing to see him almost… desperate. If you were anything like your brother, Shiu thought, you might be just the perfect little karma agent for his best friend.

“Fine. You get that business sorted. You’re no use to me if you’re distracted.”

“You worry about sorting your own business and I’ll worry about mine, Kong.”

Shiu stands up, fighting back a smile until he opens the door, stopping at the sight of Toji’s assistant about to knock.

“What is it?” Toji asks, scratching his eyebrow, already exhausted.

Keiko looks down at the tablet in her hands, hesitant.

“The team at Gojo Corp has reached out, sir. It seems Gojo Shinobu would like to invite you to dinner next week.”

The look on Shiu’s face as he slowly turns to face him is priceless. Toji rests his elbows on his desk, a sinister smile pulling at his scar.

“Well, isn’t that interesting?”

“Interesting indeed.” Shiu agrees. Keiko eyes them skeptically.

“I better get to work then, eh?”

“Anytime would be nice, yes.” Shiu says, turning to Keiko. “I guess I’ll finally find out about Bali, then.”

So you might think, look at him backtracking like that. 

Don’t get him wrong, it’s nothing like that.

Toji’s sitting across from Gojo Shinobu, the man, the myth, the bigot himself, with absolutely no intention of making business with him.

He’s just sniffing the territory.

And he almost regrets it. The man is a disturbingly aged mixture of you and your brother: the hair and the uncanny valley eyes went to him, but the eyebrows, the slope of his nose, it’s you. Even the handshake, firm and tight like a war general, reminds Toji of you.

Gojo Shinobu’s old as the fucking bible. His eyes are graying, eyelids sagging, but he’s still got it for sure. 

Let’s make one thing clear, Toji doesn’t like the old fart. He represents many things that he despises about older generations, and his business model is one of the many reasons for the country living in the past, but he’s not about to get political. 

Not liking Gojo Shinobi doesn’t mean he doesn’t have some respect for him, so he’s honest and immediately shuts down the proposal of Gojo Corp. being involved in future Diablo releases.

Dignified. Not happy. But never one to see a no for what it is, Shinobu just smiles, brushes his beard like a Ghibli villain, and switches the subject.

Alcohol involved and pretending to put business talk aside, the conversation flows easily. Your father has a surprisingly entertaining dry sense of humor. Toji supposes you stop giving a shit when you have one foot in the grave.

“I hear you have a kid.”

“Two kids.” Toji says, remembering that he’s supposed to pick up Tsumiki in an hour. Ballet class. She’s getting rather serious about it. “A girl and a boy.”

“Ah, good balance.” Shinobu nods with a knowing smile. “They listen to you? How old are they?”

“15 and 16. And they do.”

They don’t, because they’re teenagers, not soldiers. Megumi and Tsumiki are good kids, certainly better than he was at their ages, they don’t need him ordering them around.

“Dangerous, dangerous age.” your father hums. “You make sure they do that, save yourself the bitterness in the future.”

Damn. Alright. Toji lifts his eyebrows and leans in, listening. That’s all it takes.

“You’d be surprised. You get a little too light handed, and a perfect sapling can get ruined just like that.” he snaps his fingers. “It’s harder to straighten them up as they grow up.”

Toji takes a long, good sip, fighting back a chuckle. He has no concerns when it comes to who or how people choose to fuck, but the blatant homophobia is always amusing.

“Or worse, they’ll gang up on you.” Shinobu scoffs “No wife? You raising them on your own?”

“I am.”

“Good man. It’s hard, honest work. Make sure you look for a good one to settle with, not all of them are in touch with their motherly instinct.”

His assistant comes in, tells him someone has arrived.

Shinobu makes a noise with his nose or mouth that reminds Toji of an exasperated horse.

“Take the advice from me. You see–”

He leans over the table, brushes his beard. 

“If, and I’m not wishing this upon you, your daughter comes of age and– after years of picking up and dropping all sorts of interests with no interest in commitment, she  comes to the conclusion that she wants to waste her life playing with cameras and hanging out with gender-bending creatives ,”

The word is said with so much despise Toji feels like there should be a new phobia for it

“–you have to sit down and choose what’s more important; letting her waste her potential away, or being in her good graces. Sometimes it can’t be both, that’s just how it is.”

Perhaps Toji hasn’t given you enough credit. You could’ve ended up a lot worse than you are. You could’ve murdered him and kept him in your fridge instead of drugging him, and he’d kind of understand why.

“But when she tells you she wants to let some bland dimwit into your family and make him blood, you take matters into your own hands.” he nods firmly, like it’s Toji he’s mad at, and finally looks over his shoulder, nostrils flared.

Asaya Hiroki approaches the table. Jetlagged eyes, tail between his legs.

“Fushiguro, this is Asaya Hiroji, my daughter’s boyfriend.” he says, with a meaningful side eye. Hiroki looks like he has half a mind to correct him on either the name or relationship status but he’s too fond of keeping his head attached to his body.

You were right, Hiroki’s pretty. Toji can’t compete in that department. He looks like he puts sugar and milk on his tea and smashes the china on the floor when he’s told he can’t have more, like a psychotic puppy. 

In other words, both of you make sense together. 

You like to look at pretty things so your boyfriend’s cute. No harm in acknowledging that, though he remembers Tsumiki mentioning that when noses dip down like that it means there’s some kind of prosthetic. 

And if you pay attention, really read between the lines of his 90’s film heartthrob face, something’s off with him, isn’t it?

But what does he care? A nose job is no crime. Hiroki has other flaws to offer. For example, he has a rather shitty way of hiding the fact that he’s doing something he’s not supposed to right now. 

Perhaps, even, going behind someone’s back.

And the guy calls himself an actor.

Satisfied with the results of what he thought would be a waste of an afternoon, He excuses himself. If he leaves now, he’ll be in time to get to Tsumiki’s class before it’s done and have the other kids’ moms and nannies ogle at him. Tsumiki hates it when he does that.

“Don’t be a stranger, Fushiguro. I’d like to keep this channel between us open. I hope to see you at the anniversary party.”

“Pardon?” Toji stops, surprised.

“The company’s anniversary party, this Friday,” Shinobu says, like it’s obvious. “I’d like you to meet my son, and well, you’re already acquainted with my daughter.”

Hiroki’s round bobba eyes follow him all the way to the grand crystal doors. Toji has the distinct feeling that he was just part of Shinobu taking matters into his own hands. 

He’s both disturbed and impressed. He never mentioned meeting you, and he’s pretty damn sure that this didn’t slip from your lips either.

 

Every year the company throws an anniversary party, and you and your brother and every high-level employee have to attend and listen to your father’s rendition of why diesel was better and how you’re all wimps for being born after the extinction of smallpox. 

The one year that you didn’t attend, because you were stuck in Norway with a canceled flight, your father spent exactly 11 months reminding you of it like you had any say in the weather conditions of the North Sea.

Tonight might be his last speech as chairman, not because he’s dying or anything, but because he’s about to step down from his position after growing health concerns. 

Suguru approaches you at the empty family table with a flute, sitting down next to you with a lift of his eyebrow. He’s looking as handsome as ever, dressed in black, with his hair tied back, but you much prefer the bangs framing his face.

“So, when do you think he’s going to publicly execute the medical staff that diagnosed him with Alzheimer’s?”

He chuckles, fingers tapping the table. “Probably after he declares war on Gretha Thunberg.”

You’re wary. He might have everyone convinced, but it’s not like him to step down quietly. Your instincts are telling you to expect shenanigans tonight, and they’ve never once failed you.

“Seems too good to be true, don’t you think?” you say, eyeing the crowd around you. “I don’t know how Satoru’s so cool about it.”

Suguru sighs, craning his neck. “I wouldn’t say he is.”

And of course, that’s when your brother slams his palm on the table and makes you jump in surprise. He leans over the two of you, eyeing the room like it’s the school cafeteria and he’s the king of prom.

And he kind of is. Today your father will officially name him his successor, so the sour look in his face makes you and Suguru share a look.

“Do you see Hideo Kojima on steroids hanging out with Nanamin? I guess next year we’ll have the Yakuza on the jazz band.”

You laugh, only half weirded out, not interested in knowing what he’s talking about, unlike Suguru who looks up at your brother, confused.

“ Who? ”

“ Toji Fushiguro. ” Gojo drawls, icily amused, and your neck turns so fast Suguru worries it’ll break. “And his underling.”

Remember your intuition? Red sirens start ringing in your head, and the edges of your vision start staining in with a deep burgundy color.

What on earth is he–

“Dad invited him.” Satoru says, still not sitting down and still scanning the room with deadly eyes. You feel the urge to look around and pinpoint his exact location, but you wait for him to point with his chin. “They’ve been seeing each other. Mimosas and manicures, I heard.”

You find him across the room, just over the elevated candles in the middle of your table, talking with Nanami and some man you don’t recognize. 

You fight the weak but sensible urge to look away when he suddenly turns to your table with an unreadable expression and lifts his glass in your direction, like he felt the shit talking from a distance.

The room is vast, but you recognize the feeling of his eyes looking straight at you. Your brother is too occupied cursing under his breath while he lifts his glass to notice you gulping.

“You think dad’s hitting that?”

You try not to gag. “You’re sick.”

“Cause someone��will owe me a loooot of money if that’s the case.” he taunts. You both placed a bet on whether your father is bisexual or not years ago. “Look at him, standing there like he’s threatening to swipe all the fertile wives in the room. Freak.”

You snort on your drink, a bit of it goes down the wrong pipe, Suguru pats your back.

“You better hold on to yours then.”

“Nah, he’s locked in. Ain’t cha , babes?”

You roll your eyes, feeling Suguru shake his head with a lovesick smirk. Your brother replies with a wink, lazily dropping his weight on the chair next to you, like you need to be in the middle of all that.

You lean back, stretching your neck. “Ok, you can back up a little. It’s embarrassing enough to be matching with you.”

Satoru stretches his arm over your now empty seat. They’ve been purposefully keeping a distance, him and Suguru, people assume it’s for appearances sake, but you know them better than that. They’re playing some game tonight, and you’d rather pluck out your lashes one by one than learn the details.

“And I distinctly remember asking you to stop feeding into those fucked up theories online about me terrorizing you as a child, but you had to take those creepy family portraits with the heads cut off. We don’t always get what we want, sis.”

And don’t you know that. Tonight was stressing enough without 6’ something with a lip scar, ever so subtly following with his eyes as you make your way around the party. Not too obvious for an outsider to notice, but just enough to make the exposed hairs at the back of your neck stand up.

You’re a little too energized. Like too many shots of espresso after an allnighter. It makes no sense to start feeling threatened by Toji Fushiguro tonight, when he’s in your territory, but you do. 

But you weren’t raised in your father’s household to be so easily intimidated, so you mingle, let people stop you for quick, boring catch ups and questions about being excited about your brother and what-have-you-been-up -tos, even those whose faces or names you can’t recall. You smile, entertain and even ask people about their whereabouts, until you’re out of social battery for the rest of the month.

“Took you long enough.” you say, making a point of not looking at him.

His voice comes closer than you expected or feel comfortable with. Smooth and dark, in through your left ear.

“Patience is a virtue, haven’t you heard?”

His presence is more unnerving than you geared up for, and just like the first time, a shiver cuts through you. Something urges you to move and take a step sideways, out of the magnetic pull around him. 

You finally take him in. Tailored tuxedo, slightly tousled black hair that you know for a fact is unfairly soft, exuding confidence. Never in your life had you encountered someone as infuriating and intoxicating as him.

“Are you my new stepdaddy?”

A slap to his face would’ve stunned him less. Hell, he might’ve enjoyed it. You don’t give him a chance. His pants have no business getting tighter from that fucking question.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

Toji hums, hands in his pockets, playing off the fact that you’ve been talking for ten seconds and he’s already fighting the urge to devour you where you stand. 

“Depends.”

You lift an eyebrow. 

“You into that kind of thing?”

You scoff, dismissive as always, but suspiciously purse your lips to one side before taking a sip of your drink.

Head held high, nose up in the air. Toji takes your profile in. The light bouncing off the high points of your face, the deliberate, doll-like curl of your lashes, the soft slope of your neck and the dips and curves of your shoulders. Your dress painted a nice image in his head of your body from afar, so he refrains from going past your collarbones.

“What? No comeback? I’m disappointed.”

“I didn’t expect to see you any time soon.”

“Like I said, patience is a virtue.”

You roll your eyes and laugh dismissively. “You don’t believe that.”

“Bold assumption.” he counters. “I wanted to see how long you’d last entertaining guests, but then your right eye started twitching and I suppose took some pity on you.”

“Aren’t you an empath.”

“Even to those who don’t deserve it.”

Your chin quivers, but you keep the smile to yourself with a quick sigh. Toji could look down at the way your chest rises and drops, but he’s not in a rush here. 

“Why are you here?”

“Is that any way to speak to a guest? I’m sure Shinobu raised you better than that.”

Name dropping your father gets the exact reaction he was hoping for.

“Why are you here?” you repeat, enunciating slowly, but the words you want to say are dont fuck with me right now.

But you’re too precious for him to deny himself the pleasure. Not when your eyebrows tremble like that. 

“Your father was kind enough to invite me. It would’ve been rude to turn him down.”

“You’re not here to entertain him. He’s stepping down soon and you can’t stand him.”

“Me disagreeing with his work ethics doesn’t mean that I don’t respect him.” You laugh, loud and clear, not caring for the heads turning your way. “Why else would I waste a perfectly nice friday night surrounded by a bunch of suck ups? Are you suggesting I have some ulterior motive?”

Your squint at him, like you don’t believe he has the guts to say it.

“Did you perhaps assume I’m here for… you ?”

Toji wonders if your silence has anything to do with the white haired manchild looking your way for the second time.

“We do have something to settle. You owe me something, if I remember correctly.” 

“I think you’re mistaking me for someone else.”

“Nice try. An explanation, does that ring any bells?” 

Your head snaps up to him, the wisps of hair hanging from the sides of your face flow with the movement. The tip of your nose and your cupid’s bow catch the light, if he couldn’t see your face this close he’d mistake that for sweat. 

He’s reminded of how you looked at the deck in contrast to the sight of you right now. A sheer layer of sweat was covering your skin, your plump thighs spilling on the wood surface, he kept his hands in his phone and held on to his own sanity.

“What is there to explain? Nothing happened.”

Toji tilts his head. “Lying is a bad, bad thing,” 

“We didn’t do anything, Fushiguro.” you insist, lowering your voice. Toji looks over your head, bored with your attempts at gaslighting. “If you–”

“You wanna dance?” 

The nonchalant act drops, you unconsciously lean back and open your mouth like there’s not enough air in the room. Toji smirks at your hesitation, cold, challenging

“It’s in your best interest.”

“How?”

“Because the old cunt that kept kissing your hand earlier is coming our way and I’m about to leave you alone with him” he lies and you don’t dare look over your shoulder to check, not wanting to risk making eye contact with the slimmy fucker.

It’s a bad idea. Being near Toji is a bad idea, dancing with him is the equivalent of putting on a vest bomb. Your father is somewhere in the room and your brother might act aloof but not a single interaction of his interest is going unnoticed. 

Putting your hand in his is a bad, bad idea. The worst. But you suspect figuring out Toji Fushiguro’s intentions will take some compromise on your part, so you don’t hesitate when you grab his hand.

With his arm around you, Toji sees flashes of a particularly vivid dream he had about you days ago. The first thing he did when he woke up from it was open his app notes and write two words, perverse angel . Now he knows it was actually deja vu; you close your eyes for a bit, the breathing image of reminiscing. This isn’t your first time in his arms.

The melody gets rather slow. You hold yourself with all the poise of a reluctant little heiress, defiant but serene as you look at him, arm resting over his.

While he’s growing quite fond of the sight of your neck exposed, he’d rather find the main pin and let your hair down. Let you get comfortable, not taut like you are in his hold.

“You look like a tall pint of guinness.”

Toji could do this all night. Just watch your expression drop, annoyance pinch at your temples.

One ankle betrays you, but he’s not about to let that happen. The arm around your waist keeps you steady, moving along with him. His grip is firm, but not overpowering.

“You’re an asshole.” You say like you just discovered it tonight.

He’s right. You know it and you hate that he described it so right. You’re dressed in a black, sleek and form fitting dress that goes down to your ankles and the top is made of an off-shoulder white band that wraps around your shoulders.

Toji laughs with that shark grin of his, his scar stretching. 

“There’s nothing wrong with it.” He adds helpfully, hand coming up to straighten the white fabric around your left shoulder. The air turns colder with the absence of his arm, but it returns to the spot in no time. “Wouldn’t have been my first choice, granted, but it’s a lovely dress. Perfect for a night at the pub, watching the game with the boys.”

Your lips curl in distaste. “I think I’ll pass on the unsolicited fashion advice, thanks.”

“Come on. You can never go wrong with a red dress.” he counters, eyes dropping briefly. You wrinkle your nose, he takes offense. “ What? ”

“Not my style” you shrug.

He hums sarcastically. “Now that’s just tragic.”

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll make sure to wear one to your funeral.”

The couples closest to you turn with different looks of controlled distaste. Toji laughs heartily, head thrown back and everything. 

“I’ll hold you to that. I might just return just to see it with my own eyes.”

“Not sure doors open both ways in hell, but hey, more power to you.” 

“So you wanna hear my theory?”

You sigh. “Nothing happened, Toji. I mean it.”

What a terrible liar you are.

“I think you had a little alcohol in you, were fresh off a fight with your boyfriend, and just couldn’t help yourself because you have a thing for problems.”

You nod sarcastically. “And of course, you’re the problem in question.”

“Well, yes.” he blinks. “And you don’t have half the self control you believe you have. So you freaked out and put me to sleep to stop yourself from doing something you thought you might regret.”

This is how it was. You had forgotten the rush, despite replaying time and time again your past conversations. Interacting with Toji Fushiguro’s like playing five finger filet, thrilling and grueling and high risk, but it’s a whole other thing with people around you. You can’t let up, all your senses need to be on guard.

“Aren’t you too old to be throwing a fit because I gave you more than you could handle?”

Toji’s eyes dig into yours, a hint of amusement and something else.

“Here’s a piece of advice: choose your words very, very carefully. They might come back to haunt you. ”

“It never happened. And it won’t.” You repeat with a cool tone. The pulse on your wrist drums against his own. 

“I have to say, you’re a better actress than he is.” he mentions. “But denial does not suit you. We’re gonna have to do something about that or things will get very awkward real soon.”

“Actually I think we should focus on your rejection issues first.”

“I’m not a problem for you to solve, sweetheart.” he chuckles darkly, eyes knowing, never leaving yours. Years of practicing the art of bullshitting in your household could not help you deny the attraction. “What you see is what you get. And you can, when you stop being a little coward.”

He makes you turn effortlessly, that’s when you see it. The words die on your lips, your stomach drops, all resolve wavers. Toji releases you, and your arms hang limp on your sides.

He licks his scar and smirks sideways at you, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You should fix your face, sweets, ‘cause I won’t behave if he wants to pick a fight.” 

You’ve always liked Nanami Kento. He’s one of your father’s closest advisors, the pathological victim of Gojo’s pestering, and always impeccably polite to you, sweet even. But right now, when he’s introducing Toji Fushiguro and his friend to Suguru and Hiroki, you’d love to hit him in the head with a hammer.

At least your brother is nowhere to be seen.

"Pleasure to meet you," Suguru says.

Hiroki has a hand around your waist, he’s not looking at you, but you know what the dimpling of his cheeks mean. 

“We’ve met before actually, haven’t we?” Toji turns to him, brow burying into his face like he’s not too sure. “Correct me if I’m wrong. I don’t remember too well.”

Your heart is stuck in your neck, threatening to crawl out of your mouth. Suguru gives you an odd look.

“We have.” You don’t see the look on Hiroki’s face when he replies, but his tone is controlled.

“Yeah, I thought so.” 

Shiu Kong says something, and Suguru responds accordingly. 

You grab a drink from a passing tray and the corner of Toji’s mouth tilts, his attention on Suguru’s conversation. You feel irrationally mad, you feel like slapping him, but then he’d probably fix his jaw and look at you like you should go rougher and–

There’s something seriously wrong with you.

You grab Hiroki’s hand and pull him with you.

He’s confused but follows you nonetheless. “Can you just wait for a–”

“We should ditch the party.” You say, but he doesn’t agree like he usually would and grabs your arm, stopping you at once, brown eyes searching yours.

“You’re not even gonna ask why I’m here?”

“My dad invited you?” you reply, confused by the offended look on his face.

He makes a strange face. “ No . Why would he? You know how I feel about this kind of thing.”

Now you’re confused. You smell his breath and notice his flushed cheeks. “But you’re here.”

“Wow. Try to contain the excitement, why don’t you.” he scoffs. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to fly across continents and interrupt whatever the hell that wa–”

He’s starting to raise his voice, drawing attention, usually composed demeanor nowhere to be seen. You catch the smell of his breath and put two and two together. 

“You’ve been drinking.”

His face drops. The volatile look in his eyes is not something you can deal with tonight.

You’re forever grateful for the woman announcing your father’s speech. Hiroki’s expression clears up, but he gives you a look that says you’ll resume the conversation later, soon, tonight . 

Then he puts his arm around you, pulls you to his side, and leads you closer to the podium.

Your father looks into the crowd with piercing blue eyes. You have a bad feeling. Like if you were to take a picture right now, it would later be displayed as the moment before hell broke loose.

“... And as many of you know, the time has come for me to step back and allow a new generation to lead us forward."

The crowd hangs on his every word. You scan the room for the 10th time, worried eyes looking for a head full of white hair.

Hiroki notices your unease and looks down at you, rubbing your arm. “Hey, what is it?”

“I don’t see Satoru.”

Your father continues, voice unwavering. 

"It is with great confidence and optimism that I announce my successor, a person who embodies the values and vision of our company." 

You finally find Satoru at the back, he’s with Suguru and Nanami. Waving his arms around him, pissed .

"Please join me in welcoming the next CEO of Gojo Corp, Noritoshi Kamo."

The room erupts into applause, but before his words can fully register, a sudden, sharp crack echoes through the hall. For a split second, confusion takes over, and then it turns to full blown panic.

You see your father go down and your legs move on their own

Gunshots.

People are running, ducking and diving for cover all around you. Tables are overturned and glass shatters.

"Get down!" someone shouts. 

Someone slams into you. 

Toji helps you up. Quick eyes locating an exit and going for it.

“My dad.” you protest, trying to look over your shoulder, and Toji has half a mind to fully pick you up.

“He’s fine.” he assures, hand covering your head, pulling it down.

Security sprung into action in no time at the first gunshot, formed a barrier around him and hurried the old man out of the stage. Toji had seen it with his own eyes right before he caught you running like a tweaking baby reindeer, and saw some piece of shit slam himself into you.

You keep protesting and trying to go in the opposite direction, and Toji’s positive the gunman hasn’t been taken down yet so he throws you over his shoulder and slams the exit door open, leading you down the corridor.

You’re livid, fists slamming into his back without mercy. Toji puts you down when he’s comfortable in the emptiness of the sterile hallway. Eyes still looking over your head as you give him an earful.

“Shut the fuck up for a second, will you?”

You’re just flabbergasted, opening your mouth again in full Karen fashion

Toji doesn’t care for it. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” you reply furiously, fist tight on your sides. You catch your breath, step down from your heels and start to speed walk. “I need to find my father– I need to– Satoru –”

“They’re safe.” Toji says on your side. “Gojo’s security doesn’t fuck around. I mean they did fuck up letting a guy bring a gun inside the premises, but they were quick with it.”

Your nostrils flare. Toji hears voices at the corner and pushes you behind him, he sees a couple of guys in black in the reflection, wired ears, walking like they know they might lose their jobs tonight.

“Hey, I got the heiress here. She’s looking for her old man.”

Escorted by them, you two rendezvous with your father in some conference room upstairs. The altercation can be heard from outside. 

“It’s for the best. You don’t understand the full picture.”

Nanami, your father’s closest advisors, everyone is gathered here. Someone says the police have arrived. You pay them no mind, eyes stuck on your father and your brother.

Satoru starts pacing and turns to face Shinobu. 

“No, I understand all of it. You’re too fucking prideful to let me fix what you did.”

Getting caught in a family brawl was not in Toji’s plans tonight, but he stays put, watching you approach them with confusion all over your face. They don’t seem to notice you. 

Gojo Shinobu levels his son with warning eyes, finger pointed at him. “Watch your words, Satoru. You don’t know what you’re talking about. My decision is final.”

“Oh, I know exactly what I’m talking about.” Satoru shoots back. “You know I can do it. You just can’t stand the thought of me succeeding where you fucking failed.” 

It’s clear on the look on your face that you don’t know what your brother is talking about, and that you’re in no headspace to ask either. The words hit your father square in the chest. 

Things are about to get bloody.

“You think you’re ready for this? You’re nothing but a spoiled, entitled brat who thinks he deserves everything handed to him on a silver platter. Look at what you’ve made of your life, acting like everything is a fucking game. You think I’ll let someone like you lead what I spent my life building?”

“Jesus christ, dad.” you say in disbelief, giving your brother a careful look. 

Satoru’s eyes flash.

“Over my dead fucking body.”

Your brother’s face contorts in rage, he lunges forward, fist aimed at your father’s face. No one, not even the army of security is as fast as you going after him, but it’s ultimately Toji who cuts in, strong hand catching Gojo’s arm, stopping him mid swing.

Blue crazy and uncanny eyes land on him. As a general rule, Toji does not get in other people’s business, particularly not love spats or family drama, but he means it when tells your brother:

“Trust me, you’ll thank me later.” 

Your father collects his features and chuckles mockingly. Shaking his head, letting himself be escorted away by an assistant that is most definitely underpaid for shit like this and a wall of security men.

Gojo drops his arm, watching his father walk away, chest heaving up and down. 

“Toru?”

It’s weird on you. The look of being lost and confused. Small in the middle of a family brawl. It’s not right.

“What was that?” You ask, voice nothing like Toji has heard before. 

“Not now,” your brother snaps, turning around and walking in the opposite direction, Geto Suguru quickly joining his side.

Toji’s phone starts ringing. Shiu, probably wondering where the fuck he is. He walks away to answer, hoping one of the security guys eyeing him does something stupid like trying to stop him.  

Shiu’s waiting for him outside, lets him know that the police caught the guy, and helpfully lets him know he saw some people they know act like fools in the midst of the chaos. Toji takes a deep breath, and yet again, against his own rules, tells him to give him the details later and to leave without him, not answering any questions about his whereabouts. 

With your father leaving the crowd has dispersed. Your boyfriend, god knows where he came from, is trying to get you to reason with him in a corner of the room.

Toji stays put and watches it.

“Why?” he asks you. He has his grip on both your arms, like he’s trying to shake something out of you. You’re looking at him like he grew a second head. “We talked about it all the time, we always said–”

“What do you mean why ? Have you lost your mind? I can’t leave Satoru alone right now, Hiroki.”

“Well in case you didn’t notice he just fucking left you here.” he snaps at you. 

You flinch. Recoil. Pull away from him.

“Let go, Hiroki. I’m sorry but I can’t deal with you tonight.”

“You can’t? Right. You can’t. Tell me something, do you have any idea what kind of shit I’ve had to put up with–”

You snarl at him, baring your teeth, pulling away to no avail. Bare feet stomping on the carpeted floor. Hiroki doesn’t even sway with your attempts, or flinch at the near animalistic way you look at him. 

“I fucking don’t. And I don’t want to know. I didn’t ask you to be here tonight.”  you reply, tone vicious, jaw locked. “You don’t get to hold it against me.”

The next thing Hiroki says flows out easily out of his mouth, like it’s known, or an acceptable thing to say to the woman you’re going to marry. 

“They don’t give a shit about you. You know that.”

The piece of shit is not letting up, you gasp when he fixes his grip on you. 

Toji walks over you, gets between you, way too close to his pretty face. The abrupt interruption startles Hiroki and gives you an advantage; you step back, free at last.

“I think that’s enough.”

“Well, this is just great.” Hiroki chortles, looking away like he’s collecting his thoughts. Biting his lips in contemplation. “You know, I keep seeing you everywhere lately, why is that?”

Toji shrugs. He’s not gonna punch his pretty teeth into his face even if he oh so desperately wants to. You’ve had a long night, and he’s gonna have a hard time forgetting how you looked earlier when your moron of a brother brushed you off and left you behind, standing with your heels hanging from your hand.

Doesn’t mean he’s not gonna give the boy something to pop a vein about. “Why don’t you take a guess, hm?”

Hiroki’s eyes land on you. Lids heavy. Toji confirms everything he suspected about him. 

And he makes a decision. He’s gonna get rid of him.

“Are you fucking him?”

How predictable. Toji looks at you over his shoulder, and somehow you understand the silent question. You shake your head.

“You have to leave.” you sound a lot more like yourself now. Except tired. Really exhausted. Like your feet are about to give out under you. Toji is not blind to the way you’ve been putting all your weight on one foot.

Hiroki pauses, realization lands on him that you’re talking to him, and not Toji.

“Get on a plane, fly back to Spain, and stay there for as long as you have to.”

“This is fucking unbelievable.” 

“I disagree. Have a safe flight.”

Hiroki stomps past and hits his shoulder against an unfazed Nanami Kento, who looks back at him like he’s a speck of dust. He asks if everything is fine, examining Toji thoroughly. You seem to be surrounded by assholes at all times.

You nod, ask about your dad. He’s currently talking to the police. Nanami insists on getting you a car, tells you to rest, but you hesitate.

“I can take her home.” Toji says, surprising himself yet again. You look at him, then at Nanami, and following his lead you surprise him when you nod.

“Are you sure?” Nanami repeats. 

“Yes. Keep me posted?”

The blonde man’s eyes soften just a bit, he touches your shoulder, promises he will. He doesn’t keep his eyes off Toji until you walk out of the door.

Toji thinks that maybe he does like the guy, stick up his ass and all.

#toji fanfiction #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #toji fushiguro #fumetsu no anata e #toji fanfic #jjk fanfiction #jjk smut

[teshamerkel]

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Seekers of Soul

[Chapter 57]

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AO3 Link

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Tobias, Nia, and Junie travel south to find Will and the human settlement.

-

“You’ve got food and water for the road, and the map I gave you.”

“Yup and yup!”

“And you know what to do if anyone gives you trouble.”

“Bo, c’mon! Nia and Toby are stronger than they look. They’ll keep me safe.”

“Answer the question, Junebug.”

“Fine, fine. If anyone gives me trouble, I peck out their eyes.”

“Good egg.”

Tobias snorts. He and Nia, well-rested after an admittedly cozy night in Junie and Bolat’s home, lean against one of the tall pines to the side of the flying types’ home as they wait for them to finish saying their goodbyes. Junie seems ready to head out, at least, bouncing in place with the aforementioned map pinned under one of her tiny feet.

Now they just need Bolat to stop being an overbearing blissey.

Tobias looks up at slivers of blue sky as the wind rustles through the pines. It’s not as early as he usually likes to get going, mid-morning rather than dawn, but Junie and Bolat alike had refused to get up sooner. Outvoted three to one once Nia realized she had sleep-in backup, Tobias had settled for resting a bit longer, eventually flipping through Nia’s book about abilities out of boredom.

He’s glad they’re finally getting moving. The day looks nice, only a bit chilled by autumn winds, but he’s feeling restless. Ready to talk to Will and find out if the yamask has any answers. If not, then he’s ready to head back to the guild where they can see if August and the others came up with anything instead.

“Bo, we’ll be fine! Seriously!” Junie complains after another round of questions. “You worry too much.”

The skarmory gives Junie a playful nip with his wickedly sharp beak. “I don’t think you worry enough, for such a tiny thing. I’d prefer to escort you all there myself, but I can’t get someone to fill in for my mail route on such short notice.”

Nia cringes. “Sorry. I debated sending a letter ahead of time, but I thought it’d be a nice surprise for Junie.”

“It was!” Junie assures.

“We’ll be fine,” Tobias says, stepping forward and plucking the map out from under Junie’s foot before she loses it. He ignores her squawk of protest. “Luckily for these two, I can actually read a map.”

Bolat laughs as Junie pecks at Tobias’ leg and gets a light kick in return. “Good to hear. ‘Mon are fairly kind around this area, so just stop someone if you do get off the path and they should be able to guide you back.”

Nia and Tobias nod, and it falls quiet as Junie and Bolat both seem to realize there’s nothing else to be said.

“Bye, Bo,” Junie whispers, hopping forward to rub the top of her head against his metallic leg. “Sorry for ditching so suddenly. I’ll be back soon.”

Bo bends to rest his giant beak on Junie’s body. “Just come back safe, all right? We both know you have a penchant for trouble.”

Junie laughs, hopping back. “But I always find my way out of it!”

“Rarely on your own,” Tobias says. Nia elbows him.

“Oh, just wait and see if I save your butt next time you’re in trouble! You two have no room to talk!” Junie sticks her tongue out at him.

Tobias can’t resist doing the same.

“And on that note,” Nia says, laughter in her voice. “We’d better get going. Thanks again for letting us stay the night, Bo. And for the food! We’ll see you on our way back through, okay?”

“Safe travels, you three. Bring this little troublemaker back in one piece, all right? Too quiet around this place without her.”

Nia assures him that they will. Junie hops onto her shoulder, and the three of them start on the forested path back to Stonebrook, Nia and Junie waving until Bolat is completely out of sight.

Junie is directing Nia where to go, so Tobias lets himself fall back to pull out the map Bolat had lent them.

While the skarmory had pointed out their destination once already, the map is still more detailed than Tobias expects, spanning half the continent and even including some simple drawings to illustrate. He finds Stonebrook in the middle of the forest, then traces the path leading to the main road. From there, he moves south until the road leaves the forest entirely and enters the plains to the south. Eventually, the path hits the ocean at Kaleido Bay.

According to the skarmory, the human settlement is halfway between where the forest ends and the ocean begins, built into the side of a mesa off the main road. If they follow the trail south and stick to it, the mesa should be easy to spot. Bolat guessed that they could even make it there by nightfall, if they kept up a good pace.

Tobias looks up as they break from the pines and into the bright sunlight bathing Stonebrook in warmth. He would love to take a rest on one of the smooth, heated boulders strewn about the little village, but they have places to be. He folds up the map and tucks it into their satchel, then speeds up to match Nia’s stride.

���Marie makes the bestpastries ever,” Junie is saying, swooping around Nia as she points out different areas of the village. “Especially her pies. Ooh, we could stop and get one to eat on the way!”

“We can’t stop every time you get distracted,” Tobias says. “If we want to make it to Will’s by nightfall, we need to keep up a good pace.”

Junie pouts at him. “Spoilsport.”

“We do need to talk to Will as soon as possible,” Nia says, even as she lifts her nose into the air to sniff for pastries. “Maybe when we come back through?”

“Fiiine!”

Tobias takes the lead as they reach the path leading out of town. Junie doesn’t argue, instead diving into a conversation with Nia about what she’s been learning during her mail ‘mon training.

“So even though I’m tiny I could still carry letters and smaller packages. And if I did ever evolve—oh! Nia, have you seen a picture of what my evolution would be?!”

“I don’t think so?”

“I would be huge!” Junie says, swooping past Tobias to splay her wings wide. “Like, bigger than Bo!”

“Really?” Nia asks, eyes wide.

“Guess that’s one upside to the world ending,” Tobias says. “I don’t trust you with the power of a corviknight.”

Junie lands on the satchel looped around Tobias’ shoulder. “Aw, you scared?”

“No. You’d be a steel type. I’d scorch your feathers right off.”

“You wish!”

“You’d be a steel type?” Nia asks, curious.

“Yeah! Like Bo! Isn’t that neat?! Toby, you’re just jealous of how cool I’d be. I’d scare the pants off everyone!”

“Oh, please. I’d be a charizard. You’d be no match.”

“I still don’t think I’ve seen what a charizard actually looks like,” Nia says thoughtfully, head tilted. “You said you’d be big enough to carry me, right?”

“Easily. Charizard are strong flyers.”

“We could be flying buddies!” Junie chirps.

“Not a chance.”

“Flying,” Nia says, voice weak. “Great. How about land buddies instead?”

Tobias snorts, resigning himself to a day of lively conversation.

Their walk to the main road is uneventful. When they arrive, Tobias is a little surprised to see that the new path doesn’t look that different from the little trail to Stonebrook. It’s still a dirt road, just much wider and flattened from countless footsteps, the tall trees on either side a little more open to let in patches of sunlight.

The biggest change is how much busier this road is; they end up passing quite a few Pokemon on their way south. Mostly carts carrying goods between towns, some travelers on foot, and even another Seeker team or two, who give them cordial nods of acknowledgement as they pass.

Maybe an hour in, Nia and Junie take to guessing the names of each unknown species they see, making a game out of it with Tobias as the referee. After a bulky pignite passes by, the two wait until he’s out of sight before conspiring.

“Okay, what do we think?” Junie asks, perched on Nia’s shoulder. “Definitely something with ‘pig,’ right?”

“Hm…could be ‘boar’ instead,” Nia points out. “He had little tusks, right?”

“True. Okay, so ‘pig’ or ‘boar,’ and a fighting type.”

Nia frowns. “I was thinking fire, actually. He was a really bright orange.”

“Yeah, but did you see how jacked he was?! Plus, his fur kinda looked like was wearing a leotard or something. Definitely a fighting type.”

Nia hums doubtfully. “Okay, so fire or fighting? What does that give us?”

“Fire, fire, fire…cinder, maybe? Flame?” “Flame,” Nia murmurs. “Flame, flame…flambé?”

“Nia!” Junie gasps, sounding delighted. “Pork is not a thing here! You cannibal!”

“I-I wasn’t—they have a Pokemon called fidough, Junie! As in D-O-U-G-H! It’s a fair guess!”

Tobias barks a laugh, then quickly schools his expression when Nia and Junie look his way.

“Okay, okay!” Junie says, relenting. “Flambé’s on the table. So what’re our options? Flampig? Flamboar?”

“Flamboar’s not terrible,” Nia says. Then she gasps, paws clapping together. “I’ve got it! Flambabe!”

Tobias and Junie shoot Nia a puzzled look.

Nia shrinks back. “L-Like Babe the pig? From the book..?”

“Nerd,” Tobias and Junie say, in sync.

Junie gives Tobias a thrilled look. He gives her a horrified one in return. It’s not a good sign when they’re on the same wavelength.

“O-Okay, so it’s probably not flambabe!” Nia says, looking embarrassed. “Tobias, what’re they actually called?”

“It’s probably not even a pun this time,” Junie sighs.

“You sure you want to know?”

“Yeah!”

Tobias smirks. “…Pignite.”

A pause. Then Nia and Junie groan, defeated once more by the wordplay of the Ordirune language.

“But he was a fighting type, right?” Junie asks.

“I still think he looked a little fiery.”

Expectant, both of them look to Tobias once again.

“Pignite are fire types.”

“Yes!” Nia fist pumps.

“…And fighting types.”

“Yes!” Junie shouts.

“Wait,” Nia says. “So is that another tie?”

Their fourth tie in a row. Nia and Junie look at each other, then groan again, loud enough to startle a laugh out of Tobias.

______________________________________________________________

It’s early afternoon when they finally reach the edge of the forest, the trees thinning out into wide, flat fields of dry grasses. In the distance sits the faint, blocky shape of the mesa they’re looking for, tall amongst the flat landscape. Bolat wasn’t wrong—it’s certainly easy to spot.

They decide to stop there in the shade for lunch, pulling out the food Bolat had packed for them: mostly leftover berries and nuts from yesterday, as well as some bread that melts deliciously in Tobias mouth.

Maybe they do need to stop by that bakery on the way back.

They’re finishing up their meal food, looking out at the mesa, when conversation turns to Nia’s developing aura abilities.

“You can read minds now?!” Junie asks, beak dropping open to reveal a mouth full of mushed-up bread.

Tobias wrinkles his muzzle and reaches over to snap her beak closed.

Nia laughs, bashful. “Not exactly? It’s still mostly just emotions and, um…vague ideas of what they’re thinking? But they do get easier to understand if I’m really close to whoever I’m reading.”

The riolu glances at Tobias before looking away again. Tobias takes another bite of food and refuses to look at either of his companions, face burning hot.

Junie, unfortunately, catches the brief exchange. “Oh? And how did you find this out?”

“W-Well, I tested it out with some of my—some of ourfriends during training, and on my instructor.”

“And Toby joined in on the fun?”

Tobias glares at the little bird. “Val made me.”

Junie tweets a laugh. “Okay, okay, jeez. If looks could kill. So it doesn’t work if you aren’t really close to someone?”

“Well…” Nia tilts her head, lowering the bread she’d been nibbling on. “No. I can still latch on to their aura and get a vague idea of what they’re feeling. Like I always could. But with Tobias, it was almost like he was talking. It was more…specific.”

Tobias crunches into a chestnut to crack it open with his teeth. He still isn’t fond of that whole deal. Sure, if someone has to be peeking into his head, he’ll take Nia over almost anyone else, but those are his private thoughts and feelings. He doesn’t want someone poking around and judging him for what they find. He’s not a great Pokemon, but no one else needs to know that.

“So you took a little tour inside Toby’s head? Pretty nasty place, I bet,” Junie says.

Case in point.

Tobias reaches over and steals the rookidee’s last bluk berry, popping it into his mouth just to spite her.

“Hey!”

“You deserved it.”

“You kind of did,” Nia says, smiling sympathetically.

Junie huffs, but doesn’t argue. Then she perks up again, and Tobias knows what she’s going to say before the words even leave her mouth. “You should try it again on me! I wanna know if I can feel you rummaging around in my head.”

Nia doesn’t seem all that surprised by the request, either. Still, she looks cautious. “You sure? It’s kind of, uh. Private.”

“You said the same thing the first time you looked at my aura! C’mon, let’s try it!”

Nia laughs. “Okay, okay. I’ll, um, try it from a distance first, then use contact if that doesn’t work.”

Junie doesn’t argue, settling down a foot or so from Nia.

Nia closes her eyes, concentrating. Her paws remain in her lap.

Tobias watches, curious despite himself. Just because he doesn’t want to be the test subject doesn’t mean Nia’s powers aren’t interesting.

“Oh!” Nia’s eyes remain closed, but her brows shoot up. “I got it! And I didn’t even have to make contact first.”

“Does that mean you’re getting better at using your aura?” Junie asks. “Or that we’re besties?”

Nia makes a so-so gesture with her paw. “Probably a bit of column A, bit of column B? Stay there—I want to see how far I can get.”

Nia stands up, eyes still closed, and starts backing up across the grass.

“Rock,” Tobias calls, just in time for Nia to stumble and nearly fall on her tail. She shoots him a grin and a thumbs-up, eyes still closed, before continue to step back, slower this time.

Finally, Nia stops a few yards away from Junie. She’s frowning and tilting her head as if to hear better.

“I think this is my limit right now,” Nia says.

“That’s farther than it was at the guild,” Tobias points out.

“Can you tell what I’m thinking?!” Junie calls.

A moment of quiet. Then, Nia laughs. “Not exactly, but I can tell you’re trying to think of the weirdest things possible to catch me off-guard. You feel…playful?”

Junie laughs. “I’ll show you playful! Here, see if you can feel what flying is like!”

With that, Junie launches herself into the air.

“Oh, this should be good,” Tobias mutters, watching Junie flap higher above their heads. She catches a breeze, then falls backwards and does a loop-de-loop with more agility than Tobias expects. Huh. Maybe her training with the skarmory is helping after all.

Nia groans, sinking to her knees and looking sick. Her eyes crack open. “Ugh. Yup, I felt that.”

“You did?!” Junie calls, stopping to flap in place.

“Unfortunately. I swear I could feel my stomach flip.”

“Yeah, isn’t it awesome?”

Tobias snorts, watching as Junie does more loops and spins overhead, a dark blur against the bright blue of the sky. Her shadow passes over them.

Nia trudges back to Tobias’ side and plops down, still looking vaguely nauseous. “I don’t think I was built for the air.”

Tobias laughs. “You literally weren’t.”

Nia whines, tucking her head into her knees.

Tobias gives her another patronizing pat on the back before tilting his head back to watch Junie again. The little flying type is whooping with joy as she shows off, and Tobias is torn between envy and a weird sense of peace.

Tobias doesn’t hate having the rookidee around. He likes how happy she makes Nia, for one. And with such a heavy atmosphere hanging over them lately—what with the world ending and all—even Tobias can appreciate a bit of levity.

In some ways, Junie actually reminds him of his sister. Much more annoying, of course, much pushier, but she has a similar kind of wit and playfulness to her as Vivi did. At first the similarity rubbed him the wrong way, but it’s starting to feel familiar now. More entertaining than upsetting.

“Toby! Toby, watch this!”

She even uses the same stupid nickname.

Tobias rolls his eyes. “I’m watching!”

Junie tucks her wings and drops like a stone. Beside him, Nia yelps, tensing as if to jump up. But Junie snaps open her wings just in time and swoops low across the ground to flutter to a stop at their feet.

“Wasn’t that sick?!”

“It looked dangerous!” Nia frets.

“Nah, Bo showed me how to do it safely.”

“Bolat showed you how to do that?!” Nia asks, scandalized.

“Uh, yeah? I told you he has fun uncle energy. He’s not my dad.”

“Still!”

Tobias shakes his head, biting back a smile as he starts cleaning up the remains of their meal. It’s time to get moving again.

_____________________________________________________________

By time they find the fork in the road leading to Will’s settlement, it’s sunset and even Junie has quieted down, fatigued after a long afternoon of travelling the road through open fields under the hot sun. The mesa looms over them, still in the distance but close enough that they can pick out some of the finer details of its stone face and scraggly trees.

Noticing the branching path, Junie perks up from where she’s nestled into Nia’s neck fluff.

“Finally! I feel like we’ve been looking at that stupid rock forever. How much longer do you think we have?”

Tobias doesn’t answer, stepping onto the smaller trail leading in the direction of the mesa. Unlike the main road, this path is made for only one or two ‘mon at a time, dirt trail nearly swallowed by the long, dry grasses swaying gently around them.

“Maybe an hour or two, if I had to guess?” Nia says, squinting.

Junie whines, burying her face into Nia’s fur.

“You aren’t even the one walking,” Tobias grumbles, hopping down a shallow shelf of rock in the path.

“At least we can see where we’re heading,” Nia says, ever the optimist. “And it’s late enough that it’s going to start cooling down soon.”

“I guess.”

With that, they fall silent again. Slowly, the sky bleeds to a lavender gray, only their breaths and the whistle of the wind through rustling grass to keep them company. It’s nearly dusk by time they reach the foot of the mesa, its presence overwhelmingly tall above them. It brings to mind half-remembered sensations from Tobias’ childhood in the mountains.

The trail they’d been following starts to wind its way up a steep, mountainous incline. It’s almost serpentine, snaking through the environment, cobbled with rough stones underfoot and walled in by cliff faces, wiry trees, and foliage. Tobias, already tired from the journey here, is breathing hard within minutes. Junie takes mercy on Nia and hops down to trail along behind them.

Tobias isn’t sure how long they follow the trail, relying more and more on Tobias’ tail flame to light the way as the sky darkens. Nia and Tobias both trip more than once on the rough terrain, and take to skating their hands along the rocks and branches crowding on either side of the path to keep their balance. Junie at least doesn’t have to worry about going slipping into a ravine or sliding off the mountainside.

Tobias is getting close to calling that they stop to rest for the night, the conditions too dangerous to traverse with such low light, when they round a bend and see…lights.

“Oh, look,” Nia says, stopping.

Tobias and Junie stop too, staring across the small canyon they’ve been ascending.

On the other side, tucked under the shelf-like lip of the top of the mesa, sprawls a surprisingly sizeable town, seemingly carved into the side of the cliff itself. The buildings are angular structures made of stone, and there is enough golden light spilling from windows and open doors to illuminate them, an oasis of warmth in the sprawling darkness of night.

“It’s beautiful,” Nia murmurs.

“It almost looks like a human city!” Junie says.

It’s…fine. Tobias doesn’t understand why they’re fussing so much.

“C’mon,” Tobias says, moving forward again. “Almost there.”

Luckily for their sore, tired feet, they wind their way around the canyon and to the entrance of the village relatively quickly.

There, a hulking mass of purple armor and pointed barbs is stationed. A nidoking. Tobias remembers seeing him at the human convention, but he still stops in his tracks as the poison type’s beady eyes lock onto them.

Before anyone can say anything, a high voice speaks up.

“Oh, hey! It’s you three!”

Tobias blinks. Then, movement catches his eye. It’s a tiny yellow blur, hopping down from the nidoking’s shoulder and skittering across the rocky dirt to stop before the trio. A young joltik, his fluffy yellow fur bright against the darkness. He’s barely the size of Tobias’ hand.

Tobias’ brow furrows at the familiar greeting. He glances up at the nidoking to make sure this isn’t some sort of trap, then back at Nia and Junie. They seem just as lost as he is.

“I’m sorry,” Nia says, stepping forward and crouching down. “Um. Have we met?”

The joltik cocks his head, but then looks down at himself and chirps, “Oh, right!”

The little bug type leaps up, tucks into a roll, and in a flash of cool blue light, grows over five times as big before landing on four paws. His coat is orange with black stripes and accented with fluffy cream fur.

“I’m Asher!” The growlithe pup yips, tail wagging proudly. “I ran into you at the convention, remember?”

Tobias stares, still more caught off guard by the haunting coat pattern than anything.

“Whoa!” Junie shoves forward. “How’d you do that?!”

Asher snickers, leaps up again, and in another icy blue flash lands on more delicate paws. They’re a deep red against his dark gray coat, matching the tuft of red fur sitting atop his head beween pointed ears. His golden eyes are bright as sparks.

Tobias breathes again.

“I’m a zorua, duh!”

“Don’t duh me! I’m human. How was I supposed to know that?”

“Humans don’t seem to know a lot of things.”

“Hey!”

While Junie and Asher squabble, Tobias takes another breath to calm himself. It’s better with the growlithe visage gone. Zorua are tricksters, but he can handle a trickster better than a growlithe.

“Can zorua turn into…anything?” Nia whispers to Tobias, eyes wide and ears perked. Tobias can practically see the questions building on her tongue.

“Any Pokemon, yeah.”

He snorts despite himself as Asher morphs into a rookidee, Junie’s mirror image. The real Junie squawks, outraged, and bats at him with a wing. Asher laughs, and for a brief moment Tobias sees a flicker of gray fur and red paws before he perfects the illusion once more.

“They’re more like…illusions, though, rather than actual transformations.”

That doesn’t deter Nia’s obvious fascination. She asks Asher if he can turn into her as well, and the zorua does so in a heartbeat, grinning at Nia’s awestruck expression.

“As fun as this is,” Tobias interrupts, still eyeing the silent mass of nidoking nearby. “Can we go inside?”

“Oh!” Asher morphs again in a flash, changing into another charmander, just without Tobias’ scarf. “Sure! C’mon! I can show you around. I know everything about this place.”

Asher skips towards the nidoking and the light of the town behind him. Junie giggles at the sight while Nia bites back a smile. Tobias huffs, following the cheeky kid with a lash of his tail.

The nidoking is even more intimidating up close. Over four times their height and just as wide, with a variety of scars. Tobias can feel the nidoking’s weight and strength as he shifts, looking over each of them.

“Hi, Slate!” Asher chirps.

The massive nidoking grunts in return. “You know them?”

“Sorta! They were at the human convention in Ghatha.”

Slate nods, stepping aside and shifting his heavy tail out of the way.

“Thanks, Slate! I’ll bring you more gummies tomorrow.”

Slate doesn’t answer, but Asher isn’t fazed. He shifts into a meowth and trots by the nidoking with his tail held high. “You haven’t been here before, right?”

“No,” Tobias answers, looking around as they enter town.

A path leads around the outside of the village, a sturdy wall of stones to their right to prevent anyone from tumbling off the cliff. Periodically, torches are perched atop the stone to provide light. To their left, they pass tall buildings constructed of rocks and mortar, where golden light and laughter spill from open windows into the cooling night air.

“So what do you wanna see first? We’ve got all kinds of cool human stuff here! Like…clothes! You guys like clothes, right? We have someone who makes those!”

“You do?” Nia asks, tail wagging in excitement. She picks up her pace to match Asher. Junie hops onto her shoulder to listen as well. Tobias trails behind.

“Yeah! But they aren’t working right now, since it’s late. Oh! Do you want a bath? We have a soapmaker here, too. All the humans go crazy for soap.”

“You have soap?!” Nia asks, voice cracking. She sound like she’s about to cry.

Asher laughs. “Yeah! I don’t really like it. Too strong for me. But we can get you some to use! I know they’ve been working on new, uh…flavors? Scents!”

“What else do you have?” Junie asks, sounding just as excited as Nia.

“Lotsa stuff! Oh! We have someone who makes games and toys, too! You definitely have to visit him. He’s the best.”

Tobias falls farther back, continuing to look around as the three babble on. Most of the inhabitants seem to be inside as night settles in, but the group passes one or two ‘mon out and about. They’re wearing more cloth than Tobias is used to seeing outside of cold weather. A flaaffy has a billowy transparent shawl around their shoulders and another tied around their hips, and a strangely familiar-looking elekid and sandile wearing lightweight scarves scamper by right after.

One building’s door is propped open, and Tobias glances in as they pass by. While the group of Pokemon inside don’t seem to be related biologically, all different species and types, they laugh comfortably with one another as they play games and chat. They’re sitting around a small firepit in the center space of the home. Tobias catches sight of large alcoves set into the rounded walls behind them, with blankets spilling out. Nests?

There are large jars bordering the empty wall off to the side of the group, likely for water. Plus a table with some chairs, books in a small bookcase, floors covered in rugs, and even a few pieces of art hung on the walls.

It's…cozy-looking, admittedly. Spacious enough, but warm. Lived-in.

“Is that a band?!” Junie asks from up ahead, just a smidge too loud.

Her question snags Tobias’ attention, and he jogs to catch up with the three of them. Nia and Junie are looking expectantly at a small outdoor area, with a little fire pit lit in its belly. A small crowd of Pokemon—of humans—are gathered around its edges, reclined and chatting across tiers of stone steps.

In the center, near the fire, a trio of Pokemon do appear to be preparing for a song. A clobbopus hovers their broad tentacles over a pair of drums. A loudred is holding a delicate wooden flute to his lips with giant hands. The last Pokemon, a brionne, appears to be a singer. She has a flipper held to her throat, her eyes closed as she hums to herself.

Nia, Junie, and even Asher gravitate towards the performers with shining eyes. Tobias sighs, resigning himself to listening too, and stands next to his partner.

The drummer start first, jumping right into a tempo so quick that their tentacles are a blur of movement. The crowd’s chatter slows and quiets. After a moment, the flutist joins in with surprising grace, their sharp notes somehow weaving perfectly around the drumbeats. Finally, a few beats later, the vocalist starts up, raising her chin and closing her eyes to release a high, haunting note.

Tobias feels a chill roll over the skin on his arms, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it. He was hoping these three would be terrible. Instead, as the brionne sings a few more wordless notes, her voice lilting high and low in tandem with the flute, Tobias has to admit they’re…good. Really good. His fingers twitch towards the satchel at his hip, wanting to pull out his guitar and join in.

He chances a glance at Nia and Junie. Both of them are enraptured, and Nia even looks a little emotional. Tobias wonders if she knows the song, or if it’s just his partner being her usual sensitive self.

Tobias huffs and closes his eyes, letting the stupidly beautiful music wash over him. The night breeze drifts by, cool, but it carries some of the warmth and scent of the bonfire with it, too. He should probably be enjoying this.

Eventually, minutes later, the song dies away with a warbling high note. The crowd breaks into applause, whistling and cheering.

“Wasn’t that great?” Nia leans over to whisper, eyes shining. Apparently she remembers that he exists again.

“It was fine,” he grumbles.

Nia gives him a more focused look, smile faltering. “Are you okay?”

“Asher!” A voice calls from behind them, cutting Tobias off before he can respond.

Asher jumps and squeaks at the voice, meowth tail bottlebrushing as he spins around. “H-Hey Dad!”

Tobias turns around to see a jolteon moving towards them at a brisk pace. Tobias can’t tell if his fur is the normal level of spiked for a jolteon, or if it’s pricklier than usual from the worried annoyance Tobias can read on the Pokemon’s face.

The jolteon seems surprised when he notices Tobias, Nia, and Junie, though, slowing to a stop. “Oh! Hello there. I…wasn’t aware we had newcomers.”

“We’re not,” Tobias says.

“We just got in tonight. We were hoping to talk to Will about something,” Nia says. “A-And maybe stay for a night or two to rest afterwards? We ran into Asher at the convention in Ghatha, so he was showing us around.”

“He’s supposed to be cleaning his room,” the jolteon says, giving Asher a dry look.

“Can’t it wait until after I show them around?” Asher whines. “Cerise is singing tonight!”

The jolteon’s stern expression doesn’t falter, but he does sigh. “You can come with me as I show them around, but after that you’re cleaning up your toys.”

“Fiiine,” Asher groans. He transforms back into a zorua and moves to the jolteon’s side, tail held low. “I wasn’t doing anything bad.”

“He’s been really helpful, actually!” Nia assures.

The jolteon’s spines relax a bit more. “Well, that’s good to hear, at least. Did you three want to keep watching the show? I’d imagine you’re likely half-asleep if you traveled here by foot, but Cerise is quite the treasure.”

“Well…” Nia glances longingly over her shoulder at the band as they start up their next song, and then at Tobias.

There’s a sudden loud gurgle, and all of their heads snap down to look at Junie.

For once, the rookidee almost seems embarrassed. Still, she laughs. “Uh. You got any food?”

The jolteon chuckles. “I think that can be arranged. Come with me. We can always show you around more tomorrow.”

The jolteon trots down the path, deeper into town. The rest of them follow as the band’s next song drifts into the air. Their group passes by a few other Pokemon, but Tobias doesn’t pay them any mind until he sees Nia do a double-take, slowing to a stop.

“What?” Tobias asks.

“That Pokemon looked like Seiji. The scientist who helped me with my aura at the convention?”

Tobias turns to look at the group again. Sure enough, there’s a little blue disk of a bronzor bobbing along with the others.

“Oh, have you met before?” The jolteon asks, doubling back.

“Briefly,” Nia answers. “I guess I just wasn’t expecting to see him here.”

“Ah. Well, we had a large surge in numbers after the fire. Lots of humans didn’t feel safe after that, unfortunately.”

Tobias suddenly realizes why that elekid and sandile they’d passed by earlier looked familiar. They’d seen the electric-type at the convention, having trouble containing his electricity, and Tobias had pulled that very sandile out of the building’s rubble himself.

“Is everyone here because of stuff like that?” Junie asks, hopping onto a nearby stone to be closer to eye-level.

“Not everyone, but the majority. With the way the world is breaking down, animosity towards humans has only gotten worse. They come here for sanctuary. For likeminded folks who they can connect to and feel safe with.”

Tobias frowns. On one hand, he gets that—he feels an automatic kinship with other Seekers, after all, and fire types. But something about all of the humans hiding out here still feels…wrong. Nia’s happy at the guild, right? She always gets so excited about meeting new Pokemon and learning new things. Do these humans really want to trade all of that away? Is the world really so scary to them that they have to hide from it entirely?

Tobias glances at Nia and Junie.

Nia’s brow is furrowed, but Tobias isn’t sure exactly what she’s thinking.

Junie tilts her head at the jolteon. “That makes sense, but how did you get here?”

“Pardon?” The jolteon asks, looking surprised.

“Well, you’re the kid’s dad, right?” Junie asks, glancing at Asher. The zorua has transformed into a vulpix and is absentmindedly chasing his own tails. “He told us he wasn’t a human at the convention, so…”

“Junie!” Nia admonishes, looking embarrassed.

“What?! It’s a valid question!”

It is, actually. Tobias had forgotten about that. He narrows his eyes at the jolteon.

…Who he hasn’t gotten the name of yet.

The jolteon doesn’t look cornered by the question. He simply laughs. “Ah, right. Well, I’m close with Will, so I just wanted to help him out. I’m not the only non-human here.”

“Really?” Nia asks.

“Of course.” The jolteon sits back, looking at ease. “We couldn’t have built up this village with just the humans, especially at the beginning.”

“Slate’s not human!” Asher muffled voice chimes in. His fluffy tails are caught in his jaws, and he’s still spinning in a circle. “He helped us build a lot since he’s so strong!”

“Why?” Tobias asks. The humans he gets—they feel safer here, and they’re hoping Will is their ticking to returning home. But natural-born Pokemon?

“Most of them were hired during the building process and just decided to stick around,” the jolteon says, shrugging his shoulders. “Some of them want to go to the human world, too.”

Junie frowns. “How would that work if they don’t have a human body to go back to?”

“Will’s been looking into that. The research team figures that if humans were given a body to fit into this world, then the same should happen for Pokemon going the opposite direction. If not, then they’ll likely just keep their Pokemon forms.”

Tobias exchanges a doubtful look with Nia. They both know the truth, after all, that Nia and Junie were only given their Pokemon forms because Mew created them. Although yamask are formed without any interference, so…

The jolteon catches their look. “You said you wanted to talk to Will, right? Is it about getting back to the human world?”

“To…an extent,” Nia answers. “It’s related, but it’s actually more to do with the natural disasters. We were hoping he could help us with a lead.”

The jolteon hums, glancing down at Asher as his son rolls over with a flash and turns into an eevee, weaving between his legs. “I’m sure he’d be willing to talk, but he’s likely retired for the night. Can it wait until morning?”

Tobias opens his mouth to say no, but Nia beats him to it.

“Sure!” At Tobias’ glare, she adds. “W-We need to rest anyways. One night shouldn’t hurt, right?”

Tobias doesn’t argue, much as he wants to. He is exhausted. And he wants to be in top form when they talk to Will.

“I vote food and sleep!” Junie chirps.

The jolteon smiles. “We can manage that. Come on. Not much farther now.”

The jolteon turns to go, but Tobias steps forward first. “Wait. First—what’s your name?”

Both Nia and Junie look startled, first by the sudden question and then by the realization that they’d made it this far into the conversation without such a basic exchange.

The jolteon looks at them for a moment, then laughs. Tobias doesn’t like it. “Right, my apologies. I forget sometimes, with newcomers. Here. You’re probably more familiar with this face.”

The jolteon doesn’t need to leap up, and simply flashes a bright purple before he transforms into a psychic type ponyta, with a fluffy mane and a small black horn.

Junie gasps and points a wing. “The My Little Pony!”

Nia yelps, “Fidel?!”

Fidel smiles, sidestepping Asher as the kid tries to tackle his legs. “We didn’t get to talk much at the Ghatha convention, with everything that happened. But I remember you three. Nia and Junie, wasn’t it? And…”

“Tobias!” Junie offers up.

Tobias flicks her with his tail, nearly knocking her over.

“Are you a zorua too?” Nia asks. She looks a little embarrassed about the bluntness of her question, but it’s clear she’s been thrown for a loop by this revelation.

“Not quite.” In another quick purple flash, Fidel transforms again. Then he’s twice his previous size, towering over the rest of them. Lanky, powerful arms are covered in deep gray fur and tipped with long red claws. Longer red fur flows from atop his head and around his neck like a mane. Sharp face, sharp ears, sharp smile.

“Dad’s a zoroark!” Asher says proudly, transforming back into a zorua and craning back to look up at Fidel. “If I do stay a Pokemon when we go to the human world, I’m hoping I’ll be able to evolve there! Then I can make illusions for all the big Pokemon that Dad can. Right?”

Fidel leans down to nose his son’s head with a tight smile. “Right.”

Tobias frowns. So Fidel is planning on going to the human world with his son? That feels…off. Even if Fidel and Will are friends. Even taking the natural disasters and mystery dungeons into account. Would that really be enough for Fidel to take his son away from the only world they know?

“Are there other zoroark around?” Junie asks, clearly from a place of curiosity and not the suspicion Tobias is feeling.

“Oh! Right!” Nia says, tail wagging excitedly. “You’re a canine—do zorua and zoroark travel in packs like riolu and lucario do?”

Fidel gives Nia an amused look. “I don’t see much of a pack with you right now.”

“That’s ‘cause she’s got us!” Junie says, hopping up to perch on Nia’s shoulder. “Much more versatile.”

Fidel looks endeared by the idea. “I suppose that’s true.”

“Me and Dad are the only zors around here,” Asher adds. He scrambles up his dad’s back to burrow into the zoroark’s fluffy mane. A moment later, his little face pokes out to look at them. “Sometimes I wish there were more, but it is fun playing pranks since no one here is good at seeing illusions.”

“Which is a habit we’ve been trying to break.”

Asher snickers and burrows back into Fidel’s mane.

Fidel sighs, but the sound is fond. He looks down at the three of them. “How about I finally get you all to the inn?”

Tobias doesn’t argue, trailing behind Nia and Junie as they chat with the zoroark. The dark type leads them to one of the larger structures, near the edge of the settlement. It’s a tall, tan building made of stacked stones and mortar, golden light spilling from its windows.

The door is cracked open, so Fidel nudges his way inside. They follow, finding themselves in a spacious room taking up the entirety of the first floor. A brightly patterned rug circles the floor, a  fire pit at its center, providing light and warmth. An assortment of alcoves line the rounded walls. Some are large enough to hold entire Pokemon and have blankets folded up inside, ready to be used as nests. Another section of the wall has much smaller nooks dug into the stone. For storage, likely, considering the wrapped goods and jars Tobias spots there.

There’s a torracat lying in one of the sleeping shelves, a blanket draped over her. She’s using a claw to carefully carve into a chunk of wood, the little alcove lit by the glowing bell at her throat. Her ear twitches, and she glances up at the newcomers.

“We’ve got a few late-night visitors, Clara. Think you can get them settled in with some food and a bed for the night?”

The torracat sighs, setting down her carving and slipping to the ground to stretch. Her black and red striped pelt ripples. “Only for you, Del.”

“Thank you.” Fidel smiles. “I have to get Asher to clean up his room and—”

The zoroark cuts himself off, blinking. He pats at his mane, then looks down around his legs. Asher is gone. They all give the room a quick glance, but the zorua is nowhere to be seen.

Fidel’s expression falls flat. “No desserts for him for a week. You’ve got this, Clara?”

Clara looks amused, whiskers twitching. She gestures him out with a paw. “I can handle ‘em. Go catch your kid.”

“Thank you.” Fidel gives them all a tired smile and a nod. “I’ll come get you tomorrow morning when Will is free. Rest well.”

With that, Fidel slips back out the door.

Clara yawns, showing off sharp teeth. “Well. Let’s get you settled, I guess. You could’ve came a bit earlier, y’know. I was in the middle of something.”

“Sorry,” Nia says, sheepish. “We, uh, came a long way.”

“Isn’t this your job?” Junie asks, much less apologetic.

“Eh, kinda.” The torracat slinks to the side of the room where the smaller alcoves sit in the wall, full of goods. She flicks her tail for them to take a seat on the ground by the fire. “As much of a job as you need here, at least.”

“Which means..?”

“Will takes care of us whether we work or not,” Clara says, pulling down wooden plates and some wrapped goods to throw together a late-night meal. “I just like having a bit of pocket money.”

“That’s kind of him,” Nia says.

“Yeah,” Tobias says, doubtful. “How did he hire the ‘mon to build this place if he’s throwing money around like that?”

“Maybe he found a good job?” Nia suggests.

“Or he found hidden treasure!” Junie chirps.

“Mm. Dunno, don’t care.” Clara unwraps the packages to reveal breads, cheeses, berries, and nuts. Tobias’ stomach growls. “It’s chill here, and that’s all I care about.”

Nia and Junie continue the conversation as Clara puts together a little snack plate for each of them. Tobias crosses his arms and leans back against the wall, unsatisfied. Maybe he is being overly cautious, but he’d argue he’s just compensating for Nia and Junie’s lack of caution. Someone’s gotta make sure they don’t end up dead from trusting the wrong ‘mon.

But at least for tonight, he’ll rest. Tomorrow they can see what Will has to say.

#pmd #pokemon mystery dungeon #pokemon #pmd seekers of soul #tesha writes #tesha draws

[7-wonders]

Literally, if Calliope held my face and gave the affection that’s described in World We Dream About, I would fucking die. All I can think about is how the reader could only wonder how Morpheus would ever separate himself from someone as tender, gentle, and utterly radiant as her-

(Read more of my Calliope/Morpheus/Reader stuff here!)

"Can I ask you something?"

You're sitting in the gardens of the palace of the Dreaming with the Lord of Dreams himself, who slowly looks up at you over the top of his book (some report on a nightmare doing who knows what) like you're a nuisance. You know that's not the case though, since he's the one that sought you out and invited you to join him.

After your...memorable first meeting with Morpheus, followed by a tearful goodbye with the woman goddess who had been your roommate for the past few months, you had never been expecting to see either again. They were important beings of myth and legend, after all—you were just a regular human. Practically nothing compared to them! That's why it was so surprising when you went to sleep barely a week later and found yourself face-to-face with the Sandman once more.

"I owe you a boon, whether you believe yourself worthy or not," he said. "And I imagine that you have many questions relating to the information you received that fateful night. Therefore, you may ask me your questions, and I shall do my best to answer them."

He was right, of course. You did have questions. So many of them that it almost made your head spin when you tried to think of the first one that you wanted to ask. But ask you did, and he dutifully answered each and every one of them.

It was definitely appreciated, and you felt that the conversation gave you a lot of answers and closure to this chapter of your life. In your mind, it was the end of a chapter. Calliope was gone, off to Greece and Mount Olympus and her sisters with no sign that you would ever see her again. Morpheus had deigned to meet with you once more, and now that his perceived obligation was fulfilled, you expected that to be the end of any sort of magic in your life.

But then you saw him again.

And again.

And again.

Now, you see him at least once a week. Each time, he comes to you in your dreams, and each time, he acts as though he's simply being charitable by offering Calliope's human friend some company. You know that's not the case, though. No, Morpheus will never admit it, but you think he's lonely. And now that you both have a shared person, that gives him a connection with someone...even if that someone is the mortal that his ex-wife found herself accidentally belonging to in what you can say in retrospect was a true comedy of errors.

"You just did," he points out cheekily.

You remain unamused and roll your eyes. "C'mon, you know what I mean."

He nods. "I do. Continue."

"Please don't answer if it makes you uncomfortable, but I'm curious. Why...why did you and Calliope break up?" How did you manage to so severely fumble the bag? is what you really want to ask. "I mean, she's Calliope."

What you mean by, "she's Calliope," is, of course, that she's Calliope. Beautiful and kind, wise and strong, charming and witty, and a whole dictionary's worth of other characteristics that can only hope to capture who she is. You had never met a person like her before, and you doubt you'll ever meet somebody like her again.

Most mortals wouldn't dare to speak to an Endless like you just did. Unfortunately, prior experience has made you bold, and you know now that Morpheus is begrudgingly fond of you and therefore won't smite you if you overstep. Somewhere along the way, you stopped feeling so wary of the Dreamlord. Now, you like to think that your relationship is something close to a sort of friendship.

(If you're being honest with yourself, lately your feelings for Morpheus are complicated, as are your feelings for Calliope. That's a conversation for another day, and it definitely does not factor into your current conversation, thank you very much.)

A small, small smile plays on his lips, Morpheus understanding exactly what you mean. "Yes, she is. We were both much younger in the days of our marriage, if one as young as yourself can believe such a thing."

You appreciate that he's trying to find a bit of humor in what is assuredly a heavy moment, so you smile encouragingly at him.

"Mistakes were made by both of us throughout the course of our relationship, myself more. Ultimately, it was..." Morpheus pauses, and when he speaks again, it's much quieter. "In the end, the loss of our son proved too much for us to overcome together."

Well, now you feel bad. Calliope had only talked to you about Orpheus a handful of times, but with what little information you have, you know just how loved he was by his parents, and just how devastated they still remain by what happened. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

He shakes his head. "When last we parted, Calliope suggested to me that it would be wise for us to talk about Or—our son together. That remembering him might help to be able to properly grieve." Morpheus says that last word like it's foreign to him. It probably is, actually. "I am starting to find that she is right."

"She's right a lot. It's kind of annoying," you commiserate.

This helps to break the heaviness that talking about death (not Death) and loss brings, and Morpheus lets out a breath in his version of a laugh. "She does tend to be right fairly often."

Now that your question is answered and you know that you didn't just ruin his day, you gesture towards his book. "Okay, I won't bother you anymore, promise."

"You are not nearly as bothersome as you believe yourself to be." He gets a look in his starry eyes when he says this, one that conveys there is much more being left unsaid within this single sentence.

His confession makes your chest feel warm, and you try not to act as pleased as you are. "I'll endeavor not to change that, then."

#this is kinda bad but it's just a drabble #and like ten people are going to read it soooooo #chat with claire #morpheus x reader #calliope x reader #calliope the sandman

[sp1d3rzz]

Warning !! : Somnophilia, PiV unprotected (wrap b4 u tap), cumming inside, implied pregnancy, breeding kink..??? Let me know if i missed anything.

thinking abt how frustrated poor Shinso feels when every civilian underestimates him because of his 'villainous' quirk.

he isnt the first pro-hero with a rather intimidating quirk, so why is he the only one receiving hate for it??the bare thought of everything makes his head pound. all he needs right now is you, so he can release his pent up emotions.

his hand curls around the knob of his door and twists it open. the comforting smell of a clean apartment flows through the air and into his nose. " 'm home." he mumbles, entering and closing the door behind him.

when no one answers, his eyes eyes sharpen in annoyance. the one time he needs reassurance, you aren't there for him.

so when he walks through the house searching for you, he figures you might be resting in bed. perhaps even in the shower? no, he would've heard it running.

finally. he peaks past the cracked open bedroom door and sets his eyes on you.

"baby? you asleep?" and you are, arms hugging his pillow tightly to your body. one leg lifted higher onto the mattress to get you comfortable.

but what he really notices is your state of complete slumber. completely available for him to just post himself behind you and fuck you onto his cock.

its not like you're aren't prepped, wearing only a skimpy piece of panties and black tanktop. he can tell you were probably touching yourself earlier with how wet you still are. but don't worry, cause he's here now.

he starts by stripping free from his hero costume, untying his scarf and kicking off his shoes somewhere he doesn't even bother to look at.

and when he's left with only his boxers, he slides into bed, carefully so he doesn't wake you.

you look so at peace like this, eyes shut to where your lashes almost touch your cheeks. soft mumbles leaving your lips when the bed creaks a little too loud.

the mattress dips under him, and he positions himself behind you. a warm hand slides under your top and trails up your back. he can feel you shiver under his touch, and it makes him suck in a breath.

he pushes his hips against you , aligning the outline of his hard with the fat of your ass. "gonna fuck you so good." his other hand slips under your thigh and gently lifts up your leg.

suppressing a groan, he slips the head of his dick against your clothed pussy. the base slides up and down your warmth , tip brushing against your clit with every push and pull.

"risk my life out there, and those dumb ass– mmh– people don't even a-appreciate me.." each slow thrust against your slick makes his hips stutter. back and forth grinding against you, coating his cock with your wetness.

he hears you murmur and whine, unknowing of what exactly he's doing to you. what he's going to do to you.

a deep sigh leaves his lips before popping the tip into your cunt. "shit—" he doesn't expect you to take him so well, especially while you're still sound asleep.

his hand grasps a tight hold onto your thigh, holding on for dear life because he swears he's so close to reaching his orgasm already. slow and deep strokes get him impatient, so he decides to go faster, skin softly slapping together as he slides in and out of you.

your walls suck him in eagerly, taking all that he can give you. it gets him high with how good you make him feel. maybe, if he fills you up and gives you a baby, you'll stay with him forever.

"wan' me to make you a mama?" a hand slides down your skin to rub your clit, pads of his fingers circling your nerve. "bet you'd like that, huh?"

he knows you can't hear him, but he likes to think you do. begging him over and over again, pleading for him to give you what you really want.

his cock twitches inside of you, and releases pearly cum that seeps from your hole and onto the soft sheets.

he drops his head to your shoulder, grinding into you from behind, grunts brushing past his lips as he drags out whatever seed he might have left in him and pushes it into you.

and it isn't long before he hears you gasp softly, mumbling nothings as your hands search for his, making sure he really is there. "it's late.." you whine, easing yourself off of his cock.

but what really wakes you up is when he crashes you back down onto him to make you scream his name. "but i know you can take it."

"for me."

#destinedtowrite #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha #hitoshi shinsou #mha shinsou #shinsou x reader #bnha shinso hitoshi #mha hitoshi #hitoshi shinso x reader #hitoshi shinso x y/n #shinsou hitoshi #shinso hitoshi #shinso x reader #shinsou x you

[imaginaryf1shots]

Shattered | Lewis Hamilton

WC: 7K

Lewis x reader

Summery:(REQUESTED) You and Lewis have been in a long term relationship, he's on a triple header and you decide to surprise him only to walk in on him in bed with your childhood friend, more over you're pregnant with his baby.

Warning: cheating, cursing, pregnancy, miscarriage, blood, drugs, Sorry to all Carlas out there, but I just generated a name

A.N: This is longer that I was anticipating but it needed to be long.

Masterlist

You have been with Lewis for years, five years to be exact. Enough time for him to be integrated into your friend group. You usually try to travel with him as much as you can, but sometimes due to work commitments it’s hard for you to follow him. Saving your days off for the important races and his days off so you could relax together. One of your friends, Carla, was in between jobs at one point but wasn’t able to find anything. So Lewis being the man he is, offered her a spot in his team, and so Carla has been travelling with him a lot since then.

So she was the person you went to when you wanted to surprise Lewis, he was not expecting you this weekend at all, and you managed to get time off to see him. It’s been 2 weeks since you saw each other and you were itching to go see him.

Your heart fluttered with excitement and anticipation as you approached the hotel door, after 2 weeks of separation, you couldn’t wait to be in Lewis’s arms again. You smile to yourself, relishing the surprise you planned for him. Slipping the keycard into the lock, you push the door open, your anticipation building with each passing second.

The last thing you thought would happen, happened. The sight that greeted you inside shattered all your hopes and dreams in an instant. The smile wiped from your face, just like that.

There, on the bed, lay Lewis,your partner of five years, his eyes unfocused and distant. And straddling him, with a look of brazen disregard, was Carla, your childhood friend, her confidante, her sister in all but blood. But there was nothing familiar about the way she straddled Lewis, her movements possessive and predatory.

Your mind reeled, unable to process the surreal things unfolding before you. You watched in stunned disbelief as Carla leaned in close to Lewis, her lips brushing against his ear in whispered intimacy. But there was no warmth in the embrace, no tenderness in the caress. Lewis seemed so drunk he showed no reaction to what’s happening around him. The shock was like a physical blow, knocking the air from your lungs and leaving you reeling in disbelief. This couldn't be happening. Not to you. Not with the two people you trusted most in the world.

"Carla- Lewis." The words caught in your throat, your voice a mere whisper against the oppressive silence of the room.

"y/n..." Carla's voice cut through the suffocating silence, but there was no remorse in her tone, only a chilling indifference. "I didn't expect you so soon."

Your mind raced as you tried to make sense of the betrayal unfolding in front of you. Lewis wouldn't do this to you, and neither would Carla. But as you looked into their eyes, Lewis's vacant and Carla's calculating ones, you knew the truth. They had betrayed you, and they had done it knowingly.

A surge of anger and hurt threatened to overwhelm you.

“C-Carla, why are you- on t-top of Lewis like that?” You asked, voice trembling with anger and betrayal but most of all hurt.

“It's not what you think, y-y/n. Lewis wasn't feeling well, so I was just... helping him.” Carla tried to reason, she’s no longer on top of Lewis, she picked up his shirt that you bought for him and slipped it on.

“Helping him?” You scoffed, your eyes flashing with fury. “Cut the crap! Lewis, what the hell are you doing with her?”

“y/n, please, let me explain.” Carla pleaded with you and you shook your head.

“Explain? Explain what, Carla? That you're on top of my boyfriend?” This is all too much, even with her words, and her pleading with you, it all sounded fake. She’s not sorry and there’s no explanation to this, she knew what she was doing.

“Y/n? B-baby? What are you doing h-here?” Lewis sounded so out of it, shit drunk for sure. Lewis isn’t the type to drink a lot. You can remember all the times he was so drunk he was out of it, it’s so not like him. But it’s also not like Carla to be naked on top of your naked boyfriend.

“Fucking herll, I trusted you, i trusted you both.” Tears of betrayal well up in your eyes. “The girl I considered my sister and the man I love more than anything in my life, how could you? Honestly, how could you?”

Carla stutters and Lewis tried to move but he couldn’t even support his own weight, leaving you to scoff, and strom out of the room, as you fled down the hallway, tears stream down your face, your heart shattering into a million irreparable pieces by the two people you trusted most.

“y/n!” A familiar voice calls your name, on instinct you stop and turn, only to see Sebastian there, you have no idea what the former F1 driver is doing here but seeing him made you cry more. Seb was there when your relationship started with Lewis, he’s seen it all. “What happened? Do you want me to find Lewis for you?”

“No, I don’t want to see that asshole again in my life.” You spit out, Seb frowns at your words, but he says nothing. He just pulls you in his arms and hugs you.

“It’s okay, darling, it’s okay.” Seb tries to comfort you, but you shake your head no.

“It’s not okay, Seb, and it never will be.” You pull back, wiping your tears away. “You should go check on him, so he wouldn’t choke on his spit… or leave him, what do I care.”

“Are you sure?” Sebastian wasn’t sure about leaving you in this state, he’ll have a word with Lewis about whatever he’s done to leave you like that. He’s never seen you like this.

“Yes, I’m catching the next flight home.” You tell him and manage the smallest smile known to mankind, before you turn and leave. This time keeping your head down so you wouldn’t be seen or stopped again.

You take a taxi to the airport, your crying started once you were in the back of the car, feeling as your body went through the heartbreak, your world felt like it was collapsing around you. The weather seats of the car felt cold against your trembling body, and each bump in the road sent jolts of pain shooting through your already shattered heart.

The city passed by in a blur outside the window, the lights and sounds of the streets blending together into an indistinct haze. But inside the taxi, you were enveloped in a suffocating silence, broken only by the occasional sniffle as tears streamed down your cheeks.

Your emotional pain had morphed into something physical, a heavy weight pressing down on your chest, making it difficult to breathe. Every breath felt like a struggle, as if the air itself had turned thick and heavy with your sorrow.

The ache in your chest radiated outwards, spreading through your body like wildfire. It felt as though your heart had been torn from your chest, leaving behind a raw, gaping wound that throbbed with every beat.

You hugged your arms tightly around yourself, as if trying to hold the pieces of your shattered heart together. But no amount of physical embrace could ease the agony that consumed you from within.

Unbeknownst to you, your body harbored another source of pain. A life growing within you, fragile and unsuspected until now.

The physical toll of your distress began to manifest, a dull ache in your abdomen gradually intensifying into sharp, stabbing pains. Clutching your stomach, you doubled over, gasping for breath as waves of agony washed over you.

The taxi driver who was aware of your tears noticed the change in you, he noticed your distress, concern etched on his face as he glanced back at you through the rearview mirror.

"Ma'am, are you okay? Do you need me to take you to the hospital?"

Your head spun with a whirlwind of emotions, confusion mingling with the searing pain radiating from your abdomen.

“P-Please… the hospital.” You manage to say through the haze and agony, your voice barely a whisper.

With a sense of urgency, the taxi driver changed course, steering the vehicle towards the nearest hospital. You clung to consciousness by a thread, your breaths shallow and ragged, each movement sending fresh waves of pain coursing through your body.

As the taxi screeched to a halt in front of the hospital's emergency entrance, you were helped out of the car by the concerned driver. Every step you took felt like an eternity, the pain in your abdomen intensifying with each passing moment.

Inside the hospital, you were rushed to the emergency room, where doctors and nurses worked quickly to assess your condition.

The fluorescent lights casting a harsh glare over the stark white walls. Nurses bustled around you, hooking you up to monitors and taking your vital signs, their movements a blur in your pain-addled mind.

You lay on the hospital bed, your body wracked with waves of agony that seemed to consume your whole being. You clutched your abdomen, the source of your torment, with trembling hands, each heartbeat sending fresh spikes of pain coursing through you.

A doctor entered the room, his expression grave as he approached your bedside. His voice was calm but tinged with concern as he addressed you.

"Miss, I'm Dr. Patel. We've run some tests, and I'm afraid I have some news for you."

Your heart hammered in your chest as you looked up at the doctor, your eyes filled with fear and apprehension.

"What is it, doctor? What's wrong with me?" You whispered, your voice barely audible over the sounds of the hospital.

Dr. Patel hesitated for a moment, his gaze sympathetic as he delivered the news that would shatter your world once more, you thought that what happened earlier is the worst thing that could ever happen to you. And you’re about to be proven wrong. You haven’t reached reached your lowest point yet.

"I'm sorry to tell you this, Miss, but it appears that you were pregnant. Unfortunately, it seems you are experiencing a miscarriage."

Your world spun out of control at the doctor’s words, your mind reeling with shock and disbelief. Pregnant? Miscarraige? You couldn't wrap your head around the enormity of what the doctor was telling you.

“I-I I was pregnant?” You whispered, your voice choking with emotion. Dr. Patel nodded solemnly.

"Yes, it seems that way. I'm truly sorry for your loss."

Tears streamed sown your face as the weight of the doctor’s words settled over you like a suffocating blanket. You had been carrying a life with you, unaware until now, unaware until it was all too late, until it was taken from you.

Alone in the hospital room, with only the sterile walls for company, you grieved for the child you had never known, your heart breaking with a pain that transcended words. And as you lay there, lost in her anguish, you knew that your life would never be the same again.

Seb's heart pounded with a mixture of anger and concern as he stormed down the hotel corridor towards Lewis's room. The state he saw in you fuelled his determination to confront his friend.

Reaching the door, Seb banged on it with force, the sound reverberating through the hallway. He heard shuffling inside before the door swung open to reveal a dishevelled Lewis and a startled Carla.

"What the hell is going on here?" Seb's voice thundered, his anger barely contained.

Carla stumbled over her words, attempting to offer an explanation, but Seb silenced her with a stern glare. His attention shifted to Lewis, disappointment etched deeply into his features.

"Lewis, how could you?" Seb's voice cracked with emotion, his disbelief palpable. "With Carla, of all people?"

Lewis blinked, his expression a mixture of confusion and alarm. "Seb, I- I don't understand. What are you talking about?"

“Don’t play dumb, Lewis, I just saw y/n.” Seb's frustration surged as he realised Lewis's confusion. “She was in tears over you.”

Carla, sensing the escalating tension, made a hasty exit, leaving Seb alone with Lewis. The weight of disappointment hung heavy in the air as Seb struggled to comprehend what had happened.

"Lewis, something's not right here," Seb said, his voice softening slightly as he studied his friend's bewildered expression. "You seem... out of it."

Lewis shook his head, his memory foggy and fragmented. "I don't know what's happening, Seb. Everything's a blur."

Seb's concern deepened as he realised the severity of the situation. With a sense of urgency, he dialled the only number he had of Lewis’s team, relaying the state he’s in. Even though he’s more coherent now from when you were here, he was still out of it. Stumbling a little, his pupils blown wide, his words sluggish and he’s stuttering.

Minutes later, a medical team arrived at the hotel room, their professional demeanor a stark contrast to the chaos within. They quickly assessed Lewis's condition, taking blood samples and running tests while Seb watched on, his worry mounting with each passing moment. They have to make sure he’s okay to race the next day.

As Lewis began to regain consciousness, the pieces of the puzzle slowly started to fall into place. Seb breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that his friend was going to be okay.

"What... what happened?" Lewis mumbled, his gaze darting around the room in confusion.

Seb sighed, the weight of the situation pressing heavily on his shoulders. "We'll figure it out, Lewis. But for now, let's focus on getting you the help you need."

Sebastian had a theory but until it’s confirmed he’ll just keep it to himself.

Lewis trudged up the familiar path to your shared home, his heart heavy with a sense of dread. The events of the past few days had left him reeling, his mind still struggling to make sense of the chaos that had engulfed his life.

As he reached the front door, he hesitated for a moment, steeling himself for what lay beyond. With a shaky hand, he inserted the key and turned the lock, the door swinging open with a creak that echoed through the empty hallway.

The emptiness of the house hit Lewis like a physical blow, the silence oppressive and suffocating. He stepped inside, the weight of his solitude bearing down on him with each echoing footstep.

The living room was barren, devoid of the warmth and familiarity that once filled the space. Lewis's gaze swept over the room, searching for any trace of the life he had known, but found only echoes of the past.

His heart sank as he realised that your belongings were gone, your absence a gaping void in your once shared home. The realisation hit him like a punch to the gut, the ache of loss settling deep in his chest.

With trembling hands, Lewis reached for his phone, his fingers fumbling as he scrolled through his contacts. But when he tried to call you, he was met with nothing but silence, just like it has been since that day, the realisation crashing down on him like a tidal wave.

You had blocked him on everything.

The weight of your absence pressed down on Lewis with crushing force, his breaths coming in shallow gasps as he struggled to hold back the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. He felt lost, adrift in a sea of loneliness and regret.

How had it all gone so wrong? How had he allowed himself to stray so far from the love that had once anchored him?

With a heavy heart, Lewis sank onto the couch, his head in his hands as he surrendered to the overwhelming tide of despair. In the silence of their empty home, he grappled with the harsh reality of his mistakes, the mistakes he has no memory of, mistakes that he’d never do, longing for a chance to make things right, even as he feared it might already be too late.

Lewis sat alone in your once vibrant home, the air heavy with an oppressive silence that mirrored the emptiness in his heart. He had spent days in a haze of despair. His attempts to reach out to you were met with a resounding silence, leaving him to grapple with his own sense of remorse and longing.

As he sat listlessly on the couch, the shrill ring of his phone shattered the quietude of the room. With a heavy sigh, Lewis reached for the device, his fingers trembling as he answered the call.

"Hello?" His voice was hoarse with exhaustion, his eyes fixed on a distant point in the room.

The voice on the other end was unfamiliar, belonging to a friend of yours, someone Lewis hadn't spoken to in months. The words that followed pierced through the heavy fog of his mind, jolting him into stark awareness.

"Lewis." the voice began, its tone laced with sorrow. “I hate to be the one telling you this, and y/n would hate me for telling you.”

“What’s wrong?” Lewis is instantly filled with a sense of dread and fear as his mind realed trying to come up with reasons why your friend was calling him.

"I'm so sorry to have to tell you this on the phone, but y/n, she was pregnant.”

Lewis’s mind only heard and registered pregnant at first. “Pregnant?” And then he realsied the tense your friend was using. “Was? What do you mean was?”

Silence.

“She lost the baby."

Lewis felt as though the ground had fallen out from beneath him, his heart plummeting into despair. The weight of the revelation crushed him, leaving him gasping for breath as he struggled to comprehend the enormity of the loss.

A baby. Their baby. The child you had never known, taken from you before you even had a chance to hold it in your arms. The realisation sent shockwaves of grief coursing through Lewis's veins, his mind reeling with a cacophony of emotions.

"Why... why didn't she tell me?" Lewis's voice wavered with anguish, his heart splintering into a million fractured pieces. "How could she go through something like this alone?"

The friend on the other end of the line offered what comfort they could, their own voice trembling with empathy. “After everything that happened, she’s entitled to being alone Lewis, I just thought it’s best you know.”

In that moment of searing clarity, Lewis knew what he had to do.

He needed to see you. He needed to hold you in his arms and share in your grief, to let you know that you weren’t alone in your pain. He needed to face the consequences of his actions, whatever they may be.

With a heavy heart and a newfound sense of purpose, Lewis rose from his seat and made his way to the bedroom, his phone out already as he called for his jet to be ready in Nice. He’s going to find you, no matter what it took.

Lewis stood on your doorstep, his heart heavy with a mixture of apprehension and determination. He raised his hand to knock, but before his knuckles could make contact with the wood, the door swung open, revealing his tired and worn-down ex-girlfriend.

Your eyes widened in surprise at the sight of Lewis standing before you. The lines of exhaustion etched deep into your features softened briefly before hardening into a mask of cold indifference.

"Lewis." You said, your voice devoid of its usual warmth. "What are you doing here?"

Lewis swallowed hard, the lump in his throat threatening to choke him as he met your gaze. "Love, we need to talk."

A flicker of anger flashed in your eyes, but you remained silent, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as if to shield yourself from his presence. This leaves him doubting this more than ever.

"I know I messed up, but I need to make things right." Lewis said, his voice trembling with emotion. Your expression remained impassive, but Lewis could see the pain lurking beneath the surface, a reflection of his own turmoil.

"I'm tired of talking, Lewis." You finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. "You don't get to waltz back into my life after everything you’ve done."

Lewis felt a pang of guilt twist in his chest at your words, the weight of his actions bearing down on him with crushing force. He had hoped for a chance to make amends, but your cold indifference left him doubting whether reconciliation was even possible, and rightfully so.

"I'm not asking for forgiveness." He replied, his voice tinged with desperation. "I just want to understand. About... about what happened."

Your eyes flashed with a mixture of grief and anger at the mention of the past, the pain etched plainly across your face. Lewis felt his heart ache at the sight of your suffering, knowing that he was the cause of it.

"Don't you dare talk to me about what happened." You spat, your voice trembling with emotion. "You don't get to pretend like you care after what you did."

Lewis recoiled as if struck, the force of your words driving the breath from his lungs. He felt a lump form in his throat, the weight of his mistakes threatening to suffocate him.

"I made a mistake, love, and I remember nothing, I was so out of it." He whispered, his voice thick with remorse. "But I never wanted to hurt you. I love you, and I'm sorry."

For a moment, the anger in your eyes softened, replaced by a flicker of vulnerability. But it was fleeting, overshadowed once again by a steely resolve.

"I can't do this, Lewis," you said, your voice barely a whisper.

Lewis's voice wavered with uncertainty as he broached the topic that weighed heavily on his mind. "Did you... Did you know about the child before it happened?"

Your eyes flickered with a mixture of pain and disbelief at his question, the raw emotions swirling beneath the surface like a tempest.

"Does it even matter now?" You retorted, your voice tinged with bitterness. "Knowing or not wouldn't change what happened."

Lewis's heart sank at your response, the weight of his own ignorance pressing down on him with suffocating force. He had hoped for some shred of understanding.

"I just... I want to be there for you." He pleaded, his voice trembling with emotion. "I want to help you through this, if you'll let me."

Your expression softened for a moment, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through the facade of cold indifference. But it was fleeting, replaced once again by a steely resolve.

"I can't do this, Lewis." You said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Not with you."

With a heavy heart, Lewis watched as you closed the door in his face, shutting him out from your life once again. He stood there for a moment, the weight of your rejection crushing him under its unbearable burden.

As he turned and walked away, the echoes of your shattered love lingered in the air, a haunting reminder of what could have been.

Lewis returned to your doorstep every day since, with you refusing to open the door and speak to him. His nights are long and sleepless, as he tries to deal with the turmoil inside of him, he lost you and he lost his child all in one day. It all happened when he was drunk, when he was so out of it he can’t even remember it right now. He knew that he had to try, to lay bare his soul and beg for the forgiveness he so desperately wanted. Needed.

And so once more and with a deep breath, he raised his hand to knock, his knuckles rapping softly against the wood. Finally, after six days of trying the door opened, Lewis was met with your tired gaze, your eyes betraying a mixture of weariness and guarded apprehension. He felt his resolve waver for a moment, the weight of your silent scrutiny pressing down on him like a leaden weight.

"y/n." He began, his voice trembling with emotion. "Please, I need to talk to you."

You regarded him with a wary expression, but remained silent, and so he continued. "I know I've made mistakes, love, believe me I do." Lewis confessed, his voice raw with emotion. "I've hurt you in ways I never intended, and I can't even begin to express how sorry I am for that."

Your eyes softened slightly at his words, a flicker of vulnerability shining through the mask of indifference. But before you could respond, Lewis pressed on, his desperation driving him forward.

"I can't change the past." He admitted, his voice thick with regret. "But I can promise you this, I'll do whatever it takes to make things right. I'll be there for you, through every moment of pain and loss. Please, just give me a chance to prove myself to you."

Tears welled in your eyes at his heartfelt plea, his words striking a chord deep within your wounded heart. Part of you yearned to forgive him, to let him back into your life and embrace the hope of a second chance. But the scars he had left behind were still tender, the pain still fresh and raw.

"I don't know if I can." You whispered.

Lewis felt a pang of despair grip his heart at your words, the fear of losing you forever threatening to overwhelm him. But he refused to give up, his love for you driving him to keep fighting. He’s never given up when it came to racing, and he’s certainly not going to give up now.

"I understand," he said, his voice filled with determination. "But please, just think about it. I'll be waiting for you, for as long as it takes."

With one final pleading look, Lewis turned and walked away.

After weeks of silence and contemplation, you finally made the decision to unblock Lewis and reach out to him. You’ve seen the races, you’ve seen the interviews, Lewis is a man broken, under his eyes have grown darker, he no longer smiles or jokes around. For the first time in his career, racing has become just a job for him.

And so, with a heavy heart and a sense of trepidation, you sent him a text, informing him of your upcoming visit to Monaco and your intention to meet and talk things through. You had some business there you had to take care of, and that was the final push, that maybe you should sit down and talk everything through, not to get back together but maybe to just start moving on, maybe and just maybe become friends and nothing more. You lived with the motion that once a cheater, always a cheater.

You ring the bell to your-Lewis’s house and wait for him to open the door, even though your keychain holds the key that will let you in. This place you once called home. Memories flood your mind as you stand at the front door, a mixture of nostalgia and pain gripping your heart. You take a deep breath and knock. Moments later, the door opens to reveal Lewis, looking worn out and deeply regretful. His eyes soften at the sight of you and there’s hope in them. You’re about to crush that hope and despite everything you hate that you will, and you hate yourself even more for still caring about him even for a bit.

“Come in.” He says quietly, stepping aside to let you pass.

You walk inside, the familiar scent of his cologne mingling with the faint aroma of the diffuser you always had dotted around the house. The house is tidy, but there’s an unmistakable air of emptiness, it's void of all your little things that you took with you when you left. You sit down on the couch, feeling a strange mix of comfort and tension.

Lewis sits across from you, his hands clasped together, knuckles white. The silence between you is heavy, each second feeling like an eternity.

“You wanted to talk.” You begin, your voice trembling slightly.

He nods, swallowing hard. “I’m so sorry for everything. I... I didn’t know how to reach you, how to make things right.”

“I don't know if you ever could.” Tears well up in your eyes as you look at him. “Seeing you with her... it broke me, Lewis. I trusted both of you. And then... losing the baby...” Your voice breaks, and you cover your mouth, trying to stifle a sob. Lewis’s eyes fill with tears as he reaches out but stops himself, unsure if his touch would be welcome.

“I didn’t know,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “I swear I didn’t know what was happening. I don't even remember drinking, but my mind went blank, I would never...”

You nod, struggling to hold back the flood of emotions. “I believe you. But it doesn’t make the pain any less real.”

“I never wanted to hurt you.” He leans forward, his eyes pleading. “I can’t imagine the pain you’ve been through.”

“You don’t have to imagine.” You reply, your voice tinged with bitterness. “It’s real, and it’s here. Every single day.”

Lewis looks down, shame and regret etched into his features. “If I could take it all back, I would. I’d do anything to make this right.”

“I know. And I’m trying to understand, to forgive, the 5 years we spent together aren't so easy to flush down the drain.” You sigh, feeling the weight of his words. “But it’s so hard, Lewis. Losing our baby... it feels like the universe is p-punishing me.”

“It’s not your fault.” He says softly, his eyes filling with tears. “None of this is your fault. I was careless, I let my guard down. I should have protected you, protected us.” Lewis wipes away a tear, his voice trembling, seeing the man you loved for so long cry, made your own eyes fill with tears. He betrayed you but you still both lost your child before you even knew they existed. “I miss you. I miss us. I want to be there for you, to help you heal. If you’ll let me, just af friends .”

Instinctively, you both move closer, seeking solace in each other’s presence. Lewis reaches out and gently takes your hand, his touch tentative yet filled with a desperate need to comfort you.

“I don’t know if I can ever forget what happened.” You admit, your voice barely a whisper.

“You don’t have to.” He replies, his grip on your hand tightening. “But we can try to move forward, we can try to start coping. Together.”

You look into his eyes, seeing the depth of his sorrow and love. In that moment, you realise that despite everything, the bond between you is still there, it has weakened but it's still there.

“Do you really think we can get through this?” You ask, a hint of hope in your voice.

“I do.” Lewis says earnestly. “It won’t be easy, but I believe in us. I believe in you.”

Tears stream down your face as you lean into each other, your foreheads touching. The hug is a mix of comfort, sorrow, and the lingering love you still feel. You hold each other tightly, finding a fragile sense of solace in your shared grief and determination to heal. The journey ahead is uncertain, but for the first time in a long while, you feel a glimmer of hope.

Someone knocks on the front door, you break apart and Lewis goes to answer the door while you wipe your tears away.

”What are you doing here?” You hear Lewis say, and just as you stood up to go see who it is, Carla comes into the living room. You weren’t expecting her at all, unlike Lewis Carla hasn’t tried to reach out to you in any way. She has even spread some false information about you in your friend group. Carla storms in, her face twisted with anger and jealousy.

“What the hell is this?” she shouts, her eyes wild. “How can you forgive him after everything?”

“Carla, what are you doing here?”

”Me? What are you doing here? You’re just going to forgive him?” She ignores your question, her anger escalating.

“What happens between us is none of your business.” You tell her getting angry yourself, you weren’t about to give her the satisfaction of knowing that you haven’t forgiven Lewis and you were merely trying to deal with the grief of losing your child.

“After everything I’ve done to break you two up, I could go to jail!” Her words hang in the air, a shocking revelation that leaves you both speechless. Realising what she’s just admitted, Carla’s face pales, and she tries to backtrack. “I didn’t mean that,” she stammers, but it’s too late. The truth is out.

“What did you just say?” Lewis asks, his eyes narrowing.

Carla’s eyes dart around the room, desperate for an escape. “You heard me wrong. I was just angry. I didn’t mean it.”

“Did you plan everything? Did you mean to break us up? Is that it?” Your anger is boiling over.

“He was supposed to be mine! You were always in the way! You don’t deserve him!” Carla’s face contorted with rage.

Lewis steps between you and Carla, his voice steady but filled with fury. “Get out of my house, Carla. Now.”

“You’re just going to throw me out? After everything I did for you?” Carla’s eyes flash with defiance.

“Everything you did for me?” Lewis scoffs. “You tried to destroy my life, my relationship. You’re the reason we lost our baby!”

“I... I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” Carla takes a step back, realising the gravity of her actions. She may have wanted to break you up, but she didn’t know about your baby’s, and she didn’t want you to lose them anyways.

“You need to leave,” you say, your voice shaking with emotion. “You’ve done enough damage.”

Carla glares at you one last time before turning and storming out, slamming the door behind her. The house is silent for a moment, as you try to process everything that just happened.

”What did she mean after everything I’ve done and the jail thing?” You ask Lewis hoping he had any clue on what Carla was talking about.

”I-I’m not sure.”

”Did anything happen before or after…that night?” You ask him, hugging yourself, Lewis once more stops himself from pulling you closer into his arms.

”I don’t know, I was sick the whole night, almost didn’t race the next day.” Lewis remembers the weird sickness he had, it came out of nowhere. “Wait, Sebastian was there.”

”Seb? He actually went to your room?” You asked, knowing Seb of course he did what you said.

”Yeah, I’ll give him a call.” Lewis grabs his phone and calls Seb, recounting Carla’s outburst. Seb who was already suspicious, reinforces the need to follow up on the blood tests.

“We’ll get to the bottom of this.” Seb assures. “Hang tight, and I’ll push the lab to rush the results.”

Apparently since Lewis was alright the day after, they haven’t paid his lap results any mind, but once Seb called them they rushed in sending the results.

“Lewis, I-I have the results,” Seb says, his voice grave. You already have a feeling about what he will say.

“What did they find?” he asks, his heart pounding.

“There were traces of a sedative in your blood. It’s a strong one, often used in cases of severe anxiety or insomnia, but in high doses, it can knock someone out cold,” Seb explains.

A wave of relief and anger washes over you simultaneously. “So, it’s true,” you say, your voice trembling. “Carla really did drug you.”

”I’m afraid so.” Seb said and there was a moment of silence. “I’ll let you guys absorb this, and I’ll call you later.”

”Alright, thank you Seb.”

The confirmation that Lewis was drugged shifts the dynamics entirely. You and Lewis sit in silence, absorbing the magnitude of what has just happened.

Lewis leans back, closing his eyes as he processes the information. “I can’t believe she would do something like this. I trusted her. We both did.”

“She manipulated the situation. But now we know the truth.” You reach out, taking his hand.

“I feel so violated, so helpless. I hate that she did this to us, to you.” He squeezes your hand, tears welling up in his eyes. He wasn’t just drugged and taken advantage of, his relationship was ruined and he lost his child in the process.

“I hate it too.” you admit, your voice cracking. “But at least we have proof now. We can start to heal.”

Lewis pulls you into a tight embrace, his body shaking with emotion. “I’m so sorry for everything. I should have seen the signs. I should have protected you.”

“We couldn’t have known. She was our friend, or at least we thought she was. But we’re still here, and we can get through this together.” You hold him close, your own tears mingling with his.

The emotional weight of the past weeks begins to lift as you find solace in each other’s arms. There’s a renewed sense of unity and strength, knowing that the truth is out and that you can begin to move forward. Knowing that Lewis didn’t cheat left you with a sense of relief, you’re not alone.

“We need to press charges.” You say once you both have calmed down. “She can’t get away with this.”

“You’re right. She can’t get away with this.” Lewis nods, his face set with determination. And he does call his lawyers and told them what happened, they have told him what to do next. A call to the police was made and that set everything in motion, Carla wasn’t getting away with it.

It's been a few weeks since the confrontation with Carla and the revelation that Lewis was drugged. The legal process against her is ongoing, and while justice is on the horizon, the emotional scars remain. You and Lewis have reconciled, but the path to healing is long and filled with pain. The loss of your child is something that still haunt you and will continue to do for a very long time.

You wake up in Lewis's arms, the morning light filtering through the curtains. It's a Saturday, and for the first time in a while, there's no pressing urgency—no lawyers to meet, no police interviews to give, no races to go to, no meetings and no work. Just the two of you, trying to find some semblance of normalcy.

Lewis stirs and looks at you, his eyes soft but weary. "Good morning," he whispers, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"Morning," you reply, managing a small smile. The simple act of waking up together feels both comforting and bittersweet.

The day unfolds slowly. You make breakfast together, an unspoken effort to reclaim a sense of routine. The kitchen fills with the aroma of coffee and pancakes, a small comfort amid the lingering sadness.

As you sit down to eat, an awkward silence settles between you. Finally, Lewis breaks it. "How are you feeling today?"

You take a deep breath, contemplating your words. "Some days are better than others. Today... I'm not sure yet."

"I miss the baby too. We may have not known them but I miss them so much." He nods, understanding, he says softly, his voice tinged with unexplainable pain. "Every day."

Tears well up in your eyes, and you reach across the table to take his hand. "I know. It's hard to move on, to find a way forward."

"We don't have to rush," Lewis reassures you. "We can take it one day at a time."

After that you found yourselves, both seeking solace in small, intimate moments. Taking long walks in the park, sitting quietly on the couch reading, holding each other during sleepless nights. These moments become the fragile threads that begin to weave your relationship back together. One evening, as you sit together watching the sunset, Lewis turns to you, his expression serious.

"I've been thinking... maybe we should see a therapist. Together. To help us process everything."

"I think that's a good idea. We need to talk about the baby, and about us, and just everything we’ve been through." You consider his suggestion.

And so you start attending therapy sessions together. The first few sessions are difficult, filled with raw emotion and unspoken fears. But slowly, you begin to open up, sharing your deepest pain and hopes for the future.

"Grieving the loss of a child is incredibly personal and complex." The therapist explains. "It's important to allow yourselves to feel the pain, but also to support each other through it."

It took time, and you’re still not back to how it was before. Perhaps you never will, but you’re learning to communicate more openly, to lean on each other in moments of weakness. The road is still long, but each step forward feels like a small victory.

One night, as you lie in bed, Lewis holds you close. "We'll get through this," he murmurs. "I believe in us."

You nod, feeling a glimmer of hope. "I believe in us too. We just have to keep moving forward, one step at a time."

Months pass, and while the pain of losing your child never fully fades, you begin to find new ways to honour their memory. You plant a small garden in the backyard of your home in the UK, a place of peace and reflection.

Your relationship with Lewis continues to strengthen, built on a foundation of shared grief and newfound resilience. There are still difficult days, but you face them together, hand in hand.

You find yourselves always there, whenever you’re in the UK and one sunny afternoon, as you sit in the garden, Lewis takes your hand and looks into your eyes. "I know we'll never forget our baby, but I want us to keep dreaming, to keep hoping. Maybe one day... we can try again."

Tears fill your eyes, but this time they're a mix of sadness and hope. "I want that too," you say, squeezing his hand. "I want us to keep moving forward, to find happiness again."

As you sit together, surrounded by the blossoming flowers, you realise that while the road to healing is long, you're not walking it alone. Together, you're finding a way forward, one step at a time, building a new future from the ashes of the past.

A.N: i don't write cheating, but I felt i can write the request and add ny spin on it

Maintaglist

@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life . @c-losur3

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 scenario #f1 x reader #f1 fic #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 #formula one imagine #formula one #lewis x reader #lewis imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton imagine #lh44 x reader #team lh44 #lh44 #lh44 imagine #angst

[t4tstarrailing]

afab, amab, fem, and masc: basic terminology 101

hi! are you wanting to be more inclusive towards trans audience members and are an x-reader writer? well, this is the guide for you!

my name is jules and i'm a trans x-reader writer. i focus mostly on true gn!readers, trans!m!readers, and cis!m!readers. i also like to read x-reader fics. unfortunately, i struggle to find x-reader fics to read, because i don't want to risk having my gender dysphoria triggered. and i am hoping that this guide will help you be more accessible to trans readers.

and you may have seen this guide before and yes, that was also me. i lost the post, am too lazy to go and look for it, and i am also a certified yapper and would like to add some additional things.

so in this guide, i am going to be over the terms afab, amab, fem, and masc; explaining how i see people using them incorrectly and what they actually mean; explaining what words you should be using in what scenarios; how to be even more inclusive towards trans readers; and emphasizing why trans isn't a dirty word.

if you are trans yourself, please feel free to add any additional notes or experiences that you have personally had, especially in fandom spaces. and if you aren't trans yourself and want to double-check yourself, see if any of your trans mutuals are willing to chat about it! sometimes they aren't, sometimes they are, but don't be afraid to ask.

so what do the terms afab and amab mean, and where do they come from?

simply put, afab means "assigned female at birth" and amab means "assigned male at birth". it means the doctor looked at you at birth and designated your gender based off your genital presentation.

the terms were never intended to describe someone's present sexual anatomy. in fact, they come from the intersex community and how doctors designate intersex individuals at birth, either surgically or sometimes taking a guess. the terms, however, have been adopted by the wider community, sometimes successfully but many times unsuccessfully.

i see a lot of people using these terms to designate what sexual anatomy the reader has, which is wildly incorrect. not every afab person has a pussy. some afab people have dicks. not every amab person has a dick. some amab people have pussies. not every afab person with a pussy refers to their anatomy as a pussy. sometimes they call it a front hole or just a hole. not every amab person with a dick calls it a dick. sometimes they call it a strap, or they call their own hole a pussy.

afab and amab should also not be used in sfw settings. you're more than likely looking for a different term, such as masc!reader or fem!reader, or just f!reader or m!reader.

what terms are frequently used by the trans community to refer to their anatomy?

bro, there are so many. off the top of my head, for trans men and trans masc, there's front hole, mancunt, boybox, boypussy. for trans women and trans fems, the only ones i can think of off the top of my head is girlcock, girldick, and strap.

when in doubt, go the gender-neutral route and say "hole" or "chest" if you're referring to the chest/breast area.

with that being said, there's nothing wrong with trans men calling their anatomy a pussy or trans women calling their anatomy a dick. in fact, many do.

however, there does come a point where it becomes a tad bit uncomfortable seeing non-trans men/mascs people insistent on using pussy/cunt for trans men and mascs, or non-trans women/fems insistent on using dick/cock for trans women and fems. especially if people flatout refuse to entertain the idea of using other words that trans folks may find more comfort in, or force the character to conform to characteristics stereotypically associated with the anatomy (eg. usually assertive guy in canon is depicted as being submissive and needy [example: dr. ratio in honkai star rail, childe in genshin impact, kabru in dungeon meshi], only difference being he's being written with a pussy. usually quiet girl in canon is depicted as being a dommy mommy [example: hanya in honkai star rail, ayaka in genshin impact, falin in dungeon meshi], with the only difference being she's being written with a dick)

so what do fem and masc mean?

fem and masc just refer to gender presentation. it doesn't have anything to do with gender or assigned gender at birth. fem =/= female, masc =/= male. fem cis gay guys exist, masc cis women exist.

so if i go into a fanfic and it's labeled fem!reader, i'd expect a fem reader with a slightly more feminine gender presentation. words like perfume, clothes like skirts or dresses, etc. if i go into a fanfic and it's labeled masc!reader, i'd expect a reader with a slightly more masculine gender presentation. words like cologne, clothes like suits and ties, etc.

nuance: yes, this is a very basic breakdown of gender and gender presentation. mascs wear skirts and fems wear suits, i am well aware of that fact. but this is fandom, and this is what i have personally noticed in fandom spaces. i'm not trying to teach gender studies 101. i just want to read fanfics.

how are these terms being misused? again, it is improperly designating the reader's sexual anatomy. fem does not automatically mean pussy. some fems have dicks. masc also does not automatically mean dick. some mascs have pussies. these terms also do not have anything to do with sexual preferences. some fems like to top and/or dom, some mascs like to bottom and/or sub.

if you're wanting to designate a female reader, the most common usage i see is f!reader. same with male reader using m!reader. if you're wanting to specify that you're writing a cis reader, you can always write cis!f!reader or cis!m!reader.

is your reader truly gender neutral?

there's been a few times where i'll go into a fic that's labelled as gender neutral and be slapped with gendered terms. most of the time it's a one and done thing, but other times it'll be throughout the fic and i'll need to exit out of it. and, to be honest, a lot of the time i just chalk it up to people not editting.

my advice is just comb through your work very carefully. look for any instances of gendered terms, like pronouns or pet names or descriptions of clothing. if someone is willing, find a beta reader to go over it and maybe pick up on something you've missed. learning to degender your thinking is difficult given how heavily a gendered world we live in, and people are bound to slip up every once in a while. hell, i do it as well and find myself having to correct myself in my writing sometimes.

gender neutral does not mean non binary!

this isn't as common as other instances, but i do see it every once in a while. not every non-binary person uses they/them pronouns and may, in fact, use neopronouns or he/him or she/her. or use multiple pronouns! so gender neutral fics aren't inherently non-binary fics.

trans is not a dirty word!

this is honestly kind of inspired by a recent uptick in people describing male characters as afab!male character, and seemingly refusing to use the word trans in any of their content. and to be completely honest, when it's coming from non-trans people, it's kinda weird and an auto block for me at this point. because like, you're wanting to write about fucking men with pussies or fucking women with dicks, but it reads like you're scared of using the word trans like it's a bad word. it also sounds like you're centering the fact that this male character has a pussy, or this female character has a dick, and making it like a "ohhhh look at this!!! this is so unique!!!". and fandoms are notorious for fetishizing trans people, so it feels a bit borderline fetishy, especially when it comes from non-trans folks.

side note: i am a single trans person. i do not speak for the hundreds of thousands of trans people in existence. please do not harass people that do this, i am just stating my own personal opinion. as said at the beginning, i am a yapper with opinions.

this is also about non-trans men/mascs writing afab!male characters or non-trans women/fems writing amab!female characters, i am not talking about trans men/mascs writing trans men/mascs or trans women/fems writing trans women/fems.

but men with pussies exist in real life! women with dicks exist in real life! trans people exist in real life! trans is not a dirty word! just say trans and explicitly state the anatomy terms and pronouns you're using! it's so much easier to communicate to your readers what to expect!

so what formatting would you recommend to communicate well with my readers?

honestly, it's gonna sound weird, but just lay everything out so the reader can make a choice on whether or not they want to read your content. some examples that i've used in the past as well as a few others i can think of atm.

this is for specific characters i write bc i got tired of writing reader over and over again lmao.

blade is depicted as trans masc and uses he/they pronouns. he is non-op for both top and bottom surgery. his chest is referred to as his chest with descriptions of him wearing a compression top, and his anatomy is referred to as tdick and tcock. his strap is referred to as his dick.

jing yuan is depicted as a trans man and uses he/him pronouns. he is described as having top surgery scars and a fully healed phalloplasty. his anatomy is referred to as dick and hole. his partner calls him "prince" and "handsome" throughout the series.

pantalone is depicted as a trans masc and uses he/him pronouns. he is described as having top surgery scars, silver bar nipple piercings, but no bottom surgery. his anatomy is referred to as chest and tdick/tcock. his partner calls him "sir".

reader is gender neutral and uses they/them pronouns. they are described as having a chest, and their anatomy is referred to as hole. there are references to wetness, but it can be interpreted as spit, natural lubricant, or artificial lubricant. their partner does not use pet names with them.

sampo is depicted as crossdressing in this fic, but continues to use he/him pronouns. he is described as wearing a dress and heavy make-up. his chest is referred to as breasts, while his anatomy referred to as dick and hole.

luocha is depicted as a trans woman and uses she/her pronouns. she is described as having breast growth but no bottom surgery. her chest is referred to as breasts while her anatomy is referred to as clit and pussy. her partner uses the terms "princess" when talking to her.

ningguang is depicted as a trans fem and uses she/her pronouns. she is described as having breast growth but no bottom surgery. her chest is referred to as breasts while her anatomy is referred to as her strap.

if it sounds weird me using the word "anatomy" for a person's sexual anatomy, it's bc i'm trying to avoid any possible moderation lmao.

anywho. i'm done yapping for now. if you've got any well-intended questions, please feel free to shoot me an ask and i'll try to get to it in a timely manner. i'm also happy to discuss how trans people are frequently fetishized in fandoms, or anything else that people may be curious about.

but please do remember that i am one single trans person, i am not the end all be all of trans opinions. i just yap a lot.

#—the snake writes #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #genshin impact x reader #gi x reader #genshin x reader #x reader #reader insert #adding the tags of the fandoms i frequent the most

[iliketangerines]

Railao+johnshi poly live in my head rent free and I hope you aren't sick of them yet. So far everyone in "lets keep watching, yeah?" but johnny have plowed into reader, and now it's his turn. Can I have a johnny smut oneshot where he takes reader as his date for an award or sth, and they make a sex tape at the hotel then send it to the groupchat hehe thank you <3

let's finish watching, yeah? pt.3

a/n: tired from my flight ouuuggg

pairing: johnny cage x afab!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), pussy eating, blow jobs, cowgirl

Johnny reassures you that you look perfectly beautiful in your suit right next to him as you walk on the red carpet

you feel a little self-conscious as the cameras keep on flashing at you, but he encourages you to keep smiling and that you’re doing amazing, much better than Kenshi the first time at least

he helps seat you at your table, and he rests a hand on your thigh, squeezing it every so often to keep you awake as the awards drag on

at some point, they call out his name for an award, and you give him the biggest applause and smile as he walks onto the stage

as he thanks those who had helped him, he looks at you directly and give you a soft smile before continuing with his speech and walking off the stage

he carries the award with pride, only putting it down when you two finally reach the hotel room to kiss you

it’s a sweet gentle kiss, and you’re sleepy from attending the awards and having to socialize with others who think of themselves as much better than you

Johnny seems to know you’re tired and helps you undress from your formal wear, sliding the material off you carefully and kissing every inch of your exposed skin until you’re naked

it’s slow, sensual, and sweet, and he lays you down gently in the bed to undress himself as you watch him through hazy eyes

he crawls on top of you, kissing you slow and sweet and lazily grinding into you, and you bring up your hand to cradle his face as you two kiss

a ping from his phone interrupts your time, and Johnny wants to ignore it, opting to going back to kissing you and grinding his half-hard cock into you

but then there’s a ping from your phone and from his again, and you reluctantly part from Johnny to go and check who it is

it’s the others, Raiden, Kung Lao, and Kenshi asking whether the awards had gone well and what you two were doing now

Johnny reads the text messages with you, and then a small smile comes across his face as he thinks of something

he takes his phone off the drawer, propping it up on the dresser in front of the bed, switching to the camera app and pressing record before crawling back over to you

he moves your phone back to the drawerbefore going back to kissing you, slotting his thigh between yours and grind your cunt against his muscled leg

it makes you groan into his mouth, your arms coming up to wrap around his neck and pull him deeper into the kiss as you start to whine

the both of you just lazily grind against each other, getting hazy in the throes of pleasure, until Johnny pulls away, a small string of spit connecting your lips still

he kisses down your neck with gentle kisses, only giving your chest a gentle squeeze, eager to move onto the main prize sitting between your legs

he hooks your thighs over his shoulders, eyes wide at the sight of how wet you are, and he smiles up at you a little bit with a cocky grin

you squeeze his head with your thighs, impatient for him to get into it, and he gets the message and dives in, latching his mouth onto your clit and using one of his hands to slowly press a finger into your heat

he’s slow but firm with his tongue, taking his time to pleasure you as he pumps his fingers in and out of you

Johnny listens to every single sound you make, the small whimpers and whines, and he closes his eyes to concentrate and get you a little louder for the camera

he uses his arm to pin down your hips to the bed, burying his face deeper into your pussy to lap at you desperately, and he slides in another finger

your mind is clouded with pleasure, and your moans get louder as your back arches off the bed when Johnny doubles his efforts

he curls his fingers, looking for that sweet spot to make you lose your head, and your hips finally jerk violently against his hold as your hand flies down to grip his hair

he hums against you, the vibrations traveling through you and causing you to let out a small keen, and he abuses that spot within you, determined to make you cum on his fingers

you find yourself coming over the edge quickly, cumming with a loud moan of Johnny’s name, and your thighs squeeze his head tightly as you ride out your orgasm

Johnny doesn’t stop with his tongue or his fingers, prolonging your high as he sucks on your clit and fills you with his fingers

you look down at him with dazed eyes and tug him up to you, wanting to kiss him again and taste yourself on his tongue, and he obliges with your silent demand

he crawls up and kisses you, a little more messier than before, and you can see how hazy his eyes have also become

you reach your hand down to pump his cock, hand wrapping around the girth and slowly moving up and down, and your thumb swipes over the tip to spread the pre-cum along the length

he whines into your mouth, melting into your touch and rutting into your hand as you pump him

with a small show of strength, you flip him onto his back and crawl down to face his cock, your tongue darting out to wet your lips as you continued to pump him

Johnny watches you with half-lidded eyes, hands gripping onto the sheets as he watches you slowly replace your hand with your mouth

your tongue swirls around the tip, and Johnny can’t help but tilt his head back and let out a wanton moan as you start to bob your head up and down

you’re slow and deliberate with your mouth, using your hand to pump what you couldn’t fit in your mouth, and your tongue presses along the veins on the underside of his cock

he whines into the air as you continue, hips twitching with the effort to not just buck into your throat and make you gag, and he closes his eyes, afraid he’ll cum too soon if he keeps looking at you with your pretty lips wrapped around him

but finally, you pop your mouth off him, and you crawl your way up to grind your wet pussy against his cock

the both of you let out small whimpers as you grind against him, your clit catching against the head of his cock

Johnny’s hands come up to grip onto your hips, not moving them, but simply to hold them and dig bruises into your soft skin

finally, you grow impatient, and you lift yourself up and line up Johnny with your heat to sink down onto him, the both of you moaning loudly as he sit down on him

your legs feel like jello, and so all you do for a minute is grind against him, trying to adjust to how full and stretched-out you feel

Johnny’s grip on your hips have tightened, and now he moves your hips against him

finally, you muster a bit of strength to start riding him, biting your lip to suppress a whine at how full you feel, but Johnny is loud, moaning into the air without abandon

you ride him slowly, thighs burning with the effort of lifting yourself up repeatedly, and Johnny grows impatient, using his strength to take control of the pace and bounce you on him

you whine at his sudden take of control, and you reach your hand down to rub at your clit as he bounces you

he watches, enraptured by the way he can see a creamy white ring of your cum and wetness at the base of his cock, ad he doubles his efforts

pleasure sparks through the both of you, and the haziness overcomes the both of your minds as you both cum

you clench down on Johnny tightly, your eyes squeezing shut as you whimper out his name, and Johnny is no better as he moans out your name

his hips jerk up into you as he fills you with cum, and you can feel it leak out of you as you sit on top of him and try to catch your breath

you lay down on top of him, his cock softening inside of you, but neither of you move as you move your head up to kiss him softly

he accepts the kiss eagerly, lips moving fervently against yours as his hands move up from your hips to your head to pet your hair

the two of you just kiss like that on the bed surrounded in the cloud of pleasure, but finally Johnny turns you onto your back and slides out of you, saying he’ll be right back

he saunters over to the camera, stopping the recording and taking a minute to send it to the others before throwing his phone to the side to order some room service for the both of you

he cuddles with you for the rest of the night, whispering how pretty and beautiful you were tonight, and the two of you eat your fill of food before falling asleep

on the other side of the world, Kenshi, Kung Lao, and Raiden watch the video of the two of you fucking each other, cocks aching in their pants

oh the two of you were in for it the second you arrived back home

#mortal kombat #mk #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat x reader #mk x reader #mk x you #mk x y/n #mortal kombat smut #mk smut #tangerine writes #tangerine answers #johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage x you #johnny cage x y/n #johnny cage smut

[lovezbrownies]

Is this an act of love? (Yan!Military Chief x GN!Reader.)

Masterlist

Synopsis: You ignore your wife in favor of a book, which has her infuriarated. But what happens when you become upset over the destruction of the book?

Gen Ludenhart x Reader

Warnings: Past physical torture to reader, reader fears Gen, Gen threatens you, no use of Y/N, possible minor character death.

It’s been 5 years since you’ve been forced to marry Gen Ludenhart. You had tried as hard as you could to get away from her— yet she always found you and when she did she would make it very clear how upset she was with you. Using various methods of torture, letting you stew in the pain and suffering before healing you with her magic. The honorable Chief of Military Gen Ludenhart was all but honorable.

However, now that 3 years have passed since your last failure you’ve accepted the situation. You will only ever die if your wife allows it, which means you’re essentially immortal. Since you’ve been so good, Gen would buy you everything you’d want, no matter the price. This meant you had every new gadget and every book that has ever piqued your interest.

You were okay with this arrangement. At least now you aren’t being tortured, and you can focus on whatever activity you want– well with your clingy wife in tow, but you’ve gotten used to her presence and can completely forget if she was there to begin with. Which brings up the newest issue in your marriage with the coddling devil.

The past two months you’ve been obsessed with this book series that Gen bought for you one random day. It was a very long series with very long books, so to say the least it has consumed much of your time. Whenever Gen would nag you over the lack of attention you would hum, give her a hug, a few pats on the head and you’d go back to reading the story. Gen usually wasn’t bothered by your occasional hyper fixation on certain things, they always come and go, you’ll always come back to her for affections.

Yet. Gen stood behind the library’s couch tapping her foot furiously against the floor. “Well? Aren’t you going to greet me, my love.” Her voice was angry and strained, glaring down at your laid back form, you were relaxed and very immersed into your book. So much so that you hadn’t heard your wife call out for you when she got back home. “Hm..? Oh, uh, sorry…  I’m… a bit busy…” You’d trail off every now and then from how focused you were on reading how the main character is going to triumph in her final battle.

Gen, tired with all the lack of affection, yanked the book out of your hands. “Hey!! Give it back! I haven’t finished it yet!!” You got up, reaching for your book but Gen hid it behind her back. Pushing you back down on the couch she began lecturing you about how hurt she felt over how you’ve been neglecting her recently. But in all honesty every word went in one ear and out the other, all your brain could possibly think of was the book and how the hero will prevail in her battle.

Your wife knew that you weren’t there at all, you’d do the same expression anytime you wished to escape the harsh reality and put yourself into your fantasy worlds. Sighing she softly threw the book next to you. “Nevermind, just come to me when you finish the stupid book. I will know if you don’t.” You smiled as you tried to find the page you were last on, Gen walked away dejected and hurt.

Thankfully you weren’t stupid, and immediately went to her when you finished the series, finally. But this is not how she wanted it to be. You and Gen lying on her bed, your body on top of hers, head snuggling into her chest as you blabbered on about the book’s hero, Liya something or other. “-And then as soon as the battle ended Liya looked all over for her lover, but she found them half dead, and so with the last bit of her power she gave it all away just to make sure her lover stays alive, then-”

Gen loved that you were talking to her with little to no fear but if she hears you squeal over this Liya woman one more time she might kill the author and burn every copy of the series. “Darling,” Gen cut off your rambling. “Has anything else happened to you today? Have you left that book at all? Gone out for a bit of fresh air, hm?” You looked up at her, shook your head no, and continued with what you were saying. Gen could only rub her hands across your back and nod along whenever you looked up to check if she was actually listening.

It’s been a long tiring week, most of the time Gen’s been busy with work, so when she would come home she would always ask for peace and quiet and for you to cuddle her to sleep. Come Friday morning, what she didn’t expect was to wake up and find you reading one of the wretched books of the series. It’s been a little over a week since you’ve finished the series and you’re still consuming that garbage? 

Usually in these types of situations she’d let you go shopping with her, but not even the outside world can pull you away from the imaginary fairytale you’ve been so obsessed over. “Dear. Get back to sleep.” Gen commanded, she used a tone of voice she knew you feared, and yet, it had no effect. “Yes, Gen, just a moment… One more chapter…” Gen sighed, her anger bubbling up. “No. No moments. No chapters. Sleep now or I’ll burn every book I’ve bought you.” Thankfully this time you listened, your body tensed as you quickly put the book down on your bedside table and laid back down. You woke up an hour later to Gen’s arms caging you to her, not allowing you to pick up your book at all.

You tried as hard as you could to weasel your way out of her grasp and run off to the library with your beloved book. Gen only squeezed you harder, pulled you tighter, and buried her head into you further. She was tired of your games, maybe this was some sick twisted way of getting back at her for all the pain she’s inflicted upon you.

Today, Gen finally managed to pull you away from your fantasy world and outside to a restaurant. Yet you still kept talking about the book, well that was before Gen cut you off. “One more word about that book and I will slam you on this table and fuck you in front of everyone here.” Her voice was low and threatening, the threat shocking you into silence you didn’t dare speak, allowing Gen to dominate the conversation as she usually does.

Today’s outing was actually quite enjoyable for once, aside from that one threat, all went smoothly. Gen took you out to your favorite restaurant, let you go wild in your favorite stores, and then finally went to the park to enjoy the scenery and eat ice cream together, which you were currently doing. It almost felt like a normal relationship, but it wasn’t, you won’t dwell on that however since it only ever brings pain.

At the moment you were both sitting on one of the park benches, ice creams in hand. “Gen?” Your wife hums in response, you snuggled closer to her side. “I really appreciated what you did for me today.” Oh. Oh, she could just eat you whole. Her sweet spouse. If she can keep this up for a while you might completely forget about that stupid character and focus on her once again. “Anything for you, honey. I love you.” Of course you never reciprocate her “I love you’s’’ but it doesn't matter. A little more solitude and isolation will fix that.

Gen and you finally made it home, it’s now late at night you move ahead of your wife, looking around for your book in the living room. “Oh would you look at that, my love, you walked 10,000 steps! We should go ou-” A sharp pained gasp interrupted Gen. Gen, concerned, hurried over to the fireplace, where you stood. Looking down at the blazing fire she saw small remnants of your book, used as fire kindle.

It was quite- No, it was silent, not a single peep was uttered. You were staring down at the fire, emotionless, while Gen was solely focused on you and your reactions. You just stood there, unmoving, unchanging. “Do you want me to buy the books again, dear?” Gen broke the silence, trying her hardest to stay cool, so you don’t break down in tears. If this has been at the beginning of your relationship she wouldn’t have been so quick to offer something like that, she’d tell you to suck it up and move on. You’ve obviously affected her over the years.

Meanwhile, you stood still, unfeeling. You knew she’d do something like this, Gen’s loyal little maid. Reina. “No… It’s fine. This was inevitable.”  Inevitable? What the hell are you talking about? Gen frowned, she turned her body fully to you, head tilted to the side. “What do you mean ‘inevitable’? How would the torching of your beloved books be inevitable, my love?” For the first time you finally showed a hint of emotion. Your lips pursed, your eyebrows furrowed and you turned to sit on one of the armchairs in the room.

Gen followed after you, kneeling on her knees in front of your seated form, her eyes begging for an answer. Wow, did she turn soft. Gen grabbed your hands, engulfing them in her much larger hands. A sigh escaped out of you, noticing how open she’s been emotionally, how loving she’s being, how sincere. “I- Well. You’ve been so open about how you’ve hated my books… I just thought eventually you would do something about it,” You looked off to the side sheepishly, not used to being so vulnerable to her.

You continued, ‘’I thought you’d probably tell Reina to burn it while we were gone and I guess I’m right…” Gen frowned, never would she ever do something like that! Why in the world would you ever assume that! Sure she threatened to burn the damned books for a while but they were all empty threats! You had to have known she was just kidding! Right? But then it clicked. The only person to be able to do something like that would be Reina. Sure the mansion has its fair share of servants but Reina served the parts of the mansion you resided in.

Gen got up, gave you a quick kiss on your head and said, “Give me a moment, dear, this will all be resolved soon.” You stared at her as she walked off, curious as to what would happen. You wanted to follow after her and see what she’s doing but knowing her she probably is going to rage at Reina. So you stayed put, not wanting to incur her wrath anymore. You’ve experienced enough pain for a lifetime.

And it seems you were eternally grateful for not following her. The next day Gen told you to accompany her and interview new personal servants for your wing of the mansion. You don’t know what happened to Reina and you did not want to know. She never really liked you to begin with. So why bother to worry for her?

‘Gen’s attitude is rubbing off on me too much…’

#yandere x reader #x reader #yandere #oc x reader #yandere x darling #gn reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #tw yandere #gender neutral #Gn reader #gnreader #Yandere x reader #Yandere x Reader #Female #female yandere #Female yandere #female yandere x reader #Female yandere x reader

[caribbean1989]

It's Better Together - A Baby Lasagna fanfiction

Who: Baby Lasagna / Marko Purisic Request: maybe the reader is representing another country (doesn't have to be a singer maybe in the team) and after the behaviour of isreali's team (as many people said they treated them bad) she isn't feeling well and marko helps her and supports her. Requested by: anonymous Word count: 916 Warnings: some implied swearing and rudeness.

A/N: Thank you so much for your request. I have changed it a little bit, so it's not specifically about the Israeli team being the rude one, but it can still be read as such.

If you want me to write more Baby Lasagna fics, you can always make a request through my Ask Box. For more information on my Baby Lasagna fanfics, see this masterpost

It had always been your dream to represent your country at the Eurovision Song Contest. This year, your dream came true true when you were selected as the contestant for your country.

After months of preparations, the moment was finally there. As soon as you'd arrived in Malmö it was everything you had hoped for and more. Your fellow contestants were really nice and supportive, the organization was flawless, and so far you were really enjoying yourself. You weren't the favorite with the bookmakers, but they still tipped you for a top 10 candidate.

The schedule was demanding, though. Each day was filled to the brim with rehearsals, interviews and other press-related obligations. Some of the interviews were fun, others were dull, but today you had had an interview with a journalist who was flat-out rude and even somewhat hostile. During the interview you were able to keep your cool, but it took every ounce of your self-control to do so.

Immediately after you were done, you stalked out of the room and made straight for the contestants' lounge. That area was only accessible to the performers, and strictly off-limits to any kind of media-personnel. Since it was late in the evening and most of the other contestants had already finished their duties for the day, you expected it to be empty. And some alone-time to cool off was just what you needed.

Without even checking if someone else was in the lounge when you stepped in, you angrily slammed the door closed behind you, and loudly released an entire string of curses in your native language.

A startled gasp from further down the room made you realize that you weren't alone after all. You let your eyes roam over the dozens of sofa's and armchairs crammed into the lounge, and indeed found one, halfway down the room, occupied. It was Marko who sat there. Your little outburst had clearly startled him, and he had jumped up from his seat. He now stood looking at you a little wide-eyed.

"I'm so sorry about that." You passed a hand over your face and took a few deep breaths to calm yourself down. "I survived," he chuckled, before a frown crossed over his face. "Are you alright?" "Yeah..." You sighed. It wasn't truthful, but you didn't want to burden him with your troubles.

But Marko wasn't so easily fooled. He cocked his head slightly to the side, and gave you an intense stare for about a second. "No, you're not." He stated quite confidently. You couldn't help but laugh. Of course you had met Marko in the previous days. You liked him, and you had had a few nice chats with him, but you two didn't really know much about each other. So the confidence in his statement surprised you.

"Please, don't take this the wrong way." Marko immediately second-guessed himself. "But I think you still look... upset." He wrung his hands together, clearly uncomfortable by his own words and wondering if you were going to get angry with him now.

"You're right," you finally confessed. You weren't nearly alright yet and still way too upset by how the journalist had treated you. Yet, you were strangely relieved that Marko was here and had seen that you were still distraught.

"Maybe you should sit down." Marko quickly recollected himself. You nodded quietly, before walking over to where Marko had been sitting and throwing yourself down in the armchair opposite him. "Here." Marko handed you a bottle of water and sat down as well. You gratefully accepted the water, taking a few sips of the much needed hydration.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Marko smiled shyly. "It's just... this journalist." You shook your head. "The interview I've just had was awful. So rude and disrespectful." "Ah..." Marko understood immediately. "I know exactly who you mean. If it's any consolation, he's rude to everyone. I had to do an interview with him yesterday, and... let's just say that I was glad when it was over."

Marko's words did make you feel a little better. If someone could be rude to a gentle soul like Marko, they were just mean and heartless.

Suddenly you remembered that tomorrow you had another, even longer interview scheduled with the same journalist. "Oh, no!" You buried your face in your hands. "I totally forgot I've got to do more press with that guy tomorrow." To your surprise, Marko chuckled softly. "You and me both. Quite literally actually." "What do you mean?" You looked up at him. Marko smiled crookedly at you, giving a one-shouldered shrug. "You and I are teamed up for press tomorrow."

You blinked stupidly at him for a few seconds. You needed a moment to remember that Marko was indeed right. In your fury and frustration that fact had completely slipped your mind. "So sorry," you mumbled, "I forgot about that." Marko smiled another shy smile. "It's fine."

For a few moments there was silence between the two of you. "I'm glad we're teamed up for tomorrow." You broke the silence. "You're a good guy, and I feel really at ease with you." Marko blushed slightly red. "Me, too. And if anyone is rude to us tomorrow, I'm sure we'll be able to get each other through." "Absolutely," you nodded happily, all the anger of just now quickly draining from you.

And suddenly, tomorrow's press day didn't seem so bad anymore, because you knew Marko would be there with you.

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