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#at this rate I'll have to take matters into my own hands
starsandwriting · 1 year
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Creating a malevolent moodboard and yk looking at pictures of 1930s men for arthur and pinterest seems to know the exact kind of meow meow energy im looking for. Lots of pictures of men in suits looking exhausted, holding their head in their hands, laying on the side of the road. Its so funny like yeah thats him thats our boy 10/10 thats Arthur Lester, PI
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intheconfessiondial · 5 months
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Redraw of the cape post, because that entire concept deserved better than the illustration I gave it.
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Pity Party.
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Synopsis - Carmy just wants to see you treated the way he thinks you deserve. He decides to take matters into his own hands.
Pairing - Carmen Berzatto x Female Roommate Reader
Word Count - 3k
Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol mention. carmys filthy mouth.
Age Rating - 18+
Author's Note - hello hello hello!! i am back!! i had a wonderful vacation soaking up the sun, and i am feeling refreshed and ready to go. i have had so many ideas over the past few weeks, so i'm excited to get some of them written asap!! this was a fic that came to me randomly, as i was thinking about roommate!carmen and how much of a menace he'd be if you ever talked about other guys. this was written as a part of my carmen roommates collection. it doesn't follow on from Finders, Keepers or Sweet Dreams, but it does exist in the same universe - so you can decide if this takes place before or after!! as always, feel free to send me any ideas or thoughts or burning desires you have. so much love <3
as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3
Series Masterlist. Masterlist. Inbox.
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"You're back early."
Carmy had swung the door open, expecting to come home to an empty apartment. Instead, he's met with the sight of you, sitting on the couch, undoing the straps of your shoes.
"Fuckin' disaster," you mutter, loud enough for him to hear.
He breathes out a chuckle at the stormy look on your face. Carmy thinks you're cutest when you're angry. He aches to smooth the crease between your brows with his thumb.
"That bad?" he asks, taking a seat next you and kicking off his sneakers.
"You wouldn't even believe."
He rises and makes his way to the kitchen, filling the tea kettle and placing it on the stove top. Grabbing two mugs, he casts a glance over his shoulder at you, frowning at your body language. You look defeated.
Carmy steeps two cups of tea, placing one of them carefully into your waiting hands. He resumes his seat on the sofa, pressing his thigh against yours and turning to face you.
"You wanna talk about it?"
You think for a moment before replying.
"You're gonna laugh at me."
His face instantly crumples, confusion written all over it.
"I'll never laugh at you. I'll laugh with you, sure. But never at you."
He nudges your shoulder with his, urging you to go on.
"Okay, fine. The actual date was pretty good. He took me to that Italian place downtown-"
"Dolce Vita? Did you get the truffle pasta I told you about?" Carmy interrupts you before you can continue.
"Yes, oh my God. It was incredible. Do you think you can recreate it sometime?"
"Fuck yeah. They're pretty secretive with their recipes, but I think I can figure it out. You can help me if you want - I'm gonna need a sous chef."
He pulls a reluctant laugh from you, the sound echoing off the ceramic of your mugs. You both know that being the sous chef involves you sitting on the counter drinking wine while Carmy does all the work.
"Of course. I'll always be your sous chef."
"I'll hold you to that."
You smile at him gently, a little taken aback by the sincerity in his voice.
"Anyway. The dinner went great. He seemed super interested in me, asked me questions, told me about his job, his hobbies, his dog. He was hot, and good to talk to. I thought I'd hit the jackpot."
"And then?"
"And then we went back to his apartment. And it all went to shit."
He chuckles, blue eyes glinting in the moonlight.
"Tell me more."
"You really want to hear about all of this?"
It's not like you and Carmy aren't close. You absolutely are. It's just that there's always been this unspoken connection between the two of you. A bubbling, fiery attraction that you both shut down repeatedly, screwing the lid on tight whenever it rears its head. So, you tend to avoid talking to Carmy about dating. You're scared you'll accidentally blurt out the truth - you compare every single date to him.
"Of course I do."
His answer is so genuine it makes you ache. You continue, hesitantly.
"Well... things got a little... heavy. He wasn't a bad kisser, I guess... he just wasn't... a good one? He kept biting my lip super hard and it kinda hurt. Then he pulled my clothes off like a high schooler, and he's on top of me, and I'm waiting for him to sort of... do... anything? And then he's finished. Like, completely done. And then he has the nerve to ask me if I finished."
Carmy's mouth has fallen open, shock etched across his face. After a long, heavy pause, he speaks.
"What the fuck?"
You look at him for moment, before bursting into contagious laughter. He joins you, both of you with your heads thrown back, giggles reverberating around the lowlit room.
"I mean, seriously," he pants, still laughing. "What the fuck?"
"I didn't even answer him. I just put my clothes on, grabbed my bag and left without saying a word."
Every time you try to stifle your laughter, a giggle escapes. The situation wasn't funny at the time, but looking back, it's hilarious.
All of a sudden, you both go silent. You're deep in thought, reflecting on the seemingly never ending stream of bad dates that you've endured. Carmy is watching you intently, ocean blue eyes glued to your face.
"Fuck," you breathe. "This is kinda pathetic."
Carmy inhales deeply, and turns his body so it's facing yours on the couch.
"The way I see it," he begins, "you have two options."
You quirk a brow in confusion and stay quiet, waiting for him to explain.
"You can sit here feeling sorry for yourself, or, you can let me fuck you the way you deserve."
Your mouth falls open in shock at the exact same moment your brain seems to shut down. You can't think. You can't process his words. All you can focus on is the way he's staring at you. You suddenly feel hot under his gaze, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. A shiver runs down your spine, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.
"Wh-... what?" you choke out.
"You heard me, honey. You can wallow in your little pity party, or you can let me show you what it's like to be with someone who can actually make you come. Your choice."
His voice has dropped an octave lower than usual, the tone warm and honeyed. He's still staring at you, blue gaze unrelenting.
"Is this gonna fuck everything up between us?" you whisper hesitantly.
Carmy reaches out and places a gentle hand on your cheek, thumb stroking careful circles into your skin.
"I don't think anything can fuck up what we have," he murmurs. "You're the only thing in my life that makes sense."
His confession seems to sober you up, the honesty in his words snapping you back to your senses.
"Okay."
He almost does a double take at the sureness in your voice.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Put your money where your mouth is, Carmen."
"There she is," he chuckles. "You scared me when you went quiet for a second there."
"Well, if what you say is true, you're not gonna be able to shut me up for the night."
He laughs darkly, and slides closer to you slightly.
"Oh, honey. You're gonna wish you hadn't said that."
He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, tracing the journey of your neck with his fingertips. He rests his hand lightly at the base of your throat, the heavy weight of it making you pant.
"If there's any point where you don't like something, or you want me to slow down, just say so. Okay?"
You nod your head, entranced by the sudden dominance he's displaying. You've never seen this side of him before. You can't believe he's been hiding it this whole time.
"Words, pretty. Need to hear you say it."
"Yes. I understand. I'll tell you, I promise."
He doesn't say anything in reply, just smirks. He lets you sit in the silence for a moment too long, the anticipation slowly killing you.
"Please, Carmen," you breathe. "Please."
"Fuck," he groans, shuffling closer to you. "You sound so pretty when you beg."
Carmy leans in and kisses your cheek gently, testing the waters. He presses a kiss to your other cheek, and pulls back to watch for your reaction. When he's happy, he tilts forward and leaves a careful kiss on your chin, then your forehead, then both of your closed eyes, before kissing you on the side of your mouth. His closeness makes you whine, desperate for him to give you what you want.
Finally, he connects his lips to yours, starting off slow and tender. When you tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and try to pull him even closer, his resolve snaps. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, exploring eagerly. You clamber over him and climb into his lap, straddling his hips and pressing yourself into his body.
Carmy can't decide where to put his hands. He's grabbing at your waist, running his fingers up your back, pulling you into him by your ass. You're both groaning into each others mouths, enraptured by the other person and the all consuming way they kiss.
"Can I take this off?" he asks lowly, pulling at the hem of your dress.
Instead of answering, you pull it over your head, throwing it onto the floor in front of you.
"Fuck," he murmurs. "Most beautiful girl I've ever seen."
His hands are roaming all of your exposed skin, as if he can't get enough. He's terrified he won't ever get to see you like this again, so he's not going to waste a second.
You grind your hips down into his, eliciting a groan from the both of you. His hands tighten their grip on your waist, as he leans up to press open mouthed kisses to your jaw. Your fingers fly to the hem of his t shirt, pulling it off swiftly. You manage to shove his jeans down and off, before attempting to pull off his underwear. Carmy stops you in your tracks.
"Nuh uh," he tuts. "This is about you. Not me."
He pulls you off his lap gently and shuffles so his back is resting against the couch cushions. He spreads his legs wide, and gestures for you to sit between them. When you don't move, he looks at you carefully.
"Give me a color, pretty girl."
You take a deep breath, and smile at him softly.
"Green, Carmen. Promise."
You manoeuvre sideways, so you can place yourself with your back to his chest. He wraps his arms around you for a moment and holds you tightly, as if he's scared you'll disappear any second. You relax into his embrace, all the tension leaving your body. You have nothing to worry about. It's just you and Carmen, in the place you call home.
You drop your head back into Carmy's shoulder, and allow yourself to get lost in the feeling of his hands on your skin. He's begun tracing patterns down your arms, your sides, your stomach, until he reaches your underwear. He plays with the band, dipping his finger underneath in a feather light touch. Goose bumps rise across your body and you shiver, practically vibrating with need.
"Carmen," you whisper. "Don't tease."
"But that's half the fun," he murmurs into your ear, and you can hear the smile in his voice.
You can picture it perfectly, too. The way his eyes crinkle, the way his mouth curves, the way he bites his lip to stifle it. The image in your mind makes you melt into him further. You want to be as close to him as you physically can be. You'd completely disappear into him if you could.
He brings you back to reality by cupping you over your underwear, groaning when he feels the saturated material.
"Oh, pretty girl. Is this all for me? Fuck."
Suddenly, his game of teasing has lost all its fun. Carmy twists his fingers into your underwear and pulls them off in one swift movement, throwing them in the general direction of your dress on the floor. He places a hand on each of your thighs and spreads them apart, hooking them over his legs.
Carmy starts off slow, careful. He caresses over your skin, gentle and almost apprehensive. When he gets to your core, he swipes a finger through, testing the waters. When you buck your hips into his hand, he knows you're both on the same page.
"Just relax, okay? Gonna make you feel good."
His deep, smooth, whiskey like voice is doing nothing to help the heat bubbling in your stomach. You only whine in response, wiggling your hips to urge him to keep going.
Carmy throws one arm around your stomach, keeping you plastered to his body. You can feel him hot and hard against your back, and you so desperately want to feel him that your mouth is watering. You grind back into him, and he reads your mind.
"Not yet," he whispers. "This is about you, remember? Need to show you what you've been missing."
With that, he circles your clit with two fingers, slowly but surely. He revels in the noises you elicit. They're making him dizzy, disorientated. He never thought he'd be the one to pull a sound like that from you. He's quite convinced he's dreaming.
"Let me hear you. Don't hold back on me, okay?"
You nod your head frantically, willing to give him whatever he asks if you get what you want.
Carmy slips a finger into you slowly, moaning under his breath at your warmth. When he thinks you're ready, he adds a second finger, and sets a steady rhythm, trying to figure out what you like.
After he's set his pace, he starts to curl his fingers on the up stroke, grinning to himself when he finds the spot.
"Yeah? Right there? That's it, isn't it?"
You're nodding and shaking and pawing at his forearms, trying to tether yourself to reality in any way you can. You think you might be floating, on cloud 9, in some sort of euphoric trance. You can't believe no one's ever made you feel like this before. You're convinced no one ever will again.
Carmy quickens his pace and basks in the glory of your moans. He thinks this might be the most beautiful you've ever looked, spread out completely for him. Every inch of your skin is touching his, and it makes his heart skip a beat for a second.
He presses a kiss into your hair and keeps his mouth there, murmuring honeyed praises into your ear.
"Doin' so good for me."
"You got it, honey, that's it."
"Atta girl. Keep going. Almost there."
"You look so fuckin' pretty like this. Fuck. Gonna be thinking about this forever."
"I'll ruin you, baby. Nothing's ever gonna compare to this, to what we have."
All you can do is moan in response, his filthy words pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You're almost there, but something is stopping you. You whine in frustration, tears welling in your eyes. Carmy feels the tension suddenly grasp your muscles, and leans down to mutter to you softly.
"What is it, sweet girl? What do you need? Just tell me. Anything, and I'll give it to you."
You're not sure how much you trust your voice right now, so you decide to show him instead. You take the hand that he's using to hold you to him and move it up your body until it's resting against your throat. You tighten your fingers around his, and moan in response to the pressure.
"Oh, baby," he coos. "Filthy fuckin' girl. Here I thought you were so innocent, and this whole time you wanted to be choked like a whore?"
The way he degrades you so lovingly makes you mewl. You'd never ever trust anyone else to speak to you this way in such an intimate moment - but with Carmen, there's no hesitation. You know he's just telling you what you need to hear in the heat of the moment. And you love him for it.
"Fuck, Carmen," you manage to choke out. "Keep going. Don't stop, please."
"I'll do anything you want if you keep saying my name like that," he whispers.
"Carmen," you moan in response. "Carmy Carmy Carmy Carmy Carmy."
You're chanting his name like a prayer. He's rutting into your back, hips grinding and circling in time with his fingers that are maintaining their steady rhythm. His fingers tighten around your throat as he crooks his digits just right, and the result is a devastating moan from you that Carmy wishes to have on repeat for the rest of his life.
"So close," you whisper hoarsely. "Harder."
Carmy uses his thumb to circle your clit with one hand, other hand pulling you by your neck back into him tightly. He grinds his hips dirtily into you, and the feeling of him so silky and warm against you is what sends you over the edge. The corners of your vision go white as you arch into him, head thrown backwards into his chest. The sounds you're making are so melodic, so borderline angelic that Carmy almost cries. Heaven, he thinks. This is salvation.
Carmy finishes with you, climaxing onto the soft skin of your back. You both relax simultaneously, chests heaving and panting. He removes his fingers gently and wraps both arms around you, pulling you into him tightly despite the mess. He reaches to brush the hair out of your face, and the gesture is so tender it makes your lip quiver.
"Thank you," you whisper after what feels like hours of comfortable silence.
"Sorry I called you a whore," he murmurs back.
You let out a surprised laugh, vibrating with amusement in his arms.
"I know you didn't mean it."
"I mean I did give you the best orgasm of your life, so... call it even?"
"You're forgiven," you chuckle. "Completely forgiven."
You trace gentle patterns over his forearms with your fingertips, following the black ink of his tattoos. He sighs in contentment and places a kiss into your hair, relaxing further into the couch.
You sit together like that for a while, neither of you too concerned with the time. It's not often you see Carmy so relaxed, so serene. You're enjoying it for as long as you can.
"We should clean up," he says quietly, eventually. "Sorry about the mess."
"It's okay. Worth it," you tease, pinching his thigh. He pinches your side in retaliation, which makes you jump.
"Come on, trouble."
He stands from the couch, never letting go of the grip he has on you. You have no choice but to stand with him, yelping as he half carries you through the apartment towards the shower.
The sounds of both of your laughter bounce off of the abandoned mugs of tea still sat on the coffee table, melodic and joyous. The moonlight seeps through the windows, illuminating the beginning of something special in the living room of your shared apartment.
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hydrobunny · 1 year
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meet me in the pouring rain
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tags: comfort, established relationship, aftermath of fights, happy ending!!!!!
obviously, you two had your fights. it would be stupid to think you didn't: stupid to assume the two of you were constantly perfect.
you curl up by the door of your bedroom, trying to stop yourself from crying.
you hated this. you hated how you had expected anything different. of course sae itoshi would choose football over you. it was what he had been doing for his entire life.
but why had you thought today would be something different? just because it was your birthday?
you had asked him if you two were doing anything so excitedly, so stupidly. he had looked at you with the blankest expression you had seen.
and of course when you tried to press the matter, he had snapped at you that he was busy- to not bother him before practice.
and the words had spewed out of your mouth, telling him to get on with it and get out of the house.
sae hadn't argued further, merely blinking at you in vague confusion before slamming the door behind him.
he hadn't returned for lunch. and with the sheer amount of rain outside, you knew he couldn't be practicing still. (well, you mused, there was a slight chance.)
but that meant he had to be taking shelter somewhere away from your home, somewhere with other people.
lightning crackled outside. the rain was really coming on in droves now. you curl further into a ball and listen to your own heartbeat, steady and calming.
the notification sound of your phone was a scare, and you flinch, hard. you look around for the source of the noise. the dings continue on and on.
when you finally find your phone, you're stunned to see the contact sae <33
the messages are a clear change from his usual short ones, practically an entire chain of frantic words. it's a drastic change compared to the dead silence he's been giving you today.
y/n
fuck i'm sorry
i didn't mean what i did in the morning
i forgot the date i'm so sorry
y/n?
i'm outside. you don't have to come if you don't want to. i'll stay.
you stare at that last message. sae was-
you run to her window, heart rate rising. you can barely see past the sheer amount of rain slamming down.
but sae was there. you can make out his vague form, the rain unforgivably landing on top of his head.
you almost fall down the stairs with how fast you run down. you skid to a stop in front of the door.
your hand turns on the knob.
“sae,” you breathe out.
sae looks at you with a bouquet of soaked roses and a small box, looking more like a drowned rat than the boyfriend you knew.
“you're going to get sick,” you sputter. “what were you-”
“i love you,” sae interrupts, eyes glowing with an intensity unfamiliar to you.
you've only seen that look on the field, when he's truly concentrating.
"i'm so fucking sorry," he continues. "i need you to know that you are my first priority. i know i don't act like it- but you're the best thing that's happened to me."
your mouth hangs open, your voice weak. "come inside."
he does. you gently take the roses from him and place them on the table. he pockets the box, and you don't question him.
sae waits patiently for you to speak.
"i'm sorry too," you finally say. "i shouldn't have-"
he grabs onto your hands, squeezing reassuringly. "don't apologize. im the one who forgot. it's not-it'll never be your fault."
you swallow. "i love you. but you should really go change-"
"before that," sae digs back into his pocket and pulls out the neatly wrapped box. "here."
the wrapping paper gives easily underneath your nails. you eye the box warily. it's clearly jewelry, so you crack the thing open-
"jesus christ-" you fumble the box.
sae catches it easily, raising one eyebrow.
"you got a ring?"
"it's not what you think it is." he hums, gently taking the ring out of the box. it's a pretty little thing, all delicate and fragile looking. "my proposal wouldn't be this tacky."
you stare at him. "so the ring is..."
"a promise," he answers as he slides it carefully onto your finger. "for a better one eventually."
the blood rushes to your face immediately. sae doesn't seem phased at all, even if he's just confessed that he's going to marry you.
"i-"
sae sneezes. once, and then twice.
you grab his arm. "okay. you are getting into some warm clothes."
he frowns, but follows you up the stairs anyway.
when the two of you reach the bedroom, you stop him by the door.
"you know, i only wanted two words."
his head tilts almost imperceptibly, confusion leaking-
sae smiles. "happy birthday."
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starry-bi-sky · 5 months
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fast food is the best course of action after causing a scene. ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀɴʏᴀʟ ᴀʟ ɢʜᴜʟ ᴀᴜ
(First Post Here and Second Post Here
--------
Danny finds Sam easily.
She's right where she said she was over the phone: standing outside on a balcony, in Gotham, at Father's many charity functions. 
("Would you still be willing to fly over to Gotham, Danny?" She asks, her voice ringing clear through the speakers. Danny is already climbing out his window before she even finishes her sentence. He was just about to settle down for the night, his ghosts would know better by now than to disturb him at this time. The Box Ghost not included.)
("Of course." He says, sounding more confident than he feels. Sam was one of his best— closest friends, he would do anything she or Tucker asked. Even if it means stepping foot into his Father's city. He drops down silently, and walks through the house's ghost shield. "Would you like me to bring you anything?")
(Sam sighs through the phone, relief leaking through. "One of the veggie burgers from Nasty Burgers would be great, with their new ecto-fries. Extra salt. I'm sick of all this rich people food.")
(A small smile pulls across Danny's face, tilting at the corner as his living form falls away to his ghost self. "Alright," he says, and kicks himself off the ground, "I'll be there in a few minutes.")
("Thanks, Danny.")
He had the bag of food with him, stored in a container he had to run back to the house to get that would prevent the food from cooling during his flight over. Clutching it in hand, he floats down behind Sam and sheds his invisibility.
Being visible and being invisible always felt different, but in a way Danny can never describe, no matter how many times he tries to think about it. It's like a gut-feeling, a sixth sense, he always knows when he's visible and when he is not.
His ghost form burns away like steel wool being lit, and Danny drops the last foot to the ground silently. In his other hand lies his thermos, but filled with plain ectoplasm — lazarus water. "I have your food." 
(He brought the thermos for himself — his side was still healing from his last fight with Technus. The ghost impaled him with a broken pipe, and Danny returned the favor by wedging his sword into his chest. Technus had been quite offended by him ruining his favorite coat.)
Sam jumps a foot into the air, and her hand slams across her mouth to muffle the shriek she lets out as she whirls around. "Danny!" She hisses, her voice rising in pitch, and her eyes narrow at him into a glare. "Freaking-- Tucker's right, we seriously need to put a bell on you."
"You have been saying that for years," Danny grins, sharp-toothed and jack-knifed, and passes the container over to her. "And yet I've yet to see any kind of bell." He was going to start getting disappointed at this rate.
As Sam takes the container, Danny hops up onto the railing and looks around. He hadn't seen any of Father's other children lurking around the building before he revealed himself, but that doesn't mean they aren't there. He wasn't going to fool himself into thinking that their stealth skills were poor.
He wasn't that arrogant.
...Anymore.
"Oh you will." Sam threatens, unzipping the container and grabbing the takeout bag. "I'll get you a collar and everything, we can start calling you Catwoman." When she pulls out her fries, Danny snaps forward and steals one from the box, ignoring her indignant yell as he pops it into his mouth.
"I spent my own money on these fries, Sam." He sniffs, leaning away from her with a stifled huff of laughter as she swats at him. "So they are technically my fries. And also, Catwoman would be a poor thief if she wore a bell."
Sam grumbles at him, and takes a bite out of a handful of fries. "I'll venmo you money." She says past a mouthful of food, Danny would have been disgusted in the past, when he was still new. But he's gotten used to this... normality. So he makes no reaction to it. "How does three hundred bucks sound?"
Danny immediately frowns.
"Did you have a fight with your parents?" He asks, eyes glancing to the doors. Doors that are covered heavily by curtains and blurred heavily, decadent music passing through in muffled sounds. He shifts himself away from the light. "You only spend that much money when they've pissed you off."
Sam's chewing stops, and her annoyed expression falters into one Danny knows well -- hurt, furrowed brows, a small frown, disappointment -- and she turns her head away from him. She swallows. "Yeah." she says, quiet.
Oh.
Danny knows that tone too.
Guilt settles like a rock in his chest. He leans forward, "Was it about me again?" He wasn't blind to the disdain Sam's parents had for him, far from it. This wasn't the first time Sam had gotten into a fight with them over her friendship with him and Tucker. But especially him. He unsettled people, even after years of observing his age-mates and trying to mimic their behavior, and anyone who knew him in middle school knew it was an act.  
Sam's silence gives him all the confirmation he needs, and the guilt heavies itself with the weight of the sky. Danny's never much cared about others' opinions of him -- he is (was?) an Al Ghul, they never heed to mind what the weight of a simpleton's thoughts.
But.. he cares a little a lot when it hurts his friends like this. He presses his lips together into a thin line, and forces the words out through his teeth. It sounds robotic. Al Ghul's do not apologize. "I... am sorry." But this one does. It doesn’t come easy. 
Sam sighs through her nose, and turns to roll her eyes at him. "Don't apologize on their behalf when you won't even apologize for your own; their assholes." She says, and goes reaching for more fries.
It's a sign, a signal. A silent word for the conversation to move on, to change. A distraction. Danny grasps it with both hands, and makes an offended noise in the back of his throat. And like he has learned, puts a hand to his chest like a scandalized American southern lady. "I apologize! I apologize plenty."
She snorts. "Only when you think it matters." And pokes him in the ribs sharply with her fry. He withholds a wince and snatches it out of her hands. "You're about as unapologetic as they come, Danny J. Fenton. I've seen you look more sincere when you're trying to drive your sword between Vlad's ribs."
"Stabbing Masters is a very important task for me, Sam." Danny says in only partially faux-seriousness. Masters has yet to realize that Danny had no interest in becoming his son, but he had to (reluctantly) admire his persistence. "Of course I will apply myself to it as best as I can."
He grins triumphantly when Sam laughs, and she reaches over to shove him square in the chest. He barks out a laugh of his own as he grips onto the balcony railing and catches himself at an angle.
"Quit with your method actor talk," Sam retorts, grinning sharply while Danny twists himself back up elegantly. "I know you can talk like a normal person, I've literally seen you do it."
Danny sniffs, and snatches more fries from the carton as revenge. "I'm not entirely sure what you mean, Miss Sam." He says, grin-twisting when Sam rolls her eyes. "My speech has always been this way. This 'normal' you speak of, I do not know it."
She waves her hand dismissively at him. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. But if you keep talking like that, I'm pushing you off the balcony."
"Such violence, Sam."
He gets a laugh again, full of disbelief without any of the annoyance. "I'm gonna be the one that stabs you, oh my god. Pot meet kettle." She looks at him again, smiling.
Danny smiles back, and with a flick of his wrist pulls out a kunai from his sleeve. It was one of the few weapons Mother was able to pass on to him whenever she made her scarce visits. He cherishes it well, along with anything else she was capable of giving him. 
He holds the handle out to her, and watches her face shift from disbelief to shock, then back to disbelief. "Then you're gonna need a weapon to do that." 
"Of course you have a pointy object on you." She mutters, and takes the kunai and puts it in her purse. Danny makes a pleased hum, it resonates low in his core, and drops his hand. "When do you not have a pointy object on you?"
As if to make her point, Danny's hands twist near his side, and he holds his palms up to her, revealing the shobo he had also hidden on him. He gives her a shit-eating grin. "Never." He lowers his hand, and pockets the small weapon once again. 
Sam huffs, "Of course," she repeats, "thanks. I was gonna bring a knife but..."
Danny finishes the sentence for her, kicking his feet idly and knowingly. "The security at the door?" He'd seen them on his flight over the building. It wouldn't do much in the face of the Rogues, but at least they were good at keeping appearances and keeping out the smaller threats.
He rolls his eyes and turns his head away, looking up to the ugly, smog-covered skies. There was no bat signal in the air, and while that was a good thing, Danny almost wished there was. He wanted to see it. "I saw, and I would’ve called Father foolish if he hadn’t hired help. He attracts trouble almost as badly as I do."
"Maybe it's hereditary," Sam jokes, laughing under her breath. With her fries finished, she started on her veggie burger. "At least your dad isn't a vigilante like you are."
Danny smiles wryly. It felt nice to be able to talk more freely about this. That he didn't have to hide the fact that his father was Bruce Wayne, now that Sam knew it from her own accord. Maybe he could have conversations like these more often. Even if it was limited to Bruce Wayne only.
(Even if it felt a little terrifying to know that his father was so close by, close enough that Danny could reach out and touch him. To speak to him. But how would he explain that? And with an audience?)
(He’s wanted to see him since he was a kid, and he still does. It clings onto him like a cough that doesn’t go away after the cold already has, and while it has faded over the years, it clings. His mother’s words still ring in his ears however; it’s not safe. It’s not safe.)
(And isn’t that why he faked his death in the first place? So that his little brother would be safe? Why he gave up the heirship, his home, his Mother, Damian, and his chance to meet his Father? Going to see Father, even now, would be throwing that all away. He has to stay away.)
(Why is Damian with Father if staying with Father was unsafe?) 
He just needed to tell Tucker. Danny wouldn’t keep him out of the loop, he was just as much as his friend as Sam was. His eyes draw towards the door, where the golden glow of lights was still pouring through, where music was playing loudly. "Yeah, fortunately." 
They fall into a comfortable silence after that, and Danny finally cracks open his thermos. The pipe Technus impaled him with was covered in a goo that Danny didn’t recognize, but whatever it was, his injury was taking its time healing. The ectoplasm was speeding it up. 
He isn’t sure what the difference between the ectoplasm that Drs. Fenton collected and Grandfather’s Lazarus pools is, but there’s a difference. He swirls the thermos slowly, watching as the ectoplasm inside twists into a small whirlpool sluggishly. 
When left alone, it thickens into a consistency similar to egg whites, or perhaps a thick smoothie, but reverts back into a water-like substance when moved and swirled. It was strange; unexplainable. He can understand, to an extent, why the Drs. Fenton are so obsessed with studying it and the dimension it comes from. 
Sam watches him idly as he brings the thermos to his lips and drinks from it. The effect is instantaneous, a sense of relief washing over Danny as if someone had put a soothing balm onto an injury. It buzzes down to his fingertips, and when he lowers the thermos, he licks his lips and watches the tips of his fingers burn green like frostbite. 
“Your hair turned white again.” Sam comments, her hand reaching out and touching the hair on the nape of his neck. While it’s not the first time Sam’s touched his hair, it still makes him tense up with her hand so close to his throat. Instinct. dan
He ignores the urge to bat her hand away, humming thoughtfully. “I’ve noticed it does that.” He says, pulling down his bangs to see if they’ve also turned white. No, still black. He lets go. “Let me guess; my eyes are green too?” He lifts the thermos again and peers into the chrome casing. 
Sam nods, “Yep, but it’s only the, uh.” She makes a circle around her eyes with her finger. “The iris part. Everything else is fine.” 
Danny can see that. The faint reflection on the chrome casts back an intense green. He takes another sip. It chills the back of his teeth, and he can feel his canines warp and sharpen. He runs his tongue over them, and swallows. 
Sam is still watching him, her fingers drumming against the balcony railing. “What’s it taste like?” 
“Carbonated.” He says dryly, before taking a large swig. He couldn’t name a specific flavor if he tried, it changed every time he took a sip. The only thing that stayed consistent was that it tasted carbonated. And slightly sweet. When he pulls the thermos away, Danny twists his body towards her and offers it out, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “Want to try?” 
Her reaction is immediate. Sam’s nose scrunches up and her mouth twists into a smile, and she makes a huffing-laugh sound. “No, thank you.” She pushes it away lightly with her fingers, “I don’t know how to explain to my parents why my hair is white.” 
Right. Danny pulls the thermos away and puts it down beside him, straining his eyes to see if the rest of his hair has changed colors. Even just his first sip would take half an hour to fade back to its normal black, and he was a halfa. He had no idea how long it’d take to fade on Sam, who was human. 
There’s movement from the corner of his eye, and Danny snaps his head towards the source. There’s a figure, small, a boy, trying to hide behind one of the curtains at the door. His form just barely peeking out from the angle Danny was sitting at. He wouldn’t have seen him if the boy hadn’t moved. 
His fingers curl tightly into the railing, and he breathes in sharp. Sam’s smile crumbles away and she turns to see what he’s looking at. “I should go.” He says, and reaches for his thermos. “There’s someone spying on us. Don’t say anything, just look at me.” 
Sam’s expression warps, twists. Her eyes widen, her jaw starts to drop before fixing itself into place, and her shoulders curl up and tense. She forces it all to smooth over, and she leans casually against the railing. There’s a tick in her jaw. “I see.” Her voice comes through teeth. “Do you think they saw you?”
“I am not sure.” Danny says. He keeps an eye on the figure as he twists himself over and grabs the Nasty Burger bag and the container. He tries not to look like he’s rushing. He is. How long has that boy been there? How much did he see? Did he hear anything? 
“Father, fortunately, has privacy films on the glass. Nobody should have seen me unless they’re specifically trying to peep through the door.” He says. The boy seems to realize that Danny was starting to leave. And, his heart beginning to sink, instead of leaving, moves to grab the door handle instead.
No. No, no, no, no, no.
Danny’s breath catches in his throat, he’s hoping that isn’t who he think it is. But how else would he have not noticed an eavesdropper on their conversation unless it was someone who was capable of bypassing those skills? He told himself that he wouldn’t fool himself into thinking that his siblings’ had poor stealth. He got distracted. 
Five years, five years. He refuses to let that go down the drain. He zips up the container and throws his legs over the other side of the railing, his back facing the door. He hears the doorknob click, and without a word to Sam, slips off down the side and down to the ground below.
Just in time. The once muffled music now sounds blaring as the door presumably is thrown open and the pull of invisibility washes over him like a second skin. He doesn't stay to see who it is.
#dpxdc#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dp x dc#dp x dc crossover#dpdc#dpxdc crossover#danyal al ghul au#older brother danny#first danny pov of the au! whoo!#danny's hair turns white if he drinks ectoplasm brrrrr and his eyes turn green. good for him#this sat in my drafts for the last few days until i finally finished it during class#it was a math class and i already knew the material so tis fiiiine. now i just need to finish my CFAU post rewrite :)#ectoplasm tastes like that time i went to go get pepsi from the soda machine and it was all out of the pepsi flavoring so instead i got a#cup full of carbonated liquid. it was disgusting. ectoplasm kinda tastes like that. sometimes.#danny smiles in this more than i thought he would but yk it fits. he IS more smiley around his friends and family.#ectoplasm is a weird non-newtonion fluid and danny is fascinated. its got the consistency of egg whites one minute and then water the next#its a water slime and then suddenly its as brittle as annealed glass. it heats up and rots like milk or it heats up and boils like water#it congeals. it thickens. it boils. it solidifies. it does whatever it wants. it gels and melts into a tar-like substance#how long has damian been standing there? good question. :) i almost had him open the door and make eye contact with damian before falling#backwards. i also almost had it be *bruce* and damian opening the door bc bruce found out that damian pulled a knife on sam and was gonna#have him come apologize. that would be a fun scene. prolonged eye contact prolonged eye contact prolonged eye contact#imagery brrrr. had fun playing with how danny's ghost form works. if anyone has seen a video of steel wool burning thats how i imagine#danny's ghost transformation to be like.#also ayyy balancing danny's dialogue be like “how fancy should he sound and how Normal Teenager Should He Sound”#when sam gets home she catches tucker up to speed about everything including the convos with the waynes she had and they both form the#'“Fuck Them Waynes” squad. Sam has jumped to the entirely wrong conclusion about danny's separation from his family but in her defense.#it is a pretty sound conclusion to jump to considering the lack of context she has from danny's prior home life. which is almost none at al#so to her it looks like danny got abandoned by bruce wayne
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mrs-illyrian-baby · 1 month
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Give Me Shelter, For My Heart | Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader | One Shot? 3k
Things are missing around the Avengers' compound and a newly returned Bucky is acting weirder than normal...Steve and Sam go to investigate and discover more than they bargained for.
Warnings: 18+ for language and suggestion of Hydra violence/torture/experimentation, omegaverse themes including alpha & omega, suggestion of pregnancy/pups, wolf shifting Rated F for Fluff and G for good friends
Challenges & Prompts: @buckybarnesevents Alpha Bucky April with extra prompts - word count, nesting, purring, beta characters, (I'll let mods decide if this hits the breeding/baby fever prompt). And @fandom-free-bingo 'forehead kisses'
Graphic by me and Canva, dividers by @firefly-graphics & @reveriesources
Masterlist | Bucky Barnes
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“Hmm,” Steve looked around the supply room, surveying the gaps and empty shelves, normally well stocked with blankets and provisions. It was the third time this week he’d found himself at a loss, not just for words but his things too. Everything seemed to be going missing. 
First it was a few plates and mugs from the galley kitchen by his office, then it’d been the lunch he’d left for him and Bucky in the fridge. Last night he’d gone into Bucky’s room to make sure he was okay and found the man sleeping on a bare mattress, all the sheets, pillows and blankets were gone and the newly revived Bucky refused to explain what had happened to them or even acknowledge that there was anything wrong at all. He hadn’t even addressed that fact that the window was wide open and it looked as if he was sleeping in his shoes. 
Which brought Steve’s thoughts to the man himself. Bucky had been so odd since he’d returned. For a day or two, he’d been something like his old self, despite the awful situation they found themselves in, he’d joked with Steve and reminisced with the few memories he had. They’d enjoyed a beer together and he’d even met with Tony during their mediation and patched things up. 
Then, they’d all climbed onto the jet and he’d become distant, pacing like a caged animal until they’d landed. As soon as the doors were open he’d vanished for forty-eight hours and sent the entire compound into mayhem before strolling back in as if nothing had happened, bruised and covered in blood. Judging by the bandages he sported later that day, his cuts and bruises spread under his shirt and trousers too. 
Steve knew that he’d changed during his time with Hyrda, back in the 30s they’d both been betas, happy to plod along ignoring the madness of the few alpha’s in Brooklyn. It had been a rare thing then, to be an alpha, now they were considered a dying breed, so when Bruce’s tests had revealed that Bucky was an alpha now, they’d tried to take it in their stride that he might go off on his own sometimes, especially since omegas were even rarer. But there was still so much they didn’t know, so much to unpack and discover about the Bucky they’d rescued, and Steve was so desperate to spend time getting to know this new man that all the time apart was making him worry. 
“You okay?” Sam asked from the doorway, leaning in to hand Steve a hot cup of coffee. 
“Just doing a stock check.” 
“He take something else?” Sam stepped into the small room, lined with shelves and shelves of tents, camping stoves, parachutes, it seemed to go on and on. The bare grey shelves where stock was missing was stark against the white washed walls. 
“He?” 
“Barnes,” Sam sipped his coffee, matter of fact, and Steve confronted the worry that had been plaguing him. 
“It’s Bucky, isn’t it?” Steve dropped his head heavily and Sam patted him on the back, still sipping his drink. 
“Sorry man, told you, he’s not right yet. He’s not hurting anyone though, if he hates his bedding, who cares, if he hates your lunches, who could blame him.” 
Sam sidestepped Steve’s halfhearted swipe with a grin on his face. 
“But what’s he doing with it, Sam? Where’s it all going?” 
“Hell, I don’t know, have you asked him?” Sam raised his eyebrows. 
Had Steve asked his best friend, who flinched at his touch and shied away from any conversations? Bucky who vanished for hours at a time and came back looking as if he’d been dragged through a hedge? No, he hadn’t. He’d been too scared to confront what might be going on, what latent part of his programming might be at play. 
“Look, if you’re too scared to ask why don’t I?” 
Now it was Steve’s turn to raise his eyebrow, it wasn’t that Sam and Bucky didn’t get along, they just didn’t get along yet. Steve was working on it. 
“What if we…followed him?” He offered instead and Sam laughed again. 
“Who knew Captain America was scared of his own friends,” he couldn’t contain the chuckles. “Fine, fine. Let’s keep an eye on him.” Sam turned to the ceiling, more comfortable with the AI than Steve was. “FRIDAY, if Sergeant Barnes leaves his room, please can you alert us - privately?” 
“Of course,” the soft voice answered and Steve gave his friend a weak smile. 
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FRIDAY’S alert went off twice a day, every day, over the next week. But despite their best efforts neither Steve nor Sam managed to catch up with Bucky. 
It wasn’t until the following Saturday that they managed to follow him. Bucky was supposed to be at a training session to get his official certifications but they’d both had a feeling he’d try and skip it. As predicted they’d spotted the blue of his new henley edging around the side of the compound, a full backpack strapped to his back. 
Bucky ran across the grass and towards the thick forest. His still uncut hair was tied back but tendrils fell out as he sprinted into the wind. 
He was surprisingly loud, as he strode quickly between the trees, snapping twigs and branches that Steve knew he could’ve dodge even before the serum and his training. Sam looked at him, both of their feet silent as they followed. 
Bucky’s speed increased as he turned his face up into the breeze, his backpack jostled against the trees, bouncing when he began to run. 
Steve kept up, sending Sam wide, into the breeze, in case Bucky doubled back. 
Just as he was starting to feel lost in the repetition of trees and ferns, Bucky burst into a clearing and Steve slammed to a halt. 
The pine trees gave way to a small patch of clear sky, shining down on an old shed. Unlike the other abandoned guard houses, this one had obviously been cleaned recently. The small porch was swept and a pair of Avengers camping chairs were arranged neatly facing into the forest. A line had been strung between the cabin and the trees where one of the missing blankets fluttered in the gentle wind. 
Steve crouched down, motioning to Sam on the other side of the clearing to stay out of sight. 
Bucky approached slowly, “Cățeluș, are you here?” 
At first there was nothing and then a wolf nosed its way out from behind the door, it’s chestnut brown fur almost gold in the sunlight. It leaped forwards from the porch and shot across the clearing, leaping into Bucky’s arms. 
Steve whipped his head up to try and find Sam and by the time his eyes found Bucky again the wolf was gone, replaced by a woman pulling on a large t-shirt from Bucky’s backpack. 
“James!” Her sweet voice rang out in the otherwise quiet forest. 
Swamped by Bucky’s familiar red henley, you shot from the door and into Bucky's waiting arms, the back pack dropped to the floor and forgotten. 
She was swamped by Bucky’s red henley and he wrapped you in his arms, one large hand on the back of your head, tucking you into his neck. The other supported your legs, now wrapped around his waist. 
In the clearing Bucky's shoulders relaxed as he sank into your embrace, kissing and nipping at your neck. In return you tipped your head, practically purring at the attention and wriggling in his arms. 
“Have you been okay, baby.” Bucky asked, pulling away enough to look you over. 
“I'm okay, I missed you though, James, please don't leave me again.” You begged cupping his stubbled cheeks in your hands. 
Bucky turned into your palm and kissed it, “I know, I know, I’ve been making sure it’s safe for you.” 
Steve's heart sank. Bucky didn't feel safe? 
“You trust me, don't you, my little omega.” Bucky rubbed his nose into your cheek and you giggled, holding him even tighter, your hands in his hair. 
An omega? 
Sam stared over at Steve, eyes wide. 
It was clear to them both that this was no chance encounter and all Bucky’s odd behaviour suddenly started to make more sense.
Steve motioned for Sam to leave, they could sneak back to the compound and perhaps bring this up tentatively. Perhaps leave some items you might like lying around in the hopes that Bucky would take them and understand that his secret was out, but it was safe. 
Sam moved swiftly round the clearing as Steve continued to watch Bucky. 
Bucky vanished into the cabin, leaving you on the porch alone, snuggled into his shirt and pressing the collar to your nose. 
“She’s cute,” Sam whispered, squeezing up against Steve, still hiding in the overgrown ferns that lined the edge of the cabin. 
“We can’t let her sleep out here. She must be hungry and cold.”
Bucky emerged from the cabin carrying two of the missing mugs, balancing them carefully on the railing before scooping you up into his lap. His hand hovered by his mouth, sipping in slow motion as his eyes scanned the tree line and Steve took a breath, sitting back quickly. 
“Stay here, Cățeluș,” he was up in a flash, eyes always on the tree line even when he reached into his boot to pull out a familiar gerber knife. 
Instead of flipping it into his palm, he balanced it on the arm of your camping chair. Eyes still on the trees he placed his metal hand on top of your head, “stay here and stay safe, follow the plan, do what you need to.” His voice was low, series, almost a growl. Far away from the happy, loving tones he’d been speaking to you with before. 
You nodded, and as soon as he felt your head move he was up and off the porch. 
Steve and Sam looked up in time to see a wolf leap towards them. 
It was true then, the experiments had worked and Steve had the cold feeling that returned every time he discovered something new about his friend during a fight, but he had no time to worry about it now. Not when the wolf was closing in on them. 
It was huge, its white fur dusted with fallen leaves, but its teeth gleamed in the afternoon sun as he pounced, snarling. His paws the size of dinner plates slamming into the ground in front of them, teeth bared and snarling. 
Steve rolled away, pulling Sam with him and covering his body, regretting not bringing the shield. 
“Bucky!” Sam shouted from under Steve’s arm
“Bucky it’s us we don’t want to hurt you!” 
The wolf pulled back from the two men pinned beneath him, and something like clarity passed over Bucky’s icey blue eyes and he sat on his haunches, head cocked to one side, ears floppy. Then it stood, rounding the bushes and, in a blink, the man had reappeared still hiding before the foliage to cover his naked body. 
“Steve -” Bucky looked thoroughly confused, 
“Bucky, we’re so sorry we shouldn’t have followed you.” 
“What are you doing here?” Bucky’s voice wavered, his body cold without his fur and with his clothes left behind in the cabin. 
“We were worried about you, man, you’ve been so weird - stealing stuff, going missin’, can you blame us for getting creeped out?” Sam raised his eyebrows and Bucky’s brow furrowed. 
“Sorry, I’m sorry, I just had to -” he gestured back towards the cabin and, as if remembering he’d left you behind with no way of knowing he was safe he turned and ran back to the clearing. 
Steve and Sam jumped up, chasing after Bucky once more. 
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The cabin porch was empty when Steve picked his way down the slope of mud and rocks into the clearing. 
A howl rang out as he got closer to the little house, a high, pained sound and then the response came, low and level. 
There were two wolves now, hidden at the side of the cabin in the shadows.
The white wolf kept itself half turned towards Steve and Sam, who kept quiet and still, barely daring to breathe, allowing its companion to approach slowly. 
The brown wolf dropped in front of the white, ears flat back against its head, and then rolled over, showing a soft belly that the white wolf nuzzled gently before turning back to Steve and barking sharply. 
Steve held his hands up and the wolf barked again, turning tail and returning to the cabin. 
It took only moments for Bucky to show himself on the porch, pulling his henley back down over his now dirt streaked belly. 
“Come in,” he gestured up the stairs and vanished again. 
The cabin, though run down, was well kept. The porch was swept of leaves and there was even a little mat by the door. 
“Shoes,” you whispered, pulling on Bucky’s sleeve as you entered the main living space, making an attempt to hide behind him. You’d dressed again too, also in one of Bucky’s henleys and a pair of leggings that Steve recognised as Avengers recruit issue. 
“Do you mind?” Bucky asked while Steve and Sam stared between you both. 
“Shoes,” you turned to look up at Bucky again, eyes pleading in one moment and then flicking to the two new men treading mud into your home. 
“Your shoes, take them off.” Bucky helped them arrange their boots neatly by the door while you pottered around the fireplace. “This is her nest,” he whispered, making sure the doormat was straight and the little curtain was neat over the window. “It’s important to omegas, to her,” you turned shooting a glare over your shoulder, “to us-that it’s kept just right and she hates shoes inside.”
In the small living space a camping stove had been set up with a kettle, a portable fridge, and an assortment of mugs, both Avengers field regulation and novelty, which were set neatly on the mantel. You chose four, and placed them next to the kettle while it steamed happily away. 
Bucky spoke softly to you in a mixture of English and Romanian, but you didn’t come any closer to the strange men. You’d seen them before, on the television and in Bucky’s notebooks, but now that they were here, so large and imposing, you couldn’t bring yourself to even look over. 
“This is Cățeluș, well, that’s not her real name but we couldn’t find that. She - uh -” you watched Bucky struggle for words and lay a hand on his cheek, smiling warmly up at him. Your Winter, your James. “-I don’t want to say the word, it upsets her, but she was with me when I was - him - part of the experiments.” 
You poured the tea quietly, watching the steam rise into the darts of sun making their way through the broken knots of wood in the wall, and you took a deep breath. With shaking hands you gave the first man, Sam, a cup. He had a gentle face, a wide smile and he didn’t look at you with pity, as you feared, only interest. 
The second man held his breath as you approached, keeping his hands as close to his body as possible until you pushed the cup towards him. Steve. Bucky had lots of pictures of Steve in his notebooks and had told you more stories than you could remember, but he didn’t look sickly, he looked too big for the space, his shoulders drawn in, slouched. You appreciated that he was trying not to look scary, even though your every nerve was on edge.  
Bucky took the proffered mug from your hands with a kiss to your forehead and you sighed, allowing him to steer you to the only arm chair in the room and then passing you your own tea. 
“We got out, eventually and - I brought her here.” Bucky sat on the rolled arm of the chair, draping his own arm over your shoulders and fitting you into his side. 
Steve and Sam could only stare. 
“Why didn’t you bring her to the compound? She can stay -” Steve turned to you, “you can stay, either in Bucky’s room or you can have your own room if you’d prefer.” 
It took you a moment to process the offer, but eventually you shook your head, turning into Bucky’s side. 
“It was awful - in there, with them she, we both -” Bucky struggled for the words, the desire to protect you rising inside 
“It’s okay,” Sam said carefully, “I know the transition’s been rough on you, Bucky, I can’t imagine what it’s been like for her, how you even got her out here. But there’s nothing to be afraid of, maybe she’ll come with you? If you suggest it?” 
Sam kept looking at you, his eyes soft and encouraging but you turned away, pressed your face into Bucky’s ribs where his scent had soaked through his shirt, reassuring and primal, chanting in your head Alpha, safe, Alpha, safe. You did miss him, when he was gone, but how could he keep you safe in that place. 
You’d seen it, once or twice, through the trees when you took a walk, looking for whatever you could find in the forest. Guards left lots of things behind, bottles and coats and jackets, useful things. You collected them all, skirting around the edge of that horrid white building and hoping to never see the terrifying things that flew out of it, men in suits and robots, it was too much. 
“You can bring whatever you like with you, and maybe Nat and Wanda could help you with some new things, if you liked?” Steve followed Sam’s lead, keeping his voice steady and low. 
“James - my nest.” You mumbled, gripping his henley in your fist. 
He dropped a hand onto your head, “we can do whatever you like, baby. You want to stay here, we can stay, you want to go to the compound, we’ll go.” 
You felt Bucky’s heart rate pick up, its beat hammering and your anxiety grew too, your breathing more ragged, you turned even further into him, practically climbing into his lap, the henley you’d taken from him riding up. 
Instantly you knew it was a mistake, the scars of your time in Hydra were still visible, raised on your skin, yellowing patches of healing bruises and calloused skin from repeated bouts in the chair. 
Sam and Steve could barely conceal their inhale of breath. 
“Bucky, did you get her checked by a doctor or…” Sam trailed off, Bucky looked angry again, his arms fully surrounding you. 
“And what would I have said, Sam?” He growled, “I know she looks like she’s been kept in a cage and beaten but please don’t arrest me, I promise it wasn’t me? Her social security number? Sorry, I don’t have it, we don’t even know her name. I did the best I could.” His anger tipped over into a resigned sadness. Bucky cupped your face in one hand and forced you to look up at him, “I did the best I could, baby, I really did.” 
You nodded and his grip loosened so you could nuzzle into his chest again, your own tears running down your cheeks at the memory of those early days. Bucky’s shaking hands patching up your burns and cuts, the whisky you’d slugged before he pulled out a stray bullet from your arm and stitched it with floss. Every touch had been gentle though, every time he’d changed your bandages or cleaned you up, it had been gentle. It had been everything he could give you. 
“We didn’t mean it like that, Buck,but we could help, get her checked over and then you can come back here.” Sam’s voice was plaintive, deliberately soothing and it made Bucky’s blood boil. 
“I’m not taking her to that place.” He bit back, there was no mistaking the way he curled you into his body, tucking your head under his chin and wrapping his arms around your back. 
It didn’t hurt anymore, to be touched, but then it’d never hurt to be touched by James. His hands had always been careful with you, his strength used only for protection and it was for that reason that you lay your trust in him completely. 
“Don’t make me go, Alpha.” You whispered, your lips brushing the base of his neck where you’d marked him, right over his scent gland, your teeth marks an eternal brand. You nuzzled into him, your chest rumbling again. 
“I won’t make you go,” he looked back at Steve and Sam, the finality of his decision sat heavily in the air. 
“Can we at least bring some medical things here? Would you let Sam check you out?” Steve offered, he was increasingly concerned by the way Bucky had retreated into the chair, his own legs now curled up on the overstuffed cushion.
Above you, James nodded once, “just you and Sam, don’t tell anyone else. I’ll know if you tell anyone else.” The panic edging Bucky’s voice had Steve raising his hands in surrender. 
“I promise, Buck, just Sam and I.”
Sam and Steve left the cabin at dusk while you and Bucky watched from the deck. As soon as they were beyond the trees he pulled you even tighter against his chest, his heat warm. 
“Everything is going to be okay, baby, I promise, no one’s going to ever, ever, hurt you again.” His hands slid down your arms and across the slow swell of your belly. “But we should consider their offer, make sure we’re making a choice that’s good for you and me, as well as them.” His palm pushed up under your shirt, splayed on your tight skin and, deep inside, your pup pushed back. 
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bluecollarmcandtf · 26 days
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Bros, Bros, and more Bros
I made a mistake! My cousin told me about this fortune teller that cast a spell on him. Apparently, it made every man he ran into act like a fatherly figure in his life. I had an awesome dad, but I've always struggled to connect with guys my own age, so I tracked the witch down and begged her for another spell. She eventually came around, but the effects aren't quite what I expected...
"Sup, dude! Wanna skip and hit the park?"
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My eyes stretch wide to take in the sight of my own father, carrying a skateboard over his shoulder like it's the most natural thing in the world. He's been acting like this for weeks; not washing his hair, barely even washing himself, and constantly wearing that stupid cap backwards. He's lost any sense of his old self!
"Dad, it's Monday. You've got work," I reply, not wanting him to piss his boss off.
"Work blows!" he sneers, "I hate wearing this stupid tie, and I'd rather hang with you, bro."
I sigh as my father tosses down his skateboard and extends a palm, pulling me into a cliche bro-hug where he claps me on the back. My dad used to give out hugs all the time, but it was never as performatively masculine as this. All this stupid curse did was turn my father into an 40 year-old frat guy.
"You're going to work," I say firmly, "And I'm going to school. We can play videogames or whatever when we get back later tonight."
"Bruuhhh!" he groans, "Fine. I'll catch you later, dude. There's pizza in the fridge if you want."
The idea of leftover pizza this early in the morning makes my stomach ache. My dad used to cook an entire meal every morning, complete with fruits and veggies. Now, he'd probably settle for a bag of chips.
The man leaves the skateboard behind and grabs his suit jacket, pulling it on with an attitude. He gives me one last head nod before bounding out of the house, hair flowing behind him. I imagine it's only a matter of time before my dad's boss is fed up with his new persona. I can't imagine a bro-personality is very conducive to getting work done in a corporate office. Hopefully, he'll mature soon.
With an empty stomach, I saunter out of the kitchen and walk to campus. I'm grateful to live close to the university. Hopefully, my curse won't get in the way of my day.
"Hey, how's my favorite student doing, bro?"
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My professor yells and breaks into a goofy grin at the sight of me. I close the door to his office to give us a bit of privacy. Mr. Carlton only acts like this when I stop by, so his colleagues would be shocked to see such a drastic shift in his usually stoic personality.
"I'm good, Professor Carlton," I say, "I wanted to check on my grade for this course."
"No need to be so formal, dude," he smiles, clapping me on the back, "You can call me Daniel. Want a drink? I have some bourbon."
"I'm good. I really just-"
"Relax, bro," my professor says, shoving a glass in my hand, filled to the brim, "This is good stuff. I save it for special occasions, so sit down! Kick your shoes off! I don't care!"
The department head pulls off his suit jacket and leans back in his chair, propping his feet up on the desk and stretching his arms behind his head. I'd never seen the man act so unprofessional, but ever since the curse, he's started treating me like his closest buddy.
"Professor...sorry...Daniel, I just wanted to hear about my grade."
"I got you, bro!" he laughed, "Just keep doing what you're doing. I don't care if you don't show up!"
My shoulders relax. That's what I want to hear. It's not that I don't want to attend his lectures, but the last time I did, he started acting like a jackass in front of the entire class of 50 students. His presentation went from ancient monetary systems to ratings of best celebrity nip-slips. It's a miracle he didn't get fired!
"Ok, good. I have to go," I say checking the time, "And you have class in 20 minutes."
"Shit, I know," he groans and gulps down the rest of his booze, "Another day another dollar, I guess. When can we hang out, man? Tonight? I really wanna hang out with my guy."
"Nope, sorry!" I tense up and grab my backpack, "Good luck with the lecture."
"Right on, bro," he holds a sad hand up for a high-five, swallowing the rest of the drink he poured me.
I give my tipsy professor a halfhearted clap and scamper out of the office as quickly as possible. These interactions make me cringe so hard when a grown man acts young and cool for me. It's especially awkward to see such a respected individual sink to such a low level. What would we even do if he came over?
"Dude! Long time, no see!"
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In the hallway, I run into the football coach and two of the team's best players. The three of them look like they're getting back from an early morning conditioning session. They're all sweaty, panting, and happy to see me.
"Oh, hey," I muster, feeling increasingly less cool around these jocks. I hate to admit it, but guys like this wouldn't give me the time of day before I got that bro-curse.
"Hey, man! You gotta come hang out with us," the brunette grins, "The team's still changing, but you're cool to come in the locker room!"
"Yeah, bro!" the blonde quickly adds, "We'd love to have you in there!"
My heart pounds faster and faster. This is why I've never been able to connect with guys my own age. I find myself boning up every time they look in my direction. Now that these two athletes are practically begging for me to join them in the locker room, my erection is bursting out of my pants!
"We can take care of that too," the coach suddenly mentions, pointing a finger at the tent I'm trying to hide in my crotch.
"What?" I stammer with a dry mouth.
"What do you think bros are for?" the coach continues, clapping his two players on the back, "My boys would be happy to help a brother out!"
The two football jocks nod. It feels like I'm dreaming, and I don't know what to do. Before I can decide, the two athletes have approached and grabbed me by the arm. Their grips are firm, and I realize I'm being escorted into the changing room whether I like it or not!
"Who's this guy?"
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My stomach drops as I enter the locker room, finding an array of footballers in different states of dress. They all glance up at me with confusion, like I'm not supposed to be there, but then their faces soften. The gypsy's magic sets in, and they don't see a stranger when they look at me. They see their bro.
"Oh, it's you, bro," the same jock says, letting down his guard. I think I recognize him as the quarterback.
"Oh yeah, dude!" the massive lineman stands up and pulls me into a sweaty hug, "Glad you're here!"
"That's right guys," the brunette at my side says, still holding me tightly in place, "Our best bud is here, and he needs some attention."
My face flushes as I suddenly remember the problem poking out between my legs. By now, the entire football team is staring at it. If anything, it's only become more rock solid.
"Let me take care of that for you, bro," the quarterback says, grabbing my crotch without any hesitation.
"Move, I'll do it," says the lineman, pushing the quarterback out of the way and getting on his knees. He opens his mouth wide and-
"Shut up, all of you!" the coach suddenly roars! The locker room falls silent: these athletes are really well trained. "If we're gonna do this, we're gonna do it right. Line up!"
"Yes, coach!"
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The jocks back up and form a line in front of the lockers. Even the blonde and brunette that were holding me, release and join the rest of the team on the bench. Suddenly, I'm standing with the coach, looking at an entire team of well-disciplined football players. My throbbing erection is very apparent and pointing right at the small crowd of muscular men.
"Our bro deserves to be kept satisfied, right?" the coach slams a hand on my back.
"Yes, coach!" they shout back.
"So we don't just want to get our boy off once and move on, now do we?" he punctuates his question with another slap, this time lower on my back.
"No, coach!"
"We're going to set up a system for us to get him off whenever he needs it!"
"Yes, coach!"
The broad-shouldered and balding coach gives me one more slap, clapping me on the ass this time while staring into my eyes. "I'm gonna have my boys take turns sucking you off, bro. You just tell me which one's your favorite. Sound cool?"
I manage to mumble my assent, and with one look from coach, the quarterback is on his knees crawling towards my crotch. He pulls down my pants and unleashes my aching hard-on. "I got you, bro," he says, before putting his mouth to work.
After a few minutes, the coach pulls the jock off my pole and orders the linebacker to get busy. Before long, it's the brunette's turn, then the blonde's. I cycle through all 30 of the team's exceptional players, and I've gotten off more than just a few times. It's impossible to choose a favorite.
At the end of it all, the coach pushes the last player aside and says, "My turn, bro," before opening his mouth as wide as he can.
The entire football team watches as I spend the next 15 minutes just filling their coach's eager throat. When I'm finally done, I feel completely spent. I swap numbers with each jock and am repeatedly promised that they will be available whenever I call, but it isn't enough. They want to hang out with me now. They want to go out and party. I find it too difficult to say 'no' to a group of 30 eager athletes, so I let them sweep me up and take me to the nearest bar.
Needless to say, we end up causing a bit too rowdy of a scene.
"I got a complaint about a bunch of college idiots causing a ruckus. Would that be you?"
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The officer was all business when he first walked in the bar. My football bros were dancing and yelling, barely even paying attention to the policeman scowling at the wild scene in front of him. He looked pissed, and his glare only softened when it found me.
"Woah, didn't know you were here, man," the cop says, cracking a slight grin on his hardened face.
"Well, I am!" I cry, feeling the effects of all the drinks my bros had been buying for me, "You should forget about work and party with us!"
"You got it, dude! Screw this badge!" the officer yells, pulling me into a tight embrace. I guess the bro-curse even works on law-enforcement!
Just like that, I'm dancing with a policeman in the middle of the dance floor. He doesn't have any moves, but he loosens up after we get some beer down his throat. The football team loves watching the cop party right alongside them. Apparently, this guy has broken up many of their parties in the past.
"Drink! Drink! Drink!"
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The officer gulps down his seventh beer and slams the glass on the floor. It breaks, but the shattering is largely drowned out by the music. His onlookers go wild, but I can see the intoxication on his face. Beer is plastered around his mouth and dripping down his neck to soak into his uniform. I doubt this man has ever been this drunk in uniform before.
He stumbles over and throws a muscled arm over my shoulder, "Come here, bro. Let's do some shots or something!"
"I think it might be time to call it a night, officer," I yell in his ear.
"Oh, screw that!" he whines, "And don't call me officer! It's so formal!"
"Ok, what should I call you?"
"I dunno..." he mutters, "Buck! Call me Buck. That's what my wife calls me."
I roll my eyes at the mention of his wife. Of course this guy is taken. He's a complete stud of man. I've always liked a guy in uniform.
"How'd you like to come home with me tonight, Buck?" I ask sheepishly.
He lights up, "Bro, I thought you'd never ask!"
The cop grabs my arm with a wicked grin and stomps his way towards the door, dragging me along like I'm the prize he won at a fair. The players on the football team all stare at him with envy, mad that he's stealing their new best friend away for the night. I could see how badly each one of the jocks wished they were the one having a sleepover with me tonight.
"Hop in, I'll drive," officer Buck slurs his words and gestures to the police cruiser with his free hand.
"I think I'll handle the driving, if that's alright," I say, "Just hand over the keys."
"Anything for you, bro."
"Looks like someone got lucky!"
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"Oh my God. Dad you're still up?"
"Bro, you said you'd play videogames tonight and then you never showed! What was I supposed to do?" he retorts, unbothered by the late hour or the cop hanging on my arm.
"You have to go to work in 4 hours!" I scream, "And you haven't even changed out of today's work clothes! What are you thinking?"
"Chill, bro," my dad says, turning to the drunk policeman holding my hand, "Take him to the bedroom and show him a good time. I'm sure you were going to, but the dude could use some extra help relaxing tonight."
The sound of my own father encouraging the man I brought home to 'show me a good time' makes me question everything again. My dad just witnessed his son bringing home a cop that's the same age as him. He doesn't even care! I want to tell him to grow up and be the man I used to know, but Buck is already jerking on my arm.
"Let's go, bro," he mumbles lowly, using his strong arms to drag me into the bedroom.
"Enjoy your new cop friend, bro!" my father calls and I hear the sounds of his videogames start back up.
I barely have time to worry about any of it. Has this curse gone too far? Will my dad make it to work tomorrow? Does Buck have a wife I need to worry about!?
It all goes away when I'm thrown on the bed. The intoxicated officer flips the lights down low, and stumbles in front of me. He may be drunk, but he is certainly not a disappointment. The cop stares down at me as he rips his state-issued hat off and unbuttons his dark uniform shirt, all the while moving his hips to the beat of gunfire from dad's videogame in the living room.
With his hairy chest exposed, he crawls on top of me and whispers in my ear, "Where do you want me to start? Us bros gotta look out for each other, don't we?"
385 notes · View notes
xxoxobree · 10 months
Text
The Boy Is Mine
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Miles Morales x Black Fem Spider-person Reader v Gwen Stacy.
Summary: He saved you and She didn’t want to and maybe she was right because the boy is now yours.
WARNINGS: Fighting, bad words, I think that’s it.
A/n: I was tied!!! Of seeing Miles cheat with Gwen so I took matters into my own hands. This is probably one of the best stories I’ve ever written too so don’t skip. I had so much fun writing this.
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For the past 2 years, you've been the one and only Spider-woman. Everyone knows the story by now, bitten by a radioactive spider, and now you spend your time protecting the city. Everything was going great. Or that's what you wanted to believe as you fought Wilson Fisk, a person who is supposed to be behind bars. This Wilson was different - bigger, stronger, he was giving you a run for your money.
"What have they been feeding you at the Raft, Willie?" You quipped as you dodged a punch. "Haha, missed me," you said, landing a punch combo to his jaw.
"You stupid spiders are always in the way," he said, managing to catch you off guard, knocking you back. This fight is definitely gonna take a while.
"Who are you anyway, where's Spider-Man?" Fisk asked, walking menacingly toward you as you lay on the floor to catch a breath.
"I don't get paid enough for this," you said, getting up, squaring up with the large man.
Spider-Man, what are you talking about, Fisk?" You asked the man leaping backwards, dodging all of his hits.
"Enough of this talk, this ends now," Fisk said, running toward you. You charged back, your fist balled, about to strike, but he dodged and caught you by your throat.
"Another spider under my belt," Fisk said, laughing as he squeezed your throat. Gasping for air, you tried your best to break free from his grip, but your vision began to fade out. Your strength left you, and your eyes began to close. All you wanted to do was sleep, but you blinked your eyes again. Maybe you were hallucinating from the lack of oxygen, but a portal with glowing lights appeared, and two other spider personas flew forward, knocking Fisk out. You dropped to the floor, gasping for air, but still fainted in the process.
You probably weren't out for long, but you heard faint voices, a female and a male.
"What do we do, Gwen? We can't just leave her here."
"Miles, what are we supposed to do? We can't take her back to HQ."
You were too weak to actually open your eyes to see who was talking. Too weak to stop them from kidnapping you and taking you to wherever HQ was. You tried to let out a small groan, but it was useless.
"That's exactly what we need to do, Gwen. She needs medical care."
"Ughhh.... Fine, you grab her."
You heard footsteps move towards you, and your body being lifted before you succumbed to the darkness around you again.
✨HQ✨
Your bloodshot eyes shot open as you sat up, feeling around for your mask that wasn't on your face. You heard the fast-paced beeping of a heart monitor, letting you know your heart rate was up as you ripped all the pads off of you, standing ready to leave the room before two people came walking inside. You immediately got in defense mode as you studied them - an older man in a blue suit with a spider on the front, and a younger boy about your age in a black suit, also with a spider on the front.
"Where the fuck am I, and who are you?" you said, pointing.
"Welcome to HQ, Spiderwoman. I'm Spider-Man, and he's Spider-Man. Glad you survived. Miles, I'll leave you to it," the older man in the blue suit said, walking away.
Miles walked closer to you, setting off your spider senses. You closed one of your eyes, moving your head to the side, resting your hand on your head. "Don't come any closer," you said.
You're probably not used to that, but you're like me, it does that sometimes. I'm Miles.
"Yeah, I got that from earlier," you said, flopping back on the hospital cot, still very much in pain.
Miles wasn't in the room when they took off your mask, so this was the first time he saw your face. He scanned every detail of your face, taking in the way your plump lips formed into a natural pout, or maybe that was just because you were in pain. The way your brown eyes sparkled under the bright white light, he couldn't help but be captivated by your gaze. He loved your braids and the way your pink beads rattled every time you moved.
Miles felt something stir in the pit of his stomach the longer he looked at you. Maybe it was just gas from the spicy food he ate earlier, he thought, in denial of the growing attraction he felt for a stranger.
"Well, aren't you gonna tell me your name?" Miles finally mustered the courage to ask.
You turned to face him, the pain momentarily forgotten as you observed his silly smirk. You weren't usually the friendliest person, but there was something about Miles that felt different, something that made you want to open up.
"I'm Y/n," you replied, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.
Nice to meet you Y/n," Miles said, offering his hand. You looked at it. "I'd shake your hand, but I'm in too much pain right now," you said, causing both of you to laugh. There it was, that fluttering feeling in the pit of Miles' stomach again as he watched a beautiful smile grace your face.
"So, what is this place and why am I here?" you asked Miles, curiosity shining in your eyes. "This is the Spider Society. We brought you here because you were in bad shape from fighting Fisk," Miles explained. You coughed a bit. "Yup, he whooped my ass," you said, making both you and Miles burst into laughter again.
Unbeknownst to the two of you, Gwen stood outside the door, her eyes fixed on the scene unfolding inside. With each word you said to Miles, with each chuckle you elicited from him, the flames of jealousy ignited within her. Unable to bear it any longer, she burst into the room, startling both you and Miles.
"What the fuck? You didn't even have to do all that, shawty," You exclaimed. Miles stood up, a look of surprise on his face. "Gwen, this is Y/n, Spider-woman, the one we helped," he explained, pointing toward you.
"Oh, hi. I'm glad you're okay," Gwen said, her words laced with a hint of insincerity.
This your girl Miles ?" You asked.
"No, no." They both said in unison dragging their o's. It was obvious to you that there was more to the story by the way she busted into the room but that was none of your business.
"Well, it was nice to meet you, Y/n. We should get going," Gwen said, gently tugging Miles towards the door.
Before leaving, Miles tossed you a watch that you effortlessly caught. "Maybe we can see each other again," he said, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. You smiled, watching him walk away.
"Hmmm," you hummed, examining the watch before clasping it onto your wrist. "Maybe we will, Spider-Man."
As Gwen and Miles made their way through the headquarters, Miles couldn't ignore Gwen's evident distress. He studied her face and body language.He called out to her, "Gwen?"
Getting no response, Miles tried a sing-songy voice, calling her name once more. "What, Miles?" she replied, her voice tinged with bitterness.
"I know you're upset. Do you want to talk or not?" Miles asked, genuinely wanting to understand what was bothering her.
"Why don't you go talk to Y/n?"
"Gwen, are you serious? I barely know her, but she's a cool girl," Miles defended, trying to reassure her.
"Oh, she's cool now?" Gwen's tone dripped with sarcasm and doubt.
Miles gently reached for Gwen's hand, stopping her in her tracks, making her face him directly. "Look, Gwen, you don't have to worry about her, okay?" he said softly.
Gwen's expression softened, and she nodded, a flicker of trust returning to her eyes. "Alright, Miles. She said giving him a small punch to the shoulder.
✨The Mission✨
You were back in your dimension 2 days post fight with Fisk feeling good as new. You were in bed, examining the watch Miles gave you, when a hologram of a woman appeared, making you scream.
"Oh hey there new recruit, I'm Lyla," she said, waving.
"Hi... Lyla," you said slowly, waving back.
"Sorry to scare you, but the boss needs you at HQ, your first mission... Yayyyy, so suit up," she said before disappearing.
"Uh, okay," you said, slipping into your skintight suit and mask, slapping on your watch, struggling to find out how to get it to work because no one gave you a tutorial. But you managed using your genius brain and stepped through the portal, gracefully landing in a dark room with monitors.
"Great, you're here......Miles!" the man you were familiar with but never got his name called out.
From the shadows, Miles emerged with a smile on his face. "Good to see you again, Mamita," he said.
"Oh, we're using pet names now?" you said, matching his flirty energy.
"That's enough," Miguel said as he stood before you two. "Anomaly in Earth 746, catch it."
"Anomaly?" you questioned.
"I'll tell you all about it later," Miles said, grabbing your hand, opening a portal, and pulling you through.
You dusted off your hands. The mission went well, a little too well, especially for a Goblin mission.
"You're pretty good, Miles."
"You too, Mamita. Gotta say, I doubted you a little after the Fisk fight," he teased.
"Oh, whatever," you said, rolling your eyes, chuckling a bit.
You moved closer to Miles, mere inches between you two, as you ran your fingers along his jawline.
Miles' breath hitched as you touched him, his hazel eyes expressing the tension between you two. There was no denying that Miles was handsome, and you were eager to learn more about him.
"So what dimension are you from, Papa?" you asked playfully, a flirtatious smile gracing your lips.
"1610. Maybe we could go there?" Miles responded, his voice filled with anticipation.
"Take a girl on a date first, Miles," you laughed, teasing him gently.
"No, I didn't mean it like that. I..." Miles stammered, trying to explain himself.
"I would love to see your dimension, Miles," you interrupted, cutting him off.
And so, Miles took you to his dimension.
"This is Brooklyn." Miles said as you two stood atop the Williamsburg Bank building, you marveled at the city below. It was similar to your own home, yet distinctly different. Miles watched in awe as your eyes sparkled at the city, feeling a flutter in his stomach.
"It's beautiful, Miles," you whispered, taking a seat to soak in the view.
He walked forward and sat beside you, his face beaming with joy. You turned towards him, a warm smile on your lips.
"So, what's your story, big head?" you asked, playfully leaning on him.
"My story?" Miles responded, a hint of surprise in his voice.
"You're Spider-Man, Miles. What's your origin?" you asked , curious him.
"You know, regular Spider-Man stuff. I gained my powers and now I fight bad guys," Miles answered, a humble tone in his voice.
"That's not what I meant," you said, giving him a small shove. "What's the real story? I was bitten by a radioactive spider too, two years ago on a field trip to Oscorp. Your world doesn't seem to have Oscorp." You sighed, frustration and sadness mixing in your voice. "I got these crazy powers that I didn't know what to do with, so I decided to keep them a secret and pretend that I was a regular kid."
The weight of your words hung heavy in the air as you choked up, memories flooding back. Miles noticed your distress and perked up. "It's okay, you don't have to share if you don't want to," he said, trying to comfort you.
But something compelled you to open up, to let go of the burden you had been carrying alone for so long. You rested your hand gently on top of his. "I pretended to be some regular kid, and that led to me losing my mom. And from then on, I decided to help everyone else," you finished.
Miles's heart stung as he listened to your story. "I lost someone close to me too, my uncle Aaron. He was shot saving me," he shared, the pain evident in his voice.
A sense of understanding and connection washed over you both. You leaned your head on his shoulder. "See, that's your story, Papa," you said softly, appreciating the bond that formed between you. "You know, Miles, it's so nice to have someone to talk about this stuff with now," you added, gazing at the sun setting on the horizon.
That moment solidified your blooming relationship with Miles. Whenever you had free time, you would pop into his dimension, and vice versa. Now, in your suit, you found yourself in dimension 1610, patiently waiting for Miles to catch up as you swung through the bustling city.
"Keep up, Miles," you teased, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you effortlessly jumped from building to building, landing with grace. The two of you were headed back to his house, where Jeff and Rio, his parents, adored you and had grown fond to your presence after all the time you spent with Miles.
They couldn't wrap their head around the whole different dimension thing and just assumed Miles' imagination had run wild. You two walked through his front door.
"Hey Mama Rio," you greeted Miles' mom.
"Hey Mija."
"Hey Mom," Miles said, hugging his mom before the two of you walked into his room. You two were too caught up in conversation to notice a guest. Gwen. She cleared her throat, making you two snap your attention towards her.
"Gwen, hey," Miles said nervously. "What are you - what are you doing here?"
"I came to see you because I barely see you anymore, but now I know why," Gwen answered.
You snickered a bit, knowing you essentially snatched Miles from Gwen.
"Oh, that's funny?" Gwen asked.
You threw your hands up in surrender, not wanting to get into it with her.
"We were about to watch a movie, order some pizza. You can stay if you want," Miles offered to pacify Gwen, but he was hoping she'd turn it down. He cherished his alone time with you.
"No, it's fine, Miles. I'll leave," Gwen said with a hint of frustration in her voice.
"Uh, okay. Bye," Miles said
"Bye, Gwendolyn," you added, unable to hide the small smirk on your face.
Gwen turned to you and asked, "You know what, can we talk outside, Y/n?"
Rolling your eyes, you agreed, "Sure, why not?" You grabbed Miles' hand, signaling for him to come along.
"Alone," Gwen insisted, her tone unwavering.
"Okay... I'll be back, papa," you said to Miles, giving him a smile and a pat on the cheek.
As you followed Gwen out of the window and onto the roof, you could feel the tension building up. Once you reached a secluded corner, she turned to face you, arms folded.
"What is your problem?" she asked, her voice filled with accusation.
"Girl, what are you talking about?" you answered defensively.
"Miles," she replied, her tone laced with frustration.
"What about him? He's fine, great even," you said, walking closer to her.
"Don't play dumb, Y/n," Gwen snapped.
"What are you getting at, Gwen?" you said, your tone becoming pointed as you grew tired of the conversation.
"He's mine, Y/n, and you're trying to steal him away," her voice filled with possessiveness.
You couldn't help but burst into laughter. "Yours?" you asked, shaking your head. "Gwen, you lost him the day you two saved me."
As the words left your mouth, the truth hung heavy in the air. Gwen had been holding onto her feelings for Miles while pretending everything was okay. But deep down, she knew that the connection between you and Miles was undeniable.
What you didn't see coming was a slap across your face from Gwen, not thinking she was bold enough to do it. The sting of her actions lingered in the air as shock resonated through your entire being. And what Gwen didn't see was Miles, camouflaged and watching you two from a distance. He didn't hear anything you two talked about, but he sure did see the slap.
As the pain subsided, you didn't retaliate. Deep down, you and Gwen both knew that you had won this battle, that Miles was now dedicated to you.
"Why would you do that, Gwen?" You heard a voice behind you, and turned to see Miles standing there, his eyes filled with disappointment.
You watched in satisfaction as Gwen's eyes widened, realizing that she had not only hurt you but also jeopardized her chances with Miles. She had unknowingly made it even easier for you to snatch his affection away from her.
"Miles, I..." Gwen stammered, unable to find the right words to justify her actions.
"Why would you hit her?" Miles asked, his voice filled with a mix of anger and hurt.
"You didn't hear what she said, Miles. She's trying to tear us apart. You were mine," Gwen spewed out, desperately clinging to her fading hopes.
"Yours? I'm not some object, Gwen," Miles retorted, his voice laced with disappointment. "Is that why you brought her outside? To hit her?"
A heavy silence hung in the air as Gwen struggled to find an explanation, her words failing her. The truth had been laid bare, and Miles saw her for who she truly was.
"Save it, Gwen," Miles said, his voice firm. "You just showed me the type of person you really are. I've been pining after you for months, and you always brushed me off. But now, now I have someone who actually likes me back."
With those words, he took your hand, intertwining your fingers with his.
You looked at Gwen, a smug look on your face as you squeezed Miles' hand tighter.
"You don't mean that, Miles."Gwen said.
"Yes, I do," Miles turned to you. "She likes me back, and she's the most caring, sweetest, funniest person in this dimension and every other," Miles said, making you tear up a bit, your lip bottom poking out.
"You're so cute when you do that," Miles said.
Gwen watched as her heart slowly broke. She had played with Miles,but now she had lost the game. She wanted to look away, but she couldn't. She should be the one he said all those things to. The tears pricked her eyes.
"Y/n, will you be my girlfriend?" The words echoed in Gwen's head, the final blow that made her tears roll down her face.
"Of course, I will, papa," you said, jumping on Miles and giving him a tight hug before pulling back and giving him a big kiss, your first one in front of his former crush.
You and Miles turned to Gwen, watching as she continued to cry.
"You should go, Gwen," you said, your heart aching a bit for the girl, but not a lot.
Miles grabbed your hand as the two of you walked off toward the stairwell, leaving Gwen behind.
1K notes · View notes
enkas-illusion · 5 months
Text
A Good Daddy
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Fandom / Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen / Gojo Satoru x f!reader
Rating: NSFW/Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Genre/Theme: Established relationship/marriage; non-sorcery au
Content warning: fluff, light angst, smut, oral (f.receiving), piv sex, bondage, dom!gojo, sub!reader, brat taming, overstimulation, pregnancy kink, unprotected sex, explicit sexual content, language.
Summary: Husband!Gojo with a pregnancy kink. When he sees you babysitting your close friend’s baby and can’t get the idea of seeing you with a baby bump, carrying his child, out of his head.
Author's Note: Satoru would be such a great dad and you can’t convince me otherwise! The kids are sure to be his exact clones, trusting him with their life cause they know their daddy is just that great 🥹🥹🥹. Daddy Gojo has taken over my brain and is manspreading on my thoughts! As always, I hope you enjoy this one shot. Thank you for reading! 
~ Eren’s Birdie
Song Dedication: Married Life (from UP) by Michael Giacchino / Daddy’s Home by USHER (aka Gojo theme™)
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“Sup, how's it hanging? Long time no see,” you say coolly as you see your husband walking out of the kitchen towards you.
You have your knitting kit in hand, body nestling into the soft cushions of the sofa, belly feeling like it’s about to burst after the delicious dinner you just had. 
Satoru lifts your feet up before resting them on his lap as he sits on the opposite end of the sofa. He's massaging your feet with utmost care.
“Where do I even begin?! A lot has happened since we last saw each other about 10 minutes ago. I washed the dishes!” He sighs, raising his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner while his palm presses flat on the bottom of your foot to stretch your achilles tendon, melting the stiffness away, “And what about you? How have you been, stranger?”
You hold the half knitted lavender patch up to show it to him, “I am making a beanie for Hina. It's getting colder so I figured she'd have a cute little warm beanie to go on her cute little head.” 
Satoru crinkles his nose at this before confessing, “Cute. Do we need to babysit her anytime soon again? I miss the little devil.”
“‘Toru, I doubt Rin and Kento go out without their baby that often,” you let out a breathy laugh when he massages the top of your foot with a soothing firmness.
“Maybe we should make one of our own then I'll miss her less,” Satoru pouts, trying to test the waters carefully to see if it was the right chance to bring up the topic. Afterall, it's what he had been thinking about the entire week.
The baby in question was 8 months old Hina, your best friend's baby. The couple rarely went out ever since they had the baby – so the handful of times that Rin and her husband Kento needed a babysitter, you’d happily volunteered, not minding it ruining your Saturday night plans.
And although Satoru would pout at this each time, he secretly didn’t mind taking care of the toddler with you. It almost felt like a ‘trial’ run for when you’d have your own kids in the future – mini versions of you and him. And so he looked forward to babysitting little Hina as he got glimpses of the motherly side of you.
Your husband knew that you wanted to wait a while before you made the huge decision of bringing a child into this world and he was on the same page… until recently. He knew he was having a change of heart on the matter when his daydreams of seeing you with a baby bump started to spiral out of control over the last month.
What broke the camel’s back was an incident from a week ago – when he’d rushed out of the room to tell you he’d won a game of Counter-Strike against Suguru, you’d gently motioned him to be quiet, cradling the sleeping baby in your lap. He silently made his way to you when he saw the baby was clutching a strand of your hair in her sleep. Since you couldn’t move, he took it on himself to free your hair from the toddler’s strong grip. But just as he did that, Hina wrapped her tiny fingers around his thumb, holding it tightly in her sleep. When he looked up at you, you smiled at him with your loving eyes – it was when he’d decided that he wanted to impregnate you asap.
He had trouble falling asleep that night. You, on the other hand, were sleeping peacefully, after fulfilling your duty as the babysitter diligently. You’d wished Satoru goodnight right after handing Hina over to her parents, who’d returned from their date well into the night, leaving no opportunity for your husband to bring up the topic. 
With much difficulty when he did manage to fall asleep, he’d woken up sweating profusely at the wet dream he had where he came inside you instead of pulling out as per usual. He turned to his side trying his best to control his urges to recreate his dream as he slid his hand up under your tshirt to play with your soft nipples, making you stir in your sleep.
“Wifey… let’s make a baby,” he’d whispered, peppering your neck with soft kisses. You mumbled something incoherent as you turned to wrap your arm around his waist, still deep asleep. He sighed as he pulled his hand away, forcing himself to fall asleep, convincing himself that it was just his horny fantasies talking.
Oh how wrong he was! Here he was, a week later, baby fever running higher than ever. 
You look up from the knitting hooks, before giggling, “Yeah, right…”
“Love, I’m serious,” he mumbles, bringing your left leg up to his face to kiss your foot.
“‘Toru, why are you springing this on me so suddenly? You agreed we'd wait a while…” you sigh as you begin, sitting up as you pull your feet away from his hold.
“Yes but–”
“Satoru… we just got married. We need to get used to our married life first. We need to be with each other before we decide to bring a whole new being into this world,” you explain softly, telling him things he already knew.
“But technically, we've been together for almost 6 years now, I say we're beyond ready,” he protests.
“No, I doubt we're mature enough for the responsibility,” you retort.
“But imagine mini versions of us two running around the house,” he places his hands on your feet once again, pleading with a twinkle in his eyes akin to a kid begging for candy at a store.
“Please! My genes won't even fight, our baby will look like you,” you laugh.
“Then we can just make another one,” he says in a playful tone.
“Well… I have a feeling both of our babies will end up looking like you,” you roll your eyes at him.
“Then what about the next 2?” he says hopefully.
“Next 2? ONLY 2!” you scold him softly. He raises an eyebrow at you and you give him a calculated reasoning, “Just so that they have someone they share an unbreakable bond with and aren't lonely while growing up.”
“Exactly! I say the more the merrier!” he squeezes your feet in excitement.
“Satoru, I'm not a baby machine!” you slide your leg to his lap to nudge his thigh jokingly, “Besides, counting you I'd have 3 babies anyway.”
“Now you're just coming up with whatever excuses,” he snickers, slapping your foot away before shuffling to sit closer to you.
“Oh really?” you furrow your eyebrows as you sit up completely in front of him, sensing the conversation taking a serious turn. You place the knitting yarn and hook to the side on the coffee table.
“Yes really,” he kisses your temple to dissolve the wrinkle there. He always does that whenever you seem annoyed at him as he knows it never fails to make you giggle instantly. However, you simply fold your arms over your chest and give him a stern look.
“No… don’t do this. Talk to me Satoru, I’m serious…” you speak and he drops the playful act, nodding and signalling you to put your point across before he gets his chance to speak.
You sigh as you begin, “You’re the love of my life and I don't doubt for a second that you'd be an amazing father with time but I also believe you don't have the attention span or patience that taking care of a newborn requires, at least for now.”
“Are you being serious right now?” he folds his hands over his chest, sitting up straight.
The crinkle on your forehead fades as you try to find the best words to explain your point to your husband without seeming too harsh, “I'm sorry love, I'm not trying to be mean. I'm just saying… for example, when I was trying to get Hina to sleep, you were screaming at your xbox each time something happened. It made her wake up a few times before she finally fell asleep–”
“You should’ve told me, I would’ve tried to be quiet,” he pouts, slumping and leaning back on the sofa.
“‘Toru… I literally called your phone since I couldn’t yell at you but you were too busy with your game to notice.”
“You know I don't play everyday– okay, if it’s just that, I don’t see a problem. I can change that habit,” he says with a determined look on his face.
“Baby, I'm not trying to change you. But you have to realise that things change drastically when there’s a baby involved, whether you want them to or not,” you explain and he can tell you’re tired by the way your voice sounds. You bring your hand up to rub your temple, letting out a deep exhale.
He dips his head low, mumbling something along the lines of ‘but I'd be a good dad.’
“You tried to feed her chocolate saying she loved the taste! You're not supposed to feed them stuff like that till they're like… one! I don’t think you’re ready for such a huge responsibility just yet,” The tone of your voice is strict, a little louder than you’d like it to be and you already feel guilty at raising your voice at him.
He opens his mouth as if to say something but then shuts it back again. “What is it?” you urge him to speak.
“Nothing… it’s alright, I get it. You don't want me to be the father of your babies,” He mutters as he tries getting up. You grab his wrist to stop him from leaving, giving him a ‘you know that's not true’ look.
He sighs as he sits back down, “Okay maybe what you're saying is kinda true. I don't know much about babies besides the fact that they're like cute mini humans. But I can learn, you know? No one has a manual on how to be the best father but I know I will give it my 100%”
When he sees a faint smile return to your face, it encourages him to continue to convince you, “Maybe I might surprise you. Remember when you first thought I wasn't the type to take aftercare seriously but then you told me how surprised you were when I made you feel good during and after our first time?”
“Yeah,” you blush at him, rolling your eyes playfully, “You are good at that.”
“So let me show you baby… I’ll prove it to you, I'll be the best daddy,” He leans his weight on your body, trapping you between the cushions to kiss you. You wrap your arms around his neck, moaning into his mouth when his hands play with your breasts from over your t-shirt. 
When he dips his face down to your neck, sucking you where he knows will have you putty in his hand, you take a shaky breath, biting your lip at the sensation.
“Can’t wait to fill you up with my cum– gonna make your pretty belly swell,” he whispers as his head moves down, lifting up your t-shirt along with your bra to expose your chest before latching his mouth onto one of your hardened buds.
You bring your hands down to place them firmly on his chest as you push him away lightly, letting out a heavy sigh. Satoru stops as he moves back up to look into your eyes, eyebrows knitted.
You simply let out another sigh as you break eye contact to look to the side. He waits for you to speak but when the moment passes, he pulls away completely. You pull your t-shirt down and fix your bra quietly, actively avoiding his gaze.
“I'm going to bed, night,” he mumbles, getting up off the sofa to retire to the bedroom without waiting for your reply. He didn't kiss you good night, he almost never does that unless he's really upset. But why can't he understand where you're coming from?
Can't you understand where he’s coming from?
You close your eyes briefly as you slump onto the sofa. You rest one arm on your forehead as your head starts going into overthinking mode. However, your train of thought is broken before it can reach a destination when your phone vibrates in your pocket. You pull it out lazily as you open the text you’d just received from Rin.
Rin:
Look how cute this is! I never knew I had this in my phone!
<1 attachment>
You download the picture and your heart flutters when you see that it’s a photo of Satoru holding baby Hina in a loving embrace. It’s a picture taken on your wedding day, your husband’s crisp white shirt wrinkled by the way he’s holding the baby and smiling at her lovingly. She must’ve been barely 2 months old at the wedding. You can’t help but smile at the photo, your heart aching when you remember that the same man is sleeping in the other room, upset with you. You’re pulled out of your thoughts once again when your phone rings.
“Did you see the picture? Aren’t they the cutest? I was just telling Kento about how I wish you guys should have a baby soon. It’d make Hina a big sister,” your friend squeals. You laugh back at her but it’s due to the absurdity of her timing.
“Seriously, I’d love to see Satoru being a dad,” she adds when you don’t say anything.
You laugh again, “Right, that makes it the two of you.”
“What do you mean?” she asks.
“I mean that Satoru and I just had a small disagreement about this,” you press your hand to your temple, massaging it. 
Rin stays quiet for a moment before you hear her speak again, “Do you remember that day? He had taken off his suit coat, not because he was worried Hina would spoil it, but because he thought the fabric of his shirt was softer for her to rest her head on.”
You nod, not realising she can’t see you, before you reply with a quiet ‘hmm’.
“All I’m saying is that I know you fear him being too easy going, but Satoru is a serious guy, he knows when to take responsibility diligently,” your friend continues, reminding you of the things you already know and adore about your man. 
You almost tear up – you'd been overthinking this so much that you forgot to acknowledge Satoru for the man that he is. Of course he'd be a great dad!
Even if Rin hears you sniff, she doesn’t comment on it. Instead she asks, “Oh by the way, do you have her blue binky?”
“Huh?”
“It must be at your place. I can't find it here and Hina’s been raising hell cause it's one of her favourites,” Rin explains.
“Oh, just a min–” You look around the sofa, digging your hands into the creases and corners in hopes of finding it. 
“It's here!” you exclaim but your smile fades as you observe the tiny object in your hand, a realisation hitting you with the speed of lightning.
You had been projecting. Sure, having a baby was going to be hard but you were worried about being a bad mother more than Satoru being a bad father. Taking care of a growing life, who’s primarily dependent on you for everything, requires a lot of patience. Making sure your tiny human receives everything it deserves isn’t an easy task at all times. 
Yet, despite all of this, if there’s one thing you knew without a speck of doubt, it was that you wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else but the love of your life, Gojo Satoru. You're brought back to reality, breaking from your ruminations when you hear your friend’s voice calling your name once again.
“Sorry… hey– let me call you back?” you mumble.
“Sure, take care. Good night. See you tomorrow,” your friend speaks softly before hanging up. 
You drop your phone on the sofa as you get up to make your way to the bedroom. When you walk in, you find Satoru sleeping on his side, his back turned to you.
“Baby, are you asleep?” you speak softly. He doesn't respond but you know he's awake – he can never fall asleep when he's lying on his right side.
Shit, he’s really mad.
You quietly strip off your sweatpants and t-shirt, leaving you only in your bra and underwear before hopping on the bed to get closer to your husband.
“‘Toru, my love,” you coo softly as you kiss his cheek from behind. He turns to look at you, poker face on. You catch his eyes wandering down to your cleavage briefly but he doesn’t break his composure nonetheless.
You lean forward to press your chest against his, kissing him on the lips but he's annoyingly stiff. You sit back up as you pout at him.
“Please don't be mad at me baby,” you murmur as your fingers draw lazy circles over the expanse of his chest. Just as you move your hand down his torso, dangerously closer to his crotch, he grabs your wrist and flips your bodies so that you’re trapped under him.
Your giggles come to an abrupt halt and you bite your lip when you feel his hips press against you, fully aware of his evidently erect bulge.
“And why shouldn't I be mad at you?” He mocks, bringing his right hand up to your neck, his long fingers gripping the sides firmly.
“Because you love me?” You pout as you bat your eyelashes at him. He lets out a dry chuckle as his fingers choke you lightly.
“Not enough. Gotta try harder than that baby.”
“I'm sorry, ‘Toru… maybe you can forgive the mother of your future children,” you bring a hand up to caress his cheek.
“Hmm… should I?” He says, adding a bit more pressure. When you let out a quiet gasp, he dips his head down to kiss your parted lips hungrily. Your breathing gets heavier as his tongue explores your mouth, the sloppy wetness of your salivas mixing together making your pussy throb in excitement. Your hands move up to his hair, tugging at his blonde locks.
You whimper into his mouth when he bites your lower lip, pulling it out before releasing it with a soft plop. His grip on your throat releases as his hand slides underneath to unclasp your bra before hastily taking it off and tossing it aside.
You cup his face so that he’s looking into your eyes when you speak. His demeanour almost collapses at what you say next.
“Satoru… don’t pull out. Please fill me up. Don't stop till you put a baby in my belly,” you say timidly, the heat in your cheeks rising. He knows that you know just how much your words get to him and use it to your advantage often – usually he’d let you but this time, he doesn't want to let you have your way with him just yet. He wants to toy with you for a bit first.
“Maybe I've changed my mind?” he says with a smug look on his face. Your hands move down to his hips, hooking into the band of his sweatpants to push them down along with his underwear to his thighs, freeing his dick from its restraints. You lift your hips up to feel his hard on against your core. 
“I doubt,” you bite back, deceitful innocence in your eyes, “...but I could just go to sleep if you're not up for it.”
Your husband lets out a low chuckle as he grabs your jaw firmly, shaking his head at you, “You're not going anywhere until I'm done with you.”
In an attempt to rile him up further, you decide to mock him as you repeat his words in a condescending tone, “You're not going anywhere until– AHH!”
Big mistake.
Within a second Satoru flips you over till you're lying on your stomach, caging you in place with his knees dipping into the mattress on either side of you. He leans back to pull your underwear off and your heart picks up its pace when he grabs both your wrists to tie them behind your back with the flimsy fabric in a tight, makeshift knot.
He pushes your head into the pillow before landing a rough slap on your ass. He kneads the skin right after to soothe the stinging sensation.
“‘Toru–” you whimper. He ignores your pleading voice, simply tapping two fingers over your ass. You know what he wants and you obey immediately, lifting your hips up off the mattress. He folds your thighs further in till your back is arched with your ass up in the air, on display for him.
“You know what happens when you act bratty,” he kneads your asscheeks with both of his hands before clawing at the flesh. You push back in response and he laughs, “... or maybe you’re just a masochist.”
He lands another sharp spank, causing you to let out a tiny sob into the pillow. 
“Tell me what you want baby,” he teases. Your head turns to the side, hoping to catch a glimpse of his face behind you but your movement’s restricted, rendering your attempts useless.
If there’s one thing that Satoru claims to lose his mind over is the look in your eyes. He often calls your eyes his ‘weakness’, confessing he’d do anything you ask of him when you look at him with those fucked out eyes during sex. So for him to take away his weakness, typically with a blindfold, is when you know you’re really fucked.
“Didn’t you have a lot to say just now, love?” he mocks and you feel two fingers glide over your exposed cunt. You sigh at the sensation, letting out soft moans when his fingers begin to play with your folds.
“‘Toru– more,” you beg and he slides two fingers inside you. You hum in pleasure but huff when you’re reminded of the annoyance of being restricted each time you try to move your arms.
His movements are excruciatingly slow and it’s making you lose your mind and patience. You try to chase his touch, failing miserably at getting him to push his fingers deeper inside you. Satoru lets out a condescending chuckle at your poor attempt, “Are you really that desperate for me baby?”
You huff and you’re about to complain but it turns into broken moans when he starts pumping his fingers into you – the squelching sound of your pussy blending with drawn out cries of his name.
“Aww, does my wife like it when I do this?” he teases, curving his fingers inside to rub your walls, massaging a particular spot that has you begging him for more. Your thighs tremble and your pussy flutters around his fingers. “Guess she really does!” you hear him squeal before he pulls his fingers out completely, depriving you of all contact within a second.
“Satoru! S– stop being so mean!” you scold him with shallow breaths.
“Satoru! Stop being so mean!” he laughs as he mocks you, his fingers lightly grazing over your folds.
“Baby… pl–please, I’m sorry,” you cry, desperate for his touch.
“What for, baby?” he nudges further, his finger inching towards your clit.
“For teasing you– mmh,” you whimper when he rubs over the bundle of nerves.
“But that’s not why I’m mad…”
“‘Toru please–”
“Yes?” he sings.
“Fuc– I’m sorry… I was wrong, you’ll be a great dad– ahh,” you squeeze your eyes shut when he pinches your clit.
“That’s it,” he coos softly and you feel him come up behind you to kiss your shoulder, “was that so hard, baby?” he moves down to bite one of your tied wrists, moving further down to kiss the skin over your tailbone. You feel his fingers dig into your ass, pulling the flesh apart before diving his face down as he begins lapping at your cunt with a brutal pace. 
Your ass jerks up at the sudden touch and he continues his ministrations, alternating between sucking your clit and licking down till his tongue’s dipping inside your hole, wiggling it in. You twist your wrists, feeling the urge to grab at something, anything to steady yourself, yet it’s a futile attempt.
“Toru– too much,” your tears wetting the pillow as you feel your legs shake, threatening to collapse at any moment. Satoru is quick to sit up straight and you feel his shuffling movement behind you and see him toss the bundle of his clothes to the side before settling behind you once again, wedging his knees between yours to spread them wider. He taps his swollen tip over your folds, rubbing it back and forth to coat it with your wet slick. 
Your eyes roll to the back of your head when you feel him push the tip in, splitting your walls to adjust to his length. Once he’s completely buried inside you, he grips the side of your hips to support you, “Gonna fill you up so good baby.”
“Oh god– Sa–toru–” you howl when he pulls almost his entire length out before thrusting back into you. When his pace builds up, your body jerks slightly forward due to the force of his thrusts. His grip on your sides tightens as he pulls your hips back to slam you back against him.
The sound of your skin slapping fills the air along with both of your moans and groans. When you wiggle your wrists again in a desperate attempt, the knot loosens just enough for you to wring your wrist free. You bring one hand down to support your weight while the other moves behind you to claw at his forearm.
Satoru hisses at the sudden contact as he twists your wrist, holding it against your lower back while his other hand snakes around your throat, pulling you back till you’re sitting up flush against his chest. His other hand hooks around your waist as he starts bouncing your torso up and down on his dick at the same time he slams up into you.
You free the hand behind your back to pull his face closer while twisting your neck to look back, kissing him frantically, the wet trail of your tears smudging and transferring onto his skin. 
At a particularly rough thrust, Satoru’s knee slides slightly, making his balance stumble a bit. He lets out a breathy ‘fuck’ as he pulls out abruptly. 
“‘Toru?”
“Shhh–” he orders as he grips your waist tightly to pull you down till you both are lying down on your left side, his chest pressed against your back. He adjusts his position to hook your legs around his, opening you up wider for him as he brings his hand down to guide his dick back near your entrance to shove it in your swollen hole. 
His hand is shaky as he brings it to your clit to rub circles as he resumes thrusting into you ruthlessly once again. You cry his name out loud at how good this new motion hits and he bites your shoulder. You know he’s close by how erratic his thrusts get.
His other arm that is placed beneath you comes up to pinch your nipples, the added stimulation is too intense for you as you feel the muscles in your stomach tighten more than they already have. His nose buries in the crook of your neck as his lips bite your skin harshly. When he starts sucking on your favourite spot behind your ear, it causes goosebumps to rise all over your body.
You claw at his biceps as you turn your head back to look at him. He looks so fucked out and the fact that he gets this way only for you is what overwhelms your senses even further.
“Fuck–” his eyebrows knit as he leans down to kiss you. You feel your body twitch as the knot in your stomach gets tighter and tighter before letting go completely, causing your walls to pulse around his cock as you reach your orgasm.
Your moans are swallowed by his kisses and your grip on his locks loosens. When you break away from the kiss to catch your breath, you stare at his face and your eyebrows knit when you see the way a string of saliva connects your lips with his. Your chest heaves as you look into his eyes and you can tell he’s close. 
“Fuck– fuck– shi–” he grunts as he shuts his eyes, biting your shoulder once again and you feel him shoot his load inside, painting your walls. With broken thrusts, he slows down before stopping completely. He stays inside you for a few seconds before pulling out and shutting your legs close to keep his cum from spilling out.
You let out a tired laugh at this as you close your eyes, suddenly feeling hyper aware of everything that had just transpired, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. He readjusts your position so that you’re lying flat on your back, while he moves on top of you till his head is resting on the valley of your breasts. 
You open your eyes when you feel him tug at your wrist and you see him free it from your underwear that was still hanging limply there. As he holds the fabric up, you see that the elasticity of its band had been completely destroyed. You see red marks on your wrist where it was secured tightly. Satoru pulls your hand down to kiss your wrist, mumbling a ‘sorry’ and turning his head to kiss your other wrist.
You simply hum as you close your eyes again, calming your breathing and nerves. You feel him rub circles over your stomach before moving down to kiss you over your belly button. He brings both his hands up to intertwine his fingers with yours, peppering soft kisses all over your stomach.
“So… care to explain what changed your mind so quickly?” he asks.
You nod as you slowly open your eyes, gulping as you look down to meet his gaze. He moves up till he’s at your eye level, expectantly waiting for your answer, pinning your hands to the sides of your head.
You bite your lip nervously as you begin, “Sorry for insinuating that you’d be a bad father. It wasn’t my intention – I just got scared. I know you’ll be a great papa, I don’t doubt it for a second…” you look away to avoid his gaze, “... sorry for projecting my insecurities onto you– I’m just worried if I’d be able to be a good mom.”
“Baby… you’re so smart, yet sometimes you say the dumbest shit,” he chuckles softly as he brings one hand up to cup your face, “I’ve seen the way you take care of Hina… seeing you be so kind and loving is what made me go crazy about wanting our own babies. I want kids because I’d get to be a parent with you… so that you can be the mother of my children. Don’t go thinking about crazy hypotheticals like that!”
“Hmm, thank you baby. But taking care of Hina is easy when it’s only for a couple of hours at a time. Having our own baby will be like a full time job. I listen to the way Rin sometimes jokes that she doesn’t even have time alone with Kento cause she’s so tired oft–”
“Hey, hey… breathe,” Satoru interrupts you, resting his forehead against yours and your face relaxes as you close your eyes, taking deep breaths. “Even if all of that is true, you have me with you. I’m not leaving your side even for a second, my love. We’re in this together. Taking care of our baby and his pretty mommy is my responsibility and I’m gonna do it right.”
You feel the tears well up in your eyes as you look up at him and he smiles softly at you, “I love you.”
You tilt your head slightly to kiss him before speaking, “I love you so much Satoru. I wouldn’t want to have anyone else’s baby.”
“Oh thank goodness! Wanting a baby only with your husband is the ideal thing after all,” he laughs breathily and you slap his chest lightly. 
“Besides, I think we’ll be ready by the time I actually conceive. I’ve heard that it takes a few months for some couples, so who knows, right?” you think out loud.
“Please,” he snickers, “I’ve got the best swimmers, there’s no way in hell you won’t be pregnant after tonight…”
You giggle as you pull him down till he’s lying on top of you completely like your own personal weighted blanket.
He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, “... but just to be sure, let’s go another round… make it certain.”
“‘Toru! I’m tired” you laugh as you try to pull him off of you but he continues kissing down your neck. You close your eyes at how sensitive your skin feels against his kisses.
“Then just lie down. I’ll do all the work, princess,” your husband winks at you before circling his tongue around one of your already hardened nipples. 
You hum contentedly as you rest your head back down, melting into the pillow and accepting your fate – you were going to have to run on very little sleep tomorrow.
~fin~
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sunfl0werlevi · 1 year
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ʚ✩ɞ ratings: sfw, angst to fluff, comfort
ʚ✩ɞ cw/tw: jjk manga chapter 221 spoilers! slight angst and depressive tones. slight sexual tones hehe.
ʚ✩ɞ wc: 10.5k
ʚ✩ɞ tags: gojo satoru x fem!reader, husband gojo and wife reader are teachers
ʚ✩ɞ an: hi! yes, this is the first time ill be sharing one of the many works i have in my drafts (that im confidently not sharing ever). idek how it got this long. gojo being unsealed triggered something in me so i hope u enjoy. ( ˘ ³˘)♥
italicized texts are past dialogues! FEEDBACKS are highly appreciated.
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you stared at the golden band around your ring finger, toying it around. your bed seemed to stretch twice its size and grow colder every morning that you wake up.
every morning, you trace the outline of the dips on his side of the bed. you left it dismantled the way he did, since 19 days ago. you could still see a few strands of silver hair on his pillow glowing under the daylight.
"satoru, please."
"you know there's a lot of souvenir shops in shibuya! maybe i'll take you to some if you're a good little wifey."
"you told me we're working together on this. just let me fight alongside with you-" you pouted and so he gives you a wet smack on the cheek and booped your nose.
"babe, my honey, sweetiepie, you're on children duties!"
"no fair!"
"don't worry, ijichi will take you there. toodles!" and then he warped out.
fools. you didn't even know half of the shit that was about to set loose.
the wooden sliding door of your shared room slammed open, startling you out of your thoughts. there stood an out of breath yuuji with both his hands clinging on to either side of the door frame.
"sensei," he looked at you with determination, a sense of sparkle behind his eyes.
no. no.
you can't have this right now. not right now. you were not ready--not when what you've been preparing yourself for was the worst. but this? this wasn't in your plan.
any indication of hope from him has all been but failure. you were under the high of false hope but now...now, you don't even know how to respond with this pressing matter in front of you.
what kind of wife are you to even think that way? will he even understand if you feel this way?
but you are here now and he is here now.
his frame stood patiently behind your student, waiting for you to say anything. but only the sound of your shallow, shuddering breaths filled the room.
the pink-haired boy staggered backwards to leave, as to give room to your man.
doors were always never tall enough for satoru so he has to duck down in order to grace the room with his presence. his presence that is so invigorating, with his own hint of charisma.
and there he is. he is still so beautiful. his alabaster hair unreasonably still glimmering. your eyes were met with the color of the sky--lustrous and comforting, anticipating you.
but beneath this façade, they were chagrin and desolated, designed with heavy lids and undereye bags that loitered his skin.
the man that came to face you is not your satoru. although indulging with the fact that he looks bigger, more rugged, with his toned arms filling up the sleeves of his shirt--this satoru is only the shell of the man that you used to know.
he scratched his neck, his eyes crinkling into a smile as he gave you a small assuring grin. he opened his arms, wide and warm, welcoming you into a zone you knew all too well.
"c'mere."
though against your will, your body seemed to have a mind of its own--lunging forward to the sense of familiarity that is in front of you. amidst the unconvinced and confused face you held, your body knew how much you ached for this moment and alas your feet brought you towards him.
he gripped your waist so tightly, so much that he could break you in half like--like there were no tomorrow.
words could not even begin to detail this feeling. missing him is an understatement. no--you yearned for him--for his touch, for his smell, for his warmth. for this moment.
you sank deeper into his broad chest. the feeling and the sound of his heartbeat confirming that this is all true and not just a pigment of your imagination, or not you going insane.
he stuck his nose on top of your head, breathing in your smell. god, he could cry. he missed you so much and he was going insane because he was beginning to forget what his favorite shampoo you use smells like.
the silence was both so comforting yet so delicate. there are both no words yet too many words to tell. one pin drop could make or break the atmosphere. a paradox in the flesh. just in character for your husband.
but just in time, he spoke up, breaking the tension. you had imagined this moment, him apologizing or saying i love you, over and over. but no, he yet again breaks the record.
"thank you."
the last thing you wanted was to ever forget him. so, you listened to every voice messages, voice mails, and videos that he sent you every day like it was a routine and a lullaby before you sleep.
you would not forgive yourself if you forgot what he sounds like.
with the sound of his voice triggering the turmoil in you, your chin quivered and your throat burned in an agonizing pain. all of the weeping and mourning you've suppressed poured out onto his shirt.
he brushed your hair and cooed you into silent hushes.
"i'm sorry."
"satoru, she never cried," shoko said.
gojo sat silently on shoko's loveseat chair with both his arms resting on its armrest. he is finally relaxed which unfortunately meant that he has the time to think.
all of the guilt is finally blossoming inside of him.
for the longest time, he wished that he'd be rid of all the burdens that are pushed onto his shoulders. he wanted to run away. with you.
but he knew that his being makes everything complicated and you'd be in greater danger beside him than staying with everybody else.
so, him being in that damned box? his wish came true. was he selfish to somehow feel relieved while being isolated, knowing everything he left behind and all the chaos that ensued?
his colleague and good friend, nanami, who all but strayed away from jujutsu, was pushed towards it again by gojo. and now he's gone.
his teacher and a parent that he considered, principal yaga, lost his life fighting for everyone--especially for the children that gojo was supposed to protect.
his students--tiny but fighter nobara, with half of her head barely even of any shape and unresponsive on a pale hospital bed. yuuji who always graced a smile, now looked like he aged a dozen. and megumi--his son, who always quietly rooted and stood for everyone, lost his hope and is now a vessel to sukuna.
and you. he could not even begin to think how much of a toll it took on you.
"she kept everyone glued together, you know. when everything was falling apart after you...you were gone, she held all of their hands."
shoko blew a smoke out of her office window then tapped her cigarette onto an ashtray. "every day, she cleans nobara's body with a wet towel. when the students would come back with all unimaginable injuries, she tended to them with all of her reversal."
"satoru, i had to clinically force her, just so i could tend to her own injuries for a day. she did not want to stop working as if..."
"as if she will lose it, if she stopped," he finished the sentence, holding a firm gaze with shoko.
she and him knew what it was like to grieve for someone but still having all the responsibilities demanded at every second.
gojo, whether everybody admits or not, was their source of hope. the students gravitated towards him, and even curses do not fail to see the light that he shines--attracting them like moths to a flame.
he tended to everyone's troubles, to the bullshit of the higher-ups that even led to him killing his own bestfriend.
but you-you are the damned closest thing to him. you were his half. you are his half. and everybody knew you are a gojo too.
so they all went to you. for 19 whole days, you shared, albeit, owned his responsibilities. and you had to keep it together.
you should not fall apart. you cannot fall apart. the children relied on you for their strength and you kept them all stuck together like a little patched-up family of your own.
you became him. a true gojo. although it sounds gratifying, it was the last thing that he wanted for you to ever encounter.
he never wanted to share his pain and bare all of his weaknesses to you. but you unconditionally took them all, without any words nor complaints.
"she-she wasn't there."
"she didn't want to be disheartened and defeated if it had failed. you were gone and she is here. still here. you know where to find her, so go."
it wasn't just you. he also does not have the heart to see your face yet--he never really had a say on when he was getting released, anyway.
but he went to you.
your palms cupped his face, searching every inch of his skin like it is something foreign. his large hands held onto them, rubbing slow and soft circles on it.
"i've missed you...so much." you mumbled, risking a hiccup and another bout of tears to pour out of you. he dried your cheeks with both his thumbs.
"i know. i know, sweetheart," his voice was soft, barely a whisper, as he brought his lips towards your eyes.
he kissed your eyes tenderly, as if commanding for them to close for a minute. satoru knew how much you needed to crack--he wanted you to fall apart on him and he can pick up all of the pieces. he can make you whole again.
he can hold you together with his warm hands, thawing and melting you into a puddle of your own unresolved emotions. molding you exactly, to fit perfectly right where you belong.
right here. right next to him.
to him, you are the apple of his six eyes. the immeasurable devotion of his limitless. and the bottomless beloved of his infinity.
he could never leave you again. not like that. not ever.
he pressed his forehead against yours, his proximity tickling you with his breath and his pillowy lips brushing against yours. he rubbed his nose on yours and his eyelashes feather on your cheek.
"i love you," he rubbed his thumbs on both your cheeks while holding your gaze, accessing all of your senses with his presence.
he wants you to know, he's here.
he tentatively leans closer, only kissing you daintly. "kiss me. kiss me, satoru."
and so he planted his hand at the small of your back, leaning forward, obliging to your words. he kisses you--deeply and passionately. your mouth presses eagerly, gliding with his lips fervently without any lapses, like your life depended on it.
you put your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss even more. he gripped your hips tightly, pulling you impossibly closer to him.
satoru is trying his best to not tear your clothes off, on behalf of his student waiting outside.
"god-" he retracted, staring at your eyes.
"i-" he kisses your neck "-missed you-" your chin "-so-" your nose "-much."
there is no reason for the both of you to be separated at all. not anymore.
and so he interlocks your pinkies together like he always did. you giggled and he grins widely.
"i'm here. i'm home."
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etsuven · 9 months
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rating: sm-t cw: none? includes: short little writing thing, archon! scaramouche/, gn! reader as always (can be interpreted to have a strap or c-ck), implied dom reader summary: as your god's most loyal follower, you knew that your job was to worship him just like he had always wanted. just like he deserved.
note: I CAN WRITE. I CAN WRITE I CAN WRITE I CAN WRITE I CAN WRITE I CAN WRITE I CAN WRITE I CAN WRITE I CAN WRITE I CAN WRITE I CAN WRTE I CAN WRITE I CAN WRITE I CAN WRITE I CAN WRITE I CAN WRITE I CAN WRITE I CAN WRITE!! AND IT FELT GOOD!!!
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scaramouche knew that he was made to be worshiped. after all, a god like him deserved the absolute best.
and luckily, you were there to provide him with just that.
you were more than proud to be his most loyal follower, and he was proud to call you his. he wasn't a stranger to your worship, often receiving gifts in the form of expensive teas or clothing tailored to his body. the body that you definitely were not a stranger to.
many nights were spent in each other's arms, hands wandering and lips pressed against one another as the area around you heated up. clothes were thrown on the floor, yet scaramouche couldn't find himself caring - what mattered more were your soft lips making their way down his body.
contrary to popular belief, the god was actually quite built, yet it wasn't noticeable due to his lithe physique. he grasped at his sheets when you made your way to his collarbone, holding back a noise unbefitting of someone of his status. your eyes gazed at him from his chest, a look in your eyes that he knew was a warning.
you never liked it when he masked his noises.
much to his (dis)pleasure, you made it your goal to drag those 'unbefitting' noises from his throat. your pretty hands made their home on his hips, dragging him towards you with thrusts that made his eyes roll back in pleasure. he usually liked to be on his back in order to see your face as you wrecked him, though occasionally (like tonight) he liked to switch it up.
scaramouche tried to hold himself up on his hands and knees, but the sensations were too much and his arms quickly lost the ability to hold him up. now stuck with his back lower half pressed against you, he had no choice but to take whatever you gave him. not that he was complaining.
you were discontent with his inability to do a job as simple as holding his body up, so you took matters into your own hands. a gentle hand wrapped itself around his throat and lifted him up, causing him to let out a small cry.
he could feel your lips against his ear, whispering nothing but praises as he moaned in your grasp.
'you're so good for me.'
'you're everything, don't you know that?'
'i'll make you feel so good, my lord. just say the words.'
so when your hand reached around to grab at his leaking cock, it wasn't surprising when he came with a loud, choked up moan, cum splurting out only to land on your hand. you didn't mind, as it served as quite the useful lubricant.
you continued your thrusts and touches, making your dear god moan out due to the overstimulation. it was nice watching him be like this, as he usually was the type to be a bit more harsh. now his pretty face was the embodiment of bliss - mouth open in pleasure and eyebrows scrunched as his eyes closed to focus on the pleasure.
you had many ways to show your appreciation for scaramouche, all ending with a pleased look on his face as he accepted your gifts. the warm feeling in your chest at the slight smile on his face was always something you looked forward to, but none of it compared to the faces he made when he let you to have your way with him.
yes... perhaps this was your favorite way to really worship your god.
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nataliasquote · 4 months
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Double the trouble [pt. 5] | n romanoff
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Double the trouble au
Summary: Y/n faces some difficult feelings, whilst Isla decides to take matters into her own hands, making decisions that could fall flat on their face
Warnings: none, major fluff
Pairings: WandaNat, Maria Hill x reader
wc: 3.7k
- ⧗ -
"So did you kiss her?" Clint asked, spinning a pair of drumsticks around his fingers as he eagerly awaited an answer. But Maria just wrinkled her nose at him, disgusted.
"She's my best friend, idiot. Don't paint us like that."
Clint shrugged. "I'm just saying, she's single now, so you can shoot your shot. It's been what, 5 years? At this point you're going to be waiting your entire life to get the girl you want."
If looks could kill, Clint would be in the ground. Maria hated that he was right, but she didn't want to ruin the friendship she treasured so much. Y/n was her closest friend, the one she told everything to. They'd been inseparable since middle school and Maria didn't know what she'd do without her.
That night on the couch was purely to comfort Y/n. It didn't mean anything else. They always hugged, Y/n was a touchy person, and Maria just wanted to be there for her. But she would be lying if she said there wasn't a small part of her that wanted to hold the redhead tight and never let her go.
But Y/n was vulnerable and had made it pretty clear she wasn't going to be dating anytime soon. Bucky may not be on her mind as much, but she still had scars that hadn't quite healed.
"I'm not going to ruin our friendship Clint, and that's final. And if you say anything to her, I will not hesitate to chop your dick off." Her cold glare told him she meant it. And who was he to mess with her?
But as the weeks trickled by and everyone started excitedly chatting about the upcoming winter formal, Maria couldn't help but daydream. She'd stumble over her own feet to ask Y/n to the dance as her date, feeling on top of the world with the redhead on her arm. But Y/n would probably find a date by herself, because best friends just didn't go together.
"You've got your thinking face on again," Y/n noted, stealing a chip from the open packet on the table. "What's up?"
"Nothing. Just thinking about finals, that's all."
Y/n hummed and crossed her ankles over. Her legs were draped across Maria's lap as they lounged on the couch, a random chick flick playing in the background on the large living room tv. "What about the winter formal? Any cute girls catching your attention?"
Maria took her opportunity to busy herself with her drink, taking extra long sips to buy herself some time. "Nope. Not really." Little liar. Well, kind of. Because Y/n was so much more than just a 'cute girl'.
"I would have thought you'd have been asked by now," Y/n said after fiddling with her phone for a little bit. "Wait, did I ever show you my dress? I bought it with Mama the other week and it's perfect." She held up her phone up to show her best friend and Maria's heart skipped a beat.
It was only a generic image from google, but the brunette couldn't help but let her imagination run wild at the thought of Y/n wearing it. The emerald green satin was simple but effective, and the thigh high slit in the side set her heart racing. There was no doubt in her mind that Y/n would look like a goddess wearing it and her heart clenched. Someone was going to be really lucky to have her.
"You'll look beautiful," Maria said softly, her eyes flicking up to look at Y/n over the top of the phone. "Your date will be pinching themselves."
Y/n blushed, ducking behind her hair as it swung forward over her shoulder. "At this rate I'll be going alone. But I don't care. I'm more excited about the dress." Y/n knew exactly who she wanted to take her to the dance, but asking her was too much of a risk. Maria had her eyes on other girls for sure.
Maria left after the movie ended to get home to her mom, leaving Y/n on the couch. Isla was out on a date with Valkyrie so there was not much else for Y/n to do. She wandered into her moms' room where Natasha was reading a book, glasses halfway down her nose.
"Mama?" She knocked on the door even thought it was open because Natasha was known to be jumpy. But the older redhead just looked up and smiled, placing her book closed by her side.
"Hey malyshka, is everything ok?" She noticed Y/n's hesitant body language and patted the space beside her on the large kingside bed. "Has Maria gone home?"
Y/n nodded as she climbed up, settling under Natasha's arm and cuddling into her side. "How did you know you liked girls?" She blurted out, screwing her eyes shut. There was supposed to be a build up but clearly her brain was more eager to learn.
Natasha's brows shot up in surprise and she was glad Y/n couldn't see the smile she was suppressing. "What makes you ask?"
"Just wondering."
"Well, the very first time I saw your mom in the meeting room back at the agency, I couldn't get out of my head. I hadn't thought about my sexuality much beforehand, but she just made everything make sense."
Natasha and Wanda never really spoke much about their time working for the government. They just referred to it as 'The Agency' days, never once disclosing the true name of the organisation. But both Y/n and Isla knew their moms had been spies in their youth, so they never pushed them for more information. A dance studio owner and stay at home mom suited them a lot better in their opinion.
"So you didn't like anyone before you met Mom?"
"I suppose I had a boyfriend at some point, but it never really felt right. Sort of like a means to an end, in a way."
"But then with mom it felt different?"
Natasha loved how soft Y/n was being. She was the more gentle one out of the two, but rarely did she open up about topics quite like this. It made Natasha hold her that little bit tighter.
"I couldn't imagine a life without her," Natasha admitted, getting lost in memories in her mind. Barely twenty five years old and completely head over heels for a gorgeous auburn haired woman with mind reading abilities. "She was the reason I kept going."
"How did you tell her how you felt?" Her moms' love story was everything she aspired to have in life. Even twenty years later they still were just as in love with each other as they were when they were younger. "What if she didn't even like girls?"
Natasha let out a laugh. "Trust me, sweetheart, there was no way your mom was into guys. And there was also no way I was going to let her get away without at least telling her how I felt."
"You make it sound so easy," Y/n grumbled, slumping down into the mattress. She was beginning to hate relationships. Why did they require so much brain power? She wanted everything to just pan out the way she wanted, but unfortunately that required a lot of effort.
"May I ask where this is coming from?" Natasha could take an accurate guess, but she wanted to hear it straight from Y/n before she concluded anything.
"Nothing, I just-"
Natasha gently gave her daughter a nudge. "Y/n, you don't have to hide anything from me. I'm your Mama, I thought we had no secrets?" Natasha was not pushing her to come out in any way, but she also didn't like seeing her youngest so troubled. If it was something they could sort out together, then she would rather know.
But Y/n just mumbled something and buried her face in her mother's side, slipping down the bed away from her sitting position. Natasha shook her head at her antics and gently stroked her back, just like she did when her girls were little.
"If you actually spoke so I could understand, that would help," she teased. "Preferably English, but if Russian or Sokovian is what you prefer then I'll allow that too."
Y/n untucked her head and lightly glared at her mother who just raised her eyebrows, still waiting for her response. There was no getting out of this one now.
"I just don't know what to do. Every time I see her I feel all bubbly inside and everything she does is just so perfect but she's my best friend and I can't risk messing this up because I don't want to lose her and-"
"Ok, ok, and breathe." Y/n's words flowed out like word vomit and Natasha thought her daughter might pass out before she managed to finish her sentence. "Now, who is this about?"
"Maria," the young redhead mumbled barely above a whisper. "I'm being stupid, I know."
"You're not stupid baby, not at all." Y/n still wasn't convinced. But her head was tucked so tightly against Natasha that she didn't hear Wanda enter the room. The Sokovian paused at the door, a pile of folded laundry tucked under her arm as she processed the scene in front of her. Natasha brought her finger to her lips and shook her head and Wanda nodded, shifting her weight to lean against the doorframe.
"I am stupid because she's going to hate me and never be friends with me again because falling for your best friend is the dumbest thing I could do and she doesn't even feel the same way and I-"
"Malyshka you're going to work yourself up into a panic attack if you don't slow down and breathe." Natasha could feel Y/n's stress radiating through her as she dragged her fingertips up her daughter's spine gently. Wanda's brows furrowed as she watched, her heart aching for her youngest.
"I just don't want to mess it up Mama." Y/n finally brought her head up and looked at Natasha, her eyes glossy with tears. "She's my best friend."
"You know, Nat was my best friend before we got together,” Wanda finally made her presence known, much to her daughter’s surprise. “Almost as close as you and Maria are now.”
Y/n’s brow furrowed, looking at Natasha and then back to Wanda. “How did you know who I was talking about?”
“Mothers know everything.” She gracefully moved over to the dresser and placed the clothes in their rightful places. “Sometimes you just have to take a chance with these things. But don’t rush it or force it, if it wants to happen, it will. But what I do know is that Maria cares for you an awful lot, so I don’t think you have much to worry about.”
Wanda wasn’t wrong. Maria looked at Y/n as though she hung the stars in the sky. She’d do anything for that special redhead, including supporting her from afar when she decided to date someone else. Maria thought the world of her best friend, but Y/n had been too blind to see it.
Google wasn’t nearly as helpful as her moms had been, yet somehow Y/n found herself scrolling through article after article of different advice forums telling you what to do if you have a crush on your best friends. Probably not the best use of her time at 2am on a sunday morning, especially when the horror stories vastly outweighed the positive ones. She finally fell asleep far more anxious than she was before.
A zombie was probably the most accurate description of Y/n’s state when she finally emerged from her room several hours later. She stared into space across the breakfast table, lazily dipping her croissant into her jam and chewed similarly to that of a camel. Isla eyed her sister warily, looking over at Natasha for help. But Natasha only shook her head, telling her to leave her be.
But what was Isla if not nosy? She basically skipped along the hallway to her sister’s room sometime after lunch, letting herself and heading straight for the bed. Y/n barely had time to protest before she felt her mattress dip beside her and she tugged off her headphones with a scowl.
“Ever heard of knocking?”
“Nope!” Isla said with a smirk. “What’s the secret?”
Y/n pressed pause on her youtube video. “What secret?”
“The secret everyone else knows but me. I’m not leaving until you tell me.” To prove her point, Isla crossed her ankles and tucked her hands behind her head, leaning back on the neatly arranged pillows at the top of the bed. “I’m comfy so I can wait as long as you need.”
“There is no secret, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
A moment of silence hung between the girls and Isla studied the ceiling, glow in the dark stars on the ceiling catching her attention. They’d lasted for years, except for the occasional one that would fall off in the middle of the night and hit Y/n in the face.
“So then it’s nothing to do with you and Maria pining over each other but neither of you actually doing anything about it?”
Y/n’s eyes went wide and she turned over her shoulder, jaw dropping on shock. “What did you just say?”
“Are you seriously that blind? I thought I was the only one who needed glasses. Clearly not.” Isla opened her eyes and looked at her sister, stifling a laugh as she caught sight of her face. “You didn’t know, did you?”
“What? I don’t-“
“Then my work here is done.” Isla scrambled off the bed and ran down the stairs, trying to escape her sister who yelled after her, hot on her heels. “Mom save me!” She cried, sliding across the kitchen tiles in her socks, grabbing onto a chair so she didn’t slip over. Wanda froze with her hands in the air, taken completely by surprise at the sudden intrusion.
“Isla Marie, get back here!” Y/n yelled, appearing on the other side of the table as her sister. Wanda and Natasha were caught slap bang in the middle of this stand off, looking up from their computers as Y/n narrowed her eyes at her twin sister who was grinning her head off.
Western music should have started playing, but instead the sound of the doorbell echoed through the house, breaking Y/n out of her trance.
“I think you should get it,” Isla said with a knowing look in her eye. Natasha raised an eyebrow at Wanda who just shrugged, just as clueless. “Go on.”
Y/n glared at her but turned around all the same, wandering to the front door. Isla kept her distance but followed, loitering in the hallway behind her. A package delivery? Or a neighbour? They rarely had visitors on a Sunday.
But the figure at the door was less like their usual UPS delivery guy and more like the slightly form of Maria Hill. She smiled softly as Y/n opened the door, her head just peaking up over a large bouquet of red and white flowers.
The redhead froze with her hand on the door, eyes almost bulging out of her head. Her mind was filled with nothing but static, all words tumbling from grasp. Isla stood behind her with her arms folded as she leaned against the wall, a cocky smirk on her face. Sister of the year award sure went to her alright.
Wanda and Natasha had come to investigate the mystery visitor but were stopped by Isla’s arm. The three redheads watched from afar, Wanda pouting from how adorable the scene before them was.
“Hi,” Maria started, breaking the slightly awkward silence as she shifted the flowers in her arm. “You look really pretty.”
Y/n’s outfit was nothing spectacular; it was sunday after all. She’d just opted for some loose cream lounge pants and a dark green crop top, but the winter sun had caught her hair and eyes, making the vibrant red and green pop even more. But Y/n could wear a trash bag and Maria would still think she was the most beautiful girl in the world.
“Thank you,” Y/n was slightly hesitant fuelled by her utter confusion. What was happening? “You do too.”
“Y/n, look,” Maria began, suddenly feeling the overwhelming urge to get everything off her chest. “I can’t wait around anymore. I don’t know how else to say this except saying it outright, but I like you. I really like you. And not just in a ‘you’re my best friend’ way, but in a way I can’t even describe. I adore everything that you do, the way you never fail to make other people laugh and the way your heart is so kind and caring to those around you. I love the way you listen so intently and remember the smallest details. The way you never fail to make me feel like the luckiest girl in the world whenever we are together.”
Y/n was stunned at the words falling from her best friend’s lips. She was so overwhelmed that she didn’t notice the tears building up in her eyes as she listened, her lip trembling slightly. It was like a weight lifted off her chest, the stress of yesterday washing away with every word that Maria spoke.
“Clint made me realise that I can’t spend another day hiding the way I feel about you. I’m scared about losing what we have, but to me you’re worth taking that risk. I lost you to Bucky, and now I have you back I’ve realised I don’t ever want to lose you again. So please Y/n, will you be my date to the formal, and beyond that?”
Maria was slightly breathless as she finished her speech, her brain only just catching up with what she’d said. She poured her heart out, unable to stick to the mental script she’d planned in the car on the way over. Just looking at Y/n made her mind freeze over and she felt how shaky her legs suddenly felt.
“Maria,” Y/n started, so overcome with emotion that the tears had started to roll down her cheeks. “Yes, yes, yes, a thousand times yes!” The brunette let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and pushed the bouquet into Y/n’s arms with a relieved smile. “I was really scared.”
“Of what?”
“That you didn’t feel the same way I did. But now I know you do, and-“
Y/n was cut off by a pair of lips gently pressing themselves onto hers. It was a bold move, even Isla was taken by surprise, but Y/n quickly reciprocated before it ended. She was grinning like an idiot, yet still crying, her emotions all over the place.
“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Maria admitted and Y/n nodded, too choked up to speak but she so desperately wanted to agree. The young redhead had found herself dreaming about what it would be like to kiss her far too many times, but the real thing exceeded all of her expectations.
Y/n pulled her into a hug and held her tightly with her free arm, the other one holding her new favourite flowers out the way. She felt so relaxed, her body releasing all the tension of the past few weeks out in a single movement.
“Oh come on, I didn’t even get to do my trick!” A familiar voice whined as they hugged. Y/n let out a watery laugh as Maria gently wiped her tears and they turned around to see Clint with his bow and arrow beside a large covered up sign. “That’s not what we planned!”
“Sorry dude, my feelings got the better of me. But go ahead, why not.”
With a grumble, Clint stepped back and shot his arrow with perfect accuracy, watching as it sliced through the blank red paper and revealed the large, excessively glittery sign behind it. The paper didn’t split all the way so he scrambled over and quickly pulled the rest down, but the chaos just made Y/n laugh more. The lump in her throat didn’t subside but she welcomed the distraction.
“That was my initial way of asking you to the dance,” Maria admitted, gesturing to the large ‘Will You ‘Formal-ly Be My Girl’ sign now propped up on the front lawn. It was an adorable sign and Y/n nodded, even though she’d already agreed.
“Yes! Of course I will!” They both laughed and Maria pulled her in by the waist, careful not to crush the flowers as their lips met again. The sweetest, lightest kiss was exchanged, setting the butterflies in Y/n’s chest stampeding throughout her entire body. There was no way she was ever going to get used to that.
“About damn time!” Isla stepped forward and clapped, grinning widely.
“Did you know?” Y/n asked, looking between Maria and Isla. “You were involved?”
“Y/n, it was getting painful watching you two skirt around each other like that. And I know you, I saw the way you act when Maria would leave, almost as if there were thunderclouds around your head. Even if you hadn’t figured it out, the rest of us had.”
Y/n frowned. That was the second time everyone else had figured it out before she had. Was she really that unaware?
Natasha leaned into Wanda’s arms as they watched from the doorway, smiles breaking out across their faces as the almost sickly sweet young love in front of them. Y/n looked the happiest she had in months, barely able to take her eyes off Maria even as Isla chatted away. She was completely head over heels.
“Did we do this?” Natasha whispered to her wife. “Did we subconsciously make both our girls like women?”
Wanda laughed, pulling her closer into her side. “There was never any doubt with Isla, and Y/n took a little longer to come round. But I knew we’d never have a boy in the house.”
“Oh, you did?” Natasha asked with a smirk. “Confident?”
“Call it a mom instinct.”
300 notes · View notes
inklore · 10 months
Text
sweet serial killer
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premise: it doesn’t matter if he’s killing you or you're killing someone else. you’re putty in his hands right now, and you’re both fucked. 
pairing: ethan landry x (f)reader
word count: 1.7k
contents: piv, more psychotic feelings than anything, choking, mentions of knife and blood play, murders, dirty talk, stalking, au since this is not in correlation with the film, pain kink.
note: this is my first time writing for this little fucked up curly q even though i have drafts upon drafts of ideas for him, which i'll gladly write if ya'll want more.
haunted hoedown day three.
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You should be surprised. 
You should be pissed. 
Scared. 
Running for your life.
Something. Anything.
Other than standing in front of a murderer, your knuckles curling around the edge of the dresser your ass is pushed against. Your excelled heart rate pounding in your ears the closer he steps to you, leaving no room for you to breathe without touching him. Without smelling him. Stealing each other's air. 
Your eyes should be mapping out a quick exit. Coming up with a plan to get the hell out of here. Not looking into his. Not seeing the deep hue of nothingness that is abnormal to see in a sane person's eyes. The dilation of pupils letting you know that he’s got a plan either way. No matter how you take what he just told you.
“I’m ghostface.” 
The darkness in his eyes tells you you can run, but you won’t get far. You can tell someone, but we both know you won’t because I see you.
It’s why you haven’t moved. Why an escape is the last thing on your mind. Because your eyes are casting that same darkness right back at him. 
“You don’t have to pretend with me.” 
His words are like a fire engulfing you, more dangerous than the performance of normality you constantly put on. The sweet, rich girl whose parents gave her a free ride to college, who dote on her like a prized show pony because she’s the perfect child—the perfect daughter. 
The one thing in their lives they didn’t screw up. 
Being born screwed up and hiding it well, no fault of their own.
Known psychopaths rarely get what they want. They might, for a little while. But the lavishes never last. There's always more you need, more you want. And there are only so many people in this world who will give you what you want out of fear. 
Fear leads to trouble. Fear leads to getting caught. Turned in. Turned upon.
Hidden psychopaths, however, have an advantage. A perfected way of being that makes them seem like the nicest people you’ve ever met. The person you can run to. Trust. Count on. The person you wish you could be. 
That’s how you get what you want. 
That’s how you make the high of deceiving, hurting, and killing last. 
And if rich parents who like to hire nannies have taught you anything, it's that it is very easy to pretend. To perfect this little act. To be perceived as loving and being able to love when really all you want to do is gouge the person next to you’s eyes out. 
You have a system. A routine. You never let your crown slip. You never let anyone see you for what you truly are. You’d lose everything. Lavishes gone. That control you have gone. 
You didn’t care about being loved or feared. 
Feelings meant nothing to you. 
But watching the emotions of pain enacted on someone's face when you caused it? Nothing compared to it.
Besides, maybe the way Ethan is looking at you right now. 
The look someone gets when they look into a mirror and like the monster they see looking back at them. 
Part of you should have known. Should have seen this coming with the way his eyes were always already on yours when you looked his way in class. Or that night you caught him following you around campus, but you pretended you didn’t see him—much like the night he caught you red handed, literally, with blood staining your nails, and your pre-rehearsed explanation only making his eyes grow wider and fill with darkness, he quickly smiled away. 
And the nail that should have been pounded into the coffin when your roommate got attacked and all Ghostface did was wave his shiny little knife in your face, a gloved hand around your throat, and then disappeared down the fire escape. And the next day, when everyone was making your skin crawl from sympathy hugs and the fake tears that were glossing your eyes, Ethan had only given you dark looks from across the courtyard. 
Brows low and casting a shadow over his eyes in class. 
You should have known then. 
You’re usually so much better at reading people, trying to understand their normality to copy it. Use it against them.
But Ethan wasn’t normal. That much was clear. 
“I didn’t think you had it in you,” he chuckles under his breath as he shrugs, “this perfect little daddies girl, the girl everyone wants to sleep with, is crazy.” A slow smile lifts the corner of his mouth, “so many nights I’ve followed you, and you’ve kept your facade going. Even when no one was watching. Until the night I ran into you in the hall, the night I knew. I could see it written all over your face.” 
He leans in closer, his curls ghosting over your forehead. His voice a whisper, “but you’re not very good at hiding your messes, so I did it for you. I saved us both the trouble. You getting caught and me—well, Ghostface—taking credit for a kill so messy. And when I gave you my little present, that pesky roommate of yours gone, I could see it in your eyes. That trust. That you would have been happy with me either killing you or fucking you.” 
Your breath halts in your lungs, burning the back of your throat from the noise you let out when Ethan grabs it. Squeezing just enough to make it hard to swallow and to make that growing hunger move past your belly and throb between your legs. 
“Which is it now? Do you want to be fucked or killed?” 
Your lips try to form words, but the hand around your throat mingled with that perfected crown falling and shattering to the ground has your darkness making itself known more than just in the fire that’s so clearly burning in your eyes—the gasps that sound like weak whimpers, the warmth of your body against Ethan’s, the way your insides feel like molten lava when you consider both objectives—your mind is clouded with a pleasure you’ve only ever felt when you’ve watched the agony of pain fade out someone's light completely, your nails smelling of copper for days after.
If Ethan pulled out his knife right now and put it to your throat, you’d come before he made the first cut.
And as he says, “if I went downstairs and grabbed one of your fans and brought them up here and slit their throat for you, would you like that? Would you prefer that instead?” 
Your body shivers from his words, from the free hand that's running down your hip to the apex of your inner thigh—your sorry excuse for a skirt giving him more than enough access to press his thumb to the growing wet patch on the outside of your underwear. The pad of his finger pressing in and adding just the right amount of pressure to your aching clit to make your eyes flutter. 
“Or is it your insides you want me to see?” 
The involuntary whimper of his name, the motion of your hips trying to rub yourself against the miniscule touch between your legs, his last words, and the accuracy of it all are the finality for both of you. 
The thing that finally lets you both know that it doesn’t matter if he’s killing you, or you’re killing someone else, or blood is spilt for you, you’re putty in his hands right now, and you’re both fucked. 
So when his lips come down on yours, it’s hard and rough and lacking any sort of passion. 
Any sort of fake pleasure you’ve always had to give to past lovers. 
There's nothing fake about the heat inside of you. The sauna of depravity that Ethan is pulling out of you—devouring it with bloody teeth that match your own hunger. Your own fucked up way of getting off. Of feeling something. 
When Ethan starts to descend to his knees, leaving a trail of bites along your neck that feel too hard and imprinting to not be a personal vendetta of anger, of want, of a need to make you feel pain, to want it from him—you stop him. 
Yanking his curls so hard, he’s hissing against your mouth. Your fingers move in a flash of pushed away fabric, buttons, and zippers to free him and wrap a hand around his cock. Giving it a couple pumps. Watching the way his mouth parts and his lips curl in pleasure when you tighten and twist around the head. 
Wordlessly telling him what you want when you turn away, pushing your ass out for him as you bend yourself over the dresser. 
If you didn’t have him inside of you one way or another, you know you’d lose your patience. Know that darkness would simmer away into something worse, something that would leave the both of you in more agony than pleasure. 
You needed him. 
And by the sound Ethan makes when he thrusts into you—hard, without warning—you know he needs you too. Know that he’s probably gotten off to the thought of you bloodied and underneath him, his knife pressed to your throat, threatening to make you bleed if you didn’t let him come inside of you. If you didn’t let him lick the wounds he wants to create against your flesh. 
The pace he sets is rough. 
Harsh against your body that rubs against the rigid edge of the dresser. His nails dig into your hips as he pulls you back onto him, as he grabs the back of your neck, digging his fingers into your skull. 
The palm that snakes around to your neck pulls you up and against his front, putting your body at a new angle that has your muscles stretching in pain and making your eyes roll back. The noises of pleasure and pain like a fucked up hymn. 
“That night I was in your apartment, your life in my hands, do you know how much self control I had to have to not slice this pretty throat?” His teeth graze against the skin below your ear, his own groans and hitches of breath making you feel lightheaded. “To not make you bleed and spread it against my cock and make you jerk it off. Make you use your mouth to lick me clean.”
It’s those words and the lack of air his palm is allowing your lungs to intake that make you come. That has the gasp falling from your mouth sounding like something dying, something begging for life. 
Portraying the opposite of his words. Of why you’re coming. Of why the rush has you going lax against him and smiling. 
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Text
"Valentines Sex? Yes."
Sipnosis: Wake the fuck up, it's V-day, and Satoru is horny. Ge got you gifts too, but, like, does it matter??
Pairing: Horny!happy!Gojo x f!reader.
Note from the author: This is kinda like... A funny smut? It's an actual smut scene, just with random jokes hear and there. - I'll be making more smuts about v-day today, so look for Suguru Geto and Shoko Ieiri in the next one.
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As you wake up to the usual feeling of having your clit sucked on, you see the normal sight of your boyfriend in-between your legs and eating you out like the five star meal you are. But, you also see a few heart-shaped boxes, jewelry boxes, some fancy gold-plated rings, along with what looks like expensive clothing that is BEAUTIFUL, and lastly a few gift cards for different places.
"Good morning, princess. Happy Valentines Day."
He smirks up at you, sliding his tongue in and out of your entrance, licking up the liquids that spill out like water. That causes you to whimper slightly out of pleasure, happy about the gifts along with getting aroused by his usual antics.
"G-good morning, 'Toru... W-what's all this?.."
He looks up at you and hums, happily licking line from your hole up to your clit, then sucking and pushing it down with his tongue.
"It's Valentines Day, mamas!"
he grins, all giddy like a child. He kisses your pussy a few times, which makes you smile and look down at him. You gently grab his hair, which is just muscle memory at this point. He slowly takes down his pants, licking your inner thigh before lightly stroking his cock through his underwear.
"You know I love you, Princess? You're so pretty, and do sweet to me."
His words make you smile again, letting out a hum and gently pushing your head back. He wipes some of the spit on his tongue and smears it around before going back to sucking on your clit, taking his boxers off so he can rub his length a few good times.
You move his hand and replace it with your own, letting a small "'Toru," as you do. And that's all you have to do. He's looking right into your eyes while he's sliding his tongue into your entrance, on all fours, while you stroke his dick at a steady pace. Soft moans and whimpers are flowing from both of you until a light
"T-toru... P-please... Stick it in, inside..." He looks up at you, brain lagging from the sensation of you jerking him off, before his eyes widen with a bright smile.
"Ohhhh!! Yeah, sure!" He says in a happy-go-lucky tone, so jovial and innocent, as if you're not both about to fuck. After very, very little hesitation, he gently pins you on your back by your hands, immediately finding your hole, which, other men you've been with have failed to do, (it's a learned skill) and thrusting into you. Still with that happy grin, he giggles out a moan while your eyes roll back. You smile when he smiles, but your heart rate and breathing pick up, heat flushing to your cheeks.
"Pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty princess... You're taking me so good! I'm so proud of you~" He says like a proud parent, going a bit deeper, a bit faster, mercilessly pounding into your g-spot.
"H-haaah.... Y-yeah..." You string out, seeing stars at how he praises you while he stuffs you full of his dick. You clench the sheets, moaning a bit louder when he licks your neck.
"Such a good girl for me! You're doing so good, Mama, so good... Hehe, look at how deep I am! Can you see it? Can you see the bulge in your stomach?"
He says in a fast and exited tone, enjoying every aspect of this. You can't even reply, gulping back air as your eyes flutter shut.
"S-Satoru... I-i-i'm-... Cumming..." Your voice cracks, light tears pooling at the tips of your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure. He nods enthusiastically, a wide grin on his face as he lightly huffs.
"Me too, pretty girl. Cum on my dick, please?"
He says as he gently kisses your collarbone, which is enough to send you over the edge. You both release at about the same time, your legs shaking and heart pounding.
"So pretty...." He stares down at you before rolling next to you and hugging you tightly, kissing your neck over and over again, the gifts long forgotten about.
226 notes · View notes
writer-komaru · 1 year
Text
·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Pact Marks Headcanons Ꮚ♥ꈊ♥Ꮚ
✧Rating: Fluff, slightly suggestive, Satan and Lucifer’s are kinda hurt comfort
✧Characters: Lucifer, Satan, Leviathan, Mammon, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor
✧Word count: 9.7k
✧Summary: how the boys would react if you asked to make a pact with them and get their seal.
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𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Beelzebub - (lvl of difficulty: 4/10 | placement: stomach or shoulder)
✧ out of everyone, I think he would be the most willing to make this kind of pact.
✧ pacts are a heavy subject so he has his apprehensions, but there’s no way he can deny you if you ask him with that adorable smile of yours.
✧ (especially if you offer him his favorite food)
✧ you already have his heart, why not his being as well?
✧ he might ask you why you’d want to make a pact when he’s already willing to do whatever you say,
✧ but at the idea it would make you two closer, he’s enthusiastically asking if he can give you his seal right there and then.
✧ he just cares about you so much it’s so cute.
✧ his go to spot would be somewhere either on your stomach (of course) because it’s one of his favorite parts of you or your shoulder because that’s the usual spot for tattoos, why not a seal instead?
✧ as he uses his powers to engrave his personal seal of gluttony into you, he can’t while the goofy smile off his face.
✧as soon as he’s done he hugs you close to his chest and tells you how important you truly are to him.
✧ whenever he sees you wearing something that flaunts his seal, he gets so happy inside he can’t help put run up to you and spin you around in the air.
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
♥ “Hey Beel, there’s something I wanna ask you,” you walk up to him and rest your chin on his shoulder.
“Mm? What’s up, MC?” He tilts his head to give you a confused look.
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while, and I think I’m finally ready. We’ve known each other for a while, right?” You take a step back and grasp his hand in yours.
“We have…” he looks down at your hands, holds his own and then back into your eyes, “I’m still confused.”
“Give me a second to find the right words…” you take a deep breath, “Would it be alright if we had a pact together?”
“A… pact? Wait, really?!” His eyes widened in surprise. He genuinely thought you were going to say literally anything in the whole world besides that. “A-are you serious?!”
“Shit, did I say it too soon? I know it’s personal, maybe I should have waited longer,” the worries you were suppressing begin to fill your mind.
“N-no it’s alright it’s just,” he chuckles slightly, “I never expected you to ask about something like that. Pacts are a bit of a sensitive topic. But, I’m fine with talking about it if you’d like. Since it’s you…” He blushes slightly and looks away. Has he…
“Have you… thought about making a pact with me before?” You asked with such an innocent sounding voice that his whole face erupts in a hot blush.
“I might have a couple of times. I mean… I like you, after all. But you already know that… wait, am I blushing? Ah, this is so embarrassing…” he hides his face in his hands in defeat. It takes all the willpower you have not to tease him any further.
“It’s alright, Beel. How would you feel if I told you I have too? That’s why I’m here asking you this question after all. Just please, can I see your face again?” You gently rub a soothing hand over his shoulder. He hasn’t even made the pact yet and yet he already feels like he’s at your mercy. He drops his hands to his sides and looks at you with the most loving eyes you’ve ever seen. You can tell he wants this just as much as you do.
“You know all the details to pacts already, right? After giving you my seal, you’ll be able to not only use some of my powers but I’ll also listen to any commands you give me, no matter what. But I'll return, you’ll be mine forever. Are you ready to make that deal?” His unwavering expression gives you the last piece of confidence in your decision you need to finally seal the deal.
“I’m ready. When I first met you after suddenly appearing in Devildom all those months ago… I already knew that you were all I ever wanted,” you give him a reassuring nod. He grunts and clutches his heart.
“A-are you alright?! Fuck, that was cringy, wasn’t it?” You internally scold yourself for saying something so cliche.
“No it’s- that was… that was so…” you hear him sniffle. When your eyes meet once more, you’re in shock. He was crying. His eyes sparkled and his cheeks looked so red he looked like he had a fever. “No one’s ever said something like that to me. I wasn’t ready.”
“I see… aww, Beel. You’re so cute,” you smile as you ruffle his hair.
“Mmph…” he hums in satisfaction, basking in the attention like a loyal puppy.
“Are you ready to make the pact now, Beel?” You ask sweetly as your hand returns to trancing gentle patterns on his shoulder.
“I think I am. But, where should I put my seal?” He looked to you for the answer.
“Well, where would you like to put the seal?” You tilt your head playfully.
“You’re giving me the honor? You sure?” His eyes widened. You nod as a confirmation and he chuckles, “well, if you really want me to pick… I’ll put it… here,” He gently lifts up your shirt and presses two fingers on the spot right above your belly button.
“This spot… I feel drawn to it for some reason,” He blushes as he watches his own fingertips trace a circle around the spot he’s chosen.
“Is it because it’s my stomach?” You chuckle.
“Not entirely… it’s just, when I imagine you with my seal right here… it makes me feel warm inside. Like… it’s the same feeling when I watch you wear my clothes around the house… it makes me feel like you’re mine, all mine.” He looks up at you with dilated pupils, ready at any moment to engrave his mark right into you. His expression practically begs you at this point. All it takes is a small nod and a smile and he likes up like a happy little puppy who was given the whole container of treats. He turns back to the spot his fingers are pressing against and lowers his head to it. He licks his lips, preparing to make the best decision of his whole life. Yes, he’s certain of it. You feel a slight tickle as his lips press against the skin right above your navel followed by a fuzzy tingle. The spot glows a beautiful golden orange and black, the faint outline of a sigil drawing itself deep into the cut face of your belly. Once the process is done, he takes a step back to admire his work. You look like the most gorgeous being in all of devildom and you can see it in his eyes with the way they twinkle. He smiles widely and pulls you into a tight hug.
“This… I just can’t believe it. This is definitely the best day of my life!” He can’t hide the tears that spill from his cheeks as he squeezes you tighter.
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𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Leviathan - (lvl of difficulty: 4/10 | placement: any)
✧ Now Levi is a special case.
✧ It’s pretty much cannon that he’s a social outcasts. He spends pretty much every second of his life in his room either playing video games, watching anime, reading manga, or dusting his numerous anime figurines.
✧ he’s content with this lifestyle, but also longs for everything his brothers have.
✧ He always hears stories of all the all you can eat restaurants Beel has taken everybody (besides him) to, the casinos Mammon hangs out at with his poker friends, the clubs Asmo returns from with mysterious red marks on his neck, the tea Lucifer and Diavolo share on occasions to catch up, the gym Satan frequents and seems to even be making friends at, damn it, even Belphegor has mentioned babysitting with Luke and watching cartoons with him.
✧ It’s just not fair, completely unfair, that while his brothers are out living their lives, he’s left all alone with only the company of his anime girl figurines and his pet snake.
✧ (enough with the brooding, onto the hcs)
✧ That was until you became a part of his life.
✧ Instead of spending all his time alone playing games, he can do that with you and more.
✧ So the day you come up to him and ask to make a pact he honestly likes he’s either still asleep or misheard you
✧ there’s no way you, the wonderful, kind, and gorgeous you that you are, would as a nerd like him to make a pact with
✧ once the idea finally processes in his brain, he keeps bringing up how cooler, prettier, and stronger his brothers are than him.
✧ why him? There’s no way you truly mean him.
✧ but for the thousandth time you say you truly want him, he’s already in tears.
✧ he has no preference at all for seals, he already feels like the luckiest guy the world he even gets this opportunity.
✧ you honestly have to pick for him because he overheats at just the thought of placing a seal somewhere on your body.
✧ (please tell him a more private spot you’d like his seal and he will melt into a blushing mess)
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
♥ “Levi, are you busy right now?” You poke your head into his ocean-like room to see him playing something on his computer. But as soon as your nickname for him leaves your lips his head snaps in your direction and he falls right out of his chair.
“OUCH- I-I mean,” He scurried over to you with a joyful smile and a bruised cheek, “No, I’m not busy at all! Do you need something?”
“I’m sorry for startling you, look, you have a bruise now…” you mutter sadly and you bring a soft hand up to his cheek to cup it. He shivers at the touch and his face lights up in an embarrassing blush.
“I-I-it’s fine, really, I-I’m fine!” He stutters and looks anywhere but you.
“If you say so. Anyways, I have something really important to ask you. Can I come in?” You look up into his flustered eyes.
“Oh! S-sure, if you’d like, absolutely!” He nods rapidly and moves out of the way.
Once you two settle down on some beanbags in the corner of his room where he normally reads manga, you can finally get to the reason you’re here.
“Levi, I have a really important question to ask you. Do you think you’re ready to hear it?” You cross your legs.
“Uh, y-yeah, of course! Is there something on your mind?” He tries his best to sound normal but you can hear the obvious shake in his voice. Though that’s pretty normal for him when he’s around you. (The dork-)
“I’ve been thinking about something a lot lately. We’ve been hanging out a lot and I’ve grown pretty close to you,” you blush slightly admitting that out loud.
He blushes even brighter, “Ah! G-grown close to- I-I mean- mph!” He slaps a hand over his mouth and nods for you to continue.
“I love the time we spend together, and I just… I like you a lot too. Do you think you’d be okay with maybe making a pact with me?”
His brain fills with millions of error screens. You.. like him? You want to… make a pact with him? Him?! Is he hearing you correctly?! There’s absolutely no way…
“Wha-huh?! F-for a second there… I thought you just… said you wanted to make a…” he swallows in nervousness, “A p-pact with me.”
“I do. Levi, I want to make a pact with you.”
“Hah… ahahah… I... I must be dreaming, right? Cuz there’s no way… a wonderful human like you would choose a demon like me… right?” His voice cracks with every word.
“Levi…” you reach for his hand, “listen to me clearly. I. Want. To. Make. A. Pact. With. You.”
“A… pact… with… me.. wait… WAIT REALLY?!?” Realization finally comes to him like the thunderous clap of lightning as he somehow finds a way to fall out of his beanbag chair and almost knock over the shelf filled with manga.
“Wait, me? You mean me, right? Is this a prank?” His wide eyes are glued to yours. It’s kind of amusing how taken aback he is.
“Heheh, yes you, Levi. Why is it so hard to believe?” You ask him with a light smile.
“H-have you even seen me?! I’m an otaku who locks himself in his room and plays video games all day. What part of me seems pact worthy?!” He motions to literally everything in his room that potently screams ‘never felt a woman's touch’.
“Have you seen my room yet? I also have a computer set up like you, a shelf I keep my manga and video games, and don’t tell anyone but,” you lean closer and whisper in his ear, causing his already blushing face to turn pure red, “I even have some AOT and Sailor Moon posters in my room. If that isn’t enough for you, maybe my ungodly collection of anime pins will do it for you.”
He was so caught up in his frenzy he completely forgot about those things. He really wasn’t much different from you.
“I… forgot about that…” he pants, trying to catch his breath.
“Do you feel a little better now?” You brush your thumb over his knuckles.
“Y-yeah… phew… my heart is pounding so hard right now…” He tries to catch his breath, and after a few minutes, he’s finally a lot calmer.
“What do you think? Would you like to make a pact with me?” You ask again.
“P-pacts are a huge commitment… I’ll basically be giving myself up to you..” He thinks about that for a second and clears his throat, “You know what, I’m fine with that…”
“Wait, really? You mean it?” You smile enthusiastically.
“Mhm, the idea of… being so close to someone where we literally give each other parts of our beings… it… it sounds like something good to be true,” he blushes, “I’d… really think that. Like… a lot.”
“Then do you want to make it official by giving me your seal?” You offer.
“L-like right now?!” He gasps slightly.
“Would that be okay?” You say in a softer voice.
“Uh- w-well, um… y-yeah, it would but…” His hand shakes in yours as his eyes wander to your body.
“Is there any spot in particular you’d like to put it?” You uncross your legs and lean back to give him a better view. He trembled even more, mouth completely dry. You really want his seal, not anyone else’s, and you want it somewhere on your beautiful body?! If he was in an anime his nose would be bleeding like a fucking volcano right now. He squeaks and jumps as you pull up your shirt a tiny bit to show your stomach.
“A-a-anywhere is f-f-fine!!” He yells as he covers his eyes.
“Come on, you won’t be able to place your seal if you can see,” he laughed softly.
“Y-you’re… right… uh…” his eyes look over your body again and lock onto your thighs. He’d ever admit this out loud but he really had a thing for thighs.
“Want it here?” You point to your upper thigh.
“I-I can?! I-I uh- d-damn it… I… I want to… but are you sure?” He gives you a worried look. He doesn’t want to screw up this once in a lifetime chance anymore than he already has.
“Mhm. Go ahead, I’m ready when you are, Levi,” you wait patiently for what he’ll do.
He nods to you and swallows dryly. He was really doing this. This was really happening. His mind buzzed loudly with exclamations of excitement and worry as his face grew closer to your thigh. This was something of pure fantasy to him as he pushed his quivering lips against your plush thigh. He couldn't even think clearly, let alone hold back from rubbing his hand over your other thigh. He knew he would wake up any second now, might as well enjoy it while it lasts. The spot he kissed illuminated with shades of turquoise and violet as his sigil of envy appeared. You started in awe as cute, little bubbles floated out from his magic.
“S-sorry, I-I-I’m a bit nervous…” He mumbled against your skin as he finished off the mark. As he sat up he couldn’t take his eyes off of it. It was his seal. He traces his thumb over it just to see if it was permanent.
“It’s… it’s real. T-thank you for this opportunity. I’m so, so grateful. I finally… won’t have to be alone anymore,” his face glistened with tears.
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𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Asmodeus - (lvl of difficulty: 5/10 | placement: heart, thigh, or lower stomach)
✧ Asmo is a bit more… well, special.
✧ to him, pacts aren’t just a way of exchanging a deal of power between a human and demon, it’s literally equivalent to marriage.
✧ that’s why he’s been waiting so long to make one.
✧ no matter how many humans, demons, or even angels he’s been with, even if they seem like pure perfection, he still holds out hope his “soulmate” would one day waltz into his life and sweep him off his feet for once.
✧ it’s honestly beginning to bug him a bit
✧ that was until his eyes landed on you the first day you arrived in Devildom.
✧ he’s only heard stories of the power of love at first sight, but he’s never actually experienced it first hand
✧ and to say he was entranced would be an understatement.
✧ you became the target of his affection, no matter how crowded the area was or not.
✧ it could be sweet remarks about your outfit, soft touches on your shoulders or hips, maybe even a flirtatious comment here and there
✧ he’s never been this lovestruck by anyone before.
✧ and your reactions just strengthen his attraction.
✧ every blush, stutter, shiver, gasp, and whine sends deeper and deeper in love with you.
✧ so the day the idea of pacts comes back up, he knows the time, the moment he’s been longing for, is finally here.
✧ compared to the ones before, he’s a tad bit more demanding with his pact, maybe even border line possessive.
✧ he wants you all to himself, is that too much to ask?
✧ it won’t be one sided, he promises~
✧ his ideal spots to put his seal are your lovely thighs he loves to tease, your lower stomach he wishes to explore in due time, and your heart because you’ve already stolen his, why can’t he claim yours for himself, too?
✧ every time you pass by wearing something that shows off his beautiful pink seal, he can’t resist the urge to pull you into the nearest room and show you just how deep his love goes~
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
♥ “Asmo? Could I come in please?” You knock softly on his door and wait for a response. What you're greeted with is, strangely, pure silence. You knock again a bit harder when suddenly you feel a pair of arms wrap around your waist.
“You called?~” A teasing voice tickles the back of your neck.
“Ahhh!!” You jump and turn around to see Asmo’s sweet smile, “damn… you scared the life out of me.”
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it,” he chuckles and pulls you closer to kiss your cheek, “Did you need me for something, my dear?”
“Could we go in your room for a second, there’s something important I wanna talk about,” you place your hands on his shoulders and look up at him.
“Sure,” he leads you into his beautifully detailed room and sits down on a chair that is hung from the ceiling by lush faux vines with vivid purple flowers and places you right on his lap.
“Is this comfortable for you?~” He wraps his arms around you once more.
“Mhm, very comfy. And your room always smells so good,” you bask in the lovely scent.
“Why thank you~ It’s a mix of the floral candles I like to leave around my room and my signature perfume,” he chuckles softly and points a few of them out.
“Are you sure that’s safe? You have a lot of flammable things in here,” you ask as you feel his hands trail up and down your waist.
“I always make sure to snuff them out if I leave them unattended, no need to worry. This might just be me, but I feel like you’re stalling about something,” he shifts you around on his lap so he can look into your eyes.
“Well, there is something I wanna talk about,” even though you’re super nervous, you do your best to keep eye contact.
“Then what’s on your mind? I’m always right here if you need something,” he tilts his head slightly.
“Well, uh… I’ve been thinking about something a lot recently and I think I should go ahead and tell you instead of keeping it to myself,” you take a deep breath, “do you like we could make a pact together?”
He gasps and you flinch. Could this have been too sudden? He always tells you each and every day how much he loves you and how happy he is to have met you, but you knew pacts were a bit of a tender subject for demons. You remember hearing about it from the others about how much of a combined burden and privilege it is for a demon. After doing research of your own you know that they're not totally wrong, yet you can’t help but find yourself longing for something like that.
“You want to make a pact?” He repeats, just to clarify what you said. You nod and brace yourself for his answer but you watch as his eyes fill with enough sparkles to create another galaxy.
His mouth stretches into a smile, “I’ve always wanted to find the right person to finally settle down with, but I thought it would just be a fantasy. Yet here you are, the most gorgeous and kind being I’ve ever met, sitting right here on my lap and asking me to make a pact with you. What do you think my answer will be?”
“Hopefully... a yes?” You smile nervously back at him.
“Nothing less than a perfect yes for my perfect human~” he kisses your forehead and hugs you close to his chest.
You giggle in relief and wrap your arms around his neck, “I’m so happy, I was worried you might say no.”
“And why would I say no, hm? Tell me your worries so I can shoo them away,” he runs his hands up and down your back.
“I was worried I asked too soon into our relationship,” you admit.
“Hehehe, of course not. You could have asked me the first day I met you and I’d say yes. I’ve always known you would be the first and only person I make a pact with, I just wanted to wait till you were ready. And now that you are…” You shiver as his hands creep up into your shirt, “Where should I place my seal…”
“H-hey, be careful where you’re touching,” you try to scold him but the blush on your face tells a whole different story.
“Don’t worry, I know my limits by now~” he giggles as he pulls his hands back and studies your body.
“I think it should go…” he traces a circle over your heart, “right here, where it belongs.”
“Aww, my heart? Is it because you want it all to yourself?” You chuckle.
“Maybe~ now, let’s take this off for just a few seconds~”
“Hey, wait!” There’s no way you could stop him in time before he swiftly pulls off your shirt and returns to drifting his hands up and down your now exposed waist. The touch has you shivering in both sensitivity and excitement.
“Are you ready for it? I’ll be gentle,” He gives you a playful wink before leaning to your chest. His breath feels so hot against your skin, you don’t know if it’s the thrill of the close proximity or him using some underhanded tricks with his powers but your mind is beginning to wander.
“Mhm…” you hum your consent and shiver as his soft lips lay a kiss right above your heart. You can feel your pulse spike as sparkling colors of rose and bubblegum pink swirl around the spot. Thousands of glittering particles twinkle as a magic sigil presents itself on your skin. It glows a few times before the cloud of glitter finally dissipates and what’s left behind is a prominent seal of lust.
“There, now it’s official. You’re all mine, forever and always. We’re going to have so much fun together, I just know it,” he whispers lowly in your ear and squeezes your waist, “you’re all I could ever want~”
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𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Belphegor - (lvl of difficulty: 5/10 | placement: thigh or shoulder)
✧ now Belphie’s a lot more laid back when it comes to pacts
✧ yeah, he knows how meaningful they are and all the abilities it grants to the receiving end and blah blah blah
✧ he’s heard way too many speeches from Lucifer to really care
✧ if anything, they sound more like a burden
✧ he’s perfectly fine just laying in bed all day and occasionally getting up to grab a snack
✧ even when you’re in the picture, the thought of pacts never really crosses his mind
✧ you have to be the one to ask, but be careful to catch him at the right time
✧ if you wake him up to tell him about making a pact he will growl at you and go right back to sleep
✧ the best time to ask if when he’s either getting a snack or just spending some quality time with you.
✧ he will be pretty confused why it would matter
✧ aren’t you two close enough? Why do you need his seal to prove it?
✧ but it doesn’t take long to convince him
✧ he may not show it as outwardly as his brothers, but he does really, really love you
✧ that’s why you’re his favorite place to take a nap, after all.
✧ he doesn’t care much about where to put his seal, any place you want is fine with him, but if you beg him to pick it himself, he would eventually settle on your thighs or shoulder since he spends so much time laying against them when he decides to take a nap.
✧ when he’s snoozing he he sees the seal, his seal, on your skin, he’s sleepily nuzzles against it and quickly fall asleep.
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
♥ You’ve been looking everywhere for Belphie to no avail. He’s not in his shared room, any of his brother’s rooms, the common room, planetarium, dining room, music room, study, or even kitchen. You’re starting to wonder if he snuck off because of everyone being loud and fell asleep in the forest. Before you get on your hiking boots you decide to check one more spot. You make your way up the large spiral stairs, crossing your fingers you have some luck on your side. As you enter the attic and feel a sense of relief wash over you as you spot is sleeping form curled up on the bed. You carefully tip toe over to him so as to not wake him up and watch as his chest lifts up and down. The urge to lean down and give him a faint kiss on the cheek is too strong to resist before heading right back down the stairs. If you were going to ask him the question you had been dwelling over for weeks, it had to be the perfect time, and waking him up just to drop a heavy question on him with a quick way to get nowhere quickly. Waiting a little bit longer was a much better idea. Letting out a heavy breath, you plop yourself down on one of the velvety cushions of the piano and decide to practice your skills for a while until you're sleeping beauty wakes up. It was barely 30 minutes later when you heard someone open the large doors of the music room.
“Mmmph… pretty…” Belphegor mumbles as he walks over to you, rubbing his eyes.
“You’re awake… how did you sleep?” You keep playing piano and give him a smile.
“Good,” he yawns.
“That’s good to hear,” you finish off the song and close the piano, “do you have a few minutes to talk about something?”
“Hm? I guess so. What’s up?” He tilts his head.
“Well, uh… could we actually go somewhere a little more private?” You ask with a nervous chuckle.
“Mhm… sure,” he nods.
You both walk hand in hand back up to the attic and sit next to each other.
“There’s something really important I’ve been thinking about lately. I’m not quite sure how you’ll react to it, so I’m a bit nervous,” you take a deep breath to steady your nerves, “here goes nothing. Belphie… can we make a pact together?”
“A… pact?” He tilts his head once more.
“Yeah,” you nod and swallow nervously awaiting his answer.
“Hmm… pacts are kinda tedious. I’d be giving you control over me. But, I trust you not to boss me around… so sure,” He consents as he rests his head on your shoulder.
“Wait… really? You mean it?” You gently grab his hand.
“Mhm. I like you a lot, anyways,” he nods.
“Aw, Belphie… I’m so happy,” you giggle as you try to hold back your tears of happiness. He notices them forming at the corners of your eyes and reaches over to wipe them away.
“Do you want my seal now?” He asks.
“Mhm, yes please. Where should it go?” Your bright smile brings a light blush to his cheeks. His eyes trance over your exposed skin for the easiest place he can put it and soon choose a spot right on your shoulder.
He points at it and looks at you, “this spot okay?”
“Yeah, I like it. I can show it off proudly that way,” you giggle.
“Don’t say that…” his blush grows deeper as he hides it behind your shoulder.
“Does it make you shy?” You smirk at his flustered behavior.
“A bit…” he murmurs. You laugh it off and ruffle his hair. After a few seconds he lifts his head back up and makes eye contact with you, silently waiting for permission.
“I’m ready, Belphie,” you gently stroke his horns. He hums in satisfaction and presses a kiss to your shoulder. The spot shines for a few seconds as a sigil appears. After glowing with mute colors of blue and purple it settles down into your skin as an intricate tattoo.
“I like it…” his eyes twinkle with happiness.
“I like it too. I’m so glad I get to be so close with you,” you continue to pet his horns.
“Me too. Can I take another nap? With you this time. Now that you have my seal, I’m not letting go of you,” he wraps his around around your body and nuzzles his warm cheek against your newly formed seal.
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𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Mammon - (lvl of difficulty: 6/10 | placement: neck or cheek)
✧ now this guy is a little trickster.
✧ whenever someone wants something from him you cannot convince me he won’t find a way to twist it into being compensated somehow.
✧ someone includes you.
✧ but he’s not a total scumbag, trust me.
✧ he may not like to admit it but he’s totally weak for you.
✧ you just have to find a way to open him up.
✧ but once you do you’ll see how giddy he is about the whole thing.
✧ yeah, pacts are a lot of responsibility, but the idea of having a permanent mark of him imprinted on your body makes him have the urge to flaunt you like a trophy.
✧ he’d agree just for that privilege alone
✧ his ideal spots are basically anywhere that’s hard to hide
✧ if he sees you trying to hide his (HIS) seal, he will take it as an insult and get all whiny about it.
✧ places like your cheek or neck sound perfect to him
✧ there’s no way his brothers will try to steal you away from him now that you’ve got his mark! (Take that!)
✧ also, you could be minding your own business and this guy will just walk by you while saying something like, “Your seal looks great, who’s it from?~” or “ It’s almost as hot as it’s owner~”
✧ please say “thank you” or something to the last one, he will turning into a stuttering, blushing idiot -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
♥ “Hey Mammon,” you softly tug on his sleeve to get his attention,” I need to tell ya something.”
“Hm? Need a favor from the mighty Mammon, now do ya?” He flaunts an extroverted smirk which almost sparkles in confidence.
“Well, no and yes, just follow me,” you motion for him to follow you into the nearby guest room. If only you knew to think before you speak as his devious smirk grows even wider.
“Oh ho ho~ I think I like where this is going~” he chuckles and follows you inside.
“Perv,” you give him a sharp chop on the shoulder.
“Hey, ouch! What gives- I mean, that was nothin’,” he shrugs his shoulders and looks away.
“Anyways, now that we are alone, there’s something serious I wanna talk about,” you sit down on the bed and pat the side next to you. He takes the seat next to you and sprawls out.
“What’s up? Here to tell me I need to give back Lucifer’s card again? Heh, I’ll save you the trouble. That bastard stole it back from me,” he wipes away fake tears.
“That's… not quite what I had in mind actually,” you chuckle at his antics, “it’s something a little more important than that.”
“More important?! Then my credit card?! No way, nothing can be as important as- Uhh…” he shuts himself up as you flash him a death stare, “C-Continue~”
“It’s about you and me, actually,” you run your hands up and down your thighs nervously.
“Me and you?” He sits up at the mention of yours and his relationship, “Tell me.”
“I’ve been thinking about this for a while and, well, I think it’s about time I get it off my chest. Mammon, could we make a pact together?”
The room goes silent as he blinks in confusion. Did he hear that right? Did you just say the word pact?
“P-PACTS?! FOR REA- ahem, I mean, you really want that?” He tries to hide his excited expression.
“I do. I’d understand if you didn’t want to give up on some of your freedoms, I know it’s a big commitment. But if you’re ready, I'd like to take that step with you,” you give him a sickeningly sweet smile and hold his hand in yours.
“W-w-well uh, u-umm uh,” before he can continue to stutter and make a fool of himself, he delivers a sharp slap to himself across the face, “I guess I could, but it depends on the price.”
“Price?” A tinge of hurt shines in your eyes that he would have the gall to even mention money in this kind of situation.
“Mhm, gotta have a price to get my quality services, of course,” he nods to himself before finally turning around and freezing at the wounded look on your face. He can tell he totally messed up big time, “Iiiiiiii mean, wow, look at that, it’s totally free now! On the house, just for you, my gorgeous sweetheart~ what prices? I don’t remember a price at all. I could never charge a dime from you, baby~ So pretty, so sweet, so-“
SMACK!!
He whimpers as now both sides of his face were red and swollen, but murmurs his apology, “Yeah, I deserved that.”
“Ready to be serious this time or do you need another one to help you think straight?” You lift your hand up again.
“No no no no I’m thinkin’ perfectly fine now, promise!” He raises his hands up in defense.
“Good,” you rest your hands back down on your lap.
“So, about this pact, I think it sounds pretty sweet. Just don’t think you can get anything like free money from it. Sadly, my powers don’t work that way. I’ve tried,” he shrugs sadly, “Now, to find the best spot to claim as mine~”
He looks over your body for a few seconds before lifting up your jaw and tracing his thumb over the middle of your neck.
“This could be quite a pretty spot. Oh, but,” he smiles against your cheek, “this spot could work too~ whatcha thinkin’?”
You can’t help but blush at how touchy he was being but you kind find it in you to push him away, “Any of those are fine.”
“Then I think I choose… right on your lovely cheek. That way everyone can see just how much you belong to the mighty Mammon. Ready to seal the deal? Hehe, get it?~”
“Heheh, yeah, I’m ready,” he laugh.
“Alrighty then,” he smirks one more time before pressing a sloppy kiss to your right cheek. You could feel the spot glowing in a golden light like shining gold. Even he was entranced by the sight but he could just be happy he got an excuse to kiss you. As soon as his seal of greed etched into your soft skin, he quickly steals another kiss directly on your lips.
“There, now you’re all mine~” He chuckles.
“I don’t think a kiss on the lips was needed,” you sigh in amusement.
“You know me, I just had to take a little bit more than I’m given. I know you enjoyed it too with how hard your blushing~ ya know, since we’re alone, I think your lips need a little bit more attention. I think I can help with that~” he gives you a flirtatious smirk that tells you you’re in for a long day.
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𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Lucifer - (lvl of difficulty: 7/10 | placement: forehead or chest)
✧ you better plan ahead when asking Lucifer to make a pact
✧ he’s the avatar of pride not the avatar of charity
✧ he won’t even take the question seriously unless he’s known you for quite a while, and even then, it’s not guaranteed he’ll say yes
✧ to give up so much of his free will to a human no less
✧ but if your persistent enough without annoying him, he might just consider it
✧ just know there’s a very, very fine line you might accidentally cross, so prepare to step back if he gets actually upset
✧ though he’s usually not upset at you, it’s mostly the stress from his work and brothers
✧ he’ll apologize once he cools off, it’s pretty hard for him to stay mad at you for long
✧ he cares about you quite a lot and always wants to keep you safe and happy
✧ so if making a pact will really make you as happy as you say, he’ll give in.
✧ plus the idea of being the first and only demon you make a pact with kind of strokes his ego just a bit (not as much as Mammon though)
✧ rationally he believes a place that only he can see in private, a place that isn’t hard to cover, would be ideal
✧ it’s just he can’t push away the urge to put his seal front and center on either your neck or your forehead to show everyone you belong to him
✧ he knows it wouldn't be practical, but can you really blame him?
✧ having a stunning human like you looking like the epitome of beauty all the time makes him territorial, it annoys the crap out of him
✧ please let him mark you somewhere visible, he will cherish it every single day
✧ just prepare for a few more marks if he gets a little too caught up in the moment (he’ll apologize later with an embarrassed look on his face)
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
♥ It's been about two months since you first asked Lucifer to make a pact with you. At first he immediately shot it down, saying something along the lines of “There’s no way I’d let a human get the opportunity to order me around like a dog” and walked out of the room. But after a lot of gifts, praise, and of course begging, his no turned into a not now. At least it’s progress? Any logical person would just give up by now, heck, even the other brothers were catching onto the situation. Mammon and Belphegor both suggested you drop the subject since if Lucifer was really the Lucifer they know, it would take a millennium of begging for him to give in. Even one millennium is way too long for a human like you. But not everyone was against it. At least you had Asmodeus as your cheerleader, saying a little change would be good for him. So each day you made it your goal to prove to him you were worthy of his seal, without being overly pushy, of course. Some days it was a rose with a notecard saying your name attached to it, other days it could be him walking into the dining room to find it totally spotless, and on special days you’d come to him in person and ask if he was ready. He wouldn’t admit this until much later but he found all your antics both amusing and irritating. Eventually it all came to a climax when he found you trying to replace the water in one of the flower pots in his office. His private office. It went a little something like this.
“MC?! What in hell's name do you think you’re doing in my office?!” Lucifer’s booming voice almost made you drop the vase of water you were holding.
“Ahh! Lucifer, I-I just wanted to-“ he quickly cut you off before you could explain.
“It doesn’t matter what your reasoning is, I didn’t give you permission to come in here. You’re supposed to do what we ask of you, not go around doing all of our chores like some sort of maid,” he growled with frustration. You accepted that there was no way you could talk yourself out of this situation and bowed before him.
“I’ll just leave you alone then. I’m sorry Lucifer,” you tried to exit the room but to your surprise his eyes snapped back towards you.
“Don't leave unless you are dismissed, damn it!” He exclaimed, snatching your wrist to stop you. In the commotion he forgot you were holding something fragile, which came tumbling to the ground and shattered in a dramatic crash along with your hopes in getting closer to Lucifer. Water and porcelain shards littered the ground haphazardly.
“Aghh! I-I, fuck, I’m so sorry, Lucifer, I’ll clean it up right away,” as you tried once again to leave the room, his large hand around your wrist yanked you back. His eyes turned from livid to shocked at his own actions. He let out a short grunt before letting you go get some cleaning supplies. Once you came back, you found that all the delicate sharps were gathered up and placed on the table to make your job a little easier but Lucifer was nowhere to be found. Next to the near pile of sharps was a small note, which read in large, fancy writing, ‘Not now.’ After that day, you decided to give him some time to himself to process his decision instead of trying to bend over backwards for him. Back in the present day, around a month after the vase incident, your heart almost jumped all the way out of your mouth as you read the cryptic message Lucifer sent you. All it read was ‘Come to my room. I’m ready.’ But that was more than enough to get you to sprint up the stairs and almost trample over a poor Leviathan trying to escape the wrath of an angry Satan. As you stood outside his room, you smoothed out your clothes and took a deep breath. This was the moment you were waiting for! As you stepped inside you were… pulled into a hug? By Lucifer?!
“I’ve been a total fool,” he sighed in disdain.
A fool?! Was this really the Lucifer you know or was this some sort of prank?
“Pardon me,” he stepped back and looked to the side in embarrassment, “Please, take a seat. There’s a lot I want to talk about.”
You both took a seat on his couch. He seemed to be fidgeting with his gloves quite a bit before finally breaking the silence.
“I want to start off by saying I'm sorry for the way I’ve been treating you lately. You may be our assistant but that doesn’t give me the right to yell at you and put my hands on you,” he stated shamefully, “I let my stress and sleep deprivation get the better of me. Nghh… I should have been stronger than that. Ahem, but that’s not the only reason I asked you to come here today. I’ve thought about your request for quite a while and I’ve come to the conclusion that,” he paused for a brief moment, a faint blush appearing on his cheeks, “That I’d be willing to accept it. But, only if you can meet my demands.” It took you a few seconds to process what he said before your eyes exploded into a flurry of sparkling stars, much to Lucifer’s surprise.
“D-do you mean it? I, I can’t believe it, this is ama-” you catch a glimpse at his serious expression and pipe down. Although, this could have been your imagination, but you could have sworn you heard a faint chuckle from him.
“Allow me to elaborate first. A pact between a human and demon is considered an exchange of loyalty and trust. After the seal is placed, the demon will be forever at your mercy to any commands you give them, which includes but is not limited to tasks, information, and even the use of powers. In exchange, the human will also forever be with that demon and have to give the demon something they want as payment. The payment could be anything, but for the sake of giving an example, it could be money, an object of desire, a promise, or information. My demands go as follows. I need you to not only swear your loyalty to me, guarantee that you won't try to force me to do anything I’m not comfortable with, and…” he takes your hand in his, “allow me the chance to make you the happiest being in all of devildom.”
“I… I accept. Yes, yes of course I’ll accept! Lucifer… Thank you. Thank you so much,” you tried to stay strong but the overwhelming amount of joy made your eyes well up with tears.
Lucifer noticed it and chuckled, “Humans can be so emotional. But, since it’s you, I’ll allow it.”
He leaned closer and wiped away your tears, staring back at you with a look you couldn't describe as anything less than ethereal, “I’ll give you the privilege to choose the location of my seal to make up for all the wasted time I spent hesitating.”
You smiled up at him, “I’ve thought about it for a while and I’d like you to put it on my forehead.”
His eyes widened slightly, “You’re… forehead? And why is that?”
“Because, I know how important this is to you, ever since the beginning. What better place to put a mark of pride than a place everyone can see,” you pushed some stray hairs out of the way to give him better access.
You watched in slow motion as the stoic demon in front of you melted into a puddle of his former demon self. He put a hand over his mouth to try to hide his flustered expression but it was no use. His whole entire face was red.
“I… I see… ahem, well, I would have to agree with you. That spot would be per-” he corrected himself, “acceptable.”
He took a shallow breath before gently pulling you closer by grabbing your chin. His eyes drifted from your eyes to your forehead to down to your lips before snapping back up to their designated location. His lips moved closer and closer until you could feel them just barely tracing over your skin, sending shockwaves of electricity through your body.
“Are you ready?” He smoothed his thumb over your cheek.
You tremble slightly before nodding, “M-mhm.”
“I need to hear you say it,” he urged, causing you to let out a small whimper.
“I... I’m.. ready,” you murmured, giving him the confirmation he needed to finally press his lips against your forehead. You couldn’t see it very well, but you felt a light tingly sensation from the spot he was kissing. After a few seconds that felt like hours, he pulled away.
“Mmm…” he stared in awe at the mark he engraved on your skin, “After this, we’ll only grow closer. I hope you’re ready… because I’m not quite done yet.”
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𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Satan - (lvl of difficulty: 8/10 | placement: chest, neck, or back)
✧ out of all of the boys, as you might expect, he’s by far the most difficult one to make a pact with
✧ if you thought Lucifer was uncompromising, you haven’t seen nothing yet
✧ the moment you even say the word pact, he feels a fiery sense of annoyance take over him
✧ you’d dare try to get him to agree to letting you control him like some sort of puppet or servant?!
✧ if anyone’s a servant, it’s you!
✧ no human is worth his time, which especially includes you.
✧ after that, for the next few days, he will refuse to talk to you and send you on onslaught of death stares.
✧ everyone in the whole mansion feels like they're walking on eggshells even if they’re not in the same room as him
✧ give him some time to cool off, the time apart from you will slowly make him realize that he cares about you
✧ but this realization ain’t a pretty one
✧ he will constantly try to deny it, scoffing whenever someone mention his blush when you enter a room his in, knocking his brothers in the back of the head anytime they compliment you, suddenly leaving conversations with you when he feels his heart begin to beat too hard.
✧ he feels helpless, pathetic, and ashamed for falling for a human.
✧ he’s set on just ignoring these feelings for the foreseeable future, but…
✧ when he notices the way his brothers look at you with such endearment…
✧ a new flame of passion lights in him.
✧ there’s no way he’s going to them steal you away from him!
✧ he rushes back to you and suddenly he’s the one begging you to form a pack (not that you’re complaining)
✧ he won’t agree to placing his seal anywhere besides your chest, neck, or back.
✧ yeah, he wants to prove to his siblings that you’re his and his alone, but the idea of putting it somewhere only he can see is almost as tempting.
✧ just be wary of what you wear if he does decide to put it somewhere private because if it’s in view, brace yourself for the wrath of a very, very territorial demon.
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
♥ You couldn’t stop the ache in your heart as you stood in front of Satan’s room. The handle called out to you, but just before you could reach for it, all the hurtful things he’s said to you flood your mind.
“You ignorant fucking waste of human flesh! To think you’d even dare to ask such a stupid question to me!! There’s no way in the entirety of hell I’ll make a pact with you!”
“Tch, still have the audacity to look me in the eyes after that stunt? Would rearranging your bone structure finally get your slow brain to understand?! The answer is NO!”
“Oh, cry as loud as you want. It’s not going to change the fact that your existence is pointless to any of us. We’d be perfectly fine without you.”
Your hand dropped to your side as tears pricked the corners of your eyes. Why did he have to say such hurtful things to you when all you wanted was to get closer to him? Were you really just a worthless human in his eyes? With a heavy heart you made your way down the stairs and retreated into your room. As you collapsed onto your bed, you couldn’t fight off the tears any longer. It just wasn’t fair. Out of all the demon brothers to have a crush on, why did it have to be him? You were so stupid to ask something like that so early, you should have known better. If only, if only, if only. If only you could get back at him somehow. Suddenly, you heard a faint noise from your door, like something was being slid under it. You stumbled out of bed and peeked at the small note laying on the floor. It read, ‘Having love problems? Try making them jealous, they just might reveal their true feelings~♡’
You’re pretty sure you can guess who sent this note. But, trying to make him jealous didn’t sound like that bad of an idea. The only thing is how could you be certain he even had feelings for you to begin with? There was nothing you could do but try. And try you did. The very next day you made sure to look your very best, attracting some of the demon boys’ attention.
“Wow~♡ You look wonderful today, MC. Who’s the lucky guy? Is it me?~” Asmo chuckled.
“You? Hah! No way, they're definitely dressing nice for me,” Mammon pointed to himself and smirked.
“They do look really pretty today,” Belphie rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
You glanced over at Satan who was standing in the corner of the room scowling to himself about something. Your plan seems to be going perfectly!
“MC, uh, wanna play video games in my room?” Levi stuttered, obviously flushed.
“No fair, I can’t let you have MC all to yourself. Want to go to my room instead? I’m a lot more fun than Levi, trust me~♡” Asmo winks flirtatiously.
“What’s going on-” Beel entered the room and froze in place, “MC, you look gorgeous…”
“Back off, I saw them first!” Mammon snapped, reaching for your hand. Before he could make contact, it was slapped away by none other than… Satan?! He gave everyone a death stare before snatching your arm and pulling you down the hall and into the library.
“S-Satan, what are you-”
“Just shut it!” He snapped at you, quickly followed by a surprising, “sorry…”
“Aghhh… I just couldn’t take the way they looked at you. All wide eyed and blushing and shit. I wanted to punch them all!!” He slammed his fist against the top of a bookcase, thankfully not breaking it.
“This is so stupid, they’re so stupid… I’m so stupid…” he put a hand over his face and leaned against the wall. You inched closer to get a better view of his face but jumped back as an accusing finger pointed right at your face.
“It’s your fault! Ever since you first came here you’ve been making me feel weird and I hate it! I’m supposed to be a strong and mighty demon, but every time I…” He grunts in frustration. Just as he’s about to slam his fist against the wall, he stops himself.
“Look at me, I’m acting like a fucking toddler. Ugh… alright, fine. I’ll tell you the truth. But don’t you dare tell the others or you’re dead. Ever since you asked me to make a pact I’ve been having annoying thoughts.” He rubs his forehead with a groan, “But after a while I realized. I… I like you. It gets on my nerves but I like you. It’s so annoying how you make me blush when you smile, how my heart beats fast when you walk by, how much my skin burns when I see my brothers compliment you. Grrr… I hate all of this, but I can’t deny how… happy you make me feel when I’m with you… I’m done running away. If I keep it up I’ll lose my chance and someone will steal you all for themselves. I’m not letting that happen, not ever. So I’ll make you mind before my brothers even get the opportunity to take you away from me. Heh, that will rub it in their faces,” he removes his hand from his face, showing the devious smirk underneath. You had no idea where he was taking this but you liked where it was going.
“Imagine the look of disappointment on their faces when they see my seal on you. Hahah, that will show them…” he moves closer to you and puts his hands on your sides.
“So what will it be? Still up for making a pact with me?” He tilts his head.
You blush as your words fall out of your mouth haphazardly, “Uh, Y-yeah, yes, Mhm, a pact sounds great.”
“Good, because I’m not taking no for an answer at this point. I’ve been leaving you waiting for way too long. Now, where should it go… right here on your neck,” a large shiver wracks through your body as his arms squeeze tighter around your waist to hold you still. His lips trail down to the side of your neck, “Yeah, that would be a nice place. Nice and obvious. Hold still~”
“W-wait, please be gentle!” You beg.
“Where’s the fun in that?” He chuckles to himself, but when he sees your nervous expression, he backs down a little, “Ugh, fine, I guess I got no choice,” he rolls his eyes as he presses a deep kiss to your neck. The spot starts to sting slightly, but not enough to truly hurt. Out of the counter of your eyes you spot a vibrant green light and black crackles of energy.
“Mmm, and there, look at that. You’re all mine~” you feel him smirk against your neck as his lips suddenly move to the other side, “but I’m not quite happy with just one mark. I think 5 more should be enough to make it obvious who you belong to~”
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Reblog + Like + Comment if you wanna see more obey me posts (I have more ideas but I’d love to know what you guys think~ might make a new question in a few days for the next post)
I’ve missed you guys so much! I hope this is some good food to make up for starving for so long :(
((Also, I tried to make it gn as possible but if there’s stuff that isn’t plz tell me I’ll try to fix it to make it gn :3))
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Eddie Munson's royal fuck-up
Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 11
Prompt: Royalty AU
Rated: G
CW: none
Tags: Rockstar Eddie Munson; Royal Steve Harrington; Meet cute; Flirting; Secret Identity; Sort of angsty/open ending
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"So, tommorow…" Chrissy says from behind the folder they've been provided. It looks so posh with its dark green binding, the royal sigil embossed on it in gold print. Eddie hates it. It probably thinks it's so much better than the other folders. "When you're introduced to Prince Steven, you're to address him as Your Royal Highness. After that, you call him Sir." 
"What, really? Dude, at least buy me dinner before we start with the kinky shit." 
Chrissy shoves his feet off the desk, which almost makes him topple off his chair. 
"Can you take this seriously? A royal visit is an important matter. We can certainly use the publicity-" 
Eddie's hand crashes down on the desk. "I'm a fucking rockstar, Chris. That ain't enough publicity? This place is my baby, mine. What does that royal asshole know about what it's like to have a rough childhood? He thinks he can come here, give a little speech, smile for the cameras, and suddenly it's all about him?" 
"What, now you care?" 
He whirls on her, but the look she gives him makes him freeze. Chrissy sighs. 
"Eds, you are so busy with the new album and the tour, you haven't even met the new volunteers. I said I'd manage the place, and that's fine. But you must trust me. Just do it for me. Please?" 
*
The skate park has new graffiti, and he hasn't even seen it yet. Eddie exhales his cigarette smoke and watches how it curls up to the sign spelling Hellfire Youth Center.
Maybe Chrissy is right. Maybe he should be here more. Maybe he's been so caught up in the whole fame and fortune thing, he's losing sight of what's important, like- 
"Watch out!" 
Like guys on skateboards barrelling towards him. 
Eddie throws up his hands. The guy tries to swerve, completely tips his precarious balance, and goes flying off the board and right into him. They land on the asphalt with an undignified oomph. 
"Shit, sorry," babbles the guy and tries to disentangle his limbs from Eddie’s. "Couldn't brake-" 
"S alright," Eddie hears himself say, even though his ass hurts like a bitch from the impact and he can already feel the bruises forming. "You can fall into my arms any time." 
Skateboard guy blinks up at him and - fuuuck, he's cute! In a scrungly, beanie-stuffed-over-chestnut-locks, black-rimmed-nerd-glasses kind of way. 
For a second, nobody says anything. 
"For fuck’s sake," someone swears, and then little Max Mayfield is running towards them, ginger braids jumping with the movement. "I told you to be careful." 
"Sorry," cutie with the glasses says again. Eddie has never seen him around. He must be one of the new volunteers Chrissy mentioned. "Guess I'll need to practice some mo- ow, shit!" 
His hands fly up to cradle his knee. There's a hole and a rapidly spreading bloodstain in the fabric of his jeans. 
"Oh fuck," Eddie says, and whips his bandana from his back pocket to press it to the wound. "Red, why don't you hop inside and get the first aid kit? I'll stay here with …" 
He trails off expectantly. Cutie's eyes go wide. 
"I, erm … Dustin." 
"I'll stay here with Dustin." 
*
Dustin, it turns out, isn't just cute, but also fun to talk to. He doesn’t gush about what a huge fan he is or ask for an autograph once. Eddie never thought he'd appreciate that one day, but it gets really old really quick. 
Instead, they jump from one topic to the next, sitting on one of the benches and watching Max go on her board. Dustin has a quick, sharp wit and isn't afraid to counter Eddie’s jabs with his own, delightfully bitchy sense of humor. Damn, to think he almost missed this one. He really needs to be around more.
"I love this place, y’know? You created something great for these kids." 
Eddie jerks to attention. The sun has started to dip, casting Dustin’s smile and the hair poking from his beanie in a soft golden light. 
"Thanks man," Eddie murmurs, and feels the bitterness boil back up. "Some people seem to think it needs better publicity, though." 
Dustin shuffles awkwardly, winces when the movement pulls on the Care Bears bandaids Max has plastered all over his knee. 
"You mean the royal visit?"
Eddie huffs. 
"Yeah, man. I mean, what are they expecting me to do, bow and grovel while his Royal Doucheness prances all over the place with his perfect hair and fancy suit and thank him for it? It's not like he cares about these kids, it's all just a gig to him."
Dustin draws his bottom lip between his teeth.
"You can't know that. Maybe he does care. Maybe he's-" 
Eddie barks a laugh. "Oh, give me a break. All the royals are good at is looking important and spending our tax money. I can fucking do without-" 
"Steve? We gotta leave, c'mon." 
They both whip around. A fancy black limousine with tinted windows has pulled up in the parking lot behind them. A gruff looking man is holding the back door open and looking at them expectantly. 
Dustin sighs and stands. 
"Coming, Hop." 
"Wait, wait, what?" Eddie babbles as he walks towards the car, shoulders in a sad little hunch. "What's going on? Who's that guy? Why's he calling you-" 
And then it clicks. 
"Oh fuck," Eddie says. 
Dustin … no, Steve … no, Steven - Crown Prince Steven fucking Harrington - gives him a tight smile while the man ushers him into the backseat. 
"Thank you for your time, Mr Munson, I'll see you tomorrow. I'll try not to be too much of a douchebag, I promise." 
The door clicks shut. 
The car glides away. 
Eddie buries his face in his palms. 
"Jesus fucking Christ. He's the fucking Prince."
Beside him, wheels grate on asphalt as Max brakes.
"Wow," she deadpans. "You're in some deep shit." 
Eddie groans. 
Tomorrow is gonna be a long-ass fucking day. 
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Part 2
All my holiday drabbles
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