#like. this really shouldn’t work fuck you
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Realizing your true feelings for Gojo after he stands up for you
Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader
Word Count: 1,4k
Synopsis: You told yourself countless times that you aren't able to like Gojo Satoru, that he is nothing but a jerk. Until he stands up for you, until he shows you what he really thinks of you...
Warnings: literally wrote this in my break at work so don't come for me lol, fluff fluff fluff, reader getting insulted
Oh, how much you hate the way basically everyone looks at you. Well, not technically you, to be exact. It’s rather the person walking next to you who drowns in attention every time you are forced to go out together.
Not that you’d understand the hype. Gojo Satoru, the blessed one, the honored one, the strongest fucking jujutsu sorcerer of your lifetime.
“What’s wrong? Feeling left out, (y/n)?”
And probably the biggest pain in your ass.
“You’re such a whore for attention it hurts”, you bite back while rolling your shaded eyes the way you always do the second he opens his mouth.
His laughter vibrates through your body, annoys you to the core. When will this madness finally come to an end? When will they finally begin to send you onto missions with Geto, Yu or fuck, even Nanami? Why on earth does it always have to be him?
“Caught me there I guess. But it’s not my fault that I’m easy to look at. Not like you.”
You force yourself to take a deep breath in and out, to calm your tingling nerves and stop your fist from twitching. That fucker has some really good nerves. Only the sound of his name next to you simply drives you insane, let alone his stupid comments and oh too annoying voice. Is there really anything good on Gojo Satoru, something you might like?
“I hate you”, you hiss through gritted teeth.
“Aww, don’t be like that, (y/n). We both know that isn’t true”, he purrs, ready to grab your shoulder when you yank away.
“I’ll break your fucking nose if you touch me, jerk.”
“I’d love to see you try, princess.”
“I’ve never seen you around here.”
The sudden soft female voice that interrupts your rambling catches you off guard.
There she stands, an undeniable beauty with curves in just the right places and blonde hair that looks like strands of gold. The bluest eyes, the most breathtaking smile. And of course, her gaze is fixated on Satoru.
“That’s because it’s my first time here. After all, my eyes definitely wouldn’t have miss someone like you”, he replies with that cheeky grin you know oh too well, the cheeky grin that makes your blood boil in an instant.
Really? This is probably the worst time to start a flirty conversation. You were sent here to detect a special grade curse, to save this damned city from getting scorched. But he? He has nothing but her blonde hair and delicate smile in his pea brain
“Don’t you think that this isn’t the right time for a conversation like that?”, you mumble irritably.
“We’re just having a little talk. Who are you, his girlfriend? I highly doubt that. A girl like you would never have a chance with a guy like him.”
You have to blink a few times when her sugary voice spits at you with pure venom.
It shouldn’t bother you. Why would it? Gojo is the last person walking on earth you’d be in a relationship with, the last person who would ever want you. You, with your average looks. You, being a grade 2 sorcerer who has nothing special to offer. You, who never actually allowed herself to like Gojo. You, who is nothing compared to the woman standing in front of you.
Then why do her words feel like a knife in your heart? Why are you standing there like an idiot, sunglasses barely covering your pain? Why does his presence next to you suddenly sting so badly?
“Pretty disgusting words for someone with that face. Do you really think the world belongs to you because you look good? Let me tell you something: Apart from being hot, (y/n) is also unremarkable smart, astute and sarcastic. Someone as simple-minded as you should better avoid me. Now get lost, will you?”
What.
On.
Earth.
Did Gojo Satoru really stand up for you? No, did Gojo Satoru just call you “hot, unremarkable smart, astute and sarcastic”? Your heart almost beats out of your chest, pounding so roughly against your ribcage that you feel like fainting any given minute. A cruel storm of butterflies almost causes your guts to turn, makes you see stars. Are you dreaming, maybe? This can’t be reality. It’s impossible that-
“Hey, are you okay? I hope you don’t trust that stinky girl”, Gojo speaks out softly.
You can sense the way he eyes you up and down through his sunglasses, the little pout on his face revealing that he’s truly worried. Is that really the boy who teases you until you lose your mind completely? God, how much you hate him, how much you want to punch him into his stupid perfect face.
You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. But what is that little part of your brain that almost dies in excitement, then? What are those strange butterflies that never invaded you since you joined Jujutsu High?
“Hey, look at me.”
Your eyes dart upwards, get greeted by his bright blue orbs that look down at you in a seriousness you’ve never seen before.
“Tell me you don’t believe her.”
“She said nothing I don’t already know”, you reply dryly.
He shakes his head, still staring down at you with furrowed eyebrows. Who is this guy? What are those feelings? Why aren’t you able to look away like you always do? Gojo is only playing with you the way he does constantly. His bright blue orbs aren’t to be trust and you know it.
“I would choose you a hundred times before someone like her, (y/n).”
It’s like all life drained from your body, blank eyes staring at him in shock. This really has to be a dream. When was the last time Gojo has been nice to you? Probably never. He constantly teases you, drives you inane, makes you mad, makes you regret your decision to come to Jujutsu High and also…
Makes you feel save, makes you feel good about yourself, makes you feel affection.
Affection? For Gojo?
“I…I have to go”, you blurt out so abruptly that you almost trip over your own feet while trying to haste away.
He’s only picking on you like he always does. Gojo Satoru, considering a romantic relationship with you? You huff out loud, cheeks redden by the sheer thought of the dumb look you gave him. You aren’t better than the girls you despise so much, after all. He truly managed to wrap you around his finger like everyone else, even though you told yourself over and over to hate him.
What a pathetic jerk you are.
You spin around so fast you almost fall over, only to get caught in a pair of strong arms.
“You don’t believe me”, Gojo notes while keeping you in place.
“Why would I?”, you press out, not daring to look at him once again.
You need to get away from this cursed place, away from the honored one. It’s time to go back to normal, back to hating him with all your heart. Because this is all he is, right? Gojo Satoru is nothing but your rival…right?
“Maybe I can convince you with something else.”
Just when you’re about to protest and freeing yourself, he pulls you even closer and presses his lips against yours.
Time stands still, the lenses of your sunglasses pressing so violently against Gojo’s skin that they crack.
This.
This is the stuff your wildest dreams are made of, a dream you didn’t even allow yourself to think about. If there’s one thing that always seemed impossible to you, it was this. Why would you ever be more than Gojo’s rival, what is the purpose of seeing anything apart from a pain in the ass in him?
This right here.
Out of instinct, you wrap your arms around him as well, pull him closer and closer, take in his delicious scent. The sheer feeling of his lips collapsing into yours leaves you breathless, makes your lungs ache in the urge for air.
Until he lets go of you while panting hard, now glowing eyes fixated on you so intimidating that you feel yourself blushing.
“Believing me know?”
“You stained my sunglasses”, you breathe out mindlessly.
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Our Little Secret - Aaron Hotchner x Reader
About: You had always been attracted to your new step father since the day your mom brought him home. He was an attractive older man. He treated your mother well, despite not being home enough. But that didn’t matter too much since your mother was rarely home either. You knew that you shouldn’t feel some sort of way about your step-father. But what happens when he comes home from a rough case and seems to want you too?
Warnings: Step-daughter/step-father dynamic, NSFW, MDNI, 18+ content, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, unprotected sex, rough sex, praise kink, dirty talk, hair pulling, etc.
Word Count: 3200
Note: This may suck a bit but i hope you all enjoy!
Your relationship with your mother wasn’t the greatest, truthfully. Your mother left your father when you were ten years old, leaving him alone to work full time and take care of his daughter. But when he passed away when you were fifteen, about eight years ago, due to cancer, your mother had taken you in because you had nowhere else to go. While she wasn’t abusive, the two of you fought quite often as you held a lot of resentment against her for leaving you and your father. And now, you were twenty-three, still living with your mother as you went through college because it was the easiest thing to do.
When you first laid eyes on Aaron Hotchner, it was a year after his wife had passed away. He had met your mother and the two had gotten engaged rather quickly, exclaiming that the two of them didn’t want to wait when they didn’t have to. They were both adults interested in one another. And Aaron was just glad that Jack had taken a liking to you almost immediately.
You had always been attracted to Aaron. He was an attractive man. He was a great father to Jack, looked amazing in a suit, he was kind and respectful. Not to mention the authoritative voice he took when he answered his work calls never failed to cause you to clench your thighs. It’s wrong of you to be attracted to your step-father. It’s taboo. And yet you couldn’t help it. You had spent many nights fingering yourself to the thought of your step-father fucking you so ridiculously good.
It was a Friday night. Jack was at a sleepover with one of his friends, your mom was on a work trip as she works as a traveling sales representative, and Aaron was on a case in New York, leaving you home alone for the night. You had just gotten out of the shower, dressed in a pair of shorts and t-shirt and went downstairs to do your college coursework on your laptop.
As you worked on an essay for your psychology class, you heard keys turning in the front door, signaling that someone was home. You looked up from your computer as you were sitting on the couch to see Aaron walking in looking exhausted and stressed. “Hey,” you greeted softly.
Aaron looked over at the couch, giving you a small smile. “Hey,” he greeted back, placing his bag down before walking over to the couch and sitting down next to you. “How’s everything going?” he asked, getting himself comfortable. His legs were spread, his knee touching yours unintentionally. But you made no effort to move away.
“Everything is good,” You replied, closing your laptop and placing it onto the coffee table. “Jack is at Pete’s house for the night. His mom will be taking him home in the morning. Mom’s still on her work trip for another week. And I was just working on an essay.” You took a deep breath, looking at Aaron. “How was the case?”
Aaron sighed, running a hand over his face. “It was certainly…something,” he said exhaustedly. “It was truthfully a rough one. It involves kids and those are always so hard.” You nodded in understanding, not really sure of what else to say. “How come you’re not out on a Friday night?” Aaron asked, looking at you with a curious look.
“Didn’t really feel like it,” you replied, shrugging your shoulders. “My boyfriend asked me to go out but…I just didn’t feel like seeing him tonight.”
“Did something happen?” Aaron asked.
“Just a dumb argument a few days ago,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Nothing important.”
Aaron hummed in acknowledgement. “Do you even love him?” he asked.
You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion about the question. “What?” you asked, looking at your step father.
Aaron looked at you expectedly. “Do you even love him?” he asked again. “You are in this relationship and yet your body language shows that you’re not that interested in him.”
“Is that really any of your business?” you asked defensively.
“It is when your attention seems to be on me,” Aaron replied smoothly. He adjusted himself so that he was closer to you ever so slightly. His arm was draped on the top of the couch.
Your cheeks became hot as you looked at your step-father, unsure of what to say or what to do. “I-I have no idea what you mean,” you exclaimed, very clearly a lie though you didn’t want to admit that.
“Oh but I think I do,” Aaron said, quirking his lip. “I see the way you look at me, y/n. With those beautiful eyes, you look at me with longing, desire, and admiration. As though I am the thing you need and want most.” Aaron’s tone was soft but knowing. He was a profiler. He could likely tell you things about yourself that even you didn’t know.
“What about it?” You whispered, your attention focused on him completely. Your heart raced with anxiety. You weren’t quite sure what to do. Aaron’s words were true. You had desired him since the day you laid eyes on him. But it wasn’t right. It was taboo. Which is why you never thought that Aaron would ever feel the same or even acknowledge your thoughts.
Aaron’s arm moved to your shoulders, bringing you closer to him. His other hand went to your chin, tilting your head to look at him. “I look at you the same way,” he murmured, his hot breath fanning your cheek.
Hearing these words made your heart flutter and heat pool near your thighs. Your mother and step-fathers relationship had been a bit strained from the beginning. They sort of rushed into it, only caring about the fact that they didn’t need to worry about one another too much since neither one of them were home that much. The rare times they were both home, they acted like a perfect couple for a few days until reality settles in and they’re stuck with one another. But you never thought that Aaron would ever feel a type of way about you.
Without any other words spoken, Aaron softly placed his lips onto yours. It took you a moment to process what was truly happening. Your step-dad was kissing you. Something you’ve longed for quite a while was finally happening. And after a few moments of shock, you kissed Aaron back. For what started off as soft and innocent quickly turned hot and heated as Aaron’s hand began to roam your body. You found yourself moving onto his lap, sitting on top of him as you cupped his face. One of his hands landed on your hip while the other entangled in your hair.
You felt heat going straight to your core, dampening your panties. You couldn’t help but crave friction. While kissing Aaron, you tentatively moved your hips against his, grinding your cunt onto his clothed bulge. The both of you let out soft moans of pleasure, Aaron’s fingers digging into your hip. He pulled away from the kiss to look up at you, placing his other hand on your other hip. “Can you feel just how much I want you?” he asked in that same soft tone as before as he grinded you on his cock again.
You let out a soft moan, nodding your head. “Yes,” you replied. “Take me to bed?” you asked, biting your lip.
“Of course, princess,” Aaron replied. He moved you off of him to stand up before picking you up bridal style and carrying you up the stairs. You held on by wrapping your arms around his neck. He brought you to his bedroom, the one he shared with your mother, placing you on the edge of his side of the bed. He leaned down, still standing as you were sitting, and placed his lips on yours once more.
One of his hands roamed your body, landing on your right boob as he massaged the skin through your shirt. You gasped into the kiss, the sensation sending sparkes to your cunt. Aaron pulled away from the kiss, moving to grab the hem of your shirt before pulling it off of you, revealing your flesh to him. You hadn’t worn a bra after getting out of the shower as you didn’t expect anyone to be home tonight.
“You’re so beautiful,” Aaron said, moving a piece of your hair out of your face before leaning back down to kiss you. His hand massaged your skin, rolling your nipple around with his thumb. You let out a moan into Aaron’s mouth, unable to help yourself from making the noise.
After a few minutes of massaging both of your breasts, Aaron’s fingers trailed lower, reaching the waistline of your shorts. He pulled away from the kiss, looking at you with a serious face. “If you want me to stop, now would be the time to do so,” He exclaimed.
“Please don’t stop,” you responded, looking up at Aaron with a lustful gaze. “I-I need you so bad,” you admitted, blushing in slight embarrassment.
“Good girl,” Aaron replied, moving his fingers underneath the waistband of your shorts and panties. His praise caused you to let out a whimper. “You like being called that, don’t you?”
You nodded your head in response.
Aaron simply hummed in acknowledgement, running a finger down your slit to feel your wetness. “God, you’re soaked,” he whispered in awe. “All for me, princess?”
“Yes, daddy,” you whispered back, the name just falling out of your mouth without any thought.
You hadn't even realized you said it until Aaron let out a groan. “Fuck,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment. Those two words sent a jolt of heat straight to his cock as he processed what you had said. “I’ll give you anything you want, darling. You’re being such a good girl for me.” And with that, he began to rub your clit.
You let out a low moan, your eyes fluttering shut as you did so. Aaron moved himself so that he was sat behind you, his hand still on your clit while your back was pressed against his chest. He wrapped his other arm around you, leaning in to kiss your neck. His finger went from your clit to your hole, spreading your wetness around before easing a finger inside of you. You whined at the feeling, letting out a soft “daddy,” in pleasure.
“I’ve got you, baby,” he said into your skin. He began moving his finger slowly inside of you, teasing your pussy. Your soft moans were like music to Aaron’s ears as he played with your cunt. He eventually added a second finger, stretching you out slightly as he quickened his pace. He hooked his fingers, hitting your g-spot and causing you to jolt and arch your back.
“O-oh fuck,” you moaned, placing a hand on Aaron’s thigh. “Oh my god.”
If you had asked yourself earlier in the day if your step-father would be finger fucking you right now, you likely would’ve laughed. But here you are, getting finger fucked by the man you’ve only thought about, never thinking it would actually happen. The room was filled with the sounds of your wet cunt as Aaron sped up his fingers. You were writhing in his arms, your head rested on his shoulder.
“You’re so wet for me,” he murmured into your ear, his hot breath on your skin. “I’ve dreamt about doing this,” he began to speak. “Every time I come home from a case and you’re just sitting there in your pajamas, focused on your coursework, looking so beautiful.” Aaron’s other hand moved to your left boob, massaging the skin. “When you’d stretch and let out a small moan, it never failed to make me want to bend you over and take you right then and there.”
You whined in response, his words, the added pleasure, the repeated movements of his fingers inside of you, it was all so much. You felt that familiar heat building in your abdomen as your orgasm slowly approached. “Don’t even get me started on that vacation we took a few months ago,” Aaron continued. “That skimpy bathing suit that barely hid anything when we went to the beach,” His voice was very attractive and soft as he spoke. “Couldn’t help but touch myself that night in the shower to the thought of you while your mother was just in the other room.”
“Daddy,” you moaned, your breathing becoming heavy and shaky. “I’m so close.”
“Come for me, baby,” Aaron replied, moving his digits inside of you faster. “You’re doing so good.”
Your walls clenched around Aaron’s fingers as your orgasm came over you. Your thighs clamped together as you arched your back against Aaron, whining and moaning as you came. Aaron fingered you through your orgasm, coaxing you through it. And when you finally came down from your high, Aaron gave you soft kisses along your skin, calming you down.
“Daddy,” you sighed, leaning into his touch. “Need your cock,” you turned your head to look at Aaron, leaning your head on his shoulder.
“And you’ll get it, baby,” Aaron hummed, turning his face to kiss you on the lips. He let go of you, standing up from his spot behind you. “Take your shorts off for me.” He said as he began unbuttoning his shirt. You obliged, pulling down your shorts and tossing them to the side, leaving you fully nude. You bit your lip, looking up at Aaron with doe eyes.
Aaron tossed his shirt to the side before moving to unbuckle his pants. He tossed his belt to the side, unzipping his pants and pulling them down along with his boxer briefs. You let out a small whimper as Aaron’s cock sprang out. He was about seven inches but he was quite girthy, definitely bigger than your previous partners. “You’re so big,” you whispered, looking at his cock.
Your words caused Aaron to chuckle. “Am I?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow in amusement. “Glad you think so, princess.” He walked back over to the bed as he kicked his pants away. “Lay on your side for me.”
You nodded your head, laying down on your side, your head on the pillows. Aaron moved your leg, holding it up slightly as he kneeled on the mattress, straddling your other leg. He rested your leg on his thigh, grabbing his cock and guiding it to your pussy. He brought the tip to your clit before moving it down, spreading your wetness onto his cock. You let out a shaky breath, gripping the sheets. His cock moved to your hole, slowly probing at your entrance. You moaned at the intrusion, feeling the stretch in your cunt. Aaron hissed in pleasure as your walls enclosed around his member.
Tears formed in your eyes at the sting. Aaron leaned down to kiss your temple, whispering sweet nothings in your ear to relax you. When Aaron bottomed out, he stayed there for a moment, letting you adjust to his size. After a few minutes, the pain subsided. “Y-you can move,” you said.
Aaron began to slowly thrust, moving his hips out before moving back inside of you. The both of you let out moans as he settled into a slow rhythm. “You’re so fucking tight, princess,” Aaron groaned.
“So big, daddy,” you whined, burying your head into the pillow. Aaron’s cock filled you up so good, hitting in spots you had never felt before. “Never been so full.”
Aaron moaned softly, leaning down to capture your lips with his as he thrusted his hips. His cock grazed your g-spot, going deeper inside of you, causing you to let out a choked moan. “O-oh fuck,” you moaned against Aaron’s lips. “F-faster, please.”
And he obliged. He moved his hips at a faster pace, putting a hand in your hair and tugging at the strands. You started to moan louder, your eyes fluttering shut as Aaron’s cock plunged in and out of you. “You’re so perfect,” Aaron exclaimed, breathing heavily. “Being such a good girl for me.” Aaron started thrusting into you harshly, causing your walls to clench around his cock. “Mine,” he said, leaning down to nip at your neck.
“All yours, daddy,” you whined. “Always yours.” The moans leaving your mouth were whorish as his cock hit your sweet spot repeatedly, making you see stars. You turned your head to bury it in the pillows.
That was until Aaron gripped your hair, yanking your head back a bit. “Look at me while I fuck you,” he said, his voice rough and filled with desire. You obeyed, turning your head to look up at Aaron with your beautiful eyes. His brown orbs were on you as he fucked you, his pace almost brutual.
The sensation of his cock pounding into you made tears of pleasure well up in your eyes, making you let out a sob. “Daddy,” you sobbed in pleasure. “it’s too much, too much.” you babbled.
Aaron cooed, running a soothing hand through your hair. “You can take it,” he replied, not relenting up. “Be a good girl and take it.” Aaron groaned.
The repeated assault onto your g-spot made your abdomen tighten as you felt your orgasm approaching. “So close,” you whimpered.
“Me too, baby, me too.”
And with just a few thrusts, you were clenching around Aaron’s cock, cumming for the second time that night. Aaron hissed in pleasure, letting out a moan as he followed suit, cumming inside of your cunt. You babbled as you came, letting out a mantra of “oh my gods” and “daddy” as Aaron moaned out sweet nothings.
When you both finished, the both of you were breathing heavily, Aaron still inside of you. He kissed your cheek. “You did so good,” he murmured.
As you came down from your high, Aaron pulled out, laying down next to you. He wrapped an arm around you, putting his other arm underneath your head and pulling you close to him. You turned towards him, laying your head on his chest. The both of you were silent, not saying a word as you processed what had happened. Your step father just fucked you into oblivion.
So what happens now?
“What does this mean for us?” You murmured softly, glancing up at Aaron’s face.
Aaron gave you a small smile, moving a piece of hair out of your face. “Well, we can continue as we were and pretend as though this didn’t happen,” he murmured back. “Or we can keep this a secret and explore what this is.”
“Our little secret?” You asked.
“Our little secret, princess.”
And so, that’s what it was. Your own little secret with your step-father. And thus your intimate relationship began.
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⋆ GLORY HOLE
ft. Sunday, Gallagher, Gepard, Jing Yuan.
𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 cw. f!reader, oral male receiving ( sunday, mentions : gallagher, gepard )
NAVI ⁞ EVENT MASTERLIST
a... glory hole? that was a new concept for Sunday, but well, as the Oak family boss he should personally check whether the new Penacony entertainment establishment met the requirements.
what he did not expect was to get absolutely addicted to you. who happened to be the destined girl to give Mr. Sunday a little test, a little trial all free from charge, a gift from the owner himself.
the room being wiped clean from all unwanted eyes, all but the man himself, and the round hole where your pretty mouth could wrap around his cock. hesitation is what mostly existed in Sunday’s brain, although it quickly shut down when the pink tip of your tongue darted out to taste him, almost making his hand slam against the thin wall separating you both.
a pleasure like no other is what you’ve made him feel, turning him into some lust driven being where he aggressively rutted his hips against the wall, balls almost slapping with your chin if it weren’t because of the separation, but eons... how desperate Sunday needed to see your face, what expression would you have? blissed, cock drunk? perhaps even surprised or fearful to find yourself sucking Sunday’s cock, although the mere thought was enough to make him cum down your eager throat.
the establishment was approved in less than a day.
although Gallagher enjoyed his job, serving drinks, chit chat with patrons who were more than eager to share bits of personal or interesting information and creating new, innovative drinks, he couldn’t deny the thrill and eagerness that surrounded the man upon the arrival of his shift’s end.
mindlessly playing with the lighter on his hand while his steps were casual and light through Penacony’s streets, steps that always guided him to one place, the gloryhole.
Gallagher had a favorite, of course, you happened to immediately capture his heart — and cock — merely from watching you bent and spread, that pretty pussy slick and almost begging for him.
he doesn’t really care if he’s fucking your throat or cunt, both are more than welcome for as long as you continue to make those tiny, muffled mewls. he likes to think you do them just for him, that you have somehow memorized the shape of his cock, the way each vein rubs against your pussy walls, the taste of his precum staining your tongue and gliding down your throat.
it’s a nice entertainment and stress reliever, but besides from a selfish reward, he does really enjoy how you silently cream his cock every single time.
Gepard knew this wasn’t a good idea, he knew he should not have listened to the other guards speaking about this new underground club, but he was the captain, it was his duty to check whether all permits were in order.
big mistake. the blonde should have first asked Bronya about the paperwork instead of just rushing to the said place, and second of all, he definitely should have checked if it was indeed a club, not a gloryhole.
his cheeks are as pink as the neon lights outside, thinking he shouldn’t be there, he shouldn’t be intently staring at your exposed pussy and his cock definitely shouldn’t be drooling precum into his pants, twitching and straining against his pants. but he’s there, and somehow, back a few days later, wearing daily clothes now and thankfully the lady at the front counter didn’t seem impressed at the sight of the guard, perks of working above the surface.
it takes him a few days to build up the courage, to finally do more than just rub his thumb on your clit until you cum, to slide his condom wrapped cock across your slit, teasing himself until the tip accidentally catches against your hole, and then he just gives in, messily humping into your soft cunt that wraps around his cock just so prettily, so perfect and warm, you’re like heaven, and Gepard can’t help but wonder if you’d like to go out with him.
Jing Yuan is really not ashamed of his sex life, but of course, as the general, he must still keep some appearances.
the subtle looking establishment is always ready to receive the silver haired man, with an extra tip to keep the hostess quiet about his whereabouts, and another extra so he gets to meet with you, his favorite girl.
never in his life has Jing Yuan been picky, but ever since he got a taste of you, — more like you got a taste of him — he couldn’t just give up on you so easily.
and you know it’s him, of course you do, he doesn’t need to speak, but his low, throaty chuckle and deep groans of pleasure are enough to give him away, besides, you always knew a man like the general was well packed, considering how easily he made your toes curl and eyes roll in sheer bliss.
he fucks like he fights, with all he got, with his hands on your hips almost leaving bruises, precisely thrusting into your soaked cunt that seemed to ooze more slick the more his cock drove into you. but there were times when he fucked deep but slow, almost making you sob and convulse around the fat girth of his cock, begging and sucking him deeper into your walls.
#sunday smut#sunday x reader#sunday x you#hsr sunday smut#hsr sunday x reader#honkai star rail sunday smut#honkai star rail sunday#Gallagher smut#honkai star rail gallagher#gallagher smut#gallagher x reader#hsr gallagher#honkai star rail gallagher smut#hsr gepard smut#gepard smut#gepard x reader#honkai star rail gepard smut#jing yuan x reader#jing yuan smut#jing yuan x you#hsr jing yuan#hsr Jing yuan smut#honkai star rail jing yuan smut#hsr smut#hsr x reader smut#hsr x reader#honkai star rail smut#honkai star rail x reader#jing yuan x reader smut
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Celandine (c.b. one-shot)
♡ Chapter Inspo: Celandine - Cures depression, brings victory and joy. Serves as a protective ward when worn. Carry to increase self-confidence when facing adversaries. Use in ritual work when you feel trapped in undue negativity.
♡ Summary: You are feeling a bit blue about your body PP, Carmy takes it upon himself to show you just how beautiful you are! :) <3
♡ W/C: 1.2K+
♡ Posted Date: 05/27/2024
♡ A/N: Hello! Happy day 2/7 of the Capri 200 Follower Celebration Extravaganza!!! You can find said extravaganza ♡ Here ♡ this celebration will be going until next Sunday (06/02/24) so get your requests in! Here's another celebration ask on the books! This ask is from lovely @jesscolon529 I hope you enjoy, my darling!
♡ Warnings for BTC: Speaking of pregnancy, Fem/AFAB!reader, No use of y/n, feelings of self hate / insecurity, sad reader, comforting carmy, established relationship, not edited, Pics are just vibes, reader isn't described!! Established relationship
♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡
➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡
➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡
➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡
➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡
It had been 12 weeks since you’d delivered you and Carmy’s first baby, and your postpartum depression was in full effect. It really had not much to do with your baby, and everything to do with you. You felt gross after you delivered, you barely even wanted Carmy to look at you which he took like a stab in the heart.
When you came home, it wasn’t really different. Even though showering was…very painful, and you could really use the help and would appreciate that help very much - you couldn’t accept it. The idea of your husband seeing your naked body that you considered to be mangled and gross brought tears to your eyes. The idea of him watching blood run down the drain as you carefully rinsed your mangled bits he used to devour nearly every night made you want to throw up.
There was still a tiny part of you that believed he did this to you, so he shouldn’t be upset with the result - but somehow that just made you more angry because what if he was upset with how your body looked now, and just wasn’t saying anything? And how dare he not like your body after all you’ve done for him, for your family?!
You were stood in front of the full length mirror in the bedroom after you showered, observing yourself. You could have sex how, if you wanted. But you had convinced yourself you’d never let Carmy see you naked again in fear he would shriek and cover his eyes and run away, a bit dramatic - but still you couldn’t face the idea of your husband not loving you anymore because he saw what left you have to give after 9 months of hell.
You touch your now jiggly, wrinkly belly, pulling the skin back with your hands and sighing a bit, remembering how you used to look. Tears welled in your eyes, “you’re so fucking vain” you whispered in the mirror.
“Baby?” Carmy nudged the door open and you shout
“JESUS CHRIST!!! IM CHANGING! Shut the door Carmen!”
He jumps a bit at your sudden outburst, a frown coming to his features “why?” He asked and shut the door behind him. You quickly grabbed your shirt, sliding it over your head and pulling it out so it wouldn’t rest over your belly.
“Cause- cause I deserve privacy?” You snap, angry that he wasn’t just running away like you’d expected him - or wanted him to.
“Privacy? From…y’husband?” He comes over and rubs your arms gently “baby- are you gonna tell me wha’s up?” He asked.
Your lip wobbled, more tears coming to your eyes. You shook your head quickly and looked at the floor, squeezing your eyes shut and hot, thick, shameful tears roll down your cheeks. “I’m ruined now” you said, your voice watery and defeated.
“What?” He wiped your tears and hugged you, rubbing your back “baby what’s been goin on? You haven’t let me see you in months. I miss you, y’know that, right?” He kissed the top of your head as you sniffle in to his shirt
“I- I’m ugly now an-and wrinkly and covered in stretch marks and- and all…different down there. What if you stop loving me?” You burst into sobs. He could barely contain the lump growing in his own throat as he hushed you and rubbed soothing circles into your back.
“Princess” he said his voice cracking a bit and he led you to the bed, sitting and pulling you into his lap “I could never stop loving you. I would have to be warm and dead to stop loving you. Y’hear me? You, and little dude, are the only things in this world that matter t’me…and maybe the restaurant…but-“ he said, just to bring a tiny smile to your lips
“Mmm? See there’s that smile” he wipes your tears “what’s been bugging you baby, show me. I promise, I love every bit of you, I love you more every day- I still don’t know how that’s possible, but you make it work somehow” he teased and you blush, hiding your teary cheeks in the crook of his neck as he rubbed your back and side soothingly.
“You say that but what if you see me and you can’t help it” you sniffled a bit.
“Not possible honey” he countered. “Cmon- tell me. What’s been buggin you?”
“My belly. And - and my thighs are so big now. My belly is all…ugh. Wrinkly and has all these red marks on it. And my bellybutton looks all weird” you whine
“This belly?” He rubs his palm over it “the belly that kept our son all warm and happy n’safe till it was time f’him t’come home?” He asked and you huff
“Yes but..it’s not…normal anymore” you said and he hums in agreement.
“Y’right, it’s better, it’s new, it’s gonna take you some gettin’ used to- but I love it. Can I tell y’somethin and y’promise not t’be mad?” He asked and cuddled you into him more, kissing your cheek and hairline, wherever he could reach.
“Mm” you hummed, sniffling softly
“Your body now is the most beautiful it has ever been. Because it’s yours. It’s my wife’s body, my beautiful Mrs.Berzatto, it’s your belly, and your thighs, and your new different pussy you’re so afraid of” he said playfully in your ear to which you giggle a bit, cupping his cheek and looking at him with tear rimmed eyes.
“Y’not just lying to make me feel better?” You asked and he shook his head
“Nope- all the truth babygirl. Why would I lie t’my best girl mm? My only girl” he kissed your lips gently and rubbed your hip over.
“And - and you really like it?” You pouted
He raised his brows in the ‘are you fucking with me’ Carmy way, “want me to show you?” He asked and you felt heat in your cheeks, looking down shyly. “Okay-“ he laid you back on the bed carefully, pushing up your shirt. “I think-“ he starts kissing from your ribs, over your sternum, down, down, over your belly, making it a point to kiss each little dimple and mark
“I fed you and little boy sooo good while you were pregnant, so these? You can blame me. But I love them as selfish as it makes me” he kissed over your hips. “And these” he squeezed them with his hands “mmm fuck I looove these- I can’t wait to hold these while I’m fuckin’ you mm?” He traveled his hands up your waist, squeezing gently and continuing to ravish you in kisses.
“And these” he gently squeezed your breasts together in your nursing bra “are fucking amazing. And a literal life source for our boy. An’he’s growin so well. He’s in the 95th percentile, he’s so healthy, and chunky. Y’doin amazing babe.” He cups your cheeks.
“The most important thing though baby is you. You’re still my beautiful, kind, thoughtful wife. And I wouldn’t change anything about you, not a single fuckin’ thing, hear me?” He kisses you deeply.
You felt more tears running down your cheeks, but it wasn’t fear or sadness this time that brought them,
It was gratitude.
#Capri 200 follower celebration#carmen berzatto imagine#carmen berzatto blurb#carmen berzatto fluff#carmen berzatto smut#carmen berzatto x reader#Carmen Berzatto x fem!reader#Carmen Berzatto x you#carmen berzatto x female reader#Carmen Berzatto one shot#Carmen Berzatto drabble#carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto#carmy the bear#carmy berzatto fic#carmy berzatto imagine#carmy berzatto smut#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x fem reader#carmy berzatto x female reader#carmy berzatto x you#carmy berzatto blurb#carmy berzatto x oc#the bear fx#the bear#the bear fic#the bear hulu#the bear fanfiction#carmen berzatto fanfiction#carmy berzatto fanfiction
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NEW FIC - WIP! Hand To Your Heart (Chapter 1)
Hi all,
This is my take on the classic trope of “Mulder and Scully decide to be friends-with-benefits. Surely they can keep their emotions to themselves, right? Oh, and add in a little Fowley angst.”
This isn’t totally canon-compliant because I genuinely don’t understand the mytharc and don’t care to get better acquainted with it.
As usual, this is a WIP and will have a happy ending (MSR). My last fic proved to me that I shouldn’t promise any true regularity in updating, but I do try to update about 2-3 times a week.
Enjoy, and as always, thank you for reading and commenting! Find me on AO3 (oohnotvery)!
-E.
tagging @today-in-fic
Scully
They haven’t tried this position before, but Scully is glad it’s what Mulder wants tonight. Here on his bed, with her ass in the air and her eyes pinned to the pattern of his duvet, it is a welcome relief not seeing his face as he approaches orgasm.
When they initiated this little arrangement five weeks ago, she didn’t put much—if any—thought into which sex positions they might try. At the time, all she really cared about was getting him naked regularly, having the chance to touch his body without hesitation, and being able to engage in her most recurrent fantasy—sex with Mulder—without a hint of shame.
Of the fifteen times they’ve had sex, they’ve tried a lot of things together: missionary, cowgirl, standing, spooning, going down on the other, and one time, he even convinced her to sit on his face. Although she blushed from head to toe at that last one, she has a feeling that for the rest of her life, it will stand out in her memory as the most thigh-trembling, toe-tingling, spine-curling orgasm of her life.
So tonight, when he tossed her face down on the bed, she was a little surprised. They’ve never tried doggy style before. Although in past relationships she’s enjoyed the feeling of being taken from behind, she hasn’t been too interested in trying a position with Mulder that feels so . . . detached.
Her surprise quickly gave way, however, to a deep surge of relief. Tonight, he’s not pulling her into his lap or positioning them like he normally does—foreheads touching, gazes locking as they come in near synchronicity. No. That would be far too intimate tonight.
Maybe he’s feeling it too, she thinks as he pauses to shove her legs even wider apart. Her clit is nearly touching the mattress now and she resists the urge to grind down into his bed. She doesn’t want him to see her so needy. Not tonight, not when the tension between them has escalated to a fever pitch. Not when they can barely look each other in the eyes.
It was a mistake to come here, she thinks as he starts slamming into her. She is too vulnerable, too emotional, stripped bare after a week of confusion, jealousy, and disloyalty.
But the little chicken-scratch note he slapped on her desk today was too tempting to ignore.
Tonight, my place. Be there at eight.
All of their prior dalliances have begun either with flimsy pretense or mutual understanding: she’s stopping by for a drink, he’s coming over to share notes, they decide to leave work early, he books them conjoining motel rooms. Never has one summoned the other, not like this. Part of her really, really likes it, likes the way his demand makes her stomach swoop. The commanding tone of his request feels primal, possessive. It says you’re mine, and I will fuck you tonight whether you want me to or not.
Surrendering to her baser desires has been so, so easy lately, so when she saw his note, it was natural to consider allowing it one more time. They’ve been opposite soldiers on the battlefield all week. Maybe crossing enemy lines could yield reparations, understanding, an alliance.
No. She should have resisted. She should have remembered all the ways this week has ruined them. Wasn’t it just a few days ago that she met Diana Fowley? That she spied Mulder tenderly holding hands with this mysterious new agent? That she visited the Gunmen, only to learn the true nature of this woman from Mulder’s past? That she left their lair feeling humiliated, betrayed, and replaced? That she swore to herself she’d never sleep with Mulder again?
And she knows why Mulder demanded her company tonight. Although there hasn’t been an obvious pattern to their past hook-ups, she knows he’s using her. It’s part of why they agreed to this arrangement, right? Stress relief, a trusted partner with whom to engage in mutually beneficial safe sex. Completely emotion-free. Strictly platonic. And God knows Mulder has been through the ringer this week. Their office, burned. The X-Files, incinerated. Diana, shot and hospitalized. It makes sense that he’s using her body to drown out his worries, but it makes less sense that she’s just letting him. But . . . but he’s Mulder, and even if he’s been difficult and moody and elusive all week, he smells good and looks good, and she knows the way his tongue feels on her clit, and she knows the way he grins when she tells him she’s coming—
She gasps, returning violently to the present moment as Mulder pulls out all the way and slams his hips back into her. She grits her teeth as pleasure-mixed-with-pain ripples treacherously through her body. She buries her face in the duvet and tries to remind herself that Mulder has visited Diana in the hospital every day this week. In fact, she knows he was there today, because when he answered the door tonight, he still had a visitor’s badge taped to his t-shirt. As soon as she saw the ugly thing, she almost turned around and walked out. She can’t fuck someone who’s interested in someone else, right?
But he had grabbed her by the neck and hauled her into him, and because he’s a beautiful kisser, because his erection was so damn rigid against her jeans, because his breath tasted slightly of alcohol, she caved. He’s using her for sex? She could certainly do the same.
But tonight has been noticeably different than all their past visits. Over the last few weeks, she’s grown to expect Mulder to talk while he’s fucking her. Sometimes sweet, sometimes dirty, sometimes with a flick of his tongue in her ear, sometimes with his lips suctioned around her clit.
But he’s eerily silent tonight. Normally at this point, with sweat breaking out over their bodies and her clit screaming for attention, he’s beginning to move his mouth to her ear, starting to whisper things like good girl, come for me, you feel so fucking good, oh, I’m gonna come, Scully, your body is so sexy.
And yet, he hasn’t even touched her tonight. Usually, there’s long stretches of foreplay before he actually starts to fuck her. Most days, she’s already come once from his fingers or his mouth before he even begins to suggest penetrative sex. But tonight, he went from zero to sixty in a matter of minutes, and with his lack of attention and her growing indignation, her body’s arousal is dipping, dipping, dipping. She’s simply not wet enough for this.
He slams back into her and this time she cries out in real pain. That was too rough, she should say, and any other day, she would raise her head and tell him. And if he were truly in tune with her like normally, he’d notice her discomfort. He’d see the way her muscles are tensing, the way she’s leaning her hips away from him, the way her whimpers are growing more and more distressed.
But instead he just adjusts his grip, grabs her shoulder, and brings his other hand up to her breasts, plucking at her nipples. At first, the change is welcome—he’s touching me!—but then his fingers pinch hard. Too hard. She bites her lip until she tastes blood, but she’s tough, and she refuses to admit that it hurts. Not tonight.
He pounds out a half dozen more strokes then folds over her, his chest slick against her back, his mouth brushing up against her ear. Oh. Okay. Maybe he is going to talk her through her orgasm.
“Close?” he asks on a grunt, and she doesn’t think he’s ever had to ask her that question. Usually by this point, she’s already telling him—both physically and verbally—that she’s nearing her orgasm.
The answer is no, no, she’s not close at all. She’s not going to come tonight, not with Diana Fowley and betrayal and a burned office and a distant partner on the brain.
“Scully?” he prods aggravatedly when she doesn’t answer. He’s gone still inside her and it’s a welcome relief. She’s never been this unresponsive to him, has never had a problem with her arousal around him. Hell, she’s been wet for five years. Tonight, though, he’s just not doing it for her.
But she can’t talk about it. There’s no conversation they could have that would improve the state of their relationship right now. She’s not going to admit to her insecurities around Diana Fowley, and he doesn’t even know the Gunmen revealed their secret dating history. It would be embarrassing—mortifying, really—to admit to such knowledge, to such feelings. So instead, she closes her eyes and nods.
“Yeah.”
He hesitates briefly before lifting off her back and sliding his hands back down to her hips. She bites the inside of her cheek as he pounds into her, five, six, seven, eight times, and then he’s coming. When he slips out and pushes her away onto her side, the breath sputters out of her in gasping relief. Her cunt is aching, and not in a good way. The only fluid down there is Mulder’s semen leaking out of her, and even that stings and itches against her sensitive walls. She squirms uncomfortably for a minute, wondering what he expects from her next. Normally, he tugs her into his chest and holds her for a long time, sometimes so long that she forgets to make an excuse about needing to go home. On more than one occasion, in fact, she’s woken up the next morning to his wandering hands under the sheets and a fresh cup of coffee on the nightstand.
She steals a glance behind her and to her consternation, his eyes are closed, his mouth half-open, his breathing deep and even. The bastard is already, impossibly asleep. Angry, outraged tears collect on her lashes as she realizes she’s been dismissed. There will be no sleepover tonight, no cuddling, no coffee in the morning. Indignantly, she swipes at her wet cheeks. She will not waste tears on this humiliation.
Moving silently, she collects her things and heads to the bathroom to clean up. A quick glance at her watch tells her it’s not even nine o’clock yet. Jesus Christ, she hasn’t even been here an hour. Somehow, though, it’s been more than enough time for something sick and twisted to curl up in her gut, for a painful ache to weigh down her heart.
It wasn’t supposed to feel like this. Sleeping with Mulder was never supposed to feel demeaning or humiliating. When they came up with this little arrangement, she imagined a lot of things, a whole host of possibilities: great sex, a more intimate bond, a relief to the tension that’s been building and building and building all these years. Of course—because she’s not an idiot—she also considered some the less pleasant outcomes: that the sex would be mediocre, that they wouldn’t “click” in this particular way, that he’d want to call it off after just one try.
But for all the ugly scenarios she did cook up, she never once allowed herself to face the truly terrifying possibilities. She never once imagined herself sneaking out of his apartment after a quick, unsatisfying fuck. She never once envisioned herself crying on the drive home as the twin pillars of shame and resentment took hold in her chest. She never once thought that she would be left broken and hurting after just five weeks of sharing his bed. She never once considered that she would leave his apartment feeling worse about herself than she did upon arrival.
And of course, naïve as she’s been, she never believed there could ever be another woman involved.
In her car, she slams her fist on the steering wheel. God, why hadn’t she thought of these things? Why hadn’t she considered the possibility that things would go terribly, terribly wrong?
Because you’re in love, a small voice whispers.
She grinds her teeth and grips the wheel tighter, refusing to acknowledge the thought playing at the back of her mind. She will never let herself bring that particular idea to the light. It is dangerous, unwieldy. Being in love with Mulder isn’t an option. The foundation of their sexual arrangement is that the raging tension and chemistry between them is purely sexual. There are no emotions, save for the natural affection and fondness that comes with being partners for five years.
And although she’s always been good at shoving down her emotions, right now, they’re climbing higher and higher in her throat. If she opens her mouth, they just might spill out. Things like love, desire, devotion, passion. Things that are much heavier than friendship. Things that will break them.
Regret surges all around her, and she knows she has made a grave error in judgment. For her own sake, it is clear she needs to end this with him. The persistent flood tears tonight are proof alone that she has gotten too invested, too emotional. The gut-wrenching idea of Diana Fowley lurking in the background is evidence that Mulder never intended for this arrangement to mean anything.
So, she needs to end it.
And yet . . .
And yet, she can’t. Not without alerting him to the fact that she has significant feelings, feelings that he’s crushed to a pulp in just a few weeks.
In the parking lot of her building, she closes her eyes and rests her forehead on the wheel. She shoves past pesky emotions to dig deeper into clarity. So, she can’t end things, but she also can’t sleep with him again. Doing so would break her.
There’s a way to do this, though, a way that doesn’t involve letting onto her feelings or her pain. All she must do is let it fade into the background. Release Mulder to the world, to Diana Fowley, if he wants that woman. Politely refuse his invitations to hang out. Decline to initiate sex on her own. Eventually, someone else—likely a tall brunette with long legs and huge tits—will ensnare him, will entice him, will take him away from her.
Soon, Scully tells herself as she exits the car, he’ll stop coming to her for sex. Soon, they’ll slot back into their old, platonic partnership. Soon, she’ll stop thinking that she loves him.
And soon, she promises herself through gritted teeth, she will forget all the ways he made her feel like he might love her, too.
#mulder x scully#x files#dana scully#the x files#txf#fox mulder#x files fanfic#msr fanfic#msr#xfiles fanfic#fox mulder my beloved
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dandy
They go to five different shops and still nothing. Ron suggests and then insists they break for food, which Harry allows because the next shop is in France and even if he pushed his fringe aside and they managed a last minute international Floo with no reservation, it still doesn’t open for another hour.
Across the tiny bistro table at Hera’s, the posh little cafe off Diagon that both of them hate, Harry’s halfway through writing back to Pansy for the fourth time this morning. Ron, with a mouthful of his second inexcusably expensive mini breakfast roll, says, “Is it really that big of a deal?”
Harry blows out a lung and half’s worth of air, considering that response enough and folds the note up, shoving it towards the owl waiting at the open windowsill. It shouldn’t be this hot for early June. He woke up sweating, if he’s being honest, due to a couple of reasons. One of which is currently filling his stomach with lead, which reminds him of the small box in his pocket, resting against his thigh which is the reason and somehow also lead - getting the hair potion is the simpler task to focus on.
“How about just doing a date night in a week or something?” Ron manages to sound almost like he believes it. He works innocently through another bite of sausage, bacon and egg but the smirk manages to leak through.
“Yeah. He’d love a quiet, no-fuss thing on his lunch break, maybe. It’s not like he’s one for details or drama or anything like that.” Harry belatedly notices the owl still there, staring at him, and bargains with a messy three-quarters of his already quite small pastel de nata, shooing it away once it accepts the bribe. Pansy’s in charge of the fireworks and she’s being a complete wanker about it.
Maybe that isn't fair - he’s very tired. Harry hadn’t actually woken up today as much as eventually conceded that it was morning after a full eight hours of staring at the back of his own eyelids. Next to him, Draco, however, had slept like the fucking minister of sleep, like an angel that was born only to dream and look really docile and soft and comfortable or whatever other kind of thing slept well - Harry doesn't know, he's too knackered for the metaphor.
Just before bed, Draco checked the post and grumbled that the fancy hair potion he'd ordered last week hadn’t shown up and then Harry’s entire plan for today had begun its slow-motion avalanche. It’s bordering on a real disaster, at this point, though he can’t really tell if the feeling is actually big or it's the enormity of the day itself making everything feel huge. He drinks a hurried mouthful of coffee and leans over a little, staring through the window like that might summon the owl back quicker.
“Do you think it matters that much? Like, in terms of the whole plan, d’you think he really cares about getting the shampoo he likes?”
“Not sure if you’ve met him.” Harry says, not taking his eyes off the empty street, the view from the window. It just feels like the owl could come back faster this way, and once the fireworks and the semi-legal aura-borealis-in-a-bottle are all confirmed, he can relax even just a single molecule more. “But he’s sort of like a really finicky breed of show cat. That I live with.”
Ron supplies, “And, that you shag.”
“And, that I shag.” Harry smiles.
“That you’re gonna marry.”
The smile stretches, dangerously close to huge. “That I’m going to marry.”
“I think, who cares about the shampoo, then.”
“I care.” Upending his glasses, Harry digs a knuckle into one eye, like he can push back the exhaustion and heart-obliterating anxiety and whatever other massive, wonderful, terrifying feelings linger all over, brimming just under the skin. “It’s not about the hair potion thing, though he is like, one Victorian petticoat thing away from going full dandy." Harry pushes a hand through his hair, looking back at Ron. "There's no way's he gonna say no, but it’s just... worth doing. Not to convince him, but. He notices stuff like this, all these little things, which makes me notice more little things, which makes the whole world feel like it's got more to it, like it's deeper or fuller or something and it's because of him that I-”
“Okay, save it for the vows, Merlin.” Ron pops in the sixth and final mini roll and stands up, chewing and thoughtful. He checks his watch, all in, Harry’s best fucking man. The best man. “Percy should be behind his very important department of transportation desk by now. We can bully him into getting the Floo authorization for bloody Paris, and still be back in time to meet Ginny at the bakery to get the cakes off to Wiltshire before your future husband even wakes up and wonders where you've gone off to.”
“Future husband.” Harry repeats and Ron's grin is wildly contagious.
Or maybe it's been idling in him even through the sleepless night, because he actually couldn't wait for today and today could hardly wait for him. Standing, he finishes off the coffee and runs a nervous, ready hand over his pocket. Inside, a weightless thing made enormous because it's the whole rest of his life, eager to arrive.
for day 27 of @microficmay
#microficmay2024#drarry fanfic#drarry fic#drarry#drarry microfic#these are so unbeta'd and i'm editing with my eyes a little closed#i keep coming home from work like 'i'll do two quick paragraphs' then there's a major betrayal enacted by my own two hands#i actually am in fact the one who is too knackered for the metaphor
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Have I posted this? Alpha!Jon, Alpha!Dami, Omega!Tim 🤨
I told babe I was thinking about this, but I have done this before? Meh, regardless.
**
And really, when all things in Gotham are quiet, you know it’s going to be a good night.
B shouldn’t have worried enough to call Red Robin out of Titan’s Tower, but still, it’s nice to run through the city, skimming rooftops, getting a little more down n’ dirty with street baddies than riding the usual international espionage with his team. A few weeks away and this kind of thing is really just an itch that needs to be scratched.
“I am almost disappointed,” Robin laughs from beside him under the wing of a gargoyle right on the roof of the Wallstone apartments. His veggie wrap is disappearing quickly because Baby Bat has been a bottomless pit of hunger since he started putting on height and heavier muscle five years ago. Sixteen had been good for Dami, and Bruce’s genetics kicked into high gear two years later. At twenty-one, he’s broad through the chest and shoulders, almost a head taller than Red and a few sparse inches from Hood.
It was about the time Terry had approached him in Titans’ Tower, and convinced Red to start coming back to Gotham again, fighting the good fight along with the family, taking a step back into Gotham’s underworld when the world seemed to be momentarily stable.
At some point, he and Dami started working together, stepping out in the night with masks on and old hurts finally easing.
“Meh. There’s always another night,” Red takes another bite and sighs through his nose because really, chicken wrap for the win.
(Alfred is always going to be the man.)
“I suppose. However, I’d hoped this wouldn’t have been an...exciting night for you to make the trip.”
Red waves him off, looking down at the street, chewing for a second, “all good, Baby Bat. Everyone is out of the Tower for the weekend anyway. This is a nice break.”
Robin laughs low, “only you would consider this a break.”
“Well, you know, my Wednesdays are hectic as fuck.”
“I suppose it is difficult to schedule brunch, yes?”
“You don’t even know.”
And just like that, the two of them are laughing. A little bruised from a few street fights, but nothing extreme, and Dami is getting so much better at vigilante banter that Red Robin can’t help but feel a little proud.
(Really, witty banter is their superpower. Superboy and Kid Flash will totally vouch.)
They finish the wraps and swing side-by-side to the Bowery, talking shit over comms, playing tag around the strip mall down on 44th, and genuinely making themselves pretty obvious for people that actually look up.
It’s easy to jump in the big car at the end of the night, lean back to work on his wrist computer while Dami drives them back to the Manor.
“Hey, hey, you can just drop me a few blocks from the Perch.”
“Tt. Stay at the Manor tonight. You can brief me on R&D’s projects for the board meeting.”
“Pfft, like I need to.”
“Your perspective is always better.”
“Fine, fine. You’re so needy, Dami.”
“And yet, you still put up with me, Tim.”
“Well, you’ve got me there.”
And their smiles are wide in the darkness of the car, Robin and Red Robin riding back to the Cave with coffee waiting and hot showers to wash away the night.
They meet back at the big computer, sweats and t-shirts, hair damp and bare faces, switching places from the main chair to their workstations, talking through the next week, repairing their gear or working on separate projects from their laptops.
Alfred smears goop on bruises and gives a final please be certain to persuade Master Tim to actually sleep this time, won’t you Master Damian?, disappearing up the winding stairs, the calming scent of home lingering behind him, his natural Beta scent.
With his scent blockers scrubbed off, the air around Tim is faintly sweet, following him like the smell of a good latte. Dami’s scent is still more shampoo and soap since Nulls don’t really have a discernible scent to the second sex.
And when they’re finally stretching and yawning, still a few hours to sleep before dawn, something in the air shifts.
One second, he’s got Dami laughing at the story about Bruce busting his bat ass against Mr. Freeze–while still being the Night, mind you– when Baby Bat stops abruptly, hand going down on Tim’s workstation top to catch himself when his knees unexpectedly give way.
Those eyes go wide, a hand going to his chest, fast and shocky enough that Tim sweeps forward to catch his youngest partner by pure instinct.
“Little D?! Dami, talk to me.” He keeps it calm, being Red Robin, staring at the sweat beading on the fourth Robin’s forehead while he gasps in a few fast and furious breaths.
“T-Tim,” but his eyes flutter closed and his knees wobble, his weight falling further down on Tim’s shoulder.
Shit. Tim manages to maneuver Dami down to his chair, holding him steady, wracking his brain for anything, anything they could have come upon tonight. Fear toxin, Joker gas, Ivy’s array of poisons and venom, an awful rooftop burrito from the questionable cart downtown. Anything, anything he could have a cure for right here in the fucking Cave–
When he starts to move away, to jump in the Bat Med-Bay for a syringe to take a blood sample and start up the quickest analysis he’s ever pulled off before, when he’s tamping down panic to be on point, when he sees the distress happening when those eyes look up at him–
He completely misses the way Damian’s scent abruptly gets muskier.
A hand shoots out, grips his wrist, stops him from moving away.
“Okay, I’m getting worried. C’mon D. Tell me what’s–”
He reaches down, lays two fingers over the throbbing pulse, tries to get some vitals, and something deep and dark rumbles through Baby Bat’s chest, something all about need.
Oh.
Shit.
**
Most people present in their early teens, you know, about the time Robin had been a little dead, or so Tim’s sputtering thoughts try to explain away while the grip on his wrist gets tight, pulls quick enough to reel him in closer. The nose in his neck is a sudden indication since Dami as a Null had never really been able to scent like the rest of them.
The way the youngest vigilante is now inhaling against Tim’s throat like he’s dying, holding the Omega so fucking tight is the first piece of evidence. But when his mouth opens and a noise, a deep purr, rolls out against Tim’s jugular, he has an inevitable moment of oh fuck, panic.
Because he’s down in the Bat Cave with a presenting Alpha Male, and he probably smells like fucking dessert.
“D-Dami,” and he gives himself about a million vigilante points because his hands aren’t shaking when one cups the back of the new Alpha’s neck, fingernails scritching lightly at the fine hair. “Hey Baby Bat, it’s me here. I can help you, but you’ve got to ease up a little, okay?” He makes a small move to pull out of those arms, get Dami to actually look at him.
The whine is low, a noise he’s never heard out of their Robin before tonight, but those arms tighten on instinct, and now they’re pressed together from chest to hip and–and…
Oh.
“You’re going into a RUT?!”
Because of course. His luck is that awful.
“T-Timmm,” is growly and low, deeper than Robin’s usual voice, and Tim can’t suppress the shudder that goes through him.
“You’re presenting, better late than never, right?” He keeps petting even when something wet moves up the side of his throat, making a tremor go through him. “We need to–to call Jon, okay? He can help you.”
“Tim, you…” and there’s another lick to his throat, dragging over his skin like Dami’s savoring him.
“I-I’m not–” but Dami abruptly lets him go and drops down to kneel, shoving his face in the soft t-shirt over Tim’s stomach.
Hands are on his hips now, the tight hold gripping him.
He pulls the comm out of Dami’s ear, the presenting Alpha not flinching away, staying where he kneels, inhaling the scent of Omega.
Tim fumbles the comm in his ear, tapping frantically until the sound of whoosh is in the foreground.
“Hey babe,” Jon’s voice rumbles over the line, “have a good night with Red Robin?”
“Sorry, wrong Robin,” Tim stares down at Dami’s slack features with wide eyes, taking in the closed eyes, “We...that is, Robin needs you in Gotham ASAP.”
“Diverting course now,” is the immediate response, Jon’s voice changing to Superboy’s. “T, is he hurt?”
Unsure of who could be listening on the line, Tim makes a fast decision, tries to take a small step back. The hands tighten down immediately, Dami’s back straightening, eyes snapping open. The growl is something deep, vibrating the chest against his thighs, pulling at his inner Omega.
“He’s not hurt, but he might get out of control if I don’t get someone here quickly.” Tim gently lays a trembly hand on Dami’s shoulder, gets the Alpha to look up at him with those green eyes.
“Baby Bat, this isn’t...you don’t really want to do this, okay? Try to think for me, Dami. This is just because I’m an Omega, so I need you to try and think.”
“Wait, what?” Jon’s voice sounds horrified.
Shit. Forgot to tap the comm off. But, really, his inner Omega is starting to enjoy all the attention of an Alpha male, newly presented or not, so Tim totally gives himself an out here.
“Jon,” he tries to be calm, but Dami is lifting up his shirt and sticking his goddamned nose right in Tim’s belly button. His eep probably isn’t helping anything.
“Hold on, Tim, I’m almost there.”
The snuffles of breath against his stomach, brush of mouth, and Tim’s instinct to get the fuck away hits abruptly–
(Your boyfriend is going to kick my ass if he sees this.)
–and he moves fast, both hands on Dami’s wrist to loosen the hold and spin away from the Alpha male to give himself some space, pulling the current Robin off balance.
He ends up back by the big computer, eyes going wildly to his harness and utility belt discarded at his workstation.
The low growling reverberates through the Cave, making the bats above screech and start to flap around, and Tim’s whole body goes tight with what he’s sure to be an oncoming fight, wondering how that’s going to go with a rut-fevering Alpha, one that’s also his partner, his friend.
(The Omega in him doesn’t give a shit, just knows how good that musk smells, how much the Alpha is in need, how much it craves the attention, how much it wants.)
Dami’s eyes are glittering green, muscles tense as he stalks closer, eyeing the Omega he wants, the one that smells...delicious.
The rumbling purr breaks out of him again, something soft and soothing, meant to entice.
“Don’t make me fight you,” Tim swallows, eyes all for Baby Bat getting closer to him, body language giving away everything. “Dami, I don’t want to hurt you.”
But it looks like his words are lost to the Rut haze since the Alpha only purrs louder, his musk stronger even in a place as spacious as the Cave.
All right, then. It’s time to have a plan.
He feins right, darting half a step, then takes off near the bad guy trophies. The massive penny is probably a perfect distraction right about now.
Dami leaps from his side, cutting him off, the Alpha manifesting in him giving chase. Tim manages to leg sweep him, escaping reaching hands.
He doesn’t make it to the penny before Dami is pretty much body slamming him into the Cave floor, bigger hands pinning his wrists over his head, knees spreading him, and the growling Alpha is looming over him, the musk calling to his inner Omega.
“No! Dami, Dami!”
But the swipe of wet over his jugular makes his knees tremble, his back arch and not in that I’m trying to escape kind of way.
(But really, it’s been a long time, and he’s an Omega, the scent of a strong, able Alpha is like Fear Toxin or Joker Venom, it gets in his lungs, makes his inner Omega plaint, makes his scent stronger to appeal to the Alpha. Their bodies work against them.)
Dami’s free hand holds his jaw to the side so he can shove his nose in Tim’s scent gland and inhale deeply. He’s laying on top, their chests pressed together when the purring starts, and the rumble against him is obviously affecting him.
He almost wants to cry when Dami rolls his hips down, and fuck, he’s– he’–
“No,” Tim moans in Dami’s hold, his hips juttering up because he’s starting to get hard, their sweatpants making it easy to tell. “We...we can’t. J-on, Dami, you’ve got to remember Jon–”
But he loses all thought when that mouth latches on to his throat and sucks.
He cries out, bucks up when his body responds with want.
If he doesn’t do something fast, Jon is going to viciously–
“O-oh, oh wow, I…”
Because Superboy is suddenly right there watching Tim writhe on the floor under Dami, and Jon’s eyes are huge and blue, his face pink.
“It’s not–” Tim tries, “it’s just because I’m an Omega!”
“If you want to believe that,” Jon lands on his feet, moves easily to wrap both arms around his boyfriend to lift him off Tim without any effort. “Then I’m not the one to tell you differently, right Dames?”
The newly-presented Alpha tries to lunge out of the hold, to go back to the Omega scrambling to his feet.
Tim is sure his face is red enough to match Dami’s tunic, and he turns slightly to try hiding the obvious erection in his sweatpants.
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tim sputters, arms around himself, “but if he did something to me while he’s very obviously dating you, he’d never forgive himself.”
But Jon seems very undisturbed about finding his boyfriend all over another guy, “sure, if we hadn’t already talked about it before. Him presenting as an Alpha this late wasn’t part of that though, so you might have a point.” Jon suddenly grins over the struggling Robin at Tim’s shocked face.
“Jon, he could barely stand me for years–” and the bitter scent of old pain takes over Tim’s sweetness because fuck, he’d wiped off the scent blockers.
But the change in scent makes Dami stop struggling against Jon’s hold, for both Alphas to suddenly have laser focus right on him. Caught up off his feet by Jon’s arms, Dami stops struggling, those green eyes intensely on Tim, hunched over slightly, holding himself.
“Oh Tim,” Jon sighs softly, and it comes out in a soft purr, “he’s been crazy about you for years. I mean, c’mon, you’re the best Robin detective!”
“But he’s with you. I-I would never do anything to fuck that up,” he’s starting to inch away, closer to the winding staircase, “you have to know that, Jon. I would never–”
“I gave him permission, Tim,” Jon cuts him off, “if you ever gave him the chance. O-or if you ever gave us the chance, we would take care of you."
Tim.exe has stopped.
"Geeze, do you even know how many times we talked about seeing you through your Heat? Even if he was a Null at the time, just talking about having you in bed with us was enough to make him go multiple times. I’m half-Kryptonian and I still had to tap out after round --“
“You would do that?” Tim cuts him off, voice strangely strained, “you would - you and Dami would - would take care of me? During my Heat?”
And Jon pauses in his ramble, only one arm around the presenting Alpha’s chest, still holding him slightly back. But Damian hears something in Tim’s tone that is upsetting. It makes him angry, makes him reach out an open hand in the hopes Tim takes it.
“Yes,” is edged with a growl, his hand open and waiting.
“We absolutely would take care of you, Tim, Heat or not. I swear, we won’t hurt you.” And Jon means it, says it unconsciously with his Superboy voice like Tim is a scared civilian and not a seasoned vigilante. “You would be safe with us.”
“I…” but his eyes dart to Jon who is churning out the most pleasant happy Alpha scent. “I can help make the Rut easier. If - If it- “
“Yes,” both Alphas growl at the same time, but Jon wasn’t holding Damian back anymore.
It was both of them inching forward, Dani’s hand out, his other clenched in Jon’s cape, brining his Alpha mate with him.
"It's statically easier for Alphas to have an Omega the first time," he rambles breathlessly, watching them come closer, the tension in his shoulders easing at the scents. He seems to sway with bare feet, hand twitching toward what they're offering.
"It'll be easier if Dames has you, not just an Omega," Jon rumbles while Damian slyly snatches Tim's hand, reels him closer. "We've got a Rut room at his place in Wayne Tower."
"Bet mine is more secure in the Perch," Tim mumbles in Dami's neck, eyes rolling up to look at Jon while the presenting Alpha inhales sharply again his throat. The noise coming out of him reverberates through all three of them.
"Decision, decisions," Jon smirks over his mate's shoulder, nose barely skimming the other side of Tim's neck, a ghost of a touch.
It still makes a certain scent spike.
It's Damian that makes the final decision, lifting his head and one hand to pull Jon's mouth to his, growl and lick and bite while Tim watches, the tension in his abdomen getting tighter, warmer, the ust surrounding them as the Alphas fight for dominance.
Right in front of him.
The noise that comes out of Tim's throat is enough to spur someone into actions because--
-- the next second, the cave camera blur and the three disappear from sight, leaving behind discarded suits. Twenty seconds later, the lights click off for the night, leaving the bats to settle back down.
#drab#abo#tagged for anon#can't believe I remember how to tag#omega!tim#alpha!jon#alpha!dami#tim drake#damian wayne#jon kent#have I written this?#idk
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The gym.
Pro-hero Kirishima x Reader
AN: Posting this again. Got too embarrassed the first time around but fuck it we ball.
CW: NSFW, MDNI. Kiri is a yandere. Reader is afab and referred to with gn. Dub-con, praise, use of daddy/baby pet names, heavy-petting and fingering, oral, dacryphilia, and a smidge of impact-play and ass-play but it’s teeny tiny. Reader is developing Stockholm syndrome but they’re in denial.
Wc: 2.2k
“You want to use the gym? Why?”
“Well...I want to be strong—like you!”
Would he buy that?
You held your breath as Kirishima stopped shoveling food into his mouth, opting to chew slowly as he contemplated your words.
You had been working towards this—towards his trust—for months. Would you fail now?
Subconsciously your feet shift, pointing towards the kitchen door. Towards the escape. Not that it would do you any good if you really needed it.
He swallowed.
“You feeling insecure baby? Don’t get me wrong—“ you saw a bit of a blush bloom on his cheeks “—I love that you think I’m strong…but you don’t have to be.”
Huh.
You had told yourself you would stop immediately if he gave you a hard no…but this was harder to read. You don’t need to be strong like him…? Or you shouldn’t be?
You test the waters.
“I-it’s not that exactly. You know I used to go to the gym…before. I miss it. I miss being able to challenge myself.”
You had to choose your words wisely. This was about what you needed for yourself—not about anything he was failing to provide. Saying anything that even insinuated as much would hurt him, and that wouldn’t work.
In the beginning, when you still thought that you could forge a way out on your own, hurting him didn’t bother you. But now that you’ve realized that the only way out was through Kirishima, well. You were forced to come to terms with the fact that hurting him also made him more overbearing, less generous with your liberties.
So you squirmed in your seat, trying to read his silence before deciding to push harder.
You laced your plea with a bit of vulnerability, hoping that would make it ring true.
“I-uh.”
“Yeah?”
“And I guess some insecurity plays into it, too.”
He leans in. You lower your gaze.
The last part comes out as a whisper. “I mean...there’s nothing left to squeeze...down there…”
Jackpot.
Kirishima let out a hoarse chuckle at your confession. You mimicked him, but your laughter came out of relief. You did it.
“Baby! Baby. C’mere.”
He pulled his chair back, spreading thick thighs to make you a seat on his lap while you made your way over. As you straddle his legs, he starts preparing you a spoonful of the kimchi rice you two had made earlier. It’s covered in runny egg yolk as you like, the gooey softness hiding the spice beneath.
He tells you to open wide before he stuffs you with it.
“First of all, I think you have the cutest tush I’ve ever seen, baby. So don’t say that.”
It’s embarrassing the way he watches intently as you chew and try to nod, the way he wipes off a bit of yolk from the side of your mouth, the way he fusses over you.
But to an extent it also made your heart ache, remembering that it was the way he cared—and continues to do so—that made you initially fall for him.
“—plus, I meant what I said, ‘ya know? I’ll take care of you.” He draws you further into him, guiding your head into the crook of his neck, before sliding the hand between your shoulder blades and then down over the curve of your ass. Your heart stutters in your throat when he places a small peck over your earlobe and hums softly, just like he used to do when things were normal.
“So if that means exercise, hmm… We can go to the gym room starting tomorrow! Oh, and of course I can be your personal trainer and give you pointers…” You release a small whimper at the realization of your success. And maybe just a bit at the hand that was now wandering over your backside. Your mind flickered between that taste of freedom and his actions. It felt so good that you didn’t want to think about the way you embraced them both. He continued on. “…of course I’ll keep track of all your…growth so you don’t need to worry about a thing…and, well, there’s a lot of ways we can get cardio covered without going outside…”
He was working you. So well that you couldn’t help but arch your back, pushing further into his chest as he slowly slid his fingers up and down your clothed pussy before giving it the softest of slaps, jolting your attention back to the present. Back to the man that owns you. The man you were trying to bargain with.
You look up at him, warm cheeks evidence of his effect. His affection. He looks down at you and grins. It’s filled with sharp teeth, interlaced with a bit of hunger.
“I love you no matter what shape you’re in, though. So if you ever wanna stop you just tell me, okay?”
Sometimes you forget this is the same man that keeps you hostage.
“T-thank you, Eijirou. It—this—means a lot to me.” You almost surprise yourself with how genuine your response is. You reason that it’s probably because you had only been allowed into just three rooms—the bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen—until just now.
That has to be it right? Gratitude for the man that provides for you so well?
According to that logic it’s only fair, you think, to give him something in return for his generosity. So you nuzzle back into him, placing a chaste kiss in the crook of his neck before ghosting your lips over his ears, testing if he agrees. And the way he jolts beneath you feels like everything you need.
So you take it another step further and whisper for him, like a sin—like a confession.
“You’re so good to me, daddy.”
Just for tonight, you think.
Just for tonight he can be the man you loved again.
You’re rewarded by the feeling of him stiff, hot, and ready beneath you—then of his tongue, demanding and wet as he crashes into you from above with a kiss. He almost growls into your mouth.
“Good fucking girl.There she is.”
You feel yourself clench around nothing at his words, choosing to chase down the shame of your actions by committing fully. You don’t want to stop, not when it feels this euphoric.
Not when you’ve been this lonely.
How long has it been?
How long has it been since he's touched you like this, since he’s lifted your dress and stared at your bare form with such adoration, such heat?
Maybe there was a reason why it's been so long, but now is not the time to remember painful things.
His hands drift back down to your lower half, neglecting his own pleasure in favor of remembering the feeling of yours. When his fingers reach to feel your pussy once more, he groans when he can feel your wetness through your panties.
“Baby, oh baby fuck.”
The light at the end of the tunnel is further than ever before as you plead with him.
“Eijirou, oh—please, you need t—mh! Please touch me.”
Your consent is all he needs to be put into action, thick arms wrapping underneath you as he lifts you up and walks you both to the bedroom, dinner long forgotten. You wrap your hands in his hair, still damp from his shower, as you whine into his mouth.
No man has ever made you feel this needy.
He softly detaches from you to lay you down on your shared bed, watching your sprawled, breathless form with wild eyes. Somewhere in your haze he ties his hair back into a small bun.
“So fucking beautiful, baby. So fucking beautiful.”
He leans over your form, forearms caging you in as he kisses you again. The two of you shake at the feeling of his bulge making contact with your heat, and almost desperately he begins to grind down into you, as if trying to burn through the layers that separate you.
He watches the place where you both connect before releasing a shaky groan into your mouth.
Maybe you know that he’s missed this. But now you realize that you’ve missed it, too.
He backs up a bit to allow impatient hands to trace your form—down the sides of your arms to your hips and waist—then underneath your ass in favor of pushing your thighs to your chest. He stares at the apex of your legs for a moment, deadly silent, before slowly moving his gaze back to yours. It’s red. Everything is red.
Breathlessly, he asks you. “Want my fingers, baby?”
Somewhere deep inside you recognize this moment as a point of no return. And what started as a fight for a sliver of freedom was quickly falling out of your control, but you were failing to realize it.
“Y-yes. Please, Eijirou. Please—mh!”
There would be a special spot in hell for the two of you when this was all said and done.
Your eyes were wide open as his lips engulfed yours, allowing you to watch the way your words sent a violent ripple of his quirk coursing through his body.
The view had you in awe, the feeling only magnified as you felt thick, calloused fingers grasp your panties, moving them to the side.
His desperate breaths on your neck contrasted the gentle ministrations of his hands exploring your pussy, simply feeling its wetness with something akin to wonder.
Why did you make him wait so long, is what fingers seem to ask with the way they hold you.
You try to lean in for another kiss, but he was already gone, dragging your lower half to the edge of the bed where he could watch you twitch and whine from on his knees.
And then he was on you.
You heard a quiet fuck leave Kirishima’s lips but the sound didn’t quite register over the feeling of him dragging his nose through your sex, inhaling your scent deeply as if to ingrain it into his memory.
Without so much as a warning he swipes a finger over your pussy, rubbing the lips from side to side, making you listen to the soft shlick! shlick! shlick! of your arousal—as if he was trying to provide both of you evidence that you still wanted him.
And then he was inside, finger inching into you, eyes glued to your face as you squeezed yours closed in favor of panting softly at the feeling.
“How is my baby doing, huh? She uh—” His gaze quickly shifts downwards “—she miss me?”
“S-so much, daddy” you practically whine. “so much!”
It’s too much, even.
He coos. “I can’t believe I’ve been neglecting my baby like this—” he starts to pump in and out of you, slowly, caressingly. He wants to make you cry. “—want me to make it all better?”
The slight friction had you clamping down around him. You were moaning like he was fucking you, and he just had a finger in. You knew that maybe this would feed his ego, but right now you couldn’t find it in you to be sensible, to care.
“Yes!” His finger starts to withdraw.
“Yes who, baby?”
“Daddy—” you breathe. How could you forget? “—yes, daddy—please daddy.”
A second finger forces its way into your heat, a silent approval of your choice of words that you have no choice but to accept glutinously, a deep hoarse whine slipping from your mouth as you do so.
“Daddy will always give his baby what she wants. Isn’t that right?”
You pant and moan rhythmically with the way he presses against your walls, mental capacity beyond responding. All that you know right now is In. Out. In. Out. And the way he breathily mimics—or matches—your whines as they grow more frantic.
He tells you to hug your knees to your chest and he loves the way you wordlessly comply, knowing how to draw out your more desperate moans when you feel a wet finger slide around the ring of muscle outlining your asshole. Kirishima planned on giving you everything right now. Who knew when you would be this pliable again?
The pleasure you feel when his spit lands on your pussy just a second later—before sliding down and down—makes you want to sob. He’s lubricating you just enough for him to press the tip of his thumb inside your second hole, all the while being your good, consistent daddy that doesn’t stop fucking your pussy with his other hand.
He gets up from his knees slowly, hands still working you, as he moves in favor of having his face over yours, watching your facial expressions transform just for him.
Subconscious tears are slipping from the corners of your eyes, giving him an excuse to lick at your face like a loyal watchdog. Your legs begin to shake. He’s everywhere. Inescapable.
You’re falling, giving in to it, gleefully trying to have it all without thinking about the consequences—when he removes his hands from your body without so much as a warning.
Of course it had to be a choice.
There were a lot of people who thought Eijirou was stupid. Just brawns.
They would never know, at least not as well as you did, how much it hurt to underestimate him.
“…Does my baby want to be fucked?”
You knew he had been waiting—waiting for you to come to him of your own volition.
If you said yes he would take it as you giving in. Of you loving him, in some way or another, like you had before.
After all, breaking you down was always his goal.
#kirishima eijirou#bnha#yandere kirishima#kirishima x reader#mha kirishima#kirishima smut#yan!kirishima
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We’re right here together
Lucian Flores x plus size female reader
This fic is for readers 18+ MDNI
Summary: Your anxieties are reaching a fever pitch, you keep trying to talk yourself out of them, but you spiral back into them. Lucian won’t stand for it and will show you why.
Word Count: 1163
Warnings: References to anxiety and depression, angst, domestic fluff, extra soft Lucian, unprotected P in V, some wrist action, orgasm denial, cockwarming, obligatory gold chain mention
Notes: Finale of What We’ve Both Wanted. I did a small edit on my mini-series and I finally finished it! I’ve been trying to finish series I’ve started though I do have a habit of creating more so there’s that. 🥸 Anyway, if you made it this far, I hope you enjoyed and let me know what you think. ☺️ This part ended up longer than I planned but I don’t like loose ends.
Main Masterlist/ Lucian Flores Masterlist
“You’re in your head too much mi amor (my love). Come back to me.” It’s not the first time Lucian has told you this. It’s been more frequent, especially now that it’s coming up on a year that you two have been together. You sold your house and moved in with Lucian, in a gated community that the two of you used to make fun of.
Now you’re here.
It’s a beautiful home, you told Lucian it could have been on an episode of ‘Cribs’ back in the day. He said that the two of you are too young for the reference. Laughter echoes throughout the house. Decorating the house was fun, bright colors and different artwork slowly popped up around the home. Flores initiated that he at least wanted to decorate his own office though, leave him that at least. You agreed, but could help putting a small bobble head on the edge of his desk. The hair on it was too short, but it did have a brightly colored shirt which was the important part. Things are fine, just fine. You’re not trapping him, he said he wanted to be with you, love you.
Everything is fine.
A week before the planned anniversary trip, is when the thoughts comes back. That you’re holding him back, he could be so much more successful if he wasn’t attached to you. It’s insane and nothing that Lucian Flores has ever told you or shown you. The casual touches that normally happen when he’s home slow, you’re backing off. Not looking him in the eye.
Your lover is no one’s fool. Something is wrong. He’s known you for half your life and his. You can avoid him for now since he needs to travel for work, but soon you’ll have two weeks side by side.
A two week trip to the Caribbean begins normally. Flights, driving to the resort, getting settled in, a shower before a nap. You had changed into an orange sundress to complement the orange and yellow of his swim trunks. He held your hand as the two of you watched the waves crash on the beach. You interlock your fingers with his and sniffle from his large palm against yours.
“Mi vida (darling), no matter what dark places your mind might take you, I’ll be here.” Lucian tugs on your hand to turn your body toward him and uses his free hand to cup your face, “You see me don’t you? I’m right here with you. Beside you.” The small nod you give him makes him smile. “Soon I’ll be inside of you but for that, tell me that you know cariño (sweetheart).”
The sigh releases the tension you were holding. Maybe you just needed to hear it again, but should you need to hear it so often, shouldn’t you know by now? Is he really going to be okay with a lifetime of this? “You’re right here with me Lucian. I just worry that my issues are-” His kiss quiets you, focusing on the all too short contact with his lips.
“You’re not your issues. Estás mi amor y vida (you are my love and life). I know you’re scared. I honestly think there’s about a hundred ways I could have fucked this up and and I won’t know until it’s too late. Let me continue to care for you.”
You stepped back as Lucian came for your lips again, hungry as you’d denied him affection. He wasn’t one to press it. With others he would, but he knows you would shut down if he did. Falling on a puffy off white chase, your lover pinned you to the furniture. You weren’t getting away from him today, and for the rest of the trip. He’d stepped out of his swim trunks before he had you on that chase and his hands were lifting up the shirt of your dress while kneading your large thighs. A bite to your shoulder makes you yelp and you feel his smile, it makes you run your hands along his sides, widening your legs to accommodate him. He only slides against your folds, not breaching you yet. It’s your turn to cup his face as you speak to him. You mean it this time. The worry is gone from your voice, replaced with lust and reverence for the man who has chosen to love you. “Lucian, I know you’ll be here with me, beside me and inside of me. Give me all of you Lucian. Te amo (I love you).”
His hot tongue makes a stripe from your collarbone up your neck, before taking your lips once more, your dripping cunt accepts his length easily, the awaited stretch has you cry out his name. Flores doesn’t move yet. Watching the expression of pleasure on your face, hearing his name from your lips. It has him twitch inside of you. “Esa es mi chica sucía (That's my dirty girl).” When Lucian makes love to you, he always begins and ends with warming himself inside of you, having his hands roam your breasts, the rolls of your stomach, cooing “Paciencia cariño (patience sweetheart).” Sucking on your lips until they’re just a little sore and it’s when he bends both of your legs back to open yourself more for him will he begin. The only sounds anyone will hear will be your combined moans, your drenched cavern sucking him back in with each movement of his hips and the scratching on your nails on his back. Flores looks beautiful above you with his gold chain flapping against both of your chests, his hair sticking to his wet forehead and his signature sheen coating the two of you, edging closer to filling you. You reach down to pad your own clit, not willing to wait until he’s closer. Lucian pins your wrist above your head and tells you to be patient again. He takes his time with you, deliberately thrusting slower the more he throbs within you. There’s a point when he bites his bottom lip and starts mumbling when you know he’s truly close, that’s when he releases your hand and starts on your electric bud. Pressing it with gentle pressure, your pelvis circles his cock. With the erratic rolls of his hips, combined with your screams and squeezing of your walls with your own climax, he coats deep inside of you. Churning his own heat within you, overstimulating your already sensitive core.
“Don’t move yet. Just stay right there.” Your voice is small given how loud you just were, hands are now roaming Lucian’s scalp, massaging it gently. His small reward for filling you once again. You both remain on the chaise until the sun starts to dip beyond the horizon and finally get up to take another shower, this time not bothering to get dressed. Watching the sun set, laying across the bed in Lucian’s arms is the right choice. He was always the right choice.
Scratchers of Lucian’s scalp 💆🏼♂️: @rhoorl @trulybetty @morallyinept @fhatbhabiee @magpiepills
@maggiemayhemnj @tinytinymenace @readingiskeepingmegoing @survivingandenduring @yorksgirl
@mysterious-moonstruck-musings @megamindsecretlair @soft-persephone @soft-girl-musings
@harriedandharassed
#Lucian Flores x plus size female reader#pedro pascal characters#fanfiction#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#Lucian Flores#Lucian Flores fanfiction#the uninvited
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Recovery - Chapter 37
Eminem x Female Reader Fanfiction
Synopsis : Em starts therapy. Reader is organizing Jamal and Talia's wedding. A track gets leaked., causing Jamal to be angry at Em.
MARSHALL’S POV
Marshall was rather nervous when he sat in the chair in his therapist’s office. In the past decade, he had made a point to avoid therapy as much as he could, only committing to the bare minimum. Technically, he was seeing a therapist but, from the very beginning of their session, he had made it clear that he did not really want to go over his whole life story, over-analyzing his relationship with his mother or whatever therapists were usually interested in. So, for more than fifteen years, the sessions focused solely on his addiction management and potential triggers. Anything that was not related, he deemed irrelevant and, at some point, his therapist gave up on trying to get him to talk about his childhood or going in depth on his feelings. And so far, it had worked out pretty well for him. He was sober for more than sixteen years now and, if it were not for fear of losing the woman he loved, he would gladly stick to the usual agenda. But it was Y/N, and the thought of losing her over something as stupid as his trauma was making him sick to his stomach, so when she asked if he would consider therapy, he reluctantly accepted. As painful as a two hour session talking about the neglect he experienced in his youth seemed, he knew It wouldn’t compare to the pain of having the woman he loved leaving him. And even if if didn’t come to that, he didn’t want to hurt her, in any way, shape of form. He had fucked up big time and he knew it.
When he called his therapist’s office to request an emergency session, he was greeted with urgency and the secretary immediately put him through with Dr Hanson, who immediately asked if there was a relapse. And why wouldn’t she ? When a patient’s been refractory for years, there can only be so many reasons why they’d be so eager to have a session. He said he hadn’t relapsed, just « relationship stuff » he needed to figure out and it was enough for the therapist to open her practice earlier on a Monday morning after Thanksgiving. Dr Hanson had been trying to get him to open up for years but he had always refused, considering his music to be his best form of therapy. When he walked in and sat in the chair, he was greeted with a smile.
Good morning Marshall, Dr Hanson said.
‘Morning, Doc. Thanks for the quick appointment, he replied with genuine gratefulness.
Well it’s not every day that one of your oldest patient decides to open up out of the blue, is it ? She grinned.
Well, it took fifteen years but you finally get what you wanted, he shrugged.
So, Marshall, what brings you in today ? She asked.
He took a second to respond. He knew what brought him in but filling her in with so many details about his personal life felt foreign. He had a great working relationship with Dr Hanson, but it had always been on a need to know basis. Now, though, he knew the whole thing would need dissecting. He hummed and chose his words carefully.
I, uh… Snapped at my partner, he explained. We managed to talk it out but she said something about unresolved trauma I shouldn’t take on her, so… Here I am. Trying to make things right. I don’t want it to happen again.
Dr Hanson stayed silent for a split second and looked at him from behind her glasses. She brought her hand to her mouth, noted something on her notepad and smiled.
Looks like Christmas came early, this year, she said with a smirk. Can you go over the events for me ?
______
TWO WEEKS LATER
Y/N’s POV
The weeks following Thanksgiving were nothing short of heavenly. You were feeling at home in the house, you adopted the cutest cat, Talia and Jamal’s wedding was coming together and Marshall was more attentive than ever. You knew he went to see his therapist a couple times a week, though you didn’t pry and ask for much details about their sessions. However, from what you gathered, it seemed to work well for him. In his conversations with you, he seemed more analytical about his own feelings, even talking to you about how he felt about certain things. The two of you had always had good talks, but he was opening up more than ever. And on top of that, he was extremely vocal about how much he appreciated you, lavishing you with praises, telling you how thankful he was whenever you did the smallest thing for him. You had no idea who his therapist was but, if you could, you’d send them gifts. Seeing your boyfriend at peace with his feelings was satisfying, and it didn’t hurt that he was consciously trying to make it up to you. In his own words, he wanted to be « the man you deserve ». Every night, when he was coming home, you were excited to see him and share your progress on the wedding. You knew he didn’t really like all that stuff, but he was supportive of your endeavors. He was even the one who came up with an idea for the venue. One night, he took you on a drive to a lovely place, near the area where you lived. He pointed to a gorgeous house. Well, actually, it was more of a manor. It had an English vibes, rustic yet elegant.
What do you think ? He asked.
That’s gorgeous ! You said. It fits right within the wedding theme ! It looks just like the one on the mood board Talia made the other week !
I know, he grinned. I was driving in the area with Paul for an appointment the other day and I saw it was for sale. I called the real estate agency and they might be able to convince the seller to lease it for the event, if Talia and Jamal like it.
They’re going to love it, you assured him. It’s exactly what they want for the ceremony. Cosy, small, intimate… Do you think we can plan a visit ?
Realtor’s inside, he said with a smile. That’s why I brought you here.
You’re the best !
I know you’ve been working your ass off for the wedding and struggled to find a venue, so I thought I’d help, he shrugged.
You placed a kiss on your cheek and exited the car. The place was stunning, big enough and ticked all the boxes. You were under the spell of the house, that resembled the one you always dreamed of living in when you were a little girl. It had a big, beautiful flower garden in the back, ivy was climbing around the big widows and there was a beautiful fireplace. Marshall could tell you liked the place a bit too much and teased you.
Don’t get too excited, it’s for Jamal and Talia’s wedding, not for us to move in, he chuckled.
I know, you said with a smile. I like your house just fine, you know ? I just really like the vibe of this one. Besides, I know you could never live here.
Why is that ? He asked with a raised eyebrow.
You like your own house too much, you pointed out. Plus, this one is not located in an area that’s secure enough.
It’s your house too, you know ? He said. You keep on saying it’s my house but… You live there too.
I know, you said. I’m starting to feel more and more at home. It just takes a minute.
You know, if there are any features you like in this house, we can also make some changes to our house. I want you to be happy, he commented.
No need, you assured him. As long as I have you, I’m good.
It was the truth. You were incredibly thankful for the house you lived in and you knew how attached Marshall was to this place. He’d been living there for so long, you didn’t want to intrude. Plus, as long as you had him, you knew you could feel at home everywhere, eventually. Besides, who would complain about living in a literal mansion ? No one. You did not give it a second thought but, the next day, Marshall surprised you by handing you the card of an interior designer.
What’s that ? You asked.
I’ve been thinking, he said. I saw how excited you were about the house we visited yesterday, how you kept saying you dreamt of living in that kind of place when you were younger… I want you to feel at home, here, I really do. And my therapist says I need to… How did she say it ? Make actual space for you. So, I was thinking that, if you want, you could redecorate a little ?
Are you sure ?
Babe, I’ve owned this place for almost two decades and a lot of the rooms could use a little update, he chuckled. I don’t really care about the whole home decor thing, honestly. I could go another twenty years without changing much. But this is your home and I want you to enjoy the space, not only feel content with it, you know what I’m saying ? If I recall, we agreed that you’d have your own room, like home office or whatever, when I asked you to move in. Why don’t you start here ?
Could I make it a reading room ? You asked with excitement. With big bookshelves ? And a big chair ?
Whatever you want, he said with a genuine smile. The interior designer will make your dreams happen.
I love you ! Thank you thank you thank you !
You hugged him tightly and he whispered sweet words in your ear, like how grateful he was for you and your presence in his life, and how he wanted nothing but to make you happy. You were over the moon, impressed by his generosity and commitment to you. You were on cloud nine, imagining your very own reading room in which you could simply curl up with a good book and a blanket while sipping tea, living your introvert life to the fullest.
In the following days, you took Talia to see the house Marshall had taken you to and she absolutely loved it. Thanks to your amazing boyfriend, they finally had a venue. The two of you also went dress shopping. Your best friend found the right dress very easily. To be fair, the two of you had spent enough time imagining the perfect wedding dress so she had a good idea of what she wanted. The whole thing was almost disappointing : the two of you had imagined that she would have to try on at least fifteen different dresses to find the right one, but it took only two. It was absolutely gorgeous and Talia looked regal in it. The dress was definitely over the top but it was more than fitting with her personality. The two of you had made a lengthy appointment with the store consultant and it seemed like your best friend had not had her fill of wedding dresses fittings, yet.
How about you try one, Y/N ? She suggested.
No way, you said. This is your day. You try another one.
Any other dress would look pale in comparison, she said. I found the one. I feel it in my bones. Just… Indulge me, will you ?
I’m not getting married, you reminded her.
All the more reason, she pleaded. If you don’t try one now, you’ll never see yourself in a wedding dress ! Please ?! It’s my big day, you said it. And as my best friend, I think you should oblige me…
You have a weird way of being a bridezilla, you commented. But sure, whatever…
You didn’t really see the point. To you, it was weird. A lot of brides would have found it disrespectful if their friend decided to randomly try on wedding dresses on the day of their fitting but Talia was pushing for you to do it. Eventually, you caved in and obliged her. She immediately called the sales assistant, to whom you had to describe your ideal dress. It occurred to you that it was a good thing you weren’t getting married, because you were incredibly specific. You wanted a dress that was simple, elegant and understated, but not plain. You didn’t want it to be revealing but you didn’t want to look like a nun either. You thought it would be impossible to find but the woman came with three dresses for you to try on. As soon as you tried the first one, you felt like it was a costume you put on. It felt too much and wholly unnatural, though the dress was gorgeous. The second dress was nice but not « you » at all. You were practically begging to stop but Talia was having too much fun, claiming this was the moment you were always supposed to share so you happily indulged her by trying on the last dress. And, much to your surprise, magic happened. It was the ultimate dress, the one that you would have chosen, if you had been meant to get married. You were feeling like a princess and Talia even teared up a little.
Why are you crying ? You asked.
You-you’re just so beautiful, she said. That’s your forever dress. Right here.
I’m not having a forever dress, remember ? You said with a small smile. Marshall…
…Is an idiot, that’s what he is, she said as she kept on crying. I can’t bear the idea of you doing all these nice things for my wedding and knowing I will never be your maid of honor and return the favor because Em is too stubborn to give you what you deserve !
I should be the one crying about it, not you, you pointed out with a chuckle. I’m fine, I swear. He is amazing and I have all that I want.
I’m pregnant and hormonal, that’s all, she said reassuringly. But you’re so beautiful. You should buy it !
Tay, this dress is way too expensive and… It’s not like I’m going to wear it around the house, right ? You giggled.
Ok, but at least let me take pictures ? Because I want to remember the day I finally got to try on wedding dresses with my best friend ! She begged.
Sure, you giggled.
You didn’t mind wearing the dress a little longer. It was kind of fun. A voice in the back of your mind was telling you to savor the moment, because it was, indeed, your only chance to wear a wedding dress. You were incredibly thankful to have such a thoughtful best friend to give you this experience.
Remind me to slap Em, she said.
Why ? You giggled.
Because he’s not only robbing you of your dream wedding, he is also robbing me of the greatest day as maid of honor !
I’m having just as much fun planning your wedding, you assured her.
Quit it, she almost groaned. It’s not a pageant speech, you don’t have to play the Disney princess. And he’s not here to hear you, we can bitch about him !
I’ll admit I would have loved getting married, you said. Not right now, it’s too early, but knowing it could happen…
You see, it’s good to hate a little, she grinned.
But, I don’t know, I guess he has his own trauma, you shrugged. Two failed marriages with the same person must have been tough. I understand not wanting a third one. God, his therapist must have fun…
You managed to send that man to therapy ? She asked with a raised eyebrow.
Yeah, we had a little argument, you said. No big deal. But it sparked a conversation about therapy and he agreed to give it a try.
Well, maybe he will work on his fear of commitment then, she pointed out.
I don’t think it’s about commitment, you said earnestly. I think he’s very committed to me. He says so himself.
I’ll circle back to what I said : Em is the most stupid man I have ever met. God, I always knew men were stupid but this one…
You giggled. Talia was your ultimate ride or die and you knew that if you told her more about the argument you had with him, she would have his head. But to you, it was in the past and Marshall had been so amazing, so attentive and romantic lately that you didn’t feel like bringing it up. After you were done trying on dresses, you joined the guys at the studio. It was your first time going back since you moved back to the US and you were really excited. You found the guys talking in the lobby, happy to see you.
Look who’s here, Porter said with a smile. Hi boss !
Are you really calling me boss ? You asked with a giggle.
Well, Marshall is our boss and you’re his boss, so technically…
She’s not my boss, Marshall chuckled.
Right, Royce chuckled. You can lie to yourself but not to us, man.
I like the sound of that, Talia grinned.
How was the wedding dress appointment ? Jamal asked. Did you find something ?
I did ! Your best friend said with excitement. Y/N found her dream dress too !
Talia, you scolded with a laugh.
What ?! Talia asked. It’s true. And you looked perfect in it ! Didn’t she, Em ?
Marshall simply sighed at her and rolled his eyes with a smile.
Don’t tell me you sent a pic ?! You asked her.
What ? She replied innocently. Merely showing that man what he’s missing…
You did look incredible, Marshall said as he kissed your temple.
Sorry about her, you said apologetically. She’s the one who convinced me…
Don’t you dare apologize, Talia said. Someone has to show him how stupid he’s being.
Talia, please don’t start, Marshall groaned.
Oh, I will start, she warned. I don’t understand how stubborn you’re being about this !
Jamal, please reason your wife to be, your boyfriend groaned.
Man, Y/N is your boss and Talia is mine, Jamal chuckled. I’m not dumb enough to argue…
I’m just saying Y/N’s finger could use a diamond on it, Talia argued with a smile. She’s worth it, isn’t she ?
If that’s about the diamonds, she’s got nine other fingers, Marshall said with a smirk. And I fully intend on putting a ring on each and every one of them. Now, I appreciate the pictures of my girl looking absolutely stunning in a white dress, but you should worry about your own wedding, Talia.
Men are dumb, Talia sighed.
What the hell did we do ? Porter asked. He’s being dumb, leave the rest of us alone !
Don’t start either, your boyfriend warned him.
You giggled and let your head roll on your boyfriend’s shoulder, enjoying his presence. You loved being home with him, but the studio had a vibe you particularly enjoyed, probably because it was where you met Marshall. You had fun for the rest of the afternoon, hanging out with everyone. Talia seemed a bit moody about Marshall not caving in on the topic of marriage and you were not so sure why. You assumed she was just moody in general, which you could probably blame on pregnancy. She had a knack for being dramatic and hormones probably didn’t help too much in that department. If memory served, you’d been an emotional mess in your first trimester so you weren’t going to judge… In the car ride home, Marshall brought it up.
So… Talia was a handful, he chuckled.
I’m sorry about her, you said. I think she’s stressed out about the wedding and a bit disappointed that she won’t be able to reciprocate the whole maid of honor thing. And, you know, hormones…
Right, he said. But… Are you alright ?
I am, you said with a genuine smile. I had fun today. Probably enjoyed trying on this dress more than I should have, I’ll admit.
Look… Maybe we need to talk about the whole marriage thing, he said nervously. I… The reason why I can’t get married is because-
Marshall, you don’t owe me any type of explanation, you said reassuringly. You’ve been married to Kim twice, you have your own trauma and I know it has nothing to do with me.
You do ? He asked.
Look… I see all the efforts you’ve made for me, you said. We got the cat I wanted. You’re letting me redecorate a room in your house. You started therapy. You’re even helping me with Talia and Jamal’s wedding. I know you love me.
I do, he said with a smile. I’m in love with you.
And don’t think I didn’t hear what you said about me having nine other fingers you could put a ring on, you grinned. I do enjoy a good piece of jewelry.
Noted, he chuckled. Thank you for understanding, baby.
He seemed relieved about the fact that you didn’t press him to talk about the topic. As far as you were concerned, you were trying not to think about it too much. And everything you said was true : you were truly grateful for his efforts during the past weeks and wanted to respect his choices as much as possible. The two of you enjoyed your evening, cuddling with your cat, who seemed to despise Marshall. The next morning, you were awaken by the doorbell. Someone was putting all their energy into ringing, way too early in the morning.
Mind getting the door while I’m getting dressed ? Marshall asked with a groan. I swear, if it’s the damn neighbor about her stupid bake sale again…
I’ll get it, you said with a yawn. She’s been annoying me too, you know ? And it’s not even 7AM… Who does that ?!
That woman is crazy, he sighed. Met her twenty years ago and she was already a nightmare. She was convinced I’d bring drugs and crime into her precious neighborhood. Even warned me that she’d call the cops if she saw prostitutes around…
You giggled and went to open the door, ready to tell Mrs Davis to leave you alone. But much to your surprise, you were greeted my Jamal’s face. He was not smiling as usual, immediately telling you that something was wrong.
What’s up, Jamal ? You asked. What are you doing here so early ? Its there anything wrong ? Is it about Talia ? The baby…?
Em here ? He asked dryly.
Yeah he’s getting dressed…, you replied. Oh, there he is.
What’s up, man ? Marshall asked as he came to greet Jamal.
YOU BETTER HAVE A GOOD FUCKING EXPLANATION, your friend immediately yelled at him.
For what, man ?! Marshall asked confused. What the fuck are you going on about ?
For the fucking track that got leaked last night ! Jamal yelled. Are you fucking serious ?!
Wait…, Marshall began.
Before Marshall could finish his sentence, Jamal hit him in the face. Your friend had an impressive stature and was usually a big teddy bear but, when he was furious, he was rather scary. Next thing you knew, the both of them were fighting, though, to be fair, Marshall was not putting up much of a fight. Jamal was much taller, much bigger than him. You had no choice but to get in there and try and separate them.
Jamal, let go of him ! You pleaded.
I’M GOING TO KILL YOU, YOU MOTHERFUCKER, Jamal screamed.
What the fuck, man ?! Marshall asked as he was panting.
Y/N, take your bags, Jamal directed.
What the hell ?! You asked. It’s not even 7AM, Jamal ! You don’t get to barge in her-
I’m not leaving you with that psycho, Jamal spat.
What the fuck ?! Marshall yelled. Babe, I have no idea what he’s talking about.
YOU FUCKING NAME DROPPED HER IN A TRACK, YOU PIECE OF SHIT, Jamal yelled. YOU FUCKING RAPPED ABOUT TORTURING HER !
You looked at Marshall with a confused face. His face was bruised and scraped, definitely not a pretty sight. What was most shocking, though, was the look of terror on his face.
Oh fuck, Marshall said under his breath.
#eminem#marshall mathers#slim shady#eminem fanfiction#recovery fanfiction#eminem x reader#eminem fluff#marshall mathers x reader#marshall mathers imagine#eminem imagine
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Happy 28th! Here is my May 2024 fic rec, organized by word count, from longest to shortest. You can view my other fic recs here. Enjoy!
We Were Such Fools by kiddle / @bluejeanlouis (98k)
Rule #1: The Rewind Machine cannot be used to change the past, only to experience it. History will reset itself to the original timeline every 24 hours.
On his fiftieth birthday, two things are consuming Harry’s mind: what he’s going to make the kids for dinner tonight, and the fact that his marriage is crumbling at his feet.
So, when his best friend gifts him the trip of a lifetime, Harry chooses to venture off to the summer that set his life on its course—all the way back in 1987, California.
It only took him one summer to fall in love with his husband the first time around. How hard could starting all over really be?
Once Bitten and Twice Shy Series by pinkcords / @pinkcords (60k)
once bitten and twice shy (19k)
This time as his stomach rolls, there’s no doubt about it. He’s going to vomit. And if he does, it’ll be on Louis’ shoes, a nice little parting gift to go with the embarrassment he’s caused the both of them. “I’m gonna throw up,” he says just as Louis turns to look at him, blue eyes swimming with shock and confusion, and asks, “Is that true?”
Or, in a rush of bravery only senior year can bring, Harry confesses his feelings in a letter to his neighbor and best friend, Louis, only for the entire school to hear it and laugh him out of their small town in Wisconsin. Ten years later, Harry's a successful lawyer at Columbia Records, coming home for Christmas for the first time since he departed for college. He plans to work his way through the trip, eat his mom's cooking, and avoid everyone from his past for as long as possible. The only problem is best laid plans hardly ever go as intended.
These Stars Will Guide Us Home (41k)
And then he’s gonre. Harry watches him take off his shoes, sort his belongings into bins, and keeps watching until he vanishes entirely, around the corner to his gate. Louis doesn’t look back and Harry can’t blame him, certain his expression, body language, entire being would implore him to stay. It would just make it more difficult on both of them. Louis’ always been intuitive like that, strong enough to make the hard decisions that protect both of them.
Or Harry lives in New York and Louis lives in Wisconsin.
Cabin Fever by germericangirl / @germericangirl (46k)
“What the fuck is he doing here?“ He asked still looking at him, before he turned back to look at Niall for an answer.
Niall’s mouth fell open and he looked at him with wide eyes "He um changed his mind?“
Harry stared at Niall for a few seconds in silence, before grabbing a bag and walking towards a bedroom without looking at anyone else, slamming the door shut behind himself.
Liam flinched in front of Louis.
“Well I’m happy to see you too.“ Louis mumbled, some of the tension leaving his body. This wasn’t exactly how he thought their first meeting would go. It was quiet for a moment before Louis finally spoke up “Did you seriously not tell him I was coming?“
Or:
One cabin, one bed, two ex-boyfriends. What could possibly go wrong?
You, In Every Color by blueskiesrry / @blueskiesrry (38k)
But then he thinks of the soft curves and sharp angles he had imagined when he first drew up the sketches for the collection, the specific green of fabric he had picked with the thought of how they’d saturate green eyes, the glossy silks and soft velvets he had once pictured sitting delicately against milky skin.
“We’re drunk,” Louis decides on a sigh. “We shouldn’t make any drastic decisions now.”
or: fashion designer louis and his model bf harry have vowed to never work together again, but with the show for louis’ first solo line on the horizon, they decide to give it another shot
We'll Be Alright by ShatteredGlassHouse / @larryislove (36k)
"Lou, I know this-"
"Not plan? Of course, this wasn't planned. Harry, this can't be happening. We can't have a kid. We are not even supposed to be sleeping together."
Harry flinched at Louis' words. He was right, but Louis didn't need to be blunt about it.
"I'm not ready to have kids. I said that when we started this… Relationship," Louis stuttered the last word, trying to find the proper wording.
"Do you think I am? I'm not even twenty-four. You are almost twenty-nine! You're at the age where most people start a family."
"Doesn't mean I want to have one!" Louis snapped.
"Well, it's happening," Harry said, trying to keep his voice calm.
"Be serious, Harry. We can't have a baby. If people find out, you'll be fired."
Harry subconsciously wrapped his arms around his middle. He suddenly felt small. He didn't expect Louis to be excited. This wasn't the best news for their situation, but he thought he'd be happy.
"I know, Louis."
Or Louis is the Captian of Liverpool FC and Harry is one of the team's physiotherapists. They have a secret relationship going but things become complicated when Harry finds out he's pregnant.
Host of a Name by Signofcomfort / @signofcomfort (35k)
Louis leaves the band in the middle of the tour and drops off the face of the earth. Five years later, they might have a chance to meet him. Harry can finally have some answers and tell the truth for the first time.
Cabin on the Bluff Series by juliusschmidt / @juliusschmidt (6k)
Beech Tree in Autumn (1k)
Louis walks forward. Harry walks back. And back. And back. Off the two track, through the brush, until his heel bangs against the trunk of a tree.
Louis presses further still. Without so much as a, 'hello,' he's kissing Harry, hard and hungry.
Mosquito Bites and Cheap Beer (2k)
Harry’s careful not to look at Louis as he plays. At least, he starts out that way.
But then the sky behind Louis begins to shift, clouds morphing from piles of gold-tinged wool to scoops of pink and orange sherbet. And at some point, Harry forgets-- forgets not to watch. And when he catches himself, it’s fine. Louis’ watching him right back.
Sandwiches on the Shady Shore (2k)
“You don’t have to do this,” Louis says.
It’s hot in the little kitchen, even with the windows open and a breeze blowing in. Harry feels a flush enfold him from the inside out.
“I know,” he says. And then, because he’s already showed up embarrassingly early in the day and made Louis a cheese sandwich, he adds, “I wanted to.”
Trust Me to Take You Home by hattalove / @hattalove (4k)
“I made breakfast,” says Harry, and Louis can feel him smile where his face is smushed against Louis’s shoulder blade. “Full English. All for you.”
Louis finally opens his eyes, and blinks. “What about the others?”
“Asleep,” Harry whispers, “it’s five in the morning.”
or, a clichéd tale of two boys in love and their first valentine's day together.
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You ever think about what would happen if Bruce had to kill in self defence?
Like literally no other choice, just attacked without holding back because he knows he’s about to die, and he puts a bit more force behind it than he expects and suddenly they’re not moving why aren’t they moving what has he done—
I haven’t put a lot of thought into it, and it depends entirely on how you write his character, but I think he’d either A. spiral before eventually coming to terms with the fact that there really was no other option at the time, B. panic and hide all evidence and pretending nothing happened while slowly spiralling into a pit of self loathing, OR if you want to go the really angsty route, maybe he hides all evidence and after some spiralling convince himself that it’s fine he’s Batman he needs to stay Batman so he’ll just put this behind himself and pretend it never happened, it was just one time it’s fine, but then one of his kids unearths some piece of footage or something and demands why the rules don’t apply to him, why he can keep on working and isn’t a threat despite being a killer yet Jason always gets shit for even knocking someone out. And mayybe one of the other batkids recently killed in self defence too, and Batman was lecturing them because ‘there’s always another option’ and how they shouldn’t be out in the field if they put civilians at risk, when Jason or Babs or someone calls him a hypocrite and it spirals from there…
Ooh ~ I like how you added the element that Bruce didn't mean to kill them. He never actually made that choice.
Despite Bruce's steadfast rules against killing, the man has killed before. Imma link an article here so y'all can look into it. Basically, pre-Robin Batman (or his beginning years as the caped crusader) used to have no issue with killing. This storyline was changed so that he had never killed at all, but it is interesting to ponder. He has made kills since his character insisted he has and never will kill, though. Some of the ones listed are alternative universes or times he was sure his enemy would survive despite their situation seeming to depict otherwise.
Therefore, it's not a stretch to say he would or has killed. There's some fics that examine the hc that Bruce DID kill someone (or multiple people) in that pre-Tim era and repressed/denied the hell out of that notion. Extending that out to other circumstances would cool af.
Anyways, let's look at this AU specifically!
The three reactions Bruce can have about this are:
The mentally healthy one of coming to terms and accepting this kill
Hide all of the evidence, spiral, and try to justify it to himself while remaining a hypocrite
Repress the fuck out of his memories (including killing, hiding the evidence, and anything else surrounding it) to deny it happened
The first one has opportunities for good dad Bruce where he communicates with actual words to his kids that he'd rather they come home alive. Great hurt/comfort for that route.
The second one is full throttle fuck Bruce. He's a hypocrite who berates the others for their choices in the field, reacts explosively to them even hinting at murder, and overall no one (including Bruce) is having a good time.
The third one has four options:
Bruce is obv not mentally well. He can receive help, come to terms, and eventually end up as good dad
He keeps denying despite how much evidence is proven otherwise, causing him to spiral and jeopardize his relationships.
He eventually accepts what happens but is steadfast that HIM doing so is fine. He won't excuse that behavior for anyone else regardless of the circumstances
After acknowledging the kill, he creates a self-fulfilling prophecy with his belief that even one death will cause him to spiral into madness and mass murder. There would be many clues that he could stop from becoming a monster, but he simply doesn't due to his ideas that one death is too far
The last one could bring lots of angst, especially for the person that forced Bruce to acknowledge the evidence and his kill :)
Maybe the fic can even force Alfred to be the one to put Bruce down for good :)
There are also fics that consider what Bruce's reactions and what the rest of the batfam would do if someone who's sworn off killing ends up killing someone (particularly on accident or in self-defense). There's either good dad Bruce who apologizes for ever giving the impression that killing in self-defense is wrong (when there's no other choice) or bad dad Bruce who goes nuclear.
This has absolutely nothing to do with Bruce killing someone, but this is a rant about Bruce's moral code:
For once, I'd kill for an ACAB Batman because cops kill, and that goes against his moral code. A simple math of murder = wrong, so therefore cops (who don't swear off ever killing again) are an entire group he's against the same as he's against gangs.
He's criticized the batfam, some JL members, anti-heroes, villains, etc. for their choices regarding murdering for justice. Are there any fics or instances in canon where he basically says "fuck the police" because they do kill? Not him stating that GCPD is corrupt, but him fully disparaging the entire profession/institution due to the allowance it gives in murdering. He could go on one of his rants about judge, jury, and executioner. He could chat about power dynamics, morals, police training, checks and balances, insufficient evidence gathering before execution, innocents killed, etc.
Where the fuck is ACAB Bruce? Give me reluctantly working with Jim despite his hatred of cops. Give me him stating he likes Jim as a person and his notion of changing shit from the inside, but Bruce (as someone who is legit working outside the law and policies in place) doesn't think it's possible to change enough. Give me Bruce debating whether his role of working with the legal system is doing harm.
If Bruce has black and white perspectives on murder, let him have it about everything.
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HIIII, can I request some angst/fluff with Sam, like an angst love confession where he says how much he truly loves her or something, I really need it because some guy just ghosted me because I wouldn't send him nudes, please, love your writing
IM SO SORRY FOR 2 THINGS
1. THAT SOMETHING LIKE THAT HAPPENED TO YOU THAT DUDES AN ASSHOLE AND IM SO SORRY
2. THAT I GOT TO THIS ALMOST A MONTH LATE🙏
What if he’s written ‘Mine’ on my upper thigh
Sam has been acting like a jackass all week long and I have no idea why. I’m honestly getting sick of it. He doesn’t talk to me and is avoiding me.
I finally try to confront him today at his house. I walk up to his porch and knock on the door waiting for someone to answer. After waiting only about 2 minutes his mom answers. “oh his dear! Sam is in his room if you need him” I say thank you and march my ass right up to his room. I don’t even bother knocking I just barge right in to see him laying on bed with his headphones on and eyes closed.
I can hear the music blaring from his headphones meaning that he probably didn’t hear me come in. I immediately go up to him and rip his headphones off. “what the fuck?!” Sam almost yells quickly sitting up. “Bro what the fuck?” Sam asks again looking at me in disbelief. “Oh so now you talk to me.” I respond crossing my arms. “what the fuck are you doing here” Sam quickly says while standing up. “Trying to see why you have been avoiding me for the past week” I say pushing my finger into his chest
“Dude can you just leave” Sam complains and opens the door trying to get me to leave his room. “Not until you tell me what’s going on” I say standing my ground. “Nothing his going on I just don’t want to see you” Sam says annoyed.
I’m not going to lie that hurt. a lot. I quickly dropped my arms to my side and just started at him in disbelief. Sure me and Sam have had arguments but none like this. Never like this. “Is that true?” I ask him softly. “Yes. Get. Out” Sam says through his teeth.
I couldn’t stop the tears from falling. I mean Sam has been my best friend for years and he’s never treated me like this. I stared to walk out only for Sam to close the door before I could walk out.
“I’m sorry I didn’t mean that” Sam said softly. “Sam let me leave.” I asked softly. “No, let me explain please” Sam quickly said
I know I shouldn’t have let him off the hook so fast but he’s been my best friend for years and I didn’t want to lose him over a stupid fight.
“fine you have 2 minutes” I say and sit down on his bed. Sam said something that I wasn’t expecting. at all.
“I’m in love with you. Always have been. You’re everything to me that’s why I was avoiding you because I was scared.” Sam quickly rambled. I starred at Sam not knowing what to say. Truth be told I’ve always loved Sam and always wanted to be with him but I didn’t think he felt the same so I tried to get over him but it’s never worked my feelings have always been towards him.
“please say something” Sam says softly. “Sam..” I respond looking at him. “It’s ok if you don’t feel the same we can pretend this never happened.” Sam rambled on quickly. I stood up and walked towards him and kissed him to shut him up. Sam looked at me with wide eyes and quickly grabbed my face pulling my face closer to him and kissing me deeper.
“we have a lot to talk about” Sam whispers
“yes we do” I agree and go back to kissing him
HII SO SORRY I GOT TO THIS LATE AND I HOPE YOURE DOING BETTER 🫶 IF YOU EVER WANT TO TALK MY MESSAGES ARE ALWAYS OPEN🫶
#hayden christensen#sam monroe angst#sam monroe imagine#sam monroe smut#sam monroe fluff#sam monroe x reader#sam monroe
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ch 261 SPOILERS ahead
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This chapter confirmed one more time what I thought. That Gojou was kinda delusional about his fight with Sukuna.
He shows the same attitude towards dying as Sukuna had in his fight against Yorozu.
The difference is that Sukuna knows Yorozu and her powers, he has an idea as to how to handle her. More than that, he’s there specifically to test out on her some ideas he has for the Ten Shadows Technique. Sukuna’s arrogance makes him an asshole, not a fool.
Gojou, on the other hand, knows that a person with Megumi’s technique is capable of killing someone with Gojou’s technique. And apart from knowing a bit about Cleave, Dismantle and Malevolent Shrine, he can’t estimate the extent of Sukuna’s own powers. And as the fight between them shows he went into it without any plan, he was just winging it.
And again we are shown that he didn’t participate in any planning efforts with the rest of them. He was so certain about his idea to go in first and handle it alone. And so dismissive about their worry.
And everyone else seemed to have considered that he was being delusional because they made actual plans for the plans.
I didn’t think I could dislike Yuuta more but after chapter 261, I actually do.
So let’s look at Yuuta’s absolutely inane plan here. There are two conditions to it:
1. Gojou dies, despite having an overpowered combination of abilities that he’d honed for years.
2. Yuuta is on the brink of death despite his overpowered status due to being so “naturally gifted” and “blessed” by an extra powerful lineage on both sides.
And the way they both attack Sukuna is just targeting him with raw power, typical jujutsu moves despite Sukuna being a fucking expert on that, not trying to get to the bottom of what makes Sukuna tick.
So Yuuta’s idea is, well if they both fail in those attempts, he could combine his ability with Gojou’s and try again. Because surely the third time's the charm. Well, the definition of stupidity and so on, I guess.
Now let’s compare this to how Yuuji approaches the fight. The plan he made with Higuruma had very reasonable grounds, and was based on analysing techniques. It didn’t pan out because they didn’t know Higuruma’s technique well enough, but it wasn’t based on “let’s wing it”. And the rest of the plan is based on attacking Sukuna’s soul directly using Yuuji’s power’s and Mai’s legacy wielded by Maki. The plan is to separate Megumi’s soul from Sukuna’s and reach Megumi, save him. And it’s been working.
And neither Gojou’s approach, nor Yuuta’s, even considers Megumi in all of this. I’m not sure Megumi is paying any attention to the fight anymore, but if he is, I’m not sure seeing what Yuuta did is making him want to fight to come out. It could honestly go both ways, and if Megumi feels even slightly guilty about Gojou’s death (even though he shouldn’t but psychology just isn’t that simple), seeing Gojou’s corpse used like that might make his guilt worse.
Gojou always bought into the individualistic strength based approach to jujutsu, the foundation that upheld the corrupt system he participated in. And he indoctrinated Yuuta into that completely. Yuuta still kinda cares about Gojou, but Gojou doesn't even consider what Yuuta's plan would mean for Yuuta.
If you compare it to the conversation Higuruma and Yuuji had, both characters who unsettle Sukuna due to their humanity, it really shows how little threat Gojou and Yuuta've been to Sukuna.
Seeing this contrast, makes the martyrdom complex Gojou and Yuuta display in this chapter really sickening to me, so unwarranted but the fandom is just lapping it all up thoughtlessly.
Gojou by wanting to go on the murder spree alone to protect the kids he had failed to protect before and who he would fail to protect again by taking on Sukuna alone.
Yuuta by wanting to take over the mantle of Gojou, regardless of what the objective reality is, regardless whether there is even a need for that. The fight with Sukuna, once Yuuji got involved, actually started to go somewhere, actual progress was being made. And Yuuta’s like, well in need to butt in on that.
I just hope it won’t give Sukuna a chance to recover. It’s a technique and domain he knows, a type of jujutsu combat he’s very well versed in. Fighting Yuuji and Maki made him face opponents he had to figure out, and had him deal with attacks he wasn't used to. But this, this is his bread and butter. I really hope I’m wrong and this will just be a distraction.
#jjk spoilers#jjk leaks#jjk 261#jjk salt#gojou satoru#yuuta okkotsu#yuuji itadori#sukuna#higuruma#idk why gege decided to do this detour#but well it only confirms stuff for me so well
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hate when people give you advice and it works. hate when someone tells me talking will make me feel better and then i talk and then i feel better. hate being told exercise makes you feel happy and then it does. hate getting better.
#ugh.#idk i’m thinking#it’s so annoying when other ppl r right#like. this really shouldn’t work fuck you#ugh ugh ugh
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whenever someone comments something along the lines of “well actually that probably couldn’t happen/is wrong” or whatever and i get to put my countless hours of research to use and be like “it’s literally canon” and reference my sources down to the chapter or minute i feel like that gif of aslan when he’s like “do not cite the deep magic to me, witch, i was there when it was written”
and regardless, did u not see the gigantic CANON DIVERGENT in the tags or did u just choose to ignore it
#I know I know I shouldn’t engage but like#it’s so frustrating. I work a demanding full time job. I have a very sick family member. and I work REALLY FUCKING HARD on my fics!!!#so for you to stand there with zero fucking words written to your name and you come at me with petty bullshit#literally die lol#I have no patience these days#99.99999% of the Sakura fandom is absolutely incredible. like the actual best most wonderful people#but there’s always that one entitled dickknuckle#bah humbug
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